walkdown was an evaluation by all flight-deck personnel carried out
routinely aboard Navy carriers. He could see the long line of sailors
in dungarees or colored jerseys aft, stretched across the flight deck
and walking slowly forward side by side, as each man searched for bits
of metal, bolts, screws, or anything else which might be sucked into an
aircraft’s intakes with destructive result.
They would be looking for bits of debris left from the explosions and
fire the night before, a prerequisite to any air operations planned for
the day.
Tombstone wondered what was being planned as he stopped to clear the
Huey’s turning blades and hurried across the deck toward the island.
“Stoney! Ho … Stoney!”
He turned, his eyes widening in surprise at the familiar voice. “Batman!
You son of a … Where did you come from?”
“CATCC. CAG let me come down to play official greeter.”
“No, you idiot! When did you get back? Where’s Malibu? What
happened …?”
Batman grinned. “Malibu and I both got back aboard yesterday evening,
courtesy of the Tai army and some … some rather remarkable people out
in the jungle.” He sobered for a moment, then continued. “Malibu’s in
sick bay.
Nothing worse than a sprained ankle. And I think other questions had
better wait.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Only about a million people on this tub want to question you,
Tombstone.
Starting with your uncle and his entire intelligence staff.” He jerked
his head toward the island. “They’re waiting for you topside, in CVIC.”
“Then I guess I’d better get up there.” He’d been looking forward to a
shower and a clean uniform, but it looked like he’d have to settle for a
change to his flightsuit. Wearily, he started to climb to the 0-9
level.
0830 hours, 20 January
North of Phhsanuloc, Central Thailand
They’d pulled off the road at first light. Pamela and Bayerly were kept
waiting in the truck until Pamela wondered if they were going to be
shot.
Then their guards bullied them out of the back of the truck and led them
at gunpoint along a path to a spot well away from the road. The area
was heavily wooded. Pamela saw soldiers everywhere, some resting in
small groups underneath the trees along the path, others coming and
going along the trail.
The main encampment was a group of canvas tents heavily camouflaged with
branches and palm fronds.
This, she realized, was a major rebel base. She could only guess at the
location, but its presence so far from either Bangkok or the northern
border suggested that the communist insurrection was far more widespread
and better organized than anyone had realized. The soldiers around her
were teenagers for the most part, armed with a motley collection of
American weapons and the ubiquitous AK-47s. They did not look
particularly formidable. Some swaggered or joked, but most looked
simply scared. All, though, possessed an air of grim expectancy.
They were led to a cage, a narrow box of bamboo poles large enough for
the two of them to sit side by side, but not large enough for them to
stand or move around. A grinning That fastened the crude door shut with
a length of chain and a padlock, said something incomprehensible with a
harsh cackle of laughter, then left them alone. No one in the camp
seemed to be paying them any attention, but Pamela was sure that any
attempt to escape would bring them plenty of notice.
She was worried about Bayerly. He’d seemed withdrawn, almost shrunken
in upon himself since her captors had thrust her in next to him back in
Klong Toey. Each attempt to speak with him during the long, bumpy drive
had been interrupted by a harsh word or gesture from one of the soldiers
in the back with them.
“Commander Bayerly?” she asked when they were alone. What was his
running name? She remembered. “Made It? Are you okay?”
The look he gave her was a mingling of horror and some inner pain.
“Listen, Commander,” she said when he didn’t answer. “Don’t you go
freaking out on me now. We’re in a hell of a jam, and I’d like to think