The old Quonset hut was no more than thirty feet long and eighteen feet across. Breaking in had been easy. It was empty except for five fifty-five-gallon drums of aviation fuel, some oil, a few empty crates, and an old rubber life raft similar to the one Driver had launched from the Covert.
The other three structures, all made of wood, had obviously been built with the intention of housing one or more familiesshelter for the refuges waiting for pickup. Even by Chinese and Vietnamese standards, the shelters contained only minimum amenities.
In addition to having a roof over his head, Driver had also determined that if he was going to be there any length of time, his food supply was wholly inadequate. He had the provisions from the raftnamely, a few tins of something with labels printed in Russian and some tinned biscuits. But he knew it wasn't enough to sustain him more than a couple of days. Apparently the designers of the Covert hadn't conjured up a scenario where the plane went down very far from the proximity of immediate help.
With the exception of his wound, Driver was in good condition. He had probed the area where the bullet had entered his arm and the area where it had exited. The wound was clean, and the bleeding had stopped. The small firstaid kit in the raft had helped, but the gauze and tape were only partially adequate. There was enough to dress the wound a second time. After that he would be on his own.
On the plus side of the ledger, he had an island and a gun. If food got scarce, he could always jury-rig a fishing setup or shoot a gull. Bottom line: If Quan's gunboats came back, he would be ready. If one of those Taiwanese freighters came by, he would be equally ready with the Covert's flare gun.
He walked down to the water's edge and stared out at what was left of the Covert. Like the dorsal fins of two giant sharks, the vertical stabilizers were still visible.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he wondered what the two men on the Chinese gunboat had thrown in the water.
Chung Sho Hun had been prefect of police in the Ghengdi section of Haikou for seven years. A former member of the Central Commission for Disciplinary Inspection, he had been judged an infirm leader by the Special Party Conference, removed from office, and, because of his loyalty to the Party, assigned a token position as prefect.
Now, because of his inability to lower the crime rate and improve conditions in the infamous Ghengdi strip, Chung's once-bright future in the Party looked hopeless. He watched conditions in the overcrowded streets deteriorate with a steady influx of refugees and an increasing crime rate. A weary Chung Sho Hun had long since determined that there was little he could do about the problem.
But now he had information, information that could alter the course of his future. The call had come less than thirty minutes earlier. Tang Ro Ji, the caller had informed him, had somehow evaded Quan's dragnet and had made it to Haikou. Not only that, but to make it easier to find him, the caller had confirmed that Tang was in desperate need of medical aid.
Now Chung considered his options. He reasoned that Tang's plight limited the places he could go for help. None of the people's hospitals were located in Ghengdi, and if Tang sought help in any of the major medical centers, he would be recognized. The news of Han Ki Po's assassination and the search for Tang had been blaring over state radio since dawn, and his likeness was being broadcast on state-owned television every hour.
If Chung conducted his own search for Tang and was fortunate enough to locate him, the Party would be grateful. But if Tang escaped and it was later learned that Chung knew he was in Haikou and had not attempted to work with other prefect leaders, he would again be castigated by the Party. That fear motivated him to inform Quan. The call to Danjia was now being routed through to Quan.
"Yes." Quan's voice was brittle and impatient.
"Prefect Chung Sho Hun of Ghengdi-Haikou," Chung informed him. He did not wait for acknowledgment. "Less than thirty minutes ago we received an anonymous telephone call informing us that Tang Ro Ji was in Haikou"
"Where?" Quan blurted.
"The caller would not reveal Tang's exact whereabouts. She simply indicated Tang was brought to Haikou to receive medical assistance."
"The caller's name?" Quan demanded.
"She refused to give it," Chung said.
On the other end of the line, Chung could hear Quan informing others. Then he was back. "We are responding," Quan said. "We will begin by cordoning off roads, closing the docks and the airport. Then we will begin a house-to-house search."
Chung prepared to offer assistance, but Quan had already hung up. It was then that he realized that he had again been rebuked by his superiors in the Party.
Chapter Fourteen
A heavy cloud deck had moved in by the time Le Win Fo circled back for his second pass over the atoll. The Defender, an early model, was not equipped with some of the niceties Bogner would have preferred for a night mission. It did have an MMS, mast-mounted sight, for hull-down surveillance, IR suppression, and the standard navy package of haul-down ship gear and towed MAD, but the pop-out flotation bag capability had either been removed or never replaced. They would have to land on the atoll and row a raft to the crash site. In addition, there was no FLIR, no night-vision package, and no passive radar warning. The South Koreans had passed off a stripped-down version on Hua. As a result, there were times when Le Win Fo was all but flying blind.
"See anything?" Le asked.
Bogner peered down into the darkness. "We're over the atollbut I don't see anything. Think it's down there?"
Le shook his head. "You heard the same reports I did."
"Picking up anything on the radio?"
Le nosed the Defender down until he had an altimeter reading of 200 MSL and activated the scanner. "Nothing," he said. "Haven't heard anything for the last thirty minutesand that was one of the Komiskos working the mouth of the reservoir."
"What about surface transmissions?"
"Negative," Le assured him. "If one of Quan's gunboats was down there we'd be getting all kinds of chatter. It would seem" he grinned''that our little ploy worked. Ti Minn's call to that prefect in Haikou must have paid off."
"We're over water again," Bogner said, "shallowslooks like there's a strip of land just ahead."
Le checked the OR compass and glanced at the altimeter again. "We're on it."
Bogner activated the search beam and paraded the light back and forth across the beach. Then he dropped the MAD. Le brought the Defender around, circled back, and dropped to within thirty feet of the water.
"Down and in and trailing," Bogner confirmed. "Are you sure this thing works?"
"Don't know. Never used it before. The only thing I ever look for when I come out here is that chunk of rocks they call an atoll."
Bogner waved him off. "I'm getting something at 037steadysteadysteady. There it is again."
Le Win Fo checked the OR. "Distance?"
"Three hundred yards."
"I'll take us out and over. Throw the light down there. See if you can pick anything up."
The Defender came around for the third time and Bogner saw it. "Bingo. I've got it. We're locked in."
"It should be there. When we picked up that gunboat's transmission earlier in the day, the captain was indicating it was in the mouth of the inlet in twenty to thirty feet of water. I'll put us down, we'll inflate the raft, and you can go have a look at it."
Harry Driver worked his way through the bunchgrass and rocks until he was no more than three hundred feet from the clearing. If the circling helicopter was one of Quan's Komiskos that had run low on fuel and was coming in for refueling, he would have to decide on his next move when he saw how many men were on board. If it wasn'tor if by chance it was a Vietnamese patrolthere was a good chance he had found a way out; a two-man crew he could handle.