CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vietnam
August 30, 1968
"That place is better than a fuckin' five star hotel!" Cipher yawned happily as he plodded along beside Face and the blonde-haired nurse he'd managed to acquire from Lai Khe. Under other circumstances, Cipher might have felt a bit stung by the defeat; he wasn't used to losing bets. But as it was, he was too relaxed and contented to care.
"Well, now you know where it is," Face said simply, focusing his smile on Jessica as she climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep.
Cipher smiled as he jumped over the back and sat down hard on the bench. He had no doubt he'd be back. Maybe next time it would be with Jennifer or Jessica or whatever her name was hanging on his arm. His grin turned a bit more sinister at the thought. Pretty boy hadn't outdone him yet.
It wasn't far back to the base. There was only a short stretch through the rice paddies that might prove dangerous, and even so, it was not the kind of danger they really had to worry about - even at dusk. At least, not until the headlights started to dim. From the time they did, it took only a few hundred yards before the jeep stalled out, and suddenly they were pulled into the grass at the side of a muddy road, caught almost squarely between the club and Da Nang proper.
"Fuck, man," Cipher groused as he sat up straight. "Nothing like a nice, sobering hike."
Eyes wide, Jessica was looking in every direction. "Hike? Are you kidding?"
"Got a better idea?" he challenged, amused by the shaky fear in her voice.
"Can'tâĤ" she stammered. "Can't you fix it?"
"Sorry." Cipher jumped out the back, boots landing hard in the mud. "Not my specialty."
He checked the pistol hidden behind his back, suddenly noticing how unusually quiet Face was. Normally, he would've been the first to complain about a long hike through the mud in the dark, even if it hadn't been in a sweltering pool of humidity. Instead, he still hadn't managed to pry his fingers off the steering wheel. Cipher's eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. He could almost feel the hair on the back of his neck standing up.
"We need to wait," Face said. He looked toward Cipher, but in the dim light from the moon, his expression was hard to read. "We need to hide somewhere and wait. They'll know we're walking."
"They?" Cipher's jaw set. "Exactly who are you expecting this time of night?"
Face didn't have a chance to answer. Suddenly, there were headlights behind them and Face was scrambling out of the Jeep, pulling the nurse along with him. She shrieked as her foot caught on the shifter, and he clapped a hand over her mouth instantly as he dragged her into the mud beside him. "Get down, damn it!" he hissed at Cipher.
Instinct made Cipher crouch down behind the jeep before he even looked at the shape of the headlights. When he did, he felt like a fool. That vehicle was one of their own. It wasn't entirely clear if Face had even had a chance to notice that in his mad dash to get out of the driver's seat.
"What the fuck man; are you high?" He grabbed Face by the front of the shirt and pulled him up, leaving the nurse gasping and confused on the ground. "That's us!"
"It's not," Face said quickly, staring him straight in the eye. "Trust me. If they see us, we're dead."
The kid's calm was that well-practiced, forced control of a soldier. Hidden very well underneath it, there was fear in his eyes. Cipher looked back. The jeep was approaching at a normal pace - not too fast, not too slow â and he could hear the sounds of Motown blaring from the radio as the lights came closer. Amongst the sound of Diana and the Supremes rang the laughter of what could've easily been a half dozen drunks. They were definitely Americans. But Face could hear that as well as anyone and he still had that look in his eyes. Dropping down behind the Jeep again, Cipher moved a controlling hand to his shoulder and hissed angrily, "You better start talking quick!"
Face spoke instantly, but not to him. Looking over at the nurse, he whispered roughly. "Get under the Jeep."
"What!" she rasped back. "You're crazy!"
"You wanna live?" he snapped with rough sincerity that pulled her up short. "Get under the goddamn Jeep!"
The approaching vehicle was slowing. "That's one of ours," exclaimed a man with a Boston accent. He paused. "Bad place to break down. Think they walked?"
The nurse clumsily slid under the Jeep and Cipher let go of Face's shirt to grab his hair and jerk his head back so that he could see his pupils just to make sure the kid wasn't high. But Face put both hands on Cipher's shoulders and shoved him. "Fuck off!" he hissed before Cipher could get a good look at his eyes.
Cipher had had enough of this. No answers, Face acting paranoid as hell with no explanation and now shoving him. Cipher was not going to stand for that shit. His feet dug into the mud and he pinned Face back against the front tire of the jeep with an arm across his throat. "Talk, you fucking prick!"
"Hey, wait a minute!" one of the strangers called. "Wait, quiet!"
Suddenly, except for the rattle of the jeep engine, it was silent. The music was off, and the chatter had ceased. "Someone here?" a man called.
Face said nothing, just glared at Cipher, and shook his head slowly in warning. The boots of a few men sloshed into the mud as they piled out of the jeep, and Face shut his eyes, muttering a quiet, "Damn it," under his breath. Cipher could feel the tension in his muscles. Everything about this was off. He didn't know anything about the guys in the jeep except that they were Americans. Did that necessarily make them friendly? At this point, the only thing he really knew for sure was that Face wasn't going to shoot him. That being the case, Cipher let his weight off of him.
The boots came around the front and the back, and as Cipher looked up, he was staring down the barrel of an AK-47. The first thing he noticed was that it was not an M-16 - standard issue American assault rifle. The second thing he noticed was that it didn't lower out of his face when the man standing behind it - a hooded man who, based on his frame, was most likely an American - saw who and what he was looking at. In fact, his only reaction was to grip the weapon tighter.
"Call 'em!" he called toward the other jeep. "We've got him."
Hands grabbed the back of Cipher's collar at the same time that the narrow barrel of an identical AK pushed into his shoulderblade. "Get up. Over the hood."
At this range, that gun would blow his whole fucking arm off. He didn't dare argue. His glare went from Face to the gun to the man behind it and back to Face before he sat up a bit straighter. Instinct alone had him holding his hands up. His chest was tight. Whatever the reason was behind this he now knew two things: first, it wasn't good and secondly, Face was behind it.
He pushed himself to his feet and turned slowly to the hood of the jeep before leaning over was pulled to his feet in a similar fashion with a few words from the man behind him.
"You can leave him," one of the men said, nodding toward Cipher. "Alex only said this one."
Cipher's eyes narrowed at that. Whatever trouble Face had managed to find, these guys apparently meant business. And that meant Face was dead. If they left, there'd be no way for Cipher to track them down. He wouldn't have any hope of getting Face help. But as long as that gun was in his back he couldn't do a goddamn thing.
Face's struggle was sudden, and stupidly risky. With an assault rifle in his ribs, he spun around, ducked away, and attacked. There was no telling what he was thinking, how far he intended to get. As it happened, he only had time to grab the barrel of the gun, just before it erupted into a string of echoing gunshot rounds. The remaining two men were out of the jeep in a flash.
Cipher shoved himself off the jeep - back and to the side, away from barrel of the gun. He smashed the bottom of his boot into the side of the guy's knee behind him, then grabbed for the gun. His knee came across the side of the guy's face before the butt of a rifle suddenly slammed into his ribs. Then Cipher was on the ground, a boot holding him there.
"Do it!" a gravel voice cut through the commotion.
Cipher stopped struggling to get back up. There was something dead cold about that voice. A second later he, was jerked up to his feet again and shoved back onto the jeep. A low voice in his ear whispered, "You try anything and I'll kill you one limb at a time," and a chill ran down Cipher's spine as his jaw clenched shut.
The man stepped away further towards the group. How many were there, anyway?
"Take him too," the Bostoner ordered. "He just bought a bullet."
There were headlights on the road again. This time, they weren't from a jeep. With the barrel of an AK pressed to the base of his skull and another man in front of him with a pistol to his forehead, Cipher wasn't going to try anything again. If he did, he wouldn't make it very far. Not when he was the sole focus of two men with guns to his head. His hands were up, and they didn't tie them. As the headlights came closer - they belonged to a truck - they moved with him slowly.
The truck stopped, and the men moved to either side of him and back a little, still equally prepared and capable of blowing his head off right then and there. "Get in the back."
Hands on his shirt shoved him forward hard enough to make him stumble. He caught himself with a hand on the ground and bit back a remark as he came upright again, keeping his hands up at his sides. A last glance around had his mind racing. What were the chances that someone stumbled onto the jeep and figured out that something had gone wrong? There was still a woman hiding underneath it; the men hadn't even thought to look for her. Would she get them help? Hannibal wouldn't even be missing them for another couple days. They were in the middle of nowhere and God knew if she was capable of making it back to camp in one piece. Three days from now someone would go into town and figure out that they'd left the club and never made it back to town. And that was it.
He'd come here to die in a shallow grave, but this had not factored into it.
With a glare at Face, Cipher sat down next to him on the crates in the back of the truck. Two hooded men climbed into the back with them, AKs steady and aimed right at them. Some conversation outside of the truck - the hood of their jeep was opened, and a toolbox retrieved. Cipher could only hear bits and pieces of the conversation. The two men who'd arrived in the truck would take both jeeps back to base after they reconnected the alternator and gave it a jump. In the meantime, the other two from the original pack got in the front, did a U-turn, and started away from Da Nang.
Out of the corner of his eye, Cipher could just see the shadow of the nurse scrambling out from under the truck and into the rice paddy beside the road while the mechanics readied themselves. Maybe they would be lucky and she'd make it out alive after all.
Near Fort Bragg
January 22, 1972
Warmth. Electricity. Hot shower. Hannibal stripped off layer after layer of damp clothing, dropping it on the bed. Face, once again shivering violently from the cold, was in the shower first. BA was sitting on the floor next to the heater, his head against the wall. He looked like he could be asleep already. Hannibal watched him for a moment, then turned his attention to the M-16 on the bed, reloading it carefully.
"BA, you should get out of those wet clothes," he directed. "You'll warm up faster."
BA slurred something back, something unintelligible, but opened his eyes to watch Hannibal. "What'd that dude say this town was called?"
"I don't think he said," Hannibal answered, sitting down on the bed and pulling the gun into his lap. He glanced at the phone. "But it's a 919 area code. So we're probably closer to Raleigh than Fayetteville."
"Nnnh." BA shut his eyes again. "You think Lynch is gonna follow us out here?"
"I think Lynch is going to follow us to the ends of the earth," Hannibal answered. "But I don't intend to be there when he shows up."
"What's that about Lynch?" Face asked, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. His chest and arms and face were all beet red.
"Go take a shower, Sergeant," Hannibal ordered. "Food should be here by the time you're done."
Reluctantly, BA dragged himself to his feet and headed to the bathroom. Face sat down next to Hannibal and grabbed the wallet off the bed. "I called for a few pizzas," Hannibal informed him. "They should be here any minute."
"Ah, good. I'm starving."
Out of the corner of his eye, Hannibal watched the kid thumb through the contents of the wallet. He already knew what was in there: forty dollars, now that they'd paid for the room. They'd have to pay for the pizza, too. Whatever was left would have to get them through the next day.
"We don't have a lot of cash," Face sighed.
"There's another wallet over there." Hannibal nodded toward the dresser. "From one of the MPs."
Face stood, and retrieved it. "Thirty in here," he announced. "Well, it'll get us gas if we can find a car."
"That's your department, Lieutenant."
"Yeah, I figured." He picked up his M-16, and the pistol, and took both with him to the heater, plopping down less-than-gracefully in front of it.
Hannibal pulled back on the gun, loading the first round into the chamber. "We're going to have to sleep in three hour shifts for the next few nights at least," he said. "Until we get to a more crowded city."
"Like Raleigh?" Face asked hopefully.
"No, like New York." Hannibal glanced up. "We're still not in the clear. The bigger the city, the easier it should be to disappear."
"Never been to New York," Face sighed, letting his eyes slide closed.
"If you want to sleep now," Hannibal suggested, "I'll take the first shift. You can take the second."
"Fine by me," Face managed. He finished checking his weapons over â the process and habit deeply engrained by the years â then dragged himself to his feet, heading for one of the two beds. Hannibal smiled tiredly as he watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye. For the first time, he let himself consider the odds that they would actually get out of this in one piece as Face set the rifle next to the bed, slid the pistol under his pillow, and fell facedown. In less than a minute, he was snoring softly.
Vietnam
August 30, 1968
"Did they find your backup weapon?" Face whispered. His head was lowered, mouth covered and turned away from the two guards.
"No."
Face let out a sigh that sounded almost like relief, and shut his eyes as he put his head back against the window behind him. Cipher bowed his head, his brow furrowing. It was time for that explanation.
"I just got a death warrant signed on my ass." He paused to reign in that anger so he could keep his voice low. "Why?"
"Because I just cut contact with my supplier," Face hissed back.
"Your supplier?" Cipher repeated. He'd had a feeling drugs were involved somehow, given Face's reputation. But it hadn't even occurred to him that the kid would do something so stupidly noble without forming an exit strategy.
"I didn't think he could pull guys together enough to move this fast," Face explained, "or I would've done it differently. Or at least waited until you weren't there."
It probably would've been better all the way around if Face had done something Cipher could justify as betrayal. If that had been the case, he could've just talked his own way out of it and left Face to deal with his own goddamn problem. But cutting his ties with everything that brought him to this point in the first place was the one thing Cipher couldn't send him on a one way trip up shit's creek for attempting.
Leaning forward, Cipher and put his head in his hands. "You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" He almost laughed.
"I knew he'd try it," Face justified. "I just didn't think he'd be able to move this fast."
Cipher sat back up, his voice still low. "The thought ever knock around that head of yours to ask for help?"
"No," Face answered simply. He turned his head slightly and caught Cipher's eye. "Until you struggled for that gun, they would've had no interest in you."
Cipher's gaze locked on him hard. What kind of noble bullshit was that? Face thought he was protecting him by leading him into the lion's den without a clue as to why?
"It was my decision," Face continued. "And I knew the chances were pretty good I'd die for it. I didn't want you or anyone else being a part of that."
"Hannibal made that decision for you when he put you on the team," Cipher snapped back with a glare. "We're all involved whether you wanted it or not."
"Hannibal's not going to die tonight," Face pointed out. "You and I probably are."
Cipher shook his head. What the hell didn't this kid understand about this? "And who do you think is gonna come looking to track us down? How well do you think that's going to be received?"
"Doesn't matter if we're dead."
"It does for them," Cipher glared. "You being a dumb shit doesn't just affect you anymore. We all have to answer for it!"
"Hey!" the guard yelled, raising his rifle slightly. "Enough. Shut it."
The order was simple. The gun pointed at Cipher's forehead was even more so. Cipher leaned back, his jaw clamped shut. He was pissed as hell that he was stuck there with some jackass that couldn't figure out this could have all been avoided. Maybe even more irritating was the full and complete knowledge that he was about to die at Face's side.