Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,39
the Americans would force them to higher ground. And they knew, thanks to their maps, that there were only three locations on the mountainside suitable for making a stand. Three portions of an ancient wall, built long before modern Vietnam existed, still stood along the mountainside. No one knew who had built them. No one cared. But they’d been important strategic points for the builders and Vietcong alike. As such, hatches hidden beneath the ground litter led to a network of ancient tunnels—tunnels that could be used for retreat from the wall, or approach to it from behind.
Teams of four had been dispatched to each tunnel, two men to enter the tunnel, two to guard the other end. They had beaten the Americans there and lain in wait. With the battle under way and a spotter on the mountain above keeping them apprised of the woman’s whereabouts, they simply had to wait for the right moment to strike.
Thanks to an informant they knew exactly where the U.S. team would touch down. Smartly, the Americans had chosen an LZ in Laos rather than Vietnam, limiting the size of the force Trung was able to mobilize without starting a war between the two nations. What they hadn’t expected was the arrival of the Neo Khmer Rouge the previous night, whose presence provided the distraction that allowed the Americans to slip through.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter. The Neos were routed quickly and the mission continued unabated.
Scouts hiding in the trees around Anh Dung had identified the tall woman as their primary target. She was the Americans’ expert. Their scientist. Their hope for a cure to the Brugada sent to them by the major general. The others were soldiers.
The initial American assault had almost brought the tunnel down, but its ancient stone walls managed to hold out through yet another battle. While many of the other Vietcong tunnels had since collapsed, this tunnel had been constructed of sturdier stuff long ago. The two VPLA men in the tunnel received word to strike. The hiss of shifting leaves and squeak of old hinges might normally have given away their exit from the tunnel, but the ceaseless gunfire of the U.S. team concealed their approach. Though they could have easily killed a few of the Americans from behind, that was not their mission. It didn’t matter whether or not the U.S. team lived or died. All that mattered was their target.
The two men approached her from behind as the battle raged. One crouched low while the other reached up with the drug-laden rag and held it over her mouth. As she collapsed, the men caught her body, preventing it from making an impact one of the American soldiers might feel, and then carried her back to the tunnel. Like trap-door spiders, they were only exposed for seconds before returning underground with their prey.
As they entered the tunnel, one of the VPLA soldiers turned back. His eyes met Somi’s, who had turned around, shotgun in hand. One pull of her shotgun’s trigger could have fired a volley of shells, tearing the man apart and sounding the alarm. But no shot was fired. Instead, she nodded.
The VPLA soldier responded in kind, offering a brief smile.
Mission accomplished.
But then a twitch of his wrist and a flash of metal told another story.
Mission accomplished? Almost.
The flung knife crossed the distance and buried silently into Somi’s chest.
She dropped her shotgun and fell to the ground. The hatch closed above the two Death Volunteers and together, they dragged Sara into the network of tunnels.
Somi fell to the ground and felt the blade shift, slicing through muscle and veins. The skin hugging the knife grew warm with her blood. As she lay there, behind the backs of the Chess Team, she realized her loyalty to the VPLA had been misplaced. Before his death, her father, a diplomat, had been close friends with Major General Trung. Over time he’d become personally and financially linked to Trung and the pair aligned their political and military agendas. But with her father’s death, Somi learned that her father had become indebted to Trung, who transferred her father’s debt to his one and only child—sixteen-year-old Somi. Every step she had taken since, including enlisting in the CIA, had been at his request. She served him well over the years, fulfilling her father’s debts, but that didn’t seem to matter now. It seemed she would finish paying her father’s debts with her life.