Something hit Tombstone a glancing blow across the side of his head. He went down, groping for a shoe, a chair, anything he could use as a weapon.
"Rah vang!" a harsh voice barked to his left. Tombstone pivoted in that direction.
Then the room exploded in light.
As his vision cleared, Tombstone was engulfed in a swirl of rapid-fire impressions. There were three men in the bedroom, wearing close-fitting black clothing and carrying silenced automatic pistols. Pamela, sitting up naked in bed, still had one hand on the bedside light switch as she opened her mouth to scream.
A hard, metallic something collided with the back of Tombstone's head and he pitched forward to his hands and knees, the room whirling around him. He tried to rise, to get his legs beneath him.
He was struck again, much harder, from behind. His face ground into the carpet as his vision dimmed in blood and blackness. Desperately, Tombstone fought back against the waves of pain-shot darkness that threatened to engulf him. He fought… fought…
And failed.
CHAPTER 16
The camp had awakened at four in the morning and begun moving south, traveling through night-shrouded jungle with a confident certainty that Batman found astonishing. It was so dark that he could barely make out the shape of Phya walking a few feet in front of him. Somehow the Karens at the head of the long, snakelike column picked their way along forest trails that were all but invisible, and the rest trailed after, walking in touching distance of the person ahead.
Eventually, the sky grew lighter, but there was no true dawn. By the time Batman could clearly see his surroundings it was raining, a misty, intermittent drizzle that turned the ground to soup and soaked the Americans through to the skin in minutes.
By Batman's calculations, they'd been traveling south long enough that they must be in Thailand by now, but there was no sign of a border, no challenge by either That or Burmese patrols. For some time he'd been aware of the sounds of jet aircraft overhead, though the planes were hidden by the low overcast. They were passing on what might have been a regular schedule, one following another at intervals of three or four minutes. No doubt the Royal That Air Force was up in force searching for the two of them. The engine sounds weren't right for Tomcats or Hornets. Possibly, he decided, they were That F-5 Freedom Fighters.
At last, the column halted. Batman crouched at Malibu's side just off the trail, as Karen tribesmen moved silently through the thick vegetation on all sides.
Suddenly, all were gone.
Malibu, still lying on his stretcher, propped himself up on his elbows.
"What's going' on, buddy?"
"Beats me," Batman replied. "No one's told me anything." Even Phya had vanished into the bush, and for several long minutes it felt as though the two Americans were completely alone. Insects Reeked and chirped among the branches as rain continued to drizzle through the leaf canopies overhead and drip to the wet ground. Once more, the wilderness seclusion was shattered by the jet-thunder noise of an airplane flying low overhead, traveling north to south.
Two camo-fatigued shapes materialized at his side so suddenly Batman started. He wasn't yet used to how silently these people could move in the forest and how well they made themselves blend in.
"Phya!" he hissed, recognizing the girl. "What in the hell is-"
She laid one slim hand across his mouth. "No talk," she said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "Leave friend. You come."
Batman's mouth tightened. "Look, lady. I don't know what the hell your game is. But I'm not going anywhere until you' tell me what the score is.
And I'm not leaving my RIO."
Phya shook her head, though whether in exasperation or because she didn't understand, Batman couldn't tell. She plucked at his sleeve. "Come! Colonel Htai want!" She indicated her companion, a heavyset Karen warrior with an M-16. "Van stay friend! You come!"
Impasse. Batman patted Malibu's shoulder. "I'll be back."
"Hey, take your time, dude. I'll just, like, commune with nature…"
"Silence, please!" Phya's eyes were on the surrounding jungle.
Leaving Malibu and the soldier called Van, Batman allowed the girl to lead him farther along the path. He followed her up a slope, winding back and forth until they approached a clearing at the top of a broad, flat hill.
Other Karens were there, crouched motionless and nearly invisible among the leaves.
Htai acknowledged his arrival with a curt nod. "We've arrived," the Karen leader said.
"But?" Batman said. He'd heard the warning… and the uncertainty in Htai's voice, heard the urgency and worry in Phya's. Something was wrong.
For answer, Htai passed Batman a pair of travel-worn German 7x60 binoculars. The American lay on his belly at the edge of the forest and looked into the clearing.
U Feng! They'd made it after all! The relief was palpable as Batman steadied the binoculars in his hands and swept the compound. He could see the tower easily, as well as the rows of low barracks and storage buildings beyond the airstrip. Barbed wire was strung along the perimeter twenty yards from the treeline.
"What's the problem?" Batman asked Htai. "You did it! This is U Feng!"
"Soldiers wrong," Phya said. She was studying the compound without the aid of binoculars. What had she seen…
Batman brought the field of the binoculars onto a group of men and held it steady. There were twenty or thirty men, more a mob than a military unit, making their way through the drizzle among the barracks buildings.
And then the reality hit Batman like a blow between the eyes. Soldiers wrong indeed! In the whole time he'd been in Thailand, never once had he seen a sloppily dressed or slovenly-looking That soldier. The Thais seemed to be universally fastidious about their uniform and equipment. But these troops…
Their uniforms were as mismatched as those worn by the Karens. A few wore helmets, others straw hats or ball caps, while most preferred boonie hats or berets. Their weapons too were an unlikely mix from various countries, but the AK-47 predominated. Even across five hundred yards, Batman could recognize the Soviet bloc weapon with its curved, thirty-round banana magazine.
Batman blinked as he lowered the binoculars. "Civilians?" he said, half to himself. "Some kind of militia?" That didn't explain the Soviet equipment.
Thunder boomed in the north.
"Those aren't That soldiers," Batman said. "I don't understand."
"Neither do we," Htai said. "But it is not good."
As if on cue, an incoming jet aircraft dropped beneath the clouds half a mile north of the runway. Batman did not need to turn his binoculars on the sleek, delta-winged jet as it descended toward the base, its wheels unfolding for a landing. He'd seen plenty of airplanes like that one… though usually the sightings had been made from the cockpit of his Tomcat.
A MiG-21. Through the binoculars, he could make out the silver-gray paint scheme, with red accents on rudders and control surfaces. Strangely, though, the usual red stars or other national emblems were missing. The plane touched down on the runway and slowed, its tiny, circular drogue chute popping and fluttering behind the tail. He had several long seconds to study the aircraft through his binoculars. Yes… he could see a spot on the tail where something had been painted out. Someone had covered up the markings, making the aircraft anonymous.
Just like the MiGs that had attacked them over the border two days earlier.
Whose were they? MiG-21s were common enough in this part of the world.
Vietnam had one hundred fifty of them in her air force, while India flew over seven hundred. Little Bangladesh operated perhaps twelve. The People's Republic of China flew their license-built J-7s. At this range and angle, he couldn't quite see enough detail to be sure which of several possible variants this one might be.