"He say you destroy his unit."
"Tell him I noticed."
"He want to know what you want."
"I want to kill him for sure. No, don't say that."
"What I say to him?"
"Tell him," Remo said slowly, "tell him I want him to surrender. "
Lan shouted Remo's answer in Vietnamese. Captain Dai yelled back.
"He say he already surrender," Lan explained.
"Not just him. Everybody. I want Vietnam to surrender. Unconditionally."
Lan told him. Captain Dai's mean face broke in shock. His answer was brittle.
"He say he only a captain. Cannot surrender whole government."
"Then tell him to kiss his butt good-bye," Remo hissed, lifting his rifle to shoulder-firing position. Captain Dai dropped his rifle and shouted frantically. "He say he can give you better than surrender," Lan said quickly.
"There's nothing better," Remo growled.
"He say he know where American POW's are held. He will take you. You take Americans away and leave Vietnam alone."
"That sounds like surrender to me," Remo said, lowering his rifle. "Tell him it's a deal."
Chapter 19
Captain Dai Chim Sao knew he was finished. He had lost two entire tank groups to a lone American and a halfbreed girl. Before his last soldier fell, Dai knew he would be disgraced. Death was not even a concern anymore.
And because he feared death less than disgrace, Captain Dai formulated a plan. He slipped away from the Land Rover as the last tank exploded in flames. He worked his way through the trees to the ruined helicopters and found a working radio.
He radioed his position and warned the surrounding base camps of his planned route.
"We are not to be intercepted," he had said. "That is an order. Obey me. " And tying an oil rag to his rifle, he'd stepped into the path of the oncoming tank, knowing that at worst it would only crush him under its implacable treads.
But now Captain Dai was squatting under the muzzle of the smoothbore cannon, the bui doi girl holding him under the menace of the turret gun.
For hours, the tank rattled along the north road. It stopped only once to replenish its gas tank with fuel from the on-board supply.
The red sun beat down on Captain Dai's unprotected head. But his mean face was twisted in a wicked smile no one could see.
The American didn't know it, but he was riding into a trap.
Hours later, the tank was grumbling along a grass-choked jungle path. The path had obviously been knocked out of the jungle by many passing vehicles.
In the driver's bucket, Remo called up to Lan. "Ask him how long till we reach the prison camp." Lan spat out the question. She interpreted the captain's surly reply.
"He say soon, soon," Lan reported.
"He's said that before," Remo complained.
Lan said nothing. The path was narrowing. Remo had to expend most of his energy working the laterals to keep the treads from climbing the occasional too-close tree. It was work.
It was still light when Remo jockeyed the tank around a tight turn. The suddenness with which the jungle opened up around them took their breath away.
"Remo!" Lan called suddenly.
"Yeah, I see it," Remo said, craning to see through the periscope. "It's gotta be the camp."
"No," Lan said dully. "Not camp."
"Sure it is," Remo insisted.
"Yes, camp. But look to side."
Someone was shouting orders in brittle Vietnamese. "Shut him up," Remo said, stopping the tank.
"Cannot," Lan said. "Not captain. Come up, Remo." Remo climbed up to join Lan at the turret hatch. He looked around. Then he saw the other tank. It had been laying for them at the edge of the camp clearing. Like the finger of doom, its gleaming cannon was pointing directly at them.
Remo grabbed the turret gun. He pointed it at the back of Captain Dai's head.
"Tell them to back off or I'll blow his head open," Remo shouted.
Frightened, Lan relayed Remo's threat.
The tank commander stared back stonily. Remo watched him out of the tail of his eye, afraid to tear his gaze from the back of Captain Dai's head. Dai turned. His face was alight. He bared his shovellike teeth in a sneering grin.
"Don't be so smug," Remo said. "I killed you once. I'll be happy to do it again."
Lan relayed Remo's words. Captain Dai's face lost its catlike grin. A variety of expressions crossed his features. "What are they doing?" Remo whispered.
"Waiting," Lan said. Her face was drawn.
"For what?"
Then they knew. Out from behind the tank, a line of men marched with heads bowed and shoulders drooping. They wore gray cotton. They were Americans. Behind them marched others, who were not all American. Lan recognized them as her fellow Amerasians. Her throat tightened painfully at the realization that they hadn't made it to Thailand. To Remo, they meant nothing.
The stone-faced tank commander pointed to the line of captives. They were under the menace of several soldiers' rifles. The officer shouted angrily, gesticulating at Remo and again at the prisoners.
"Don't tell me," Remo told Lan. "We surrender or they get chopped down."
Lan nodded silently, fighting back tears.
Remo's fingers tightened on the machine-gun trip. He wanted very much to pull it. Captain Dai saw the look in Remo's eyes. His smile completely fled. Sweat broke out all over his unlovely face.
Finally Remo said, "You're not worth it," and backed away from the machine gun, its muzzle dropping impotently. Remo raised his hands.
"No choice, kid," he said thickly.
No longer fighting her tears, Lan threw her AK-47 into the dirt. She raised her hands.
"Good-bye, Remo," she whispered thickly.
"We're not dead yet."
The soldiers surrounded the tank and motioned Remo and Lan down from the turret. They forced them to kneel, their crude hands feeling their clothes for hidden weapons. Remo's helmet was cast aside. Others helped Captain Dai off the tank. He had difficulty walking. His knees wobbled.
Unsteadily he walked up to Remo and slapped his face twice, first in one direction and then with the back of his hand on the return sweep.
"Hai cai nay ra!" Dai screamed at the tank officer. Lan was dragged away to a thatched hut. The prisoners were marched after her.
Then they escorted Remo across the camp, taking him to the far side, where a bulky steel container about the size of a garbage- dumpster stood in the dirt not far from-if the overpowering stench meant anything-an open latrine trench.
Remo was forced to kneel again, and the sudden night of Vietnam fell upon them. The refrigeratorlike door at one end of the long container was thrown open and Remo was kicked and jabbed into its dark interior.
The door clanged shut and the locking lever was thrown.
Remo found himself in a stifling cube of heat. The air was heavy with stale human smells. A little light filtered in through bullet holes in the sides.
Remo put an eye to one of the holes and tried to see outside. A low voice pulled him away from the hole. "They don't usually put two men inside at once," it grumbled. "But I do appreciate the company."
"Who's there?" Remo asked.
"Who do you think, fool? Youngblood. You been brainwashed or something?"
"Youngblood?" Remo asked. "Dick?"
"Hey!" Youngblood suddenly shouted: "I don't recognize your voice. Who the hell are you?"
"It's me, Remo."
"Yeah? Remo who?"
"Williams. How many other Remos do you know?"
"Williams ... Remo Williams...... The voice was low, as if tasting the name. I usta know a marine by that name."
"Dick. It's me."
"Prove it."
"Tell me how."
"Lemme see your face. Get over by the vent holes back here, where there's light."
Remo scrooched over. His eyes were becoming used to the lack of light. He made out a dim, hulking form with bright, suspicious eyes.