璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第82部分

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r　one　thing。‘
‘It　wasn‘t　an　accident；　was　it？‘　Sarah　noted。
‘No；　it　wasn‘t。‘
‘There　he　is；‘　Oreza　said　quietly；　keeping　his　binoculars　on　the　distant　speck。　‘Just　like　you　said。‘
‘e　to　papa；‘　the　policeman　breathed　in　the　darkness。
It　was　just　a　happy　coincidence；　the　officer　told　himself。　The　people　in　question　owned　a　corn　farm　in　Dorchester　County；　but　between　the　corn…rows　were　marijuana　plants。　Simple；　as　the　saying　went；　but　effective。　With　a　farm　came　barns　and　outbuildings；　and　privacy。　Being　clever　people；　they　didn‘t　want　to　drive　their　product　across　the　Bay　Bridge　in　their　pickup　truck；　where　the　summer　traffic　was　unpredictably　interrupted；　and　besides；　a　sharp…eyed　toll　taker　had　helped　the　State　Police　make　a　bust　only　a　month　before。　They　were　careful　enough　to　bee　a　potential　threat　to　his　friend。　That　had　to　be　stopped。
So　they　used　a　boat。　This　heaven…sent　coincidence　gave　the　Coast　Guard　the　chance　to　participate　in　a　bust　and　thus　to　raise　his　stature　in　their　eyes。　It　couldn‘t　hurt；　after　he‘d　used　them　as　the　stalking　horse　to　help　get　Angelo　Vorano　killed；　Lieutenant　Charon　thought；　smiling　in　the　wheelhouse。
‘Take　‘em　now？‘　Oreza　asked。
‘Yes。　The　people　they‘re　delivering　to　are　under　our　control。　Don‘t　tell　anybody　that；‘　he　added。　‘We　don‘t　want　to　promise　them。‘
‘You　got　it。‘　The　quartermaster　advanced　his　throttles　and　turned　the　wheel　to　starboard。　‘Let‘s　wake　up；　people；‘　he　told　his　crew。
The　forty…one…boat　squatted　at　the　stem　with　the　increased　power。　The　rumble　of　the　diesels　was　intoxicating　to　the　boat‘s　mander。　The　small　steel　wheel　vibrated　in　his　hands　as　he　steadied　up　on　his　new　course。　The　funny　part　was　that　it　would　e　as　a　surprise　to　them。　Although　the　Coast　Guard　was　the　principal　law…enforcement　agency　on　the　water；　their　main　activity　had　always　been　search　and　rescue；　and　the　word　hadn‘t　quite　gotten　out　yet。　Which；　Oreza　told　himself；　was　just　too　goddamned　bad。　He‘d　found　a　few　coastguardsmen　smoking　pot　in　the　past　couple　of　years；　and　his　wrath　was　something　still　talked　about　by　those　who‘d　seen　it。
The　target　was　easily　seen　now；　a　thirty…foot　Bay…built　fishing　boat　of　the　sort　that　dotted　the　Chesapeake；　probably　with　an　old　Chevy　engine；　and　that　meant　she　couldn‘t　possibly　outrun　his　cutter。　It　was　a　perfectly　good　thing　to　have　a　good　disguise；　Oreza　thought　with　a　smile；　but　not　so　clever　to　bet　your　life　and　your　freedom　on　one　card；　however　good　it　might　be。
‘Just　let　everything　look　normal；‘　the　policeman　said　quietly。
‘Look　around；　sir；‘　the　quartermaster　replied。　The　boat　crew　was　alert　but　not　obviously　so；　and　their　weapons　were　holstered。　The　boat‘s　course　was　almost　a　direct　one　toward　their　Thomas　Point　station；　and　if　the　other　boat　even　took　note　of　them　…　and　nobody　was　looking　aft　at　the　moment　…　they　could　easily　assume　that　the　forty…one…footer　was　just　heading　back　to　the　barn。　Five　hundred　yards　now。　Oreza　jammed　the　throttles　to　the　stops　to　get　the　extra　knot　or　two　of　overtake　speed。
‘There‘s　Mr　English；‘　another　crewman　said。　The　other　forty…one…boat　from　Thomas　Point　was　on　a　reciprocal　course；　outbound　from　the　station；　holding　steady　in　a　straight　line；　roughly　towards　the　lighthouse　that　the　station　also　supported。
‘Not　real　smart；　are　they？‘　Oreza　asked。
‘Well；　if　they　were　smart；　why　break　the　law？‘
‘Roger　that；　sir。‘　Three　hundred　yards　now；　and　a　head　turned　aft　to　see　the　gleaming　white　shape　of　the　small　cutter。　Three　people　aboard　the　target　craft；　and　the　one　who　had　looked　at　them　leaned　forward　to　say　something　to　the　guy　at　the　wheel。　It　was　almost　ical　to　watch。　Oreza　could　imagine　every　word　they　were　saying。　There‘s　a　Coast　Guard　boat　back　there。　So　just　play　it　cool；　maybe　they‘re　just　changing　the　duty　boat　or　something；　see　the　one　there　。。。　Uh…oh；　I　don‘t　like　this。。。　Just　be　cool；　damn　it！　I　really　don‘t　like　this。　Settle　down；　their　lights　aren‘t　on　and　their　station　is　right　down　there；　for　Christ‘s　sake。
Just　about　time；　Oreza　smiled　to　himself；　just　about　time　for：　oh；　shit！
He　grinned　when　it　happened。　The　guy　at　the　wheel　turned；　and　his　mouth　opened　and　shut；　having　said　just　that。　One　of　the　younger　crewmen　read　the　man‘s　lips　and　laughed。
‘I　think　they　just　figured　it　out；　skipper。‘
‘Hit　the　lights！‘　the　quartermaster　ordered；　and　the　cop　lights　atop　the　wheelhouse　started　blinking；　somewhat　to　Oreza‘s　displeasure。
‘Aye　aye！‘
The　Bay　boat　turned　rapidly　south；　but　the　outbound　cutter　turned　to　cover　the　maneuver；　and　it　was　instantly　clear　that　neither　could　outrun　the　twin…screw　forty…one…boats。
‘Should　have　used　the　money　to　buy　something　sportier；　boys；‘　Oreza　said　to　himself；　knowing　that　criminals　learned　from　their　mistakes；　too；　and　buying　something　to　outrun　a　forty…one…foot　patrol　boat　was　not　exactly　a　taxing　problem。　This　one　was　easy。　Chasing　another　little　sailboat　would　be　easy；　if　this　damned　fool　of　a　cop　would　let　them　do　it　right；　but　the　easy　ones　wouldn‘t　last　forever。
The　Bay　boat　cut　power；　trapped　between　two　cutters。　Warrant　Officer　English　kept　station　a　few　hundred　yards　out　while　Oreza　drove　in　close。
‘Howdy；‘　the　quartermaster　said　over　his　loud…hailer。　‘This　is　the　US　Coast　Guard；　and　we　are　exercising　our　right　to　board　and　conduct　a　safety　inspection。　Let‘s　everybody　stay　where　we　can　see　you；　please。‘
It　was　remarkably　like　watching　people　who‘d　just　lost　a　pro…football　game。　They　knew　they　couldn‘t　change　anything　no　matter　what　they　did。　They　knew　that　resistance　was　futile；　and　so　they　just　stood　there　in　dejection　and　acceptance　of　their　fate。　Oreza　wondered　how　long　that　would　last。　How　long　before　somebody　would　be　dumb　enough　to　fight　it　out？
Two　of　his　sailors　jumped　aboard；　covered　by　two　more　on　the　forty…one‘s　fantail。　Mr　English　brought　his　boat　in　closer。　A　good　boat…handler；　Oreza　saw；　like　a　warrant　was　supposed　to　be；　and　he　had　his　people　out　to　offer　cover；　too；　just　in　case　the　bad　guys　got　a　crazy　idea。　While　the　three　men　stood　in　plain　view；　mostly　looking　down　at　the　deck　and　hoping　that　it　might　really　be　a　safety　inspection；　Oreza‘s　two　men　went　into　the　forward　cabin。　Both　came　out　in　less　than　a　minute。　One　tipped　the　bill　of　his　cap；　signaling　all…clear；　then　patted　his　belly。　Yes；　there　were　drugs　aboard。　Five　pats　…　a　lot　of　drugs　aboard。
‘We　have　a　bust；　sir；‘　Oreza　observed　calmly。
Lieutenant　Mark　Charon　of　the　Narcotics　Division；　Baltimore　City　Police　Department；　leaned　against　the　doorframe　…　hatch；　whatever　these　sailors　called　the　thing　…　and　smiled。　He　was　dressed　in　casual　clothes；　and　might　have　easily　been　mistaken　for　a　coastie　with　the　required　orange　life　jacket。
‘You　handle　it；　then。　How　does　it　go　in　the　books？‘
‘Routine　safety　inspection；　and；　golly；　they　had　drugs　aboard；‘　Oreza　said　in　mock　surprise。
‘Exactly　right；　Mr　Oreza。‘
"；Thank　you；　sir。‘
‘My　pleasure。　Captain。‘
He‘d　already　explained　the　procedure　to　Oreza　and　English。　In　order　to　protect　his　informants；　credit　for　the　arrest　would　go　to　the　coasties；　which　didn‘t　exactly　displease　the　quartermaster　or　the　warrant　officer。　Oreza　would　get　to　paint　a　victory　symbol　on　his　mast；　or　whatever　they　called　the　thing　the　radar　was　attached　to；　a　representation　of　the　five…leafed　marijuana　plant；　and　the　crewmen　would　have　something　to　brag　about。　They　might　even　have　the　adventure　of　testifying　before　a　federal　district　court　…　probably　not；　since　these　small…timers　would　undoubtedly　cop　to　the　smallest　offense　their　attorney　could　negotiate。　They　would　get　word　out　that　the　people　to　whom　they　were　making　the　delivery　had　probably　informed　on　them。　With　luck　those　people　might　even　disappear；　and　that　would　really　make　his　task　easy。　There　would　be　an　opening　in　the　drug　ecostructure　…　another　new　buzzword　Charon　had　picked　up　on。　At　the　very　least；　a　potential　rival　in　that　ecostructure　was　now　out　of　business　for　good。　Lieutenant　Charon　would　get　a　pat　on　the　back　from　his　captain；　probably　a　flowery　thank…you　letter　from　the　United　States　Coast　Guard　and　the　US　Attorney‘s　office；　not　to　mention　congratulations　for　running　such　a　quiet　and　effective　operation　that　had　not　promised　his　informants。　One　of　our　best　men；　his　captain　would　affirm　again。　How　do　you　get　informants　like　that？　Cap‘n；　you　know　how　that　works；　I　have　to　protect　these　people。　Sure；　Mark；　I　understand。　You　just　keep　up　the　good　work。
I’ll　do　my　best；　sir；　Charon　thought　to　himself；　staring　off　at　the　setting　sun。　He　didn‘t　even　watch　the　coasties　cuffing　the　suspects；　reading　them　their　constitutional　rights　from　the　plastic…coated　card；　smiling　as　they　did　so；　since　for　them　this　was　a　very　entertaining　game。　But　then；　that‘s　what　it　was　for　Charon；　too。
Where　were　the　damned　helicopters？　Kelly　asked　himself。
Everything　about　the　damned　mission　had　been　wrong　from　the　first　moment。　Pickett；　his　usual　panion；　had　e　down　with　violent　dysentery；　too　bad　for　him　to　go　out；　and　Kelly　had　gone　out　alone。　Not　a　good　thing；　but　the　mission　was　too　important；　and　they　had　to　cover　every　little　hamlet　or　ville。　So　he‘d　e　in　alone；　very；　very　carefully　moving　up　the　stinking　water　of　this　…　well；　the　map　called　it　a　river；　but　it　wasn‘t　quite　large　enough　for　Kelly　to　think　of　it　that　way。
And；　of　course；　this　is　the　ville　they‘d　e　to；　the　fuckers。
PLASTIC　FLOWER；　he　thought；　watching　and　listening。　Who　the　hell　came　up　with　that　name？
PLASTIC　FLOWER　was　the　code　name　for　an　NVA　political…action　team　or　whatever　they　called　it。　His　team　had　several　other　names；　none　of　them　plimentary。　Certainly　they　weren‘t　the　precinct　workers　he‘d　seen　on　election　day　in　Indianapolis。　Not　these　people；　schooled　in　Hanoi　on　how　to　win　hearts　and　minds。
The　ville‘s　headman；　chief；　mayor；　whatever　the　hell　he　was；　was　just　a　little　too　courageous　to　be　called　anything　but　a　fool。　He　was　paying　for　that　foolishness　before　the　distant　eyes　of　Bosun‘s　Mate　1/c　J。T。　Kelly；　The　team　had　arrived　at　oh…one…thirty；　and　in　a　very　orderly　and　almost　civilized　way；　entered　every　little　hooch；　awakening　the　whole　population　of　farmers；　bringing　them　into　the　mon　area　to　see　the　misguided　hero；　and　his　wife；　and　his　three　daughters；　all　waiting　for　them；　sitting　in　the　dirt；　their　arms　cruelly　tied　behind　their　backs。　The　NVA　major　who　led　PLASTIC　FLOWER　invited　them　all　to　sit　in　a　mannerly　voice　that　reached　Kelly‘s　observation　point；　less　than　two　hundred　meters　away。　The　ville　needed　a　lesson　in　the　foolishness　of　resistance　to　the　people‘s　liberation　movement。　It　was　not　that　they　were　bad　people；　just　misguided；　and　he　hoped　that　this　simple　lesson　would　make　clear　to　them　the　error　of　their　ways。
They　started　with　the　man‘s　wife。　That　took　twenty　minutes；
I　have　to　do　something！　he　told　himself。
There‘s　eleven　of　them；　idiot。　And　while　the　Major　might　be　a　sadistic　motherfucker；　the　ten　soldiers　with　him　had　not　been　selected　exclusively　for　their　political　correctness。　They　would　be　reliable；　experienced；　and　dedicated　soldiers。　How　a　man　could　be　dedicated　to　such　things　as　this；　Kelly　didn‘t　have　the　imagination　to　understand。　That　they　were　was　a　fact　that　he　could　not　afford　to　ignore。
Where　was　the　fucking　reaction　team？　He‘d　called　in　forty　minutes　earlier；　and　the　support　base　was　only　twenty　minutes　off　by　chopper。　They　wanted　this　Major。
His　team　might　also　be　useful；　but　they　wanted　the　Major　alive。　He　knew　the　location　of　the　local　political　leaders；　those　the　Marines　hadn‘t　swept　up　in　a　superb　raid　six　weeks　earlier。　This　mission　was　probably　a　reaction　to　that；　a　deliberate　response　so　close　to　the　American　base；　to　say　that；　no；　you　hadn‘t　gotten　us　all　yet；　and　you　never　will。
And　they　were　probably　right；　Kelly　thought；　but　that　question　went　far　beyond　the　mission　for　tonight。
The　oldest　daughter　was　maybe　fifteen。　It　was　hard　to　tell　with　the　small；　deceptively　delicate　Vietnamese　women。　She‘d　lasted　all　of　twenty…five　minutes　and　was　not　yet　dead。　Her　screams　carried　dearly　across　the　flat；　open　ground　to　Kelly‘s　watery　post；　and　his　hands　squeezed　the　plastic　of　his　CAR…15　so　hard　that　had　he　thought　or　noticed；　he　might　have　worried　about　breaking　something。
The　ten　soldiers　with　the　Major　were　deployed　as　they　should　be。　Two　men　were　with　the　Major；　and　they　rotated　duty　with　the　perimeter　guards　so　that　all　of　them　could　partake　in　the　evening‘s　festivities。　One　of　them　finished　the　girl　with　a　knife。　The　next　daughter　was　perhaps　twelve。
Kelly‘s　ears　scanned　the　cloudy　sky；　praying　to　hear　the　distinctive　mutter　of　a　Huey‘s　two…bladed　rotor。　There　were　other　sounds。　The　rumble　of　155s　from　the　marine　fire　base　to　the　east。　Some　jets　screaming　overhead。　None　were　loud　enough　to　mask　the　high…pitched　screech　of　a　child；　but　there　were　still　eleven　of　them；　and　only　one　of　him；　and　even　if　Pickett　had　been　here；　the　odds　would　not　have　been　remotely　close　enough　to　try　a　play。　Kelly　had　his　CAR…15　carbine；　a　thirty…round　magazine　securely　fixed　in　its　place；　another　taped；　inverted；　to　the　end　of　that　one；　and　two　more　similar　sets。　He　had　four　fragmentation　grenades；　two　willie…petes；　and　two　smokes。　His　deadliest　appliance　was　his　radio；　but　he‘d　already　called　out　twice　and　gotten　an　acknowledgment　both　times；　along　with　orders　to　sit　tight。
Easy　thing　to　say　back　at　the　base；　wasn‘t　it？
Twelve　years　old；　maybe。　Too　young　for　this。　There　was　no　age　for　this；　he　told　himself；　but　he‘d　never　be　able　to　change　things　alone；　and　there　was　no　good　for　anyone　in　adding　his　death　to　those　of　this　family。
How　could　they　do　it？　Were　they　not　men；　soldiers；　professional　warriors　like　himself？　Could　anything　be　so　important　that　they　could　cast　aside　their　humanity？　What　he　saw　was　impossible。　It　could　not　be。　But　it　was。　The　rumbles　of　the　distant　artillery　continued；　dropping　planned　fire…missions　on　a　suspected　supply　route。　A　continuous　stream　of　aircraft　overhead；　maybe　Marine　intruders　doing　a　Mini…Arc　Light　strike　at　something　or　other；　probably　empty　woods；　because　most　of　those　targets　were　just　that。　Not　here；　where　the　enemy　was；　but　that　wouldn‘t　help　anything；　would　it？　These　villagers　had　bet　their　lives　and　their　families　on　something　that　wasn‘t　working；　and　maybe　that　Major　thought　he　was　being　merciful　in　just　eliminating　one　family　in　the　most　graphic　method　possible　instead　of　ending　all　their　lives　in　a　more　efficient　way。　Besides；　dead　men　told　no　tales；　and　this　was　a　tale　he　would　want　repeated。　Terror　was　something　they　could　use；　and　use　well。
Time　crept　on；　slowly　and　rapidly；　and　presently　the　twelve…year…old　stopped　making　noise　and　was　cast　aside。　The　third　and　final　daughter　was　eight；　he　saw　through　his　binoculars。　The　arrogance　of　the　fuckers；　building　a　large　fire。　They　couldn‘t　have　anyone　miss　this；　could　they？
Eight　years　old；　not　even　old　enough；　not　a　throat　large　enough　for　a　proper　scream。　He　watched　the　changing　of　the　guard。　Two　more　men　moved　from　the　perimeter　into　the　center　of　the　ville。　R&；R　for　the　political…action　group；　who　couldn‘t　go　to　Taiwan　as　Kelly　had。　The　man　nearest　to　Kelly　hadn‘t　had　his　chance　yet；　probably　wouldn‘t。　The　headman　didn‘t　have　enough　daughters；　or　maybe　this　one　was　on　the　Major‘s　shit　list。　Whatever　th