CARRIER 2: VIPER STRIKE By Keith Douglass

might have been put together for eavesdropping purposes, Mikes could be

invisibly buried inside the concrete walls. Pamela watched him studying

their cell and silently touched her ear, her eyebrows questioningly

arched.

She understood. Smart girl.

“I … don’t know,” he said, more for the benefit of any microphones

than anything else. Damn it, they needed a plan. “All we can do is go

along with them. Maybe they’re planning to use us as hostages.”

Pamela leaned closer, until her matted blond hair brushed his cheek.

“Matt?” Her whisper was so low, Tombstone had to strain to hear it.

“Matt … I know they may be listening. What do they want?”

The question ignited memories … waking nightmares of Hsiao demanding

answers. Details on Jefferson’s defense posture in port. Details of

approach procedures by friendly aircraft. The pattern was frighteningly

clear.

He turned his head, nuzzling the blond riot of Pamela’s hair. “They

must be planning an attack on the boat,” he whispered.

She shifted position, making Tombstone wince as she rekindled the flame

of several injuries. “That’s what I thought,” she said. “Listen, one

of us has got to get away and warn the Jefferson!”

“Agreed,” he said. “And it’s got to be soon. Tonight.”

The situation looked helpless. If their captors were planning to move

them soon, though, there was a chance, slim but real, for escape.

The hard part would be getting Pamela and Bayerly out. Bayerly might

already be beyond his reach, since they hadn’t seen the other aviator

since Hsiao had led him away.

How to do it, and when? Jumping Hsiao’s henchmen when they came to get

them here in this room was out. Tombstone still ached in every muscle,

and the burns all over his body were small, separate patches of agony

where his clothing rubbed them. He would be no match for several

opponents, all armed and watchful.

Or rather, he would be a match for them only if he was able to pick the

time, the circumstances of his escape. When he moved, he would be able

to ignore the pain.

But there would be no second chance.

He turned and let his lips touch Pamela’s ear again. “I think they’re

going to move us soon,” he whispered. “We’ll try to make a break then.

Watch me, follow my cues, and run like hell when I tell you.”

She pulled back, shaking her head.

Silently he mouthed the words, “What’s the matter?”

Pamela leaned close again. “Matt, we may not be able to choose. They

may not take us together. Look, what I want to say is … if you see a

chance, take it. Okay? Even if I’m not around. Even if you have to

leave me behind.”

The idea filled him with fresh horror, with denial, with memories of her

stretched out on the table. He started to pull away from her.

Gently, she pulled him back. “Think, Matt! You’ve been through the

wringer, and you look like hell! If they believe you’re badly hurt,

they may not watch you as closely as they will me. If you can get away

without me, do it … please! Please!”

Numbly, Tombstone looked into her eyes for a moment, then nodded. There

was no other choice, nothing to be said. He turned his eyes to the

locked wooden door, and waited.

1923 hours, 19 January

Government Building, Bangkok

Colonel Kriangsak pounded up the steps to the Government Building,

flashed his ID to the soldiers standing guard inside the doorway, then

hurried through empty corridors toward his office. The building was

almost deserted, save for a few staff personnel working late. That was

just as well. He didn’t want to have to stop and explain his actions.

It was time … time! His earlier doubts about Hsiao’s ability to pull

off Sheng li were gone now. Somehow, the former Chinese intelligence

officer had extracted the information he needed from his prisoners. And

the time to strike was now, before the Americans realized that they were

in danger.

According to Hsiao, two helicopters were already on their way south from

U Feng, would be over Sattahip Bay within two hours. And his part in