The incessant ringing of the phone pulled him from the warm dreams he'd been having. Stretching his right hand over his body, he picked up the receiver and placed it next to his ear. "Larabee," his sleep drenched voice mumbled. There was no immediate answer and he opened his eyes. Realizing he had the receiver backwards, he turned it over and repeated. "Larabee."
"Lieutenant."
The voice penetrated his sleep-befuddled mind and he jerked out of bed and stood to attention without realizing he'd done so. "Captain Dunne."
"At ease, Lieutenant."
Chris could hear the amusement in the other man's voice and he dropped tiredly back to the bed. "Thank you, Sir," Larabee chuckled. His eyes wondered to the red numbers on the digital clock radio on his nightstand. Three thirty five! He was instantly awake and knew this was more than a social call from his ex-commander. "What's going on, Captain?"
The voice on the other end of the line was silent for a few minutes. When he finally spoke, it was with the authority Larabee was used to hearing. "You're being recalled to active duty. You're to report to Admiral Jonathan Mitchell's office in two days."
"Yes, Sir. May I ask what this is all about?"
"Tran Dinh Chieu."
"I haven't heard that name since Ho Chi Minh City," Larabee whispered.
"He's been in contact with the head office but will only speak with you. I can't give you any more details over the phone. Admiral Mitchell has the specifics for you."
"Will you be there as well, Sir?"
"I'll be there, Lieutenant. See you in two days."
"Yes, Sir," Larabee said, gently placing the phone back in its cradle.
He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the weariness from his eyes. His thoughts wondered back to his first meeting with Tran Dinh Chieu. They became friends during the two months he spent in Ho Chi Minh and Tran saved his life when a colonel in the Vietnamese army tried to capture him. Tran hid him in the basement of his home, putting his life and the lives of his family at risk to keep him out of the madman's hands. The colonel's men killed Tran's eldest son. The guilt of that knowledge would always be an unwelcome reminder of those days.
Standing away from the bed he placed his hands on his lower back and stretched the tensed muscles, groaning as an audible crack released some of the pressure. He knew he wouldn't sleep anymore, too many memories and too much pain.
He went to his closet and pulled out his old uniform. The memories of his years as a Navy SEAL surged through his mind. He fingered the buttons on the immaculately pressed shirt as he sat on the edge of his bed. His thoughts once more turned to the death of a teenage boy with dark hair and the most expressive eyes he'd ever seen until the day he met Vin Tanner. The boy's laughing face and explosive energy still brought a smile to the blond's face. I'm sorry, Le, he thought as a more painful memory intruded on his mind.
He walked towards Tran, holding the limp body tightly. The thin arms and legs dangling, the head bent at an awkward angle, blood running from the boy's nose and mouth. Tran and his family didn't blame Chris Larabee for what happened to their son but Chris Larabee blamed himself. Tears ran freely down his cheeks as he transferred the boy's lifeless body into his father's arms. Le Tran Chieu would have been twenty-three if he'd lived. Instead he was buried in a small grave near the family's home. The service was attended by a small group of friends and family. Chris stood back, not wanting to intrude, but the boy's father insisted he come forward and stand with the family.
Chris felt the moisture gathering in his eyes. The ten-year-old memory was still painful and he dropped the uniform on the bed. No time for this, Larabee! You've got a lot of things to get settled before you meet with the Admiral, he berated himself as he walked to the shower.
He stepped into the large stall and adjusted the temperature. Steam billowed up around him as he let the massaging sensation sooth his trembling body. He lifted his face to the sharp spray, wanting the memories to fade. He trembled as the boy's face did a macabre dance behind his closed lids. God, I'm so sorry, Le, he thought as he struggled to keep the tears at bay.
He had no idea how long he stood in the shower, letting the water slide down his taut muscles, easing some of the tension. He opened his eyes and finished showering. He stepped over the side and grabbed the soft, blue terry cloth bath sheet he'd placed on the rack. He wiped the beads of moisture from his skin while the cool air blew down on him from the overhead fan.
He picked up a smaller towel and wrapped it around his waist. Walking back into his bedroom, he was surprised to see it was only four fifteen. Less than an hour passed since the call from Dunne. He lay back on his bed and tried to sleep. His sodden hair plastered against the pillow as he struggled to get past the pictures conjured up by his wide-awake and troubled mind. He tossed and turned, waiting for sleep to overcome him; but each time he looked at the clock only a few minutes had passed.
The phone ringing beside his head once more brought him upright, "Larabee," he mumbled.
"Hey, Chris, just wondering if you were planning on coming into the office today."
"Huh, what time is it," Larabee asked, trying to focus his gaze on the bedside table.
"It's seven forty five," Tanner told him. "Something wrong, Cowboy?" he asked, hearing the tension in his best friend's voice.
"No, just didn't sleep very well last night."
"You wanna talk about it?" Tanner probed, concerned for his friend.
"Not right now, Vin. Look, just tell the guys I'll be there in a couple of hours," Larabee hung up the phone without waiting for an answer from the younger man.
"Problem, Vin?"
"Not sure, Nate. Have you ever known Chris to be this late coming into the office without calling?"
"It's happened a couple of times, but it's usually after a tough case."
"Well that can't be the reason. Hell, it's been so quiet the past couple of weeks, I've been thinking of stirring up a little trouble of my own," Tanner grinned at the look on the medic's face.
"Don't even joke about that, Vin. Trouble has a way of finding you without you going in search of it."
"Just kidding, Nate."
Jackson's eyebrows rose at the chagrined look on the sharpshooter's face. "You'd better be. Is Chris okay?"
"Says he's fine, just didn't sleep very well. He'll be here in a couple of hours," Tanner answered as he picked up a report and started reading.
Chris pulled the towel from around his waist and began to dress. As he pulled up his black jeans his hand touched a tiny thin scar. Once more memories of Ho Chi Minh City clouded his mind. Le Tran Chieu died and he'd received this lasting scar because of a twisted sadistic Colonel. The scar was caused by a burning piece of wood touching against his right leg, searing the skin, and scorching his mind with pain.
He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his throbbing head in his hands. Once more he pictured the smiling face of a boy who'd looked up to him. Deep in his heart he knew it wasn't his fault but that didn't lessen his guilt. Forcing his memories back he finished dressing and headed for the office.
"Something wrong, Cowboy?" Tanner asked when Larabee stepped into the open office area.
"Everything's fine, Vin. Tell the rest of the guys I want a meeting in ten minutes in my office," the tired voice answered.
"Sure," Tanner said, his trained eyes taking in the pale face, the dark half circles under the green eyes, and the way he seemed to drag his body across the office space.
"Thanks, Vin," Larabee said as he opened his office and walked to his desk. He sat heavily in the chair and looked at his surroundings. He pictured the small, scantily furnished home of the Chieu family. Their meager possessions were spread around the tiny home and they made sure Chris knew he was welcome to anything they owned.
His head throbbed as the memories of the horrible time in the beautiful city came back and he groaned as he placed his head on the desk.
"Hey, Stud, Vin says you want to see us," Wilmington's cheerful voice stopped as Larabee lifted his head. "Wow, Chris, you look like five miles of bad road. Did you overindulge last night?"
"Shut up, Buck," the blond hissed as he rubbed at his temples.
"Don't get angry at me, Stud. It's not my fault you drank too much."
"Not that it's any of your business, Buck, but I haven't been drinking."
"Headache, Chris?" Jackson asked as he watched his boss.
"Yeah, Nathan, got anything in that magic bag of yours to get rid of it?"
"How bad?"
"Ready to explode," Larabee answered.
"You look like you didn't get much sleep last night," Jackson stated as he retrieved his bag and opened it.
"Is it that obvious?" the blond asked, noticing a very worried Vin Tanner sitting across from him. I'm fine, he mouthed to the younger man.
Tanner shot him a look that told him he didn't believe him, but would wait for an explanation.
"These should help, Chris," Jackson said, passing his leader two white tablets and a glass of cold water.
Larabee popped the tablets into his mouth and swallowed the entire glass of water. "Thanks," he whispered gratefully.
"You're welcome. Are you gonna tell us what brought this headache on?" the medic asked.
Larabee looked around the room, his eyes finally coming to rest on the sharpshooter; "I'd rather only say this once. Where're Josiah, JD, and Ezra?"
"They had to meet with Orrin and go over the last case they were on. I called and they were nearly finished," Tanner explained. He knew something was going on with his friend and it worried him that Larabee looked so ill.
"If you guys don't mind I'd rather wait till they get here."
"It looks like we don't have to wait any longer," Wilmington said as the missing agents walked through the outer door.
JD's exuberant voice filled the outer office, bringing a thin smile to Larabee's lips, "He's hard to miss," he said softly, a wistful look in his eyes.
"Hey, Chris," Dunne called as he entered the leader's office.
"Good morning, JD, Ez, Josiah," Larabee greeted.
"Has anyone told you how terrible you look, Brother?"
"A time or two, Josiah. I don't have much time so if you guys will sit down I'll fill you in on what's happening," the blond suggested as he continued to rub his throbbing temples.
"Alright, Chris, We're all here and we're listening," Wilmington said.
Larabee dropped his hands from his head, stood up from the desk, and walked to the large window. His eyes met those of the sharpshooter as he passed and he knew Tanner was reading him like an open book. Turning back to the window, fighting back the memories of Ho Chi Minh City again, his voice barely audible even in the silence, "I've been recalled and will be leaving tomorrow for Norfolk," he told them.
"What? Why?" Wilmington shouted.
"You know I can't go into details, Buck."
"Least I know where the headache came from," Jackson's voice was low and filled with worry.
"Is it dangerous, Chris?" Dunne asked.
"It's always dangerous, kid," Wilmington hissed. "Why you?"
"Buck, you know I can't go into details," Larabee repeated tiredly.
"Mr. Larabee, this has to do with your Navy SEALs days does it not?"
The blond head bobbed once as he returned to his desk. "Look, I can't tell you anything else."
"How long will you be gone, Brother?"
"I don't know, Josiah. It depends on what I have to do," Larabee answered, his eyes meeting Tanner's across the room. He knew the younger man was waiting until they were alone before he voiced his worries. The blue eyes never wavered from the blond's face as the younger man listened to the questions from the other men.
Later, Cowboy, Tanner mouthed and Chris gave a slight nod.
"I'm not going to put one of you in charge since you each know your own jobs. I would like all of you to coordinate with Vin so he can give the details to Travis. I need you to cooperate with each other. Make sure the cases are kept up to date and that reports are passed along to Travis."
"We'll take care of things, Chris," Jackson assured the blond.
"Thanks, Nathan, I know you will. Look, I don't know how long I'll be gone and I need to know you guys will keep this place running smoothly."
"You've got it, Pard," Wilmington's voice betrayed the worry he failed to keep inside.
"You really gotta go, Chris?" Dunne asked.
"Listen, Kid, when they call you there's really no choice. You go or you end up being charged," Wilmington told them.
"Alright, gentlemen, I've got some things to do before my flight leaves tomorrow so if you'll excuse me I've got a few things to clear up," Larabee said as his headache started to diminish.
Five men stood to leave and Chris's eyes met those of his best friend. I'm fine, Vin, he mouthed again as the others took their leave.
"Chris, if there's anything I can do," Wilmington said as he stopped at the door.
"I know, Buck. Thanks."
Wilmington nodded and closed the door leaving the two men to talk in private.
"Vin, I can't tell you anymore than I already have," Larabee said, feeling the headache trying to regain control of him.
"I've got clearance, Chris," Tanner said softly.
"I know you do, Vin. I just don't know anymore than I've already told you."
"Don't you?"
Larabee diverted his eyes once more and stared at the calendar covering his desk. "You know me to well sometimes, Vin. Look, all I know is it involves someone I knew a lifetime ago. At least that's what it feels like."
"This have anything to do with Ho Chi Minh City?"
Larabee's head snapped up and his surprised gaze met his friends. "How do you know about that?"
"You were delirious after the fire in the warehouse," Tanner explained.
"Damn, how much did I say?"
"Not much. You were just rambling. Something about a family who befriended you while you were there. So you gonna tell me about them?"
"Not right now, Vin. When I get back I'll buy you a drink and tell you everything. Alright?"
"You just make me a promise that you'll be back, Cowboy," Tanner's voice was serious as he watched his friend.
"I promise to do my best," Larabee assured him.
"Hell, Chris, your best is better than most peoples." The sharpshooter got up to leave. "I'll be here if you need to talk more."
"Thanks, Vin. Thanks for always being here," Larabee's voice was soft and Vin could see the truth of the words in his eyes.
"Why don't you get some rest, Cowboy? I'll take care of things here."
"Thanks, Vin, I am kinda tired," the blond said as he stood and walked over to the comfortable couch. He stretched his body out along the soft cushions and closed his eyes. Sleep came almost immediately as he felt his friend cover him with a small blanket. "Thanks," he whispered softly.
"Welcome, Cowboy," Tanner said as he drew the heavy drapes and left the room, closing the door behind him.
He knew he was dreaming but it was all so real. He was back on the darkened streets of Ho Chi Minh City. His eyes glanced around the deserted street, looking for a place to hole up until he got his breath back. He ran through the street knowing if the Colonel caught him he'd never see his home again. He leaned up against a dirt-covered wall, holding his side and gasping for air. A bullet nicked the wall next to him and he bolted from his resting place.
He turned down another unfamiliar street, his eyes darting left and right in search of a place to go to ground. He continued to run and soon found himself near the Chieu home. He couldn't put the family in danger so he ran past the home and turned down a dirt-encrusted alley.
A young boy appeared before him. A boy he knew.
"Chris," the boy called, his hands filled with what appeared to be junk but was stuff his father would use to make things for the family to sell.
"Le! No! DIDI MAU!" he screamed hoping the boy would understand his command to go quickly.
Le Tran Chieu stood transfixed, his terrified eyes never leaving his new friend. "Chris?"
"Dammit, Le! DIDI MAU! DIDI MAU!" he screamed.
Chris heard his followers enter the alley and he pushed the boy away from him. An explosion to his right caused the boy's body to be thrown into the air. Flames licked up around them as the grenade set fire to the small wooden structure. Chris fell to the ground as the concussion swept him off his feet. He choked back a scream as a piece of burning wood landed on his leg, igniting his pants and searing the skin underneath. He brushed the object away and used his bare hands to put out the small fire.
He heard running feet and caught sight of his enemies rushing towards him. There were only two of them and he knew he had to kill them or end up in the colonel's hands. He stood on unsteady legs, adrenaline the only thing keeping him on his feet. He grabbed a piece of discarded metal and swung it at the head of the first man, snapping his neck, killing him instantly. The second man lifted his gun to fire but the metal bit down on his arm causing him to release the weapon. He dove at Larabee but was stopped as once again Chris struck out with his own weapon.
Chris had no illusions that he could take the man barehanded. His body was totally exhausted and he was choking on the smoke from the fires raging around him. With one last forceful blow he drove the smaller man across the alley, dropping him lifelessly to the ground.
He dropped the metal to the ground and placed his hands on his knees. Sudden realization made his head snap up and he looked to the area he'd pushed Le Tran Chieu. He could see the small legs sticking out form under a mound of debris. "NO!" he screamed as he dropped down beside the fallen boy. With the strength born of anger and grief he pulled everything off the body and stared into sightless eyes. "No! No! No!" he cried over and over as he lifted the almost weightless body into his arms.
Vin, alone in the office, the others having gone for lunch, heard the terrified screams emanating from Larabee's office. He rushed to the door and pushed it open. He saw his friend's green eyes open and filled with pain. His arms were held in front of him as if he cradled something and he was rocking back and forth on the couch.
"Chris, it's alright," he said as he sat beside his friend. "It's just a dream. Come on, Cowboy, open your eyes."
The voice that always seemed to penetrate the heavy burdens on his mind brought the blond back to reality. "They killed him, Vin," his anguished voice whispered.
"Who'd they kill, Chris?"
"Le. He was just a boy but they killed him. It was because of me he died that day."
"What happened?" Tanner asked, his voice soft as he tried not to startle his friend.
"A sick Colonel is what happened. Ah, Hell, Vin, I can't go into it right now. Is there any coffee?"
"Sure, Cowboy, I just made a fresh pot. Stay put and I'll bring you a good strong cup."
"Thanks, Vin," Larabee said as he rubbed at his once more throbbing head.
Tanner simply nodded and went to get the coffee, leaving his friend to his memories.
Chris Larabee strode towards the office of his old commander. His uniform was perfectly pressed and he knew he'd pass Dunne's inspection. He smiled as he remembered his days under the captain's scrutiny. The man had thrown surprise inspections on his team, but never caught them unprepared.
"Hey, Boss, thought you were on vacation?"
Larabee heard the voice but continued towards the office.
"What did I do now, Boss?"
Chris felt a hand on his arm and turned to see a dark haired man standing behind him.
"Oh, Shit, you're not Curran!" the shocked voice remarked as he noted this man was slightly older than his friend.
"No, I'm not," Larabee laughed at the other man's surprised look.
"Who are you? You gotta be related to the boss!"
"Chris Larabee. Who are you?" the blond asked.
"Dale Hawkins. I can't believe how much you look like the boss. Figured you couldn't be him though cause he's supposed to be on a week's leave."
"Well, I have a meeting with Captain Dunne or I'd stay and talk about this guy Curran."
Hawkins eyebrows shot up as an idea formed. "Maybe we can get you two together. I can just see it. The guys'll think Curran lied about having an older brother. Damn, you two are so much alike you could almost be twins except you're a little older."
"Oh, thanks, it's so nice to be considered old," Larabee laughed at the chagrined look on the other man's face.
"Sorry, that's not what I meant. I...I," Hawkins stammered.
"Forget it," Larabee laughed as he hurried towards the Captain's office.
"Damn, there's gotta be a way I can use this," Hawkins thought as he watched the other man's purposeful strides.
"The captain will see you now, Lieutenant," the man at the desk told him.
"Thank you," Larabee said as he walked to the door, opened it and stepped inside. He immediately came to attention and snapped a salute at the older man.
"At ease, Lieutenant," Dunne said as he stood up from his desk and walked towards the younger man. He took Larabee's right hand in his own and shook it vigorously. "It's good to see you again, Son. I just wish it was under better circumstances."
"Thank you, Sir. It's good to see you too."
"Have a seat, Curran. I mean Larabee. You know I didn't realize how much you two look alike," Dunne said as he sat back behind his desk.
"I just got the same thing from a guy named Hawkins," Larabee told the captain as he took the seat across from Dunne.
"I would've loved to have seen his reaction. James Curran and Dale Hawkins have been friends for a long time. They've been through a lot together," Dunne told him. Silence reined for a few minutes until the captain once more met the lieutenant's eyes. "How have you been, Son?"
"I've been fine, Sir."
"I was so sorry to hear about your family. Meant to come see you but things got kind of busy around here."
"I know, Sir. The card and flowers meant a lot to me."
"Still would've liked to have been there for you. Heard you've been keeping busy with a company called The Firm?"
"Yes, Sir," Larabee answered, a smile on his face as he thought of his six friends.
"That's good, Son, I'm glad you've got on with your life."
"Thank you, Sir," the blond said and waited for the Captain to tell him why he was back in the service.
"Well there's no use putting this off any longer, Son. I just wanted to speak with you before we met with Admiral Mitchell. We might as well go there now. He'll be able to tell you more than I can," Dunne said as he led the way out the door.
"Come," a gruff voice called as Dunne knocked on the thick door, the nameplate on it read Admiral Jonathon Mitchell.
"Good afternoon, Sir," Dunne said, quickly snapping a salute.
"Captain." Mitchell returned the salute.
"Sir," Larabee said, also snapping a salute and coming to attention before the superior officer.
"You must be Lieutenant Larabee."
"Yes, Sir."
"At ease, Son. Have a seat. We've got a lot to talk about. Did Captain Dunne tell you why you've been recalled?"
"He mentioned Tran Dinh Chieu," Larabee answered.
"Do you remember him?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Chieu's been in contact with our embassy in Vietnam. He says he has vital information about Colonel Nguyen's plans to launch missiles on the UN but he won't talk to anyone but you," Mitchell explained. "It's imperative that we find out if Nguyen has the capability to carry out his threat. I've read your file and I realize Ho Chi Minh City was pretty rough on you the last time. You ended up with some injuries there and left the service soon after."
"Yes, Sir. I left the service when my Mother became ill and needed someone with her constantly."
"Very commendable, Lieutenant. I'm glad to see you have a sense of family loyalty," Mitchell said.
"Thank you, Admiral."
Mitchell pulled out a file and opened it in front of him. He took out two photos passing one to Larabee, the other to Dunne. "Those are satellite photos taken last week. It shows an area north of Ho Chi Minh that we suspect as being a munitions dump. Cheiu won't confirm anything except to you. He requested you visit him at his home. This is extremely important, Lieutenant. It's vital that we find out whether he really can launch a missile."
"Yes, Sir. When do I leave?"
"Captain Dunne has some information for you. You'll be leaving as soon as you've had the chance to go over the charts. I know how hard going back is going to be for you, Son, but you're the only one he'll speak with."
"I understand, Sir."
"Make sure he's got everything he needs, Captain," Mitchell ordered and the two men got up to leave.
"I will, Sir," Dunne assured the older man.
Thirty-six hours later Chris Larabee, dressed in jeans and a white shirt disembarked from the plane and entered a world he thought never to see again.
Chris stood for a moment, caught up in memories from the past. The sights, sounds and smells assaulting him plunged him back to another time. He shook himself and followed the other passengers down the hallway and up to the customs desk. He took care of the paperwork while on the plane and his personal papers were ready for perusal. The line through customs, although long, moved quickly and he soon found himself facing a customs agent.
The man looked at him disinterestedly, boredom evident in his tired eyes. "American," he said as he looked at the passport.
"That's right," Larabee answered, his tone even.
"What is the nature of your visit?"
"Vacation."
"How long do you plan on staying in our country?"
"Two weeks."
"Open your luggage," the agent ordered.
Chris used his lock and opened the small suitcase, hiding his discomfort at having his personal items touched by someone he didn't know. He kept his face calm, as the man seemed to take particular interest in his shaving kit. Opening it and removing each item before placing it back in the suitcase.
"Do you have anything to declare?" the agent asked.
"No," Larabee answered.
"You may go. Enjoy your stay with us," the man said as Larabee closed and relocked the case.
Stepping into the main terminal he smiled as he watched the hustle and bustle always involved with people traveling to and from foreign countries. Serious faces passed him by in their hurry to get to their destination. He smiled at the contrast between the serious faces around him and the happy faces of a young Vietnamese couple as they picked up their daughter and passed her to an older man. Their ensuing laughter was soothing to his taut nerves as he continued towards the exit.
The coolness of the interior was quickly replaced by shimmering heat as he stepped into the bright sunlight. Taxis of all shapes and sizes were parked along the outer terminal. Shaking his head as the drivers reached out to take his arm and lead him to his cab. Chris walked past the motor driven vehicles and walked up to a strong looking young man.
"Do you speak English?" Chris asked with a grin.
"A little," the young man said eagerly pointing to his Trishaw.
"How much to take me to Twenty Seven Ngo Duc Ke street?" he asked
"One thousand Dong," the young man answered hopefully.
Chris knew the amount sounded exorbitant and he could take a taxi for less but he wanted the freedom of the Trishaw. He wanted to see how much of the city remained the same as he remembered. He counted out the currency and passed it to the young man who shoved it into his pocket as if he expected his passenger to change his mind.
Larabee climbed into the Trishaw, placed his small suitcase on the floor and relaxed against the comfortable seat.
"We go now," his driver said as he picked up the handles and moved out into the traffic.
Chris watched the people moving around him, some in cars, some riding bikes, some in Trishaws similar to the one he was in. People walked, ran and sometimes stumbled across the street in an effort to get out of the way of the slow moving traffic. Street signs hadn't changed in the years since he left and he knew it would be growing dark by the time they reached their destination. He smiled as they passed the little cafe he once frequented with the Chieu family. The laughter from Le as he scrambled to eat his rapidly melting ice cream. This all took place before Chris met Colonel Nguyen and ended up running for his life.
The smile left his handsome face as his memories turned dark and he once more relived the death of his friend's son. Snap out of it, Larabee, there's nothing you can do about it now, he thought as the Trishaw turned onto another, less busy street. Temples and Pagodas were in abundance and people moved in and out of them. He easily picked out the tourists as they stopped to buy things being peddled along the street.
Chris sat back, relaxing as his driver continued his steady pace through the city. He closed his eyes envisioning the old bar he and Chieu frequented on his last trip to this city. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the Trishaw came to an abrupt halt in front of the My Man Bar.
"We are here," the driver exclaimed, nodding his head excitedly.
"Ga Mug," Larabee thanked the man as he climbed down from the Trishaw.
"I wait?" the man asked hopefully.
Chris smiled and shook his head, "thanks but I'm meeting a friend," he didn't miss the look of disappointment that crossed the driver's face. This was how he earned a living and Larabee knew how hard that was in the heavily populated city. He reached in his pocket and passed the man another two hundred Dong. The man smiled and thanked him gratefully as he moved back into the street.
The blond stood in front of the bar for a few minutes. The pungent aroma of beer and perspiration permeated the air as he finally stepped through the door into the dulled interior. Glancing around he spotted an empty table towards the back of the smoky establishment. He heard people discussing things in Vietnamese as well as English. He returned the smile of a petite young dark haired woman as he passed her. He finally made it to the table and sat down, placing his suitcase under the table and leaning it against his leg.
A very pretty woman, wearing an abundance of make up walked up to him. He smiled as she asked him what he wanted to drink, her tone one of interest as she raked her eyes over his lean, muscular body.
"Ba Mu'o'I Ba," he answered. He watched her hurry up to the bar, place her order and return to his table. "Ga Mug," he said as he tasted the beer he enjoyed so much on his last visit. He settled back to wait for Tran Dinh Chieu to show up. An hour later and two more beers Chris caught sight of his old friend.
Chieu had not aged well over the years since they'd parted. His hair was thinner and where once it was a shiny black it was now a dull and lifeless grey. His face was pock marked with scars and wrinkles and Chris wondered what he'd gone through over the years.
Chieu stood before Larabee, his eyes filled with a profound sadness that left the blond once more wondering what he'd been through. "It is good to see you again my friend." Larabee took the other man's hand and spoke softly. "I've missed you, Tran."
"You look good, Chris. How are things with you?"
"I can't complain."
"My family is dead, Chris," Chieu said, his voice low but laced with anger.
Larabee placed his beer back on the table, his eyes filled with sorrow as he asked. "What happened?"
"He killed them."
Chris had no doubt as to who he was. "Nguyen," he said simply.
"He had them executed a year after you left. He let me live so I would remind others of his power."
"He's a sick son of a bitch," the blond hissed angrily. "Did he do that to you?" he asked of the scars on Chieu's face.
"Yes, before he let me go. Chris, you need to have your people destroy his stronghold."
"Can he launch the missiles?"
"He not only can... he will. The missiles are being held just over the border in Laos. He won't keep them at his headquarters because he knows your government is suspicious."
"The missiles are not at the munitions dump?" Larabee asked, grateful for the noise around them. The music drowned out their voices so that no one would be privy to their conversation. To all intents and purposes they looked like two friend reliving old times.
"No. The munitions dump is a front. Nguyen does not even stay there. His true base also borders on Laos."
"Can you tell me the coordinates?"
"I don't know them. Your people will know because it's the only structure at the base of the mountains," he explained, his voice lowering even more as he looked around. "Chris, your government has to take him out. He's planning on bombing the UN building."
"Why doesn't your own government take care of it?"
"Nguyen has contacts on the inside," Chieu said, looking around nervously. His eyes stopped on the two figures that entered the bar. "Choi Oi," he gasped causing Chris to look in the same direction.
"You know them?" he asked, noting the expression on his friend's face.
"Nguyen's men. We have to get out of here now," he cried, standing hurriedly, knocking over his chair in the process. He didn't wait to see if Chris was following him as he hurried out into the darkened alley.
Larabee's eyes locked with the larger of the newcomers. He read the evil intent in the cold orbs and hurried to join the fleeing man, the suitcase under the table forgotten in his haste.
Chris heard grumbled protests and crashing tables but didn't turn to see the cause. He shoved the door opened and stumbled into the alley. He looked to his right just in time to see Chieu disappear around the corner. He turned in the opposite direction hoping to draw the pursuers away from the other man. He made it to the end of the alley at the same time the door slammed open behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and knew the men saw him. Turning back to the street he slammed into a large human barrier. Unprepared for the sudden impact the air was driven from his lungs and he stumbled backwards gasping for air.
Chris couldn't tear his eyes from the man standing before him. He recognized the mountain of a man and knew he was in trouble. He veered to the left and tried to get past the obstacle but was stopped by another familiar form.
"Going somewhere, Lieutenant?"
Chris glared at the man who turned his life into a living hell the last time they met. "What do you want, Nguyen?" he hissed; only to fall to the ground as a fist from the larger man connected with his chin.
"You will speak to my Colonel with respect," the mountain like man snapped.
Larabee held his chin, shaking his head in an effort to rid himself of the stars before his eyes. "Caca Dao!" he snarled at Nguyen as he struggled to his feet.
"You tried to kill me before, Lieutenant, it didn't work then and it won't work now. Take him," Nguyen ordered.
Chris swung at the large man before him, while bringing his right leg up, turning so his foot connected with the man directly behind him. A satisfied smile dawned on his face as he heard a grunt of pain from the man he kicked. The satisfaction was short lived as the larger man in front of him reached out with gorilla-like arms and latched onto his shoulders. Larabee was lifted from the ground and turned so he was facing the opposite direction. His arms suddenly pinned to his side.
He braced his body for the blow he knew was coming but was still unprepared for the force of it. Using the man holding him for leverage he lifted both feet off the ground and succeeded in kicking the second of his pursuers. He smiled once more at the sickening sound of bone crunching, knowing he'd broken the man's nose.
"Enough!" Nguyen shouted, stepping in front of the blond, striking him above the right eye with the butt of his rifle.
Larabee's head rocked back and his eyes rolled in his head. His limp body held in place by the strong arms of Nguyen's second lieutenant.
"Tie him up and bring him along, Lieutenant Diem," the Colonel ordered.
Diem dropped the unconscious man to the ground. He took three lengths of cord from his pack. Pulling Larabee's arms behind his back he twisted the first cord tightly around his wrists, the second around his ankles, the third he used to join the bound limbs. He bent down and easily lifted the man, tucking him under his arms so he rested against his hip. He walked towards the canvas-covered truck parked next to the alley. He threw the unconscious man into the back and climbed in with him.
He smiled at the man who crawled into the truck with him, blood running from the broken nose. "He caught you good, Lieu," he laughed.
Lieu stood to his full height in the back of the truck and kicked out at the bound man. His boot caught the unconscious victim on the lower right side, causing an almost inaudible moan to spill from his mouth.
"Pig!" Lieu snarled as he sat down across from Diem, just as the truck started to move.
Chieu watched the departing truck with fear and anger in his eyes. He knew he was lucky Nguyen wanted Larabee and once he took him he gave up the search for Chieu. I'm sorry, my friend. I'll try to get some help for you, he thought as he turned back to the bar. He looked at his watch shocked to see that less than twenty minutes had passed since he spotted Nguyen's men. He turned back to the doors and re-entered the smoky establishment. His eyes scanned the area, landing on the suitcase still tucked under the table. He hurried over, picked it up and left the bar before anyone had a chance to question him.
Vin Tanner stood next to the corral, watching Larabee's two geldings. Although his face was calm the mind was in turmoil. A week had passed since Chris' departure and still no word.
"I just checked with Travis," Wilmington said as he stepped up to the fence. "He says he's heard nothing. I'm worried, Vin."
"So am I, Buck." Tanner continued to stare at the horses. "I knew this was a bad idea from the start. Chris wasn't sleeping well when he left for Norfolk. If he was sent somewhere dangerous..."
"Hell, Vin, he was recalled to the SEALs. Of course it's dangerous," Wilmington interrupted angrily.
"Don't you think I know that, Buck? Most of us have been involved with the forces in one way or another. When duty calls I'd like to think I'd feel the same way as Chris. I'd do what I could for my Country and damn the consequences."
"The consequences are what I'm worried about right now. I hope the hell they aren't as bad as some of the other missions he returned from."
"Buck, you and Chris have been friends a long time."
"That we have, Son," Wilmington said, an almost wistful look on his face.
"Do you ever get upset that he comes to me with his problems now?"
The ladies' man looked sideways at the younger man, "Sometimes," he answered honestly. "Why?"
"I just see the look on your face when you think no one is watching you. Remember when Chris was in the hospital after the fire at the warehouse?"
"Yeah."
"I remember you talking to him. Telling him how much his friendship meant to you and how much you missed talking to him. How hard it was for you when Sarah and Adam died and he shut you out totally."
"You were awake? Why didn't you say something?"
"I didn't want to intrude. You needed to say those things and Chris needed to hear them," Tanner told the older man. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to step on your toes."
Wilmington swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. "You didn't step on my toes, Vin. I'm not saying I wasn't angry at first. I felt betrayed. Chris and I went through a lot before Sarah and Adam died and his shutting me out angered me. Then you came along and it seemed as if Chris saw something in you he needed. Oh, he didn't admit it at first but I saw the difference in him a few weeks later. I still get angry when Chris confides in you..."
"I'm sorry, Buck," Tanner interrupted.
"Let me finish, Vin. I still get angry when Chris confides in you instead of me, but then I see that sparkle of life come into his eyes. You did that, Vin. You gave him something to believe in again. So you have nothing to be sorry for. You've been a good friend to him and I hope you'll always be there for each other."
"Thanks, Buck. You're a true friend." Tanner ducked under the fence and walked up to the horses.
So are you, Kid, he thought as he watched the younger man pick up a brush and rub down the horse.
The rough jostling of the truck went on for hours. Chris lay on the floor, his eyes closed against the blinding headache, his arms and legs aching, his throat dry. He struggled against the cords but a foot to his back convinced him to lie still.
Dust infiltrated the canvas covering as the truck picked up speed and started down a steep grade. Coughing as the particles hit the back of his throat, the blond groaned as pain flared in his ribs.
A pair of blackened eyes glared at him angrily. The depth of hatred in them sent chills through Larabee's strained body muscles.
"American pig!" Lieu spat at the man, smiling as his spittle ran down the prisoner's cheek.
Chris growled deep in his throat as he felt the substance slide off his face. Before he could say anything his body rolled across the floor, coming to rest against Diem as the truck came to a sudden halt.
Diem stood up, lifted the canvas flap, and jumped down. He reached in and pulled prisoner from the truck, dropping him to the ground.
Larabee groaned as his tightly bound body hit the hard packed dirt of the road. He lifted his head and tried to look around. The area was jungle like and he felt perspiration soaking through his shirt. He closed his eyes as sweat dripped into them from his forehead. He heard footsteps coming around the side of the truck. Forcing his stinging eyes open once more he looked up at the grinning face Nguyen.
"Enjoy your ride, Lieutenant?"
"It was almost as much fun as the new coaster at Disney World," Larabee answered sarcastically.
Nguyen stopped the bigger man from kicking the prone body on the ground. "I'm glad to see you still have a sense of humor, Lieutenant. You will need it where we are going. Remove the cords, Lieutenant Diem," he ordered as he pulled a five-foot wooden pole from the back of the truck.
Chris pulled his hands around to the front, rubbing them vigorously to try to get the circulation going again. His arms were grabbed and he was pulled to his feet, almost grateful for the supporting hands as his legs threatened to give out.
"Use this," Nguyen grinned as he passed the pole to Lieu.
Chris fought against the steel grips on his arm. He struggled as Diem forced him to his knees, stopping only when a gun was placed at his right temple.
"Move and I will have Quang lay a track down your head," Nguyen's voice was deadly calm.
Diem pulled Larabee's arms out to the side while Quang, who drove the truck, held his gun steady.
Lieu placed the pole across the blonds back and secured Larabee's wrists to it, grinning evilly as he made sure the cords were tight.
"On your feet," Nguyen ordered as Lieu signaled he was finished.
"Go to hell," Larabee snarled, his hands already going numb.
"Would you like Lieutenant Diem to help you up?"
Larabee saw the gleam in the large man's eyes and struggled to stand. The pole across his back felt awkward but he managed to stand on his own.
"Very good, Lieutenant," Nguyen said. "We have a long walk ahead of us before we reach my compound. Make sure you keep up, Lieutenant, or I'll have Lieutenant Diem drag you."
Larabee felt a hand on the middle of his back and he stumbled after the retreating man. Thick jungle growth grew in varying stages along the first part of the unmarked trail. He recognized some of the larger trees but was too exhausted to give a name to them. Sweat soaked his clothing, making him itch in the humid heat. He had no idea how long they'd been walking, but his body was showing signs of dehydration. He glanced up through the trees glimpsing the sun as it continued its trek across the deep blue sky.
Nguyen stopped and lifted his canteen to his mouth, turning to Larabee as he snapped the lid back on. Wiping the moisture from his mouth he grinned, "You must be thirsty. Would you like some, Lieutenant?"
Larabee stared at the canteen, wanting nothing more than to drink the life giving moisture it contained. Chris knew it would do him no good to say yes. Nguyen would want something from him in exchange for the water and he knew it would be more than he could give.
"Oh, come on, Lieutenant, you haven't had anything to drink in almost twenty four hours. Surely you'd like something now? All it takes is for you to get down on your knees and beg me for it," Nguyen laughed.
"Never!" Larabee's voice was low but decidedly strong.
"Let me know if you change your mind. There's still a long way to go," he laughed as he turned back to the overgrown trail.
Once more a hand to his back propelled him forward. This time he was unable to stop himself from falling as the momentum and exhaustion took over. He fell heavily to the ground, groaning as his right side made contact with a fair sized rock.
"On your feet!" Diem ordered, kicking the blond's upper right thigh hard enough to cause heavy bruising.
"Ah hell!" Larabee groaned as he once more got to his feet and stumbled after Nguyen.
"Faster!" Lieu laughed as he stood just to the left of the prisoner.
Larabee knew the man was close and his anger got the best of him. He swung his body so the right side of the pole connected with Lieu's head, dropping the Vietnamese soldier to the ground.
A blow to the back of his legs dropped Chris to his knees on the grey soil. Lieu stood quickly, right hand holding his bleeding cheek, left hand raised to strike the man before him.
"Not now, Lieu. We have a long way to go and he needs to be able to walk. I will let you have a few minutes with him when we arrive at the compound," Nguyen barked.
Lieu reached down and pulled Larabee to his feet once again. "I can hardly wait," he whispered in the blond's ear.
Chris had no idea how he continued to move. His feet were on fire and the muscles in his legs kept cramping as he stumbled along the now dark trail. They'd been climbing steadily upwards for over an hour when the Colonel called a halt once more. "We are almost at my home, Lieutenant, where you will become a permanent guest. You will remain there as a prisoner with no hope of escaping. There are three more American swine there and they have each tried to escape. Two have been there since the war ended; the other is a recent acquisition. He is still rebellious but is beginning to understand who is in charge. He will be happy the guards now have someone else to torment," he laughed. "Your home is just down this hill. Follow me to your new residence."
His laughter drifted over Larabee like a blanket of ice, sending deep chills through his spine.
Chris could see the lights of the compound as they marched down the hill. The sounds of the night made him lonesome for his own ranch. Loud unknown birdcalls screeched all around him as the people encroaching on their domain disturbed them. A gate was opened and he staggered through, dropping to his knees in relief. Overhead lights illuminated the interior of the compound and he automatically counted the guards that flanked the high barbed wire topped walls.
"Not yet, Lieutenant," Nguyen grinned malevolently. "There is still the matter of Lieu's punishment."
Lieu stepped forward, once more rubbing his cheek as he helped Diem lift the prisoner. Chris had no energy left to walk and soon found himself dragged across the compound to a narrow platform. Forcing his eyes open he saw what resembled something from the old hangman's game he played with Adam. One large square post stood in the center of the platform, another, smaller post bent at an angle kept the post in place. A third pole was attached to the top of the first one and ended in a large metal hook. Once more he was shoved to the ground, his aching body laid flat.
"Tie his ankles," Nguyen ordered.
Quang bent to the task and soon had Larabee's ankles tightly bound. At a signal from the colonel he removed the cords from the prisoner's wrists.
Chris pulled his arms in front of him and tried to get the circulation going again.
Diem pulled the blond into a seated position and pulled his arms behind him, once more using cord to secure them.
Lieu stood on the platform and used the extra step to reach for the hook dangling there.
He pulled the hook forward until it reached the prisoner's ankles, attaching it to the cord wrapped around them.
Nguyen stood over his prisoner, once more smiling in anticipation of what was to come. "Lieu is a master with a riding crop," he whispered as Quang and Diem pulled the lean body into a hanging position.
Chris closed his eyes, trying to fight off the feelings of nausea as he hung upside down from the overhead post. His head hung two feet above the base by the time Nguyen called a halt.
"Untie his hands and remove his shirt," the Colonel ordered.
Diem stood behind Larabee and used a knife to cut through the tattered garment, and slice through the cords around the wrists.
Larabee's arms felt leaden as his fingers touched the boards. His eyes fell on the dark brown stains that marred the wood. He knew without asking the stains belonged to other prisoners of the sadistic Colonel. He closed his eyes as the final remnants of his shirt dropped to the floor, hiding some of the stains.
"Go ahead, Lieu!" Nguyen snapped.
Larabee braced himself for the blow, but was still unprepared for the sharp burning pain the flexible strip caused. With the first blow he felt the momentum turn his body, exposing his chest to the next strike.
He fought against the cries threatening to escape his mouth as blow after blow rained down on his back, arms, and chest. He felt blood well up and drip slowly down his torso, to land in a new pattern on the boards below him. Pain soon became the center of his very existence as Lieu showed his expertise with the riding crop. He knew he was losing the fight to remain quiet and let a soul shattering cry rip from his dry throat as he lost consciousness.
When he finally opened his eyes the lights were all but extinguished. His prison cell consisted of wire and steel posts dangling from a hook, the bottom was a slab of thick steel. Any movement caused the tiny cage to sway sickeningly. Pain radiated from every inch of his upper body as Chris struggled to sit up.
"You're better off to just stay still."
Chris stared at the man in the next cage and realized he was probably right. "T...thanks for the w...warning," he gasped.
"Ain't nothing to thank me for. I've been where you are only I don't think he hit me that hard or that often. You're not gonna be able to move around much."
"D...doesn't seem to be much r...room to move in here a...anyway." Larabee's dry throat gave his voice a raspy sound as he tried to get comfortable. "What's your name?"
"Billy. Billy Murphy. You?"
"Chris Larabee. How long have you been here?"
"Seven months. Tried to escape a few times but there's no place to go once you get outside the gates."
"There's gotta be a way," Larabee said softly, coughing dryly.
"I got a little bit of water left from the so called dinner they served, think you can reach through and get it?"
Chris lifted his head, gasping as the drying wounds reopened. He looked outside and saw the offered cup. Reaching through the small opening he grasped the offering and pulled it back inside. The small amount of water did little to slake his thirst but he was grateful to have it. "Thanks," he said as he passed back the empty cup.
"You're welcome," Billy told him. "You'd better try to sleep."
"Easier said than done right now," Larabee rasped, but closed his eyes anyway.
A sharp jab to his side brought him awake with a start. He gasped as his body automatically tried to move away from the offending stick.
"Colonel Nguyen wants to see you now!"
Larabee groaned as the door to his cage was opened and he was pulled outside. The sun had only just begun its daily journey but already the heat was stifling. The cage next to his was empty and he wondered where the other prisoner was.
"Di," a second man growled as Chris stood his ground. "Go! Go now!"
Captain Dunne's words sounded in his head as he struggled to find the strength to move. Do the deed, Son. A tired smile spread on his bruised face as he stood to his full height. "Lead the way," he said snidely, falling into step behind the man who'd poked his ribs. He stumbled but kept his balance by sheer will alone.
Larabee was marched across the clearing and into a moderate sized building. The interior was a welcome relief, as it seemed the temperature dropped ten degrees. A hand on his ravaged back made him bite his lip as he was shoved through another door. He reached out to grab the desk in an effort to stay on his feet. A boot to the back of his knee dropped him to the floor and his eyes met those of his tormentor.
"Hello, Lieutenant."
"Nguyen." The blond gasped as he struggled to his feet, only to be struck to the back of the opposite knee.
"You will speak to Colonel Nguyen respectfully," the man with the stick ordered.
"Go to hell!" Larabee spat as he got to his feet a second time, his eyes never wavering from the Vietnamese Colonel.
"Enough!" Nguyen ordered as he glared at his prisoner. "Put him in that chair."
Chris felt hands grip his arm as he was forced into a chair and manacles were clasped over his wrists and around his ankles.
"What did Chieu tell you?" Nguyen asked.
"Larabee, Christopher, Lieutenant, Five..." an open-handed slap split his lip before he finished.
"What did Chieu tell you?"
"Larabee..." this time the hand was closed into a fist, rocking the blond head backwards.
"What did..."
"Lara..." another fist, this one to the left side of his taut stomach.
"What did Chieu tell you?"
"La..." again to the ribs and he fought to suck in air.
Nguyen's anger built steadily as his prisoner continued to answer with the same words. He reached behind him and took a black object from his desk. "What did Chieu tell you?"
"Larabee..."
Nguyen touched the object to Larabee's bare chest. The resulting shock was instantaneous as the blond's body-slammed back in the chair.
The power of the stun gun rocked Chris. He felt his wrists tear as his body tried to get out of the way of the powerful electric shock. In the close confines of the chair there was no escape and he screamed as Nguyen touched the tiny instrument to his chest again.
"What did Chieu tell you?"
"La..." again the stun gun touched up against him and this time his bladder let go. There was no shame in it, there was only so much a body could take and Chris knew it. He'd seen the effects of the tiny weapons more than once and he knew this was going to get worse before it got better.
"I will not ask again," Nguyen's angry voice ground out. "What did Chieu tell you?"
Larabee lifted his head, tears of anger, frustration, and pain in his eyes, "Larabee, Christopher. Lieutenant..." again his body was rocked by an electrical charge and this time the victim dropped over the edge and into the waiting abyss.
Nguyen grabbed the blond head and pulled it up, "You will tell me, Lieutenant!" he hissed as he let the man's head drop back to his chest. "Put him back in his cage!"
"Hey, Boss, I met a relative of yours."
"What are you talking about, Hawkins?" Curran asked as he strode quickly towards the boat he called home.
"You know the one that looks like an older version of you?" Hawkins laughed.
"I told you I have no living relatives," Curran told him.
"Well, then. this guy's a walking dead one because there's no way the two of you could look so much alike and not be related."
"Hawkins, will you please tell me what you're talking about?" Curran asked dropping his bag onto the table.
"I was at Dunne's office and this guy was walking in front of me."
"Brain grenade?" Curran asked as he opened the tiny fridge and tossed a cold one to Hawkins without waiting for a reply.
"Thanks, Boss. Anyway, as I was saying I thought it was you. Even called him Boss. He didn't even turn around so I knew something was up. Thought you were still angry with me for that little thing with Claire."
"Hawkins!"
"Oh, sorry. When I caught up with him and actually saw his face, I knew I'd met your older brother."
"I don't have an older brother." Curran's exasperation was beginning to show.
"If you say so, Boss, but boy, he looked so much like you. Except your hair is a little longer and he had a sense of humor."
"Hawkins!"
Dale Hawkins smiled at the blond SEAL. They'd been through a lot together, lost a lot of friends, because they knew when to stop. He knew Curran wasn't in the mood to listen to anymore about his older brother so Dale let it drop. "Want to go to the Trident?"
Curran was tired; the vacation he'd taken was really another exercise in futility. He'd broken things off with Claire and spent five of the seven days alone on a Florida beach. Oh, he had his share of invitations from beautiful women but he refused them, preferring to spend the time alone for now.
"Boss?"
"Yeah, sorry, Hawkins. The Trident sounds good. Just let me grab a quick shower."
"Sure, Boss," Hawkins said. He watched his friend walk tiredly up the stairs to his bedroom. I've got to find out for sure if you two are related, he thought with a grin.
"You wanted to see us, Orrin?" Tanner asked.
"Yes, gentlemen, please sit down," Travis said.
"What's wrong Orrin?" Wilmington asked.
Travis stepped to his window and gazed at the activity below.
"Orrin," Sanchez said.
"I had a call from Chris's commanding officer." Six pairs of eyes opened wide but neither man would voice the question on his mind.
"Chris is missing."
"What?" Jackson snapped.
"How long?" Wilmington asked.
Travis stared at the quiet longhaired man. He knew Tanner was holding his emotions in check. He could see the tension in the shoulders. "The man Chris was supposed to meet contacted our embassy in Vietnam. He met with Chris in a bar they once frequented. Chris disappeared at that time."
"I'm going after him, Orrin," Tanner's voice was quiet but left no doubt that he meant what he said.
"Vin, you don't even know where to start," Travis pointed out.
"Vietnam, the bar, and Chris's friend," Tanner said softly.
"I'm going too," Wilmington told them.
"We should all go," Standish insisted.
"No one's going anywhere till the Navy calls with more details. I know you're all anxious to find Chris but we can't go in there half-cocked. This is still a dangerous country with potentially lethal traps."
"I've been to 'Nam," Sanchez told them.
"I realize that, Josiah. That's why you'll be one of the ones going when we get clearance," Travis said.
"What do you mean one of the ones?" Dunne asked.
"So far we're looking at sending two people. This has to be kept under wraps until we find out exactly what Chris is involved in and what's happened to him."
"You said Chris's friend contacted the embassy. What else did he have to say?" Tanner asked, his mind already made up that he was going with Sanchez.
"I don't have all the details," Travis warned. "He told them Chris was taken by an old enemy."
"Dammit, I knew it. I knew this mission was a bad idea. What's the Navy gonna do about it?" Wilmington asked.
"The Navy's hands are tied right now. They can't officially do anything without government approval. I've been in contact with Captain Dunne," all eyes turned to JD at the name.
"What? I don't know him," he said.
"Dunne is trying to get permission for two of you to go in on a recon mission. If you can find out where Chris is being held they'll send in a SEAL team."
"How long before we get final word?" Tanner asked.
"We should know in the next twenty-four hours."
"Who goes with Josiah?" Jackson voiced the question this time.
Travis looked around the room, knowing that there would be an argument no matter who he said was going. "Buck," he said.
"When do I leave?"
"Wait, Buck," Travis interrupted. "I know how much you want to go but I think Vin is the best choice to go with Josiah."
"What? Why?" Wilmington asked incredulously.
"I've heard all of you say that he's the best damn tracker you ever met. That's what we're going to need in 'Nam. When the time comes we'll need to find Chris fast."
"He's right, Brother," Sanchez agreed, placing a hand on the moustached man's shoulder.
Wilmington looked around the room, his eyes falling on the tracker, remembering the conversation at Larabee's ranch. "I know he is, Josiah, but it doesn't make it any easier. Find him, Vin," he ordered.
"We will," Tanner answered confidently.
Chris knew they'd be back. It was inevitable. For now he was content to leave his weary, pain racked body where it was. He leaned heavily against the side of the cage and watched the three long time prisoners being marched across the clearing. He watched as they were each passed a metal cup filled with water and a bowl of thin rice. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last and the meager amount of water he was given did little to help him. His lips were cracked and dry and there was no moisture in his mouth. Even his tongue felt swollen.
Nguyen's men taunted him by placing a bucket of water just out of his reach. Once he'd managed to get his hands on the handle but Diem simply kicked the bucket over and stood there laughing at him.
"You, come out now!" a voice snarled and Chris would have laughed if he had the strength. The high-pitched voice came from a man no taller than five feet. "Out! Now!" the guard ordered again.
Larabee pulled away from the side of the cage and dragged his body out the door. His legs were stiff from long hours in the cramped cage. He'd lost count of how many days he'd been a captive. He knew it was over a week and thought it was less than two but that was as close as he could remember. Each day they came for him and Nguyen asked him the same question. He wondered how much longer he could look the Colonel in the eye, give him his best cocky grin and recite his name, rank, and serial number.
So far he'd been beaten, whipped, and subjected to a high voltage stun gun. That was the worst. Each time the stun gun was used he not only suffered physical torment but mental as well as he couldn't control his body's involuntary reactions to the voltage. The stun gun had been used at least three times so far and each time he'd passed out. The burns on his chest were painful but he could live with it.
"Di!" he said indicating Larabee should walk across the compound.
"Lead the way," Larabee said with his customary grin. It was something he said every time they came for him and he could feel the respect some of the Vietnamese soldiers had for him.
Larabee followed the guard across the compound and into the colonel's office.
"What did Chieu tell you?" Nguyen asked immediately.
"Larabee, Christopher..." the riding crop lashed out striking the blond across the cheek, leaving a thin stream of blood in its wake.
"Put him in the chair."
Larabee didn't wait for the smaller man to take his arm. Instead he turned and walked to it himself, sinking into the uncomfortable chair. The clamps were placed on his wrists and ankles as he glared at the Colonel.
"You are still insolent, Lieutenant," Nguyen laughed. "By the time I'm finished with you I will wipe that smug look off your face."
"You can try," Larabee's raspy voice came through low but firm.
"Oh I'll do more than try, Lieutenant," the Colonel laughed. "I'll break you before I let you die."
"Don't bet on it."
"What did Chieu tell you?"
"Lara..." the fist struck out again and Larabee waited for the inevitable. He had no idea how many times Nguyen asked the same question, but he knew he answered with the same thing. Over and over he repeated his name, rank, and serial number, ignoring the irate Colonel standing before him.
Chris felt the clamps being released and wondered what happened to cut the session short. He found his body supported between two men as his head sagged forward on his chest. By the time he reached his cage he was gasping for breath as the newly acquired injuries overshadowed the aches of the old.
Chris was shoved back into his cage and pulled himself up into a sitting position. His mouth was dry and his head throbbed. His right eye was swollen shut but he saw the metal cup filled with water and a bowl of thin cold rice sitting beside him. He lifted the cup with shaking hands and drank half of it before stopping. Don't want to be sick, he thought as he placed the cup back on the floor of the cage. He picked up the bowl and using his fingers he ate the cold rice. His stomach grumbled as he shovelled the food into his mouth, swallowing it before he could even taste it. He finished the water, leaned back against the side of the cage, closed his eyes and let the wall of darkness fall.
"Josiah, Vin, I called you here to tell you we've been given permission to go into Vietnam and search for Chris."
"When do we leave, Orrin?" Tanner asked.
"Not so fast, Vin, this has to be kept discreet. The Vietnam government is willing to give us complete cooperation as long as we don't break any laws."
"Break any laws? What do they call kidnapping an American?"
"Vin, Brother Chris didn't just go to their country as a citizen. He went there with a mission. We have to remember that he was called back to active duty and that's the reason behind his disappearance whether we have confirmation of it or not."
"Josiah's right, Vin," Travis told him as he pulled out two copies of the same file, passing one to each man. "This is the information we have about Chieu, the bar and a colonel named Nguyen."
"Nguyen?" Sanchez asked.
"He considers himself a Vietnamese mercenary and therefore above his country's laws. He's gotten away with so much that his own government fears him," Travis explained as the two men read the files. "Once you enter Vietnam you'll be on your own."
"I figured as much," Sanchez declared as he finished reading the file.
"I wish it didn't have to be this way but Nguyen has a lot of power."
"Not for long," Tanner hissed.
Travis passed each man a plane ticket, his eyes roaming back and fourth between them. "Your flight leaves in six hours. Try not to garner attention from the police but find out where Chris is. Use our standard code in all communications and contact me personally when you find Chris."
"How do we get him out?" Tanner asked.
"Captain Dunne has his best SEAL team on standby. As soon as I hear from you I'll contact him and he'll get them rolling. They'll be on a sub just off the coast and they'll be ready to move at a moment's notice."
Sanchez nodded his head as he stood up. "SEAL teams are well trained."
"They're the best," Travis agreed. He held his hand out to his men, grasping each one firmly. "Good luck, Gentlemen. Bring Chris home."
"We will, Orrin," Tanner promised as they left the office.
Chris shivered as he struggled to sit up. His body ached in places he couldn't remember having. He knew he'd lost weight and he wondered just how much more he could take. He had a constant thirst and hunger that could not be quenched by the small amount of water and rice he was given. Now when Nguyen's men came for him he was dragged along, his legs refusing to hold him any longer. He smiled as he realized he was still being cocky as each time he never failed to tell them to lead the way.
Nguyen had come up with some strange ways to punish him, each time leaving a new mark on his body and mind. He looked at the index fingers of both hands where the colonel used tiny bamboo shoots, shoving them under his nails. He was lucky enough to be able to grasp the ends and pull them out before an infection set in, but the agony of the extraction was still vivid. The pain was a constant reminder that he was fighting for everything he believed in. He would not let the Colonel beat him; he would never surrender anything but his name, rank, and serial number. He opened his eyes as he felt something wet strike his forehead. He looked up at the greying skies just as the clouds let go and dropped their life saving moisture to the ground. He laughed as he opened his mouth and let the fat droplets land on his arid tongue. He swallowed the droplets, knowing the Colonel could order him removed from the cage at any time.
He almost cried with relief as he was left to drink his fill of the rainwater, his body absorbing as much as it could. He felt the rain washing the dirt from his body, showering his mind with a newfound cleanliness. Wiping away much of the despair he'd been feeling since becoming a prisoner in this hellhole. "I will not let you win, Nguyen!" he screamed as he struggled to his feet. The sound only carried a short distance as he realized his throat was not strong enough to give credence to his threat. He sat back against the side of the cage, letting the rain slide down his naked torso, soaking into the torn pants, stripping away the dryness of his burnt skin.
Chris sobbed in relief as he was left alone, hoping Nguyen and his men would leave him to soak up the healing drops of rain. He knew, without a doubt that once they realized he was taking advantage of the storm they would take even that little relief from him. He also realized the same life-giving moisture could be the death of him if he ended up catching pneumonia in his weakened state.
Exhaustion took over and he closed his eyes. His sleeping mind taking him back to the warmth and comfort of his home. He dreamed of barbeques with his friend, of drinking in their favourite bar, and just talking with the people that meant the most to him. He didn't understand why they turned away from him when he spoke to them. A tear slipped from his closed eyes and became indistinguishable from the drops of rain that continued to slide off his cheeks. I want to go home, he though as he moved his pain-filled body once more, groaning as he slipped to the base of the cage and curled into a foetal position.
Three weeks had passed since Chris Larabee disappeared. His worried friends wanted nothing more than to go to Vietnam and find him but they knew they'd have to wait until word came from Josiah and Vin. Buck stood outside the corral watching Larabee's stallion as it paced back and forth in the grass. "You're worried about him too. Aren't you Pony?"
"Engaging in conversation with animals now, Mr. Wilmington," Standish asked as he held out a cup of coffee to the ladies' man.
"Thanks, Ez," Buck smiled weakly as he took the proffered cup, sipping the strong liquid. "Where are JD and Nathan?"
"Mr. Jackson is endeavouring to make breakfast while Mr. Dunne is still languishing in bed."
"Kid still can't handle his drink too well."
"He did looked a little, shall we say green around the gills last night."
"He'll have one hell of a hangover when he does wake up."
"This was a great idea, Buck," Standish said gratefully.
Wilmington knew he was talking about his inviting them all to stay at Chris's ranch so they could feel closer to their missing friend. He explained it would be easier for Orrin Travis to contact them if they were all in one place. They agreed readily and spent the first night toasting to the safe return of all three of their friends. They talked about past cases as well as new ones. They listened as Buck regaled them with tales of his and Chris's friendship before and after he met and married Sarah Connelly. Each man feeling close to the other as they shared little details about themselves and their friendship with Chris Larabee. The talk stopped as one after another they retreated into their own thoughts of the missing man. "Thanks, Ez," he finally answered.
"I do believe Mr. Jackson is calling," Standish observed as the medic's voice drifted to their ears. "They'll find him, Buck," he added as an afterthought.
"Thanks, Ez, I know they will," the ladies' man told him. I just hope it's not too late, he thought as he followed the southerner towards the ranch house.
Tanner and Sanchez had no problem coming through customs. Their luggage was searched and they were sent on their way. Both men carried a small carry on with just the essentials. They checked into a hotel just outside the airport and instantly went to work. They discovered Chieu's whereabouts after a few calls and made arrangements to meet him in the same bar he'd met Chris in.
"This is it," Tanner stated as they stepped out of the taxi.
"My Man Bar, strange name for a bar," Sanchez observed as he paid the driver and thanked him in Vietnamese.
"Chieu said he'd meet us inside," the sharpshooter said as they stepped into the crowded bar. A haze of smoke and the smell of stale alcohol and beer permeated the air as they moved towards a back table. A lone man sat at the table and Tanner recognized him from Intel pictures the Navy supplied them with. "Tran Dinh Chieu?"
The man's eyes were filled with terror as he glanced around the bar. He shuddered as memories of his last visit came to him. Blinking rapidly he signaled for the two men to sit down. "Who are you?" he asked softly.
"My name's Josiah Sanchez and this is Vin Tanner. We're looking for a mutual friend."
"What's your friend's name?"
"Chris Larabee," the sharpshooter answered, not surprised when the other man looked relieved.
"You will help him?"
"That's why we're here. Do you have any idea where he is?" Sanchez asked.
"I'm not sure where he is being held but I do know that he is being held prisoner by Colonel Nguyen. You must hurry if you want to find him alive."
"Can you tell us where Nguyen's base is?" the younger man asked.
"It's at the base of the northern mountains near Bacha many days travel from here. I wish to go with you!" he exclaimed suddenly. "I can arrange for us to get there quickly. I want to help my friend before it's too late."
Sanchez and Tanner looked at each other, nodding imperceptibly. "Alright, you can come with us but you have to do everything we say without question," the sharpshooter told him.
"I will do anything to help Chris. He did not deserve to be captured. He's blamed himself for my son's death for too long. I must tell him he is not to blame. Nguyen and his men are."
"How long before you can arrange transport?" the ex-preacher asked.
"I will borrow my cousin's jeep and we an leave at dawn. Meet me at the northern entrance to the underground tunnels," Chieu told them.
"I know the ones you're talking about," Sanchez assured them. "We'll be there."
"Here," Chieu said as he lifted a small suitcase onto the table.
"That's Chris's," Tanner said as he took the handle from Chieu.
"We left in such a hurry that night that he forgot it. I came back for it and hid it at my home."
Tanner held the case close, feeling the need to touch something that belonged to his best friend. "Thank you," he said softly as they got up to leave.
"Do not thank me," Chieu told him. "If it wasn't for me Chris would not be in the trouble he's in now."
"It's not your fault, Tran. Chris did what he had to do," Sanchez assured the other man.
"Thank you," Tran's eyes filled with unshed moisture as he hurried from the bar.
"You wanted to see me, Captain?" Curran asked as he opened the door and entered the older man's office.
"Sit down, Lieutenant," Dunne commanded.
"Has the balloon gone up, Sir?"
Dunne's eyebrows rose as he looked at the younger man. So much like Larabee, he thought as he studied the handsome face seated across from him. "Yes, Son, it has. Sanchez and Tanner have been in contact with Orrin Travis. We have the coordinates for Nguyen's base in Northern Vietnam. Get your men together, Lieutenant, you leave at dawn. Here's the Intel report and pictures of the man you're after."
Curran opened the file and gasped. He looked up to meet the eyes of his Captain. "Sir, is this for real?" he asked.
"Uncanny resemblance isn't it, Lieutenant. Larabee was under my command when he first became a SEAL. I consider him second only to you in his abilities."
"I've heard we all have twins somewhere in the world but this is weird," Curran stated as he stared at the photograph of the man Hawkins must have met. "Guess I owe Hawkins an apology. I thought he was joking when he said this guy was an older version of me."
"He's not that much older than you, Son," Dunne smiled at the younger man, knowing the affection he felt for him was like a father for his son. "He's a good man, Lieutenant, and he doesn't deserve to be left out in the cold. Bring him home."
"We will, Captain," Curran stood to attention and snapped a salute to the older man.
"Dismissed, Lieutenant, and Godspeed."
The sun quickly absorbed the moisture from the land and from the clothing and skin of the man huddled in the tiny cage. His body trembled as he tried to focus his thoughts. He hadn't seen anyone since the day before and he began to think he was alone in the world. He knew he was running a fever as he continued to shiver violently. The loud voice next to his ear made him jump, causing more pain to radiate through his abused body.
"You come now. Colonel Nguyen wants to see you."
Larabee recognized Quang as he struggled out of the cage. He tried to stand on his own two feet but his legs refused to hold him up. He felt two sets of hands grasp his arms and he forced the usual smile to his face as he croaked. "Lead the way!" His feet left a trail through the drying grey soil as he was dragged across the compound. He soon found himself strapped in the same chair he occupied every day for his questioning session with the Colonel.
"What did Chieu tell you, Lieutenant?"
"Larabee, Christopher, Lieutenant, five..."
"Enough. Damn you!" Nguyen swore as he grabbed a fistful of Larabee's short-cropped hair. "You will tell me what you know," he said as he released the hair and slapped his prisoner's face.
"L...Larabee..."
"I know your name! I know your rank! I know your serial number! I will not listen to you repeat them again! You will tell me what I wish to know! Tell me! Tell me now!" the Colonel ordered accompany each statement with a vicious blow to Larabee's already bruised body.
"Larabee..."
"Shut up! Shut up!" Nguyen shouted as he shoved a dirty rag into the blond's mouth. "Get my chopper ready," he ordered Quang. "We will be leaving for Laos immediately."
Larabee tried to open his eyes but only the right one obeyed his commands, the left swollen to the point where the lids were sealed.
"What about him?" Quang asked.
"Leave him where he is till we are ready to leave. He will be accompanying us," Nguyen said as he bent in front of the injured man. He looked into the one glazed green eye. "Your friends will be here sometime in the next two days but they will not find you, Lieutenant," he laughed as he pulled the rag from Larabee's mouth.
"F...friends," the blond gasped before realizing he'd spoken aloud.
"I have sources in the government of my Country. They supply me with information in exchange for money and luxuries they otherwise could not afford. They informed me that two Americans arrived twenty-four hours ago and were seen leaving Ho Chi Minh City in the company of our mutual friend Chieu. Oh, don't look so hopeful, Lieutenant, they will not find you. We will be long gone from these mountains by the time they arrive."
Larabee felt his hopes dashed before they'd even begun. Somehow he knew one of the men would be Vin Tanner. Knowing Josiah Sanchez's experience in Vietnam he would be a safe bet as to the identity of the second man. His mind reeled as he let his body sink into the chair.
"By the time your friends arrive they'll find a surprise waiting for them. My men are setting explosive charges around the base of the compound and in all the buildings. They will die in the explosion and you will have to live with the guilt of their deaths. Oh, don't worry Lieutenant; you won't have to live with it for very long. As soon as I break you I will kill you with my bare hands," the Colonel promised as he replaced the gag in Larabee's mouth.
A cloud of hatred took up residence in Larabee's mind as he watched the Colonel gather his papers from the desk. Somehow I'll kill you, Nguyen, he thought as his head sagged to his chest.
Curran stood next to the chart table, once more going over the details of the mission with his men. They'd all been shocked by the picture accompanying the Intel report. Even Hawkins held back any smart aleck remarks.
"We go in by chopper before dawn. Sanchez and Tanner are supposed to meet us at the northern end of Nguyen's compound. We'll go in under cover of darkness. Hawkins, you and Leary will take the main building. Ramos, you'll be with me. Intel says there're less than ten soldiers in the compound so we'll proceed under the assumption that there'll be twice that amount."
"What about Tanner and Sanchez?" Ramos asked.
"We're going to take advantage of their expertise. Both men have served their Country and they'll do anything to help their friend. They've been ordered to cooperate with us on this mission. Tanner is an expert flyer and we may have use for him if anything happens to our own chopper pilot. Sanchez knows what the terrain is like in 'Nam and he'd be able to lead us out should anything go wrong."
"What about the missiles?" Hawkins asked as he studied the satellite photos.
"From what Intel and Travis's men could find out it's three miles across the border in Laos. We'll rescue Larabee, get his men to safety and then proceed to the compound in Laos."
"Sounds like you have everything figured out, Boss," Hawkins said.
"I hope so, Hawkins. Gentlemen, get some rest. We'll be leaving to rendezvous with the Enterprise in a few hours."
"Couldn't we just have Scotty beam us there?" Hawkins quipped.
"Shut up, Hawkins," Curran snapped but couldn't stop the grin spreading over his face.
Larabee stumbled from the chopper, his legs once more numb from squatting on the floor. He groaned through the gag Nguyen refused to remove. He looked around the new compound, terror in his eyes as he spotted what could only be missiles being lifted from a truck and brought into one of the buildings. He felt rough hands reach for him and he was forced to kneel on the ground in front of an irate Colonel.
"Are you going to tell me what Chieu told you?" Nguyen asked, bending so his face almost touched Larabee's. "What did Chieu tell you?" He repeated as he pulled the rag from his prisoner's mouth.
Chris drew in huge breaths of air as he kept his right eye trained on the man before him. "Larabee, Christopher..."
"That's not the answer I want to hear, Lieutenant," Nguyen shouted as he struck the blond across the face, driving him into the ground. "Talk! Talk now or I will kill you!" he screamed as he pulled the injured man back to his knees, placing a gun against his temple. "Talk! Talk now!" he repeated.
"Larabee, Chris..." the blond went quiet as he heard the hammer pulled back on the pistol. I love you, Sarah, he thought as he waited for the inevitable. He heard the hammer hit the firing pin and cried out as he heard the demonic laughter from the Colonel.
"Surely you didn't think it would be that easy, Lieutenant?"
Larabee let his head drop to his chest as he tried to understand what happened. He couldn't believe he was still alive, that this was just another form of Nguyen's sadistic tortures. His chest heaved as he tried to draw in enough air. His broken ribs protesting this move loudly.
"Come see your new cage," Nguyen ordered as Diem and Lieu reached down and pulled Larabee to his feet.
Chris tried to keep track of where he was being taken but his mind wandered over the last few minutes. He'd come so close to escaping Nguyen's torment but nothing was ever that simple in his life. They pulled him into a tiny building with no windows and only one door. There would be no way for light to pass into the tiny dwelling and Larabee knew he'd just been thrown into an even darker hell.
"Here you are, Lieutenant," the Colonel laughed as Larabee's eyes opened wide. "Put him inside."
Chris stared at the tall narrow cage. It was smaller than the other one and he would be forced to stand the whole time. His legs already ached and he could barely hold his own weight as he was propelled towards his new home. He felt like a bird in a gilded cage, put on display for all to see, as the door slammed shut behind him. With barely enough room to turn he knew he'd be standing for the duration of his stay. He felt someone reach through and cut the ropes from his wrists. His arms dropped to his sides and he struggled to lift them up.
"Put your hands above your head, Lieutenant." Nguyen ordered.
Chris glared at the man, as he lifted his arms. He stopped them in front of his body and rubbed his almost lifeless fingers in defiance.
"Now, Lieutenant!" Nguyen's dark eyes grew even darker as he glared at the blond prisoner.
Larabee continued to ignore the Colonel, gasping as something pressed against his back. Even through the torn prisoner's uniform he felt the jolt from the stun gun. He screamed as he tried to move away in the tiny confines.
"I can do this all day, Lieutenant, but I don't think you can."
"Caca Dau," Larabee swore as he tried in vain to ignore the punishment his body was receiving.
"You cannot kill me, Lieutenant," Nguyen laughed as he signaled his man to move away from the cage.
Chris sagged in relief as the stun gun was removed, sliding as far down in the cage as possible. Soft sobs wracked his body as he was lifted to a standing position and his arms drawn above his head. He felt the steel cuffs wrap around his already damaged wrists and knew all was lost to him. He knew he would not be leaving Vietnam alive.
"The perfect prize for my cage. Soon you will sing like a canary and tell me everything I want to know."
Larabee had little doubt this would happen. The pain that took up permanent residence in his body reminded him that he was only human and human beings could only take so much. He lifted his eyes to meet Nguyen's, barley able to see out of the still swollen left one he rasped, "Larabee, Christopher, Lieutenant, Five Seven..."
"Oh, don't bother with your name, rank, and serial number right now, Lieutenant. Save it for my guest who'll be arriving before long. I'm going to demonstrate my ballistic missiles for him," he laughed at the look of horror on his prisoner's face.
"You bastard," Larabee gasped as they left him alone, turning the lights out and leaving him in complete darkness.
Tanner, Sanchez, and Chieu watched the compound since their arrival an hour earlier. All three men angered by the fact that they were under orders not to attempt anything until the SEAL team arrived. They listened and watched for any sign of their missing team member. They worried when there seemed to be no actual life in the compound except for three men trapped in cages outside one of the buildings.
The two Firm employees lifted their heads as they heard a slight noise to their left, nothing loud, but to the experienced men they knew the SEAL team was close by. They watched the heavily wooded area to their left as two men came into sight, dressed in combat fatigues and carrying weapons.
"Sanchez? Tanner?" Hawkins asked softly, nodding towards the third man.
"Tran Dinh Chieu," Sanchez said by way of introduction.
"I'm Hawkins, he's Leary. Now listen up. We've got two men coming in from the northern end. I want you three to stay back at least till we have things under control."
"We can take care of ourselves!" Tanner stated.
"Yeah, I don't doubt that for a minute," Hawkins said with a grin. "I've seen your file." His head snapped up as he heard a shrill bird call. The sound natural in the mountains, but Hawkins recognized it immediately. "That's our signal. We move in but we do it quietly. Make sure you guys stay behind us. Don't do anything that'll get your friend or those other men killed."
Sanchez nodded as they fell into step behind Hawkins. Dawn was beginning to lighten the sky and visibility had increased enough for them to make out a path leading towards the compound.
"Something's wrong," Tanner whispered to Sanchez as there was still no movement from within the fenced area.
"You're telling me," Sanchez whispered back.
Hawkins watched as two figures approached the compound from the north. He signaled to them that he'd found their contacts. Slowly they advanced on the entrance, Hawkins came to a complete stop before the gate. He put up his hand to stop the others, his trained eyes circling the base and perimeter of the compound. He turned towards the four men with him. "Leary, warn Curran and Ramos that the whole base of the compound is wired with explosives. Tell them to cut their way through. Make sure they don't touch the black or green wire running along the base," he whispered.
"Be right back," Leary told him as he moved towards Curran's hiding place.
The medic was back in less than a minute. "He already knew," he grinned.
"Figures," Hawkins remarked. "Okay, Boys, here's what we're going to do," Hawkins explained the outline of their plan as Leary used wire cutters to enter the compound.
"Something's wrong here, Hawkins. We've been watching this place for over an hour and there's been no movement."
"Intel seems to have made another mistake. We're supposed to have hostiles here but there doesn't seem to be anyone around," Hawkins explained as Leary finished cutting through the wire. "We're going to proceed inside and check the perimeter before rescuing those men."
"I don't see Chris anywhere," Sanchez's worry was evident in his tone.
"He may be inside one of those huts," Leary explained.
"If he's here at all," Tanner shuddered at the thought of his missing friend.
"We'll worry about that when the time comes. Right now let's move out. You three do know how to work those guns, right?"
Tanner, Sanchez, and Chieu nodded at the same time, the sharpshooter's smirk showing the confidence he had in his abilities.
"Alright, let's get this done shall we?" Hawkins said, a matching smirk on his face as they moved quietly into the compound.
A quick but efficient search of the area revealed the main building and the huts were abandoned, but set with deadly explosives.
Three sets of eyes followed the newcomers as they made their way around the compound. Ramos and Leary were the first to approach the tiny cages.
"SEAL team, we're here to get you out," Ramos explained and wasn't surprised when the three men broke into soft, relieved sobs. Their thin, frail bodies were covered in bruises and scars and the SEALs knew from experience that it would be a long time before they healed.
"He's rigged the cages as well."
Leary looked at the young man who'd spoken. "What's your name?" he asked sympathetically.
"Billy Murphy."
"Well, Billy, you just relax and we'll have you out of there in no time, alright?" Murphy's only answer was a quick nod of his head.
Tanner and Sanchez were happy the three prisoners were going home but worried when there was still no sign of Chris Larabee. Both men looked up as a voice called out to them. Two startled pairs of eyes fell on the familiar yet different face before them, "Chris?" they asked in unison.
Curran couldn't help feeling sorry for not warning these men. "No, my name's James Curran and before you ask I'm not related to Chris Larabee."
"Damn, you're so much like him," Sanchez observed.
"That's putting it mildly," Tanner drawled.
"Look, there'll be time enough for this later. I want you three to keep an eye on things while we get those men out. I just contacted the Enterprise and the chopper should be here to lift us out in fifteen minutes."
"I'm not leaving without Chris," Tanner stated, still unable to pull his eyes off the blond standing before him.
"I didn't say we'd be leaving without him but our first priority has to be those men," Curran told them. "We need to find out if Intel has discovered the whereabouts of Nguyen's second compound. If they have we'll need more information on the parameters of the new mission."
"How long's that gonna take," Tanner asked unable to hide the frustration he felt.
"A day or two at the most."
"Chris could be dead by then!" the sharpshooter exclaimed.
"You should face the fact that he could already be dead," Curran said softly.
"He's not dead."
Four sets of eyes turned towards the man who'd spoken from inside his cage. "What did you say?" Tanner asked hopefully.
"Chris was alive when Nguyen took him out of here yesterday."
"Was he alright?" Sanchez asked.
Murphy shook his head slowly, his eyes on the blond standing amidst the group of men. The similarities between this man and the man he'd known for only a short time were disquieting. His weary eyes shifted from one man to the next as he explained. "He was hurt pretty bad. Nguyen had him whipped the first day he arrived but Chris stayed strong and never told him anything. Nguyen's men took pleasure in taunting him and beating him. He was taken to see the Colonel everyday and when he returned you could tell he was beaten. I know they used a stun gun on him a few times. They fed him very little and most of the time they gave him barely enough water to live on."
"Do you have any idea where Nguyen took him?" Curran asked.
Murphy shook his head, but one of the older men in the cage next to him opened his eyes and stared straight at Curran. "Probably took him to the compound across the border. I spent some time there myself before Nguyen found a new toy to play with." the weak voice told them.
"Do you have any idea how long it took you to get to the second compound?" Sanchez asked.
The beaten man closed his eyes and tried to retrieve the illusive memories. "By chopper it was less than an hour. I'm pretty sure it was slightly north of here."
"Got it," Leary said as he pulled the detonator from the explosive device on the first of the cages. He pulled the door open and helped Billy step outside. The man sobbed his thanks as Ramos helped him sit down on the ground.
"Chopper's here," Hawkins stated as they all heard the distinct sound of the approaching transport.
"This one's clear," Leary told them.
"So's this one," Ramos smiled as he helped the third man step outside.
"Let's get you guys out of here," Curran sighed sadly at the almost emaciated bodies of the two older men, Murphy didn't seem as bad off as these two, but he was still in need of medical attention.
"O...out of h...here."
Curran stared at the man who'd remained silent until now. "That's right," he said as he lifted one of the man's thin arms and draped it over his shoulder. "We're taking you home."
"H...home...Oh G...God, I t...thought I'd n...never see home again," the man sobbed as his body relaxed against the firm grip of the SEAL leader.
Tanner helped Billy Murphy to his feet and followed Curran from the compound. The shock of not finding his friend hadn't really registered yet but he knew it would. I'm coming, Cowboy, you just make sure you're alive when I find you, he thought as he turned his eyes to the north.
I'm coming, Cowboy, you just make sure you're alive when I find you. The words echoed in his mind and his right eye snapped open. "Vin," he whispered hopefully, his eyes filling with dread as he realized it was a dream. He could have sworn he'd heard Vin Tanner's voice but there was nothing around him but darkness. Complete, absolute, darkness and he shivered as he realized he might never see daylight again.
His body had gone beyond pain. Now he just felt numb. A deep-seated numbness that flowed from his weighted arms to his toes. He had no idea how much time passed since he was placed in the cage. He knew he passed out a couple of times but didn't think it'd been for long. Each time he passed out his body would go slack and he felt as if his arms would not hold him much longer.
He tried to moisten his lips but his mouth seemed unable to produce any saliva. His own labored breathing continued to be the only sound in the darkness. A painful sound that reminded him of his broken ribs. Each time he forgot and tried to breath deeply he cried out, wondering if he had damage to not only his ribs but his lungs as well.
He gasped and stood on shaky legs, realizing once more that he'd passed out by the shooting agony in his arms and shoulders. When next he opened his one working eye he was not alone. His eye raked over the man who accompanied Nguyen into the room.
"This is the American you told me about on your last visit?" the silver haired man asked as he studied the battered man standing in the cage.
Larabee glared at the Colonel, not bothering with the newcomer. His eye tracking Nguyen wherever he moved in the room.
"Yes, it is. He is proving to be even more stubborn than I remembered."
"Perhaps I could be of some assistance."
Nguyen looked from his prisoner to the man dressed in civilian clothes standing beside him. "What would you do?" he asked.
"It looks as if your methods of punishment are primitive to say the least. How many beatings have you given him?"
"Not enough," Nguyen said, a feral grin on his face. "He still refuses to talk."
The newcomer strode towards the cage, reaching inside and tenderly caressing Larabee's chest through the open rags he wore. "You'll talk for me won't you?" he whispered.
"Larabee, Christopher..."
Nguyen shoved his riding crop into the cage, savagely driving the solid end into his prisoner's ribcage.
Larabee gasped as he felt the sharp pain as another of his weakened ribs broke under the onslaught.
"I told you to talk!" Nguyen snapped, angry that his customer saw his lack of control.
"L...La..r..." tears sprung to his eyes but he refused to give into them.
"He is stubborn," the newcomer replied as he touched the new bruise forming over the fading ones. "Larabee, my name is Thorpe. I've seen many a strong man lose all will to fight when faced with certain things. The kind Colonel has shown me your file and I think I know what will make you talk," Thorpe said as he pressed his fingers against the broken bone, causing the blond to gasp.
Larabee shook his head as he waited for the next round. Ignoring the newcomer and once more facing his hated nemesis. "Larabee, C...Ch..." the rag was once more shoved into his mouth, instantly cutting off the repeated reply.
Nguyen smiled at his prisoner, his eyes never wavering as he asked, "What do you have in mind, my friend?"
"Fire."
Larabee's one eye could not contain the terror that one word instilled in him. He sagged against his bonds as he tried not to let it show.
"What's wrong, Lieutenant? Does Thorpe have the right idea? Are you afraid of fire? Is that the one thing that can break you of your insolence?"
Chris closed his eyes, knowing these men would do whatever they pleased with him. He fought the fear he felt; knowing to give in would be to lose everything he believed in. His family had perished in a fire and it was the one thing the blond feared above all else.
"I see it in his eyes, Colonel!"
"See what, Thorpe?"
"The fear, the anger, the regret, they are all extreme emotions and he will not be able to fight them all. Will you, my friend?" Thorpe asked as he drove his fist into Larabee's ribs.
Don't be sick! You'll die if you get sick with this cloth in your mouth. You don't want Vin to find you that way. Vin? Why am I thinking of Vin? he thought as the tears he'd held in check streamed from his eyes.
"Tell me what you need," Nguyen ordered as they left Larabee alone in the darkness.
"Vin, stop pacing."
"I can't, Josiah. Every minute we have to wait is another minute Chris is in that bastard's hands. From Murphy's descriptions Chris needs us now," Tanner lashed out at the nearest object, driving his fist towards the door.
Sanchez watched the younger man, knowing he was about to blow. As soon as he noticed the direction of Tanner's hand he intercepted it with his own, gripping until the knuckles turned white and trembled in anger. "Had enough, Vin?" Sanchez asked, relieved to see the other man's eyes focus once more. He knew Tanner was strong, but had no idea how much strength he could actually muster when angered.
The Texan pulled his hand out of Sanchez's grip, both men rubbing their bruised knuckles. "Yeah, Josiah, I had enough. Enough of waiting for these guys." A soft knock on the door made both men look up. "Come," he hissed, rapidly shaking his head as once more he fought the urge to call James Curran by another man's name.
"You won't have to wait any longer. We have the Intel reports and we've been given permission to take you with us. It seems you've both got strong recommendations on your files so consider yourselves back on active duty for the moment," Curran told them.
"When do we leave?" Sanchez asked.
"As soon as you two are briefed on the mission parameters."
"What about Chieu?"
"He's going to come along as a guide. It seems he's been in the area of the Laos compound a few times and knows a few things about Nguyen's stronghold. Follow me," Curran ordered.
Sanchez and Tanner followed the blond out of the cabin and to a conference room. Hawkins, Leary, and Ramos were already present as were a couple of unknowns. Curran introduced the two men as Tucker and Parsons from Intel.
Curran sat on the edge of the paper-strewn table and picked up two thin files, pitching one to Tanner and one to Sanchez. He gave them a few minutes to study the satellite photos before speaking. "There'll be two parts to this mission. Leary, Ramos, Hawkins and myself will be responsible for locating and destroying the missiles and Colonel Nguyen if possible. Tanner and Sanchez will be responsible for locating and rescuing Lieutenant Larabee. You'll both be given communication devices and I want you in constant contact with me. If you run into trouble I need to know about it immediately. We go in fast and we hit them hard. The priority is to destroy anything Nguyen can use against other Countries. Total time in and out should be no more than half an hour. The chopper will return to the drop off coordinates in two hours. We have to be there or it leaves without us. Understood?"
"My priority is to get Chris out," Tanner snarled, angered that the rescue of his friend would be secondary to the SEAL mission.
"I understand how you feel, Tanner," Curran assured him.
"No you don't! How can you?"
"How can I? Let me tell you something. I've lost a lot of friends over the years. Some of them had to take secondary roles in missions that were given top priority. I think about every one of them every single time the balloon goes up. Get this straight, Tanner. The missiles are top priority but that doesn't mean I'm not going to do everything in my power to rescue Larabee."
"You even glare like him," Sanchez observed.
"What?"
"We call the look you're giving Vin the Larabee glare. I'd love to see which one of you could stare the other down," Sanchez said, trying to lighten the tension filled bodies in the room.
"Boss, you'd win, hands down," Hawkins stated, a grin on his handsome face.
"Don't bet on it. Chris Larabee has perfected that look over the years," Sanchez told him.
"Sounds like the two lieutenants have more in common than just their good looks," Hawkins laughed at the blush spreading over his friend's face.
"Shut up, Hawkins. Look, Tanner, we'll do everything we can to rescue your friend."
"Thanks."
"We leave in fifteen minutes," Curran said. "Tanner, Sanchez, your new gear is already loaded on the chopper."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Sanchez said as he followed Tanner from the room.
Larabee's right eye concentrated on the hypnotizing effect of the flames before him. He'd been pulled from his cage and was once more hanging upside down by his ankles. He swallowed the rising bile as he watched Nguyen pull out a white-hot poker and walk towards him.
"This is very hot, Lieutenant," the Colonel laughed as he slowly eased the poker towards the blonds' chest. "Talk!"
Chris closed his eyes, knowing what would happen as soon as he opened his mouth. "Larabee..." his screams were barely audible as they escaped his arid throat, but there was no mistaking the agony caused by the tip of the poker being placed against his chest.
"Talk," Nguyen repeated, smiling sadistically.
Larabee didn't bother to speak as he fought to control the urge to tell everything he knew. The poker touched him again and once more he cried out. His useless arms dangling below his head as his body swung wildly from the hook. Oh, God, please make it stop, he prayed silently. He heard Nguyen's voice as the Colonel's anger and frustration grew.
"Larabee..."
Nguyen dropped the poker and began using his fists again. The use of the poker seemed too impersonal to him and he wanted to deal with the prisoner's insolence with his own hands.
Larabee smiled inwardly as he realized the Colonel had given up on the use of fire. He felt the blows to his abused body and knew he could take anything Nguyen dished out as long as he stayed away from the fire.
"Talk! I grow tired of this! Talk or I will kill you!"
Then do it, Larabee thought, his body a mass of pain.
"Talk!" Nguyen repeated as he picked up the cooling poker and began battering the injured man's body.
Larabee felt every strike. He knew when his knee broke, he knew when his ankles snapped, he knew when the poker connected with his already broken ribs, felt the agony that erupted as his elbow broke, but that was the last he knew as his mind gave up conscious thought.
Nguyen stood back, his hands on his knees, his breathing labored as he watched the blood seeping from the wounds on the injured man.
"Is he dead?" Quang asked from behind the irate Colonel.
"I don't care whether he's dead or not!" Nguyen screamed. "Leave him there! Let the animals have him!"
"Yes, C..."
Nguyen's head snapped up as he saw the blossoming stain of red on the soldier's uniform. He hurried towards the building he'd used to house the missiles as more gunfire erupted around him.
Tanner, Chieu, and Sanchez raced across the compound, their eyes never leaving the swaying body.
Sanchez fired his rifle, taking down one man but missing the second one.
Chieu left them to follow the man he'd grown to hate.
Oh, God, Chris, Don't do this to me, Tanner thought as they reached the battered prisoner.
Sanchez kept his eyes peeled for more soldiers as Tanner reached down and touched the injured man's neck. He held his breath as he searched desperately for some sign of life. Finally releasing it when he detected a faint pulse.
"Vin?" Sanchez asked as his shot took down another soldier.
"He's alive, Josiah, but he's in bad shape. We need to get him down."
"God to Bad karma," Curran spoke softly and waited for an answer.
"Hello, God," Tanner's drawl came through almost immediately.
"Have you found your quest?"
"Affirmative. But he won't be able to walk out of here."
"Get him outside the compound and we'll meet you there in fifteen minutes. God out."
"Did they find him, Boss?"
Curran nodded to Hawkins and the two men started deeper into the building. Ramos had gone to high ground in order to watch for hostiles. Leary was to stay at the door and protect their backs from unwanted intruders.
"Someone's coming," Curran whispered as he heard footsteps coming from deep inside the building. Both men held their breath until the two soldiers came around the corner. They dealt with both men swiftly, pulling their unconscious bodies into an unlocked storage closet before continuing on.
"Time," Curran asked.
"Twelve minutes to set up and rendezvous," Hawkins told him.
"Alright, let's find the missiles and get out of here," Curran said.
"Right on, Boss," Hawkins grinned as the two men moved towards the vaulted door.
"Ready?" Curran mouthed as he placed his hands on the handle. A quick nod from Hawkins and he threw the door open, quickly shooting the two men at the consoles. "Affirm missile location while I set the charges," Curran ordered.
Hawkins set about opening the heavy crates, whistling softly as he counted the stinger missiles. "All present and accounted for, Boss," Hawkins said as he placed explosive devices inside each crate.
"Time?"
"Eight minutes. All charges set."
"Then let's get out of here, Hawkins," Curran ordered as the two men hurried towards the distant exit.
"I'll hold him while you cut him down," Sanchez suggested as he tried to find an unmarked place to put his hands.
The tracker nodded as he put away the tiny radio.
The ex-preacher carefully lifted the injured man, gently cradling the body in his arms as he watched Vin Tanner reach up and grasp Larabee's ankles.
Vin could feel the broken bones grating under his hands as he lifted the rope from the hook.
"I got him, Vin, you make sure no one shoots at us," Sanchez ordered as he settled the blond in his arms.
"N...no...h...hurts," Larabee gasped as he felt hands and arms touching his body.
"I know it does, Brother, but we've got to get you out of here," Sanchez told the battered man, his heart breaking at the amount of damage inflicted on him.
"Is he..."
"He's awake, Vin," Sanchez interrupted as they hurried across the open expanse and rushed into the heavy foliage. "We wait here for the others."
"Chris," Tanner whispered as he knelt beside his injured friend.
"V...Vin, Jo...h," Larabee's voice could barely be heard by the two men, yet it felt as if it thundered across the compound.
"Yeah, Cowboy, it's me and Josiah. We're gonna get you out of here."
"N...Ngu...yen," the blond gasped as his breathing became more labored.
"We'll take care of Nguyen," Tanner told the injured man. "You just rest against Josiah until we get you out of here."
"Vin, rig up the mobile stretcher while we wait for the others," Sanchez ordered, knowing the younger man needed something to focus on. Looking down at the single open eye he realized the blond was crying, whether from pain or relief, the ex-preacher didn't know but he felt his own heart pounding in his chest. "We'll get you home, Brother."
"H...ho..." Larabee tried to say the word but dissolved into a bout of heavy coughing, tiny drops of blood evident on his lips.
"Sh, Chris, I've got you," Sanchez assured the injured man. The ex-preacher knew the blond was in trouble as he watched Vin remove the short poles from his pack and quickly put them together to form the braces for a stretcher. It wasn't long before the younger man slid the soft, but sturdy material over the poles.
"Nguyen!" Chieu screamed as he watched the Colonel hurrying out of the compound.
"Chieu," Nguyen laughed as he turned in time to see the other man barreling towards him.
"Caca Dau," Chieu screamed as pictures of his dead family rose in front of his eyes.
The two men locked arms, fighting for supremacy in a world ruled by Nguyen and his men. Chieu fought with all his anger, knowing he had to kill this man in order to save others the fate Chris Larabee had met. Visions of a younger Larabee crying as he held Chieu's son's dead body in his arms raced across his mind.
"You are nothing, Chieu," Nguyen swore as he pulled a knife from its scabbard and brought it up into the other man's stomach. His maniacal laughter was the last thing Tran Dinh Chieu heard as he joined his family in death.
"Ramos, Leary, let's go," Curran ordered as he burst through the door into the open, firing rapidly at the advancing soldiers. "Ramos, put them on their knees," he shouted and smiled as his order was instantly carried out. The resulting explosion knocked the Vietnamese soldiers to the ground and Curran heard the cries of pain and rage all around him. "Time to move out," he yelled as Ramos and Leary joined Hawkins and himself. They raced across the compound just as the building housing the missiles blew, sending fire and debris high into the sky. The force of the explosion driving the four men to the ground.
"Everyone okay?" he asked as they struggled to their feet and raced away from the burning building. He smiled as he heard his three friends all answer with fine. He knelt beside the body of Chieu, shaking his head at the others as he stood and followed them out of the compound.
They made it to the wooded area and Leary moved to check the injured man still cradled in Sanchez's grasp. He was shocked and amazed to see one familiar green eye looking at him. Even with the excessive bruising and lacerations on the face he knew Hawkins was right about the extent of similarities between Curran and Larabee. "Let me take a look at him."
Sanchez relaxed his hold on the injured man, speaking in soothing tones as the frightened eye stared at him. "It's okay, Brother, he's just gonna check you over before we get you out of here."
"K...V...Vin," the pain filled voice rasped.
"I'm right here, Cowboy," Tanner said as he placed the completed stretcher next to his friend, ignoring the sounds of gunshots all around them
"Can we move him, Leary?" Curran asked as he stood over the injured man.
"He's in bad shape and I'd rather not," Leary said after making a quick assessment, wrapping soft bandages around the compound fracture at Larabee's right elbow. "But we need to get him to the ship as quickly as we can."
"Can you give him something for pain?" Tanner asked.
"Can't chance it right now. All I've got is Morphine and that'll affect his breathing. He's got broken ribs and from the blood on his lips one may have punctured his lung," Leary explained as he watched the longhaired man cut the ropes from Larabee's ankles.
More gunfire erupted around them and Ramos and Hawkins returned it.
"How long before he's ready to move out?" Curran asked.
Larabee tried to focus on the faces of the men surrounding him. One stood out and he gasped at the all too familiar features on the face of another man. He tried to speak, to ask who the man was, but the sound turned into an agonizing cough.
"Chris?" Tanner cried as he knelt beside his injured friend.
"We have to get him out of here now!" Leary told them. "Get him on the stretcher," he ordered.
Sanchez, Leary, and Tanner logrolled the injured man until his body was lying flat on the conveyance.
Curran grimaced at the painful sounds emanating from the injured man. Been there, done that, he thought as Sanchez and Tanner lifted the poles.
"Where's Chieu?" Tanner asked as they hurried through the trees.
"He didn't make it," Hawkins answered, unaware that his words were heard by the injured man.
Chieu, no, please, God, don't let him be dead, Larabee thought as he fought the excessive agony flaring through his body. He had no idea how long they carried him. Time had no meaning compared to the torment racing in his mind.
"Get him in the chopper," Curran ordered as they reached the extraction coordinates.
Sanchez placed his end of the stretcher on the edge of the chopper and helped Vin lever it inside. Both men jumped into the cabin as a scream emanated from the trees.
"You will not escape that easily, Lieutenant," the irate Colonel screamed as he opened fire on the cockpit of the aircraft.
Nguyen, Larabee thought and tried to come off the stretcher, crying out as two sets of hands held him in place.
"Don't try to move, Chris," Tanner shouted as he heard Curran give orders to take the man down. More gunfire erupted and a cry from the front of the chopper drew Tanner's attention. The pilot lay slumped against the dash, a thin stream of blood flowing from a hole between two unseeing eyes. The co-pilot's body was also slumped forward but Vin couldn't tell if the man was dead or alive. The sharpshooter instinctively made his way to the front, removing the dead man from the pilot's seat, and placing him on the floor behind the seat.
"Can you fly a Seahawk?" Leary asked as he jumped into the chopper, deftly checking the pilot, then turning his attention to the blond.
"He's trained to fly just about anything," Sanchez assured the medic.
"N...guy...en?" Larabee mumbled, once more trying to get off the floor of the chopper, crying out as new pains made themselves known. He coughed and more blood appeared on his lips.
"You let us worry about, Nguyen," Leary ordered as he wiped the crimson spots from Larabee's mouth.
"C...can't l...let him e...escape...k...killed too m...many p...people a...already," Larabee gasped between coughing and trying to fill his oxygen starved lungs with air.
"Chris, the SEAL team will take care of him," Sanchez whispered placing a reassuring hand on the younger man's shoulder as Leary continued to treat the injuries as best he could.
"T...they'll g...get him. S...SEALs do the d...deed," Larabee muttered forcefully. The last thing he heard before he slipped into darkness was the soft laughter from the medic at his side.
"Hawkins, can you see him?" Curran shouted.
"Yeah, Boss, he's behind that boulder. I can't get a shot," Hawkins answered as a bullet whipped past his head.
Curran knew they were wasting time. Time the injured man didn't have, but Nguyen was a priority on this mission. They had to kill the bastard or he'd be back in business within the week. "I'm gonna circle around him. Hawkins, Ramos, lay down cover fire," he ordered as he raced across the clearing, bullets kicking up dirt all around him. He felt a bullet tear into his thigh as he dove behind a small bush. Ignoring the burning sensation from the wound he stood up and raced the last few feet.
Nguyen was so intent on finding a way to get in a killing blow to the Lieutenant he'd started firing at the gas tank of the Seahawk, hoping to get them all with one shot.
Curran rounded the boulder and pointed his gun at the Vietnamese Colonel.
Nguyen heard the movement to his left and realized, too late, his mistake. "No!" he screamed as he turned his gun on the blond SEAL.
"Die, you son of a bitch," Curran swore as he opened fire on the Colonel.
Nguyen's body was thrown backwards by the force of the bullets entering his body. He was dead before the last one entered his forehead. Curran checked to make sure the man wouldn't bother anyone again before calling out to his team. "Nguyen's dead," he shouted as he ran back to the chopper, his face registering surprise as he saw Tanner at the controls.
"Pilot's dead," Leary explained, but continued to work on the injured man.
"How is he?" Curran asked as he helped Leary and Sanchez secure Larabee for take off. The medic had placed a cervical collar around the injured man's neck as well as getting him on a backboard.
"Not good," the medic answered. "Looks like you took one, Boss, sit down and let me take a look."
"I'm fine, Rick, look after Larabee."
"There's nothing else I can do for him. Now sit down."
Curran did as he was told as the Seahawk climbed into the air. Leary shook his head and examined the wound. "Bullet's still in there."
"No shit," Curran quipped with a grin.
"Hey, Boss, looks like this one's an easy one for you," Hawkins declared as he pulled the co-pilot from his seat and slid in next to Tanner.
"Radio ahead and warn the ship we have wounded. Tell them we need two teams," Leary ordered.
"Ah, hell, Rick, I'm fine. I can walk."
"Not with that bullet in there, Boss. Now just sit back and relax."
Sanchez smiled at the blond SEAL. "Looks like you've got as much success arguing with him as Chris does when he argues with Nathan. Might as well sit back and relax."
Silence reined on the Seahawk as Tanner expertly flew it towards the coordinates supplied by Hawkins. He forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, reminding himself that Chris needed medical attention more than he needed Vin by his side.
Half an hour later they hovered over the Enterprise as Vin watched the signals from the man standing below. The Seahawk landed as if it were a feather, coming to rest against the deck. Before the engines stopped Tanner was out of his seat and kneeling beside Chris Larabee. "Stay with me, Cowboy," he pleaded as medical personnel hurried into the cabin.
Larabee heard the younger man's words and forced his eye open, "I...I'm s...still h...here," he croaked.
"You're going to have to move out of the way," a man warned.
"V...Vin..."
"It's okay, Cowboy, they're gonna help you."
"N...gu...yen," he coughed, groaning as his chest constricted and more blood showed on his lips, a stark contrast to the pale skin surrounding it.
"Dead," Curran told him as a ship's doctor checked the injury to his thigh.
"D...dead," the injured man's weak voice sounded relieved to everyone as he closed his eye.
"Looks like a punctured lung," the doctor examining Larabee told the other doctor. "We need to get him to sickbay stat," he said signalling his corpsmen to lift the stretcher from the confines of the Seahawk.
Larabee's eye opened once more and he turned his frightened gaze on Tanner as they carried him past. "No! Wait, p...please," he gasped breathlessly.
"You can talk to him later," the doctor ordered as they rushed towards sickbay.