Fox ran a finger around Diamond’s lips, smiling.
“Yes, that was a brilliant move. Now the twenty-four-hour ultimatum is in effect. We will have to complete the destruction of the Japanese, or else China and North Korea will ‘take matters into their own hands.’” He pulled his hand away from Diamond, who was in the process of kissing each individual finger, in order to make quotation marks around his sentence.
Fox leaned forward and ran his delicate hand through Diamond’s sparse hair.
“So we started out with Nine-eleven in order to open the door for action in Iraq,” Diamond said, nuzzling his head into Fox’s hand. “Then we retaliate against Al Qaeda and the Taliban sufficiently to get them out of Afghanistan, but not sufficiently to destroy them. Brilliant suggestion by the way, Saul. The lingering threat will open so many oppor-tunities — the possibilities are limitless.”
“It was a good idea,” Fox purred. “We haven’t put more than a brigade in Afghanistan. And when that Matt Garrett crossed over and was about to get you-know-who, well, your quick action to blackmail Stone was genius. Using Stone’s personal infor-mation to create an E*Trade account so that ‘he’ could short AIG and United Airlines was pure brilliance.”
“Thank you.” Diamond sighed. “It certainly got Stone to move Garrett far off the Al Qaeda trail quickly.” The two men were becoming aroused, stimulated by their manipulations and grand strategy. “Matt Garrett’s dead now anyway. That’s what I hear.”
“Good. Good. That was a loose end we didn’t need,” Fox said. “Not that he knew anything. But he was too aggressive, too good.”
“That’s right. Then, as we gathered the momen-tum on Iraq, we have to hand it to Stone, who worked faster than we thought he could, to get the Philippine situation to a sufficient level actually to be a diversion,” Diamond said.
“But they had been working on that for two years.” Fox chuckled. “The Japanese used him and outsmarted him.”
“Well, we’ve been working on our project longer than that,” Diamond moaned. He was in full arousal. The two were holding hands with both hands, fingers interlaced, appearing to be locked in some tantric yoga pose.
“Yes, we have,” Fox said. “Which is why we had to intervene with Takishi to get him to ratchet up the force levels so that there was a credible threat to the region.”
“So that China and North Korea would issue an ultimatum,” Diamond whispered, blowing into Fox’s ear.
“Which brings us full circle.” Fox sighed. “We will wrap this up soon and begin large-scale deployments to Kuwait. I’ve already signed the deployment orders.”
“I’m just thankful that you broke the Rolling Stones’ code,” Diamond said, running his cheek against Fox’s.
“Rather easy, Dick. We will ruin Mick Jagger, Charlie Watts will be dead soon, and Keith Richards is already dead. That only leaves the question about what we do with Ronnie Wood,” Fox said.
“Problematic,” Diamond agreed, kissing Fox’s neck.
“We have to make sure that the Philippine action is done quickly and leave Wood intact. He may not be much, but he’s what we got,” Fox said.
“He’s our man,” Diamond agreed.
Chapter 96
Zachary watched the convoy move out and called Kooseman, the acting battalion commander.
“I’ve got about 120 tanks, plus a shitload of infantry fighting vehicles moving north toward Bongabon,” Zachary said, peering above a rotted log. He lay in the prone position, holding a set of binoculars to his face, counting. He had slipped a knee pad over his swelling elbow so that he could hold the binos steady.
The Ranger medic had done all he could for SSG Quinones, the morphine shot being the most helpful. With the rain, a medevac was impossible.
“What I’d give for a few A-10s and some F-16s,” Zachary said.
“Like you always say, sir, this is infantry weather. Them zoomies can’t handle this shit,” Slick said, smiling, feeling safe watching the procession move away from them to the northwest. It was a comforting feeling, as if he might never see them again.
“Yeah, but they’d make short work of this. I don’t see a single air-defense weapon,” Zachary said.
He was right. In Zach’s assessment the Japanese had gone into the conflict severely unprepared, despite their strategic and tactical surprise. They had some stinger gunners riding in the tanks and infantry fighting vehicles, but all they could do was react. There was no integrated system set up for early warning such as the Americans used.
Zachary and Slick lay against a rotted log, soft from the rain, waiting for the word from Kooseman. Zachary had played cowboy enough for one war and was growing apprehensive over his isolation from the rest of the unit. Once again, he was all alone, save for the Rangers to his left flank. It was, however, his fault. He had moved the company on his own initiative.
Something instinctual had governed him, almost forcing him to the new position, as if he was supposed to be there.
They heard wet, muffled sounds of artillery rounds leaving their tubes and cutting a path through the driving rain and high clouds. The rounds popped in the distance. Through his binos Zachary saw timber crash and mud splash on the wooded knoll they had earlier defended. The Japanese self-propelled artillery pumped round after round into the infamous knoll, then shifted its fire onto the town of Cabanatuan, indiscriminately spraying the area.
Zach could see thatch huts, the ones that had withstood the onslaught of the rain, disintegrate under the now-incessant bombardment. They had learned one lesson, Zachary figured, and that was to go nowhere without artillery support.
“Bravo six, this is Knight five, over,” came Kooseman’s voice over Slick’s radio handset.
“This is Bravo six, over,” Zachary said.
“Can you do anything about that artillery; it’s getting pretty bad over here?” Kooseman asked, anger in his voice.
Zachary’s mind raged white-hot He’s got a lot of balls. Kooseman had chastised him for moving so far away but had the nerve to ask Zachary to attack the enemy formation and compromise his new position. Yesterday, he would have done it without fail, but today, he had gained a better perspective. Some of the edge had dulled from his hate, the driving force to kill every Japanese soldier. He recognized that he had a larger responsibility to protect his company and complete the mission.
“What do you want me to do? I’ve got about fifteen missiles,” Zachary said, hoping that would discourage Kooseman.
The artillery volleys increased, and for the first time Zachary heard the impotent battalion 105mm rounds impacting near the Japanese 155mm self-propelled guns. They landed harmlessly around the armored hulks of the Japanese guns.
“Can you see their arty? How many guns do they have?”
Zachary didn’t like the way the conversation was going; but then he thought of guys like McAllister and Glenn Bush, who were probably over there getting shelled.
“Roger. I count sixteen guns. Looks like two batteries. All are firing,” Zachary said, knowing imme-diately what his new mission was going to be.
“You’ve got enough to take them out,” Kooseman said, trying to make it sound like an order.
Water dripped steadily off the black handset that Zachary held to his ear and mouth. His elbow had busted a hole in the log, and he saw some maggots crawling on his sleeve. As he brushed his elbow against the soggy wood, he wondered about Kooseman’s mathematical capabilities. Sure, he could get most of the artillery, but then would have to bear the brunt of nearly two hundred armored vehicles turned against him.
It was suicide.
“I’m not so sure it’s a smart move,” Zachary said into the handset, realizing he was being insub-ordinate.
“I’m not asking your opinion, Garrett. Shoot the artillery. Do it now,” Kooseman retorted. He heard loud explosions amplified by the transmission. Looking through his binoculars as the gray shade of morning lightened ever so slightly, he watched as a shell tore a huge hole in the prison roof.
“What happens when these two brigades turn on my ass?” Zachary asked.
“We’ve got you covered. Have you shot the artillery, yet?”
“Roger. Happening now,” Zachary said, tossing the handset to Slick. Zachary ordered his platoon leaders to his position, and they rapidly arrived, Kurtz limping with a large bandage around his lower leg.
“We’ve got orders to destroy that artillery,” he said, pointing at the dark figures jumping backward each time they fired. They were nearly five hundred meters away, perfect distance for the missile gunners. Zachary hated to use the passive voice regarding an order. Normally he took responsibility for every-thing, but he had a hard time justifying to his men that their company was supposed to attack a two-hundred-strong armored vehicle convoy.
“Then what?” Taylor asked.
“Then we fight like good soldiers, Andy. We do our best. We’ve been given a mission, and we’re gonna do it.”
Kurtz and Barker were silent as Zachary sketched out a new plan. It was simple: Assign each gunner an artillery piece, everyone would fire simultaneously, then the company would move a kilometer to the rear, into the jungle.
He watched as his platoon leaders trod back to their platoons, and could not help wondering about that night attack they had botched in training over two weeks ago.
Just don’t screw the pooch here.
“Packers,” he said into the radio after receiving word from the three platoon leaders that they were ready.
He looked over his shoulder and thought he saw something, something blue, but then watched as his antitank gunners once again scored strikes on the enemy armor.
Despite the pelting rain, thirteen of the sixteen artillery pieces were burning a bright orange hue, the color of a sun.
The sun, yes. Blue skies mean the sun will come out.
Zachary looked back over his shoulder and saw a blue patch of sky moving slowly above a mountain peak, like an old man on a Sunday drive.
Hurry up!
“Knight this is Bravo. Destroyed thirteen of sixteen. Out of missiles,” Zachary reported to Kooseman, ready to pack his bags and move into the jungle.
“I sent you some AT4 yesterday. Get the other three. We’re still taking arty,” Kooseman demanded.
Zachary wanted to tell him to pack sand, but instead obeyed, as he knew he always would.
“Roger, out,” Zachary replied.
“You don’t say out to me, Captain! You say, over, over.”
Zachary threw the handset into the mud and stood. He could still hear Kooseman squawking, but quit listening when he noticed … something was different.
It had stopped raining.