Read Online Cambodian Hellhole by Stephen Mertz - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephen Mertz
Tags: Action & Adventure
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him, Mark Stone almost missed the movement up above them, on a ridge that overlooked the village.
Almost.
From the corner of his eye he caught a fleeting shadow, moving left to right, and then another following itâanother, and another . . .
Stone swiveled where he stood, one hand dropping instinctively to the pistol grip of his CAR-15 assault rifle, slung muzzle-down across his shoulder.
Half a dozen men in uniform were watching them from the high ground, more of them showing themselves by the moment. All of them were armed, and all were obviously on full alert, their weapons ready at hand. Although the ridge had been defoliated like everything else within sight, it was lined with the bare trunks of trees, and the roving patrol was using these to good advantage for their cover.
It took a moment for Stone to recognize the camouflaged and jungle-stained uniforms they wore. Lon Ky moved up beside him, saving him the trouble.
"Cambodian regulars," the guide said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "They kill us now, I think."
Chapter Eight
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"W e need some time," Stone told the guide. "Try talking to them. Stall them if you can."
Lon Ky gave him a solemn nod and moved forward, taking several paces out into the open, careful to keep both hands in plain sight and clear of the AK-47 that hung off his shoulder. His narrow eyes never left the line of uniformed figures stationed on the denuded ridge.
The guide said something in the native language, got an answer, responded in kind. Stone listened to the exchange for several moments, taking the opportunity to fade back by degrees, placing himself a few strides closer to the open doorway of a long-abandoned hut. Around him he could see the others taking similar precautions, seeking places of retreat in case a firefight should erupt now, without further warning.
He could not make out what Lon Ky and the leader of the uniformed patrol were saying to each other, but he did not have long to wait. After a moment the Khmer Rouge guide turned toward him, frowning, translating the patrol leader's comments into English.
"He believes that we have drugs," Lon Ky explained, "or else that we intend to purchase them from someone nearby. I try to tell him we are simple traders, but he is suspicious."
And rightly so , Stone thought. Ironically, though, the team leader had tagged them for the wrong offense. Stone wondered why he had not opened fire immediately.
"Will he take a bribe?"
Lon Ky shrugged casually. Too casually.
"It is difficult to say. If I ask now, in front of all his men, he may feel obligated to reject it. Or . . ."
Stone did not have to hear the alternative. If the offer struck the leader wrong, if it angered him in any way, he would not hesitate to open fire upon them.
"We need time," Stone said again. "Keep him talking."
A glance to either side showed him Wiley and Loughlin drifting out to flanking fire positions, Loughlin leading the pack mule with its precious load of gear. The four Hmong tribesmen seemed distracted, almost bored by the proceedings, but a closer look revealed that each of them was primed for combat, each with his finger on the trigger of his weapon, muscles tensed and ready for the sudden move they all knew was coming any second now. As soon as Lon Ky ran out of things to say.
And if the patrol leader could not be bought off, there would be killing.
Even if he could be bribed, Stone was worried that he might have second thoughts a mile or two along the trail. He might double back and pursue them . . . or radio a message on ahead.
And they could not afford a double-cross. Not now, with so much at stake, and so far yet to go.
He was turning back to face the ridge when an unexpected movement caught his eye, away to his left flank. Loughlin was there, with the mule, and now, glancing back in that direction, Stone picked out two more figures closing on the Britisher, their rifles held at the ready.
They were uniformed Cambodian
Almost.
From the corner of his eye he caught a fleeting shadow, moving left to right, and then another following itâanother, and another . . .
Stone swiveled where he stood, one hand dropping instinctively to the pistol grip of his CAR-15 assault rifle, slung muzzle-down across his shoulder.
Half a dozen men in uniform were watching them from the high ground, more of them showing themselves by the moment. All of them were armed, and all were obviously on full alert, their weapons ready at hand. Although the ridge had been defoliated like everything else within sight, it was lined with the bare trunks of trees, and the roving patrol was using these to good advantage for their cover.
It took a moment for Stone to recognize the camouflaged and jungle-stained uniforms they wore. Lon Ky moved up beside him, saving him the trouble.
"Cambodian regulars," the guide said, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "They kill us now, I think."
Chapter Eight
Â
"W e need some time," Stone told the guide. "Try talking to them. Stall them if you can."
Lon Ky gave him a solemn nod and moved forward, taking several paces out into the open, careful to keep both hands in plain sight and clear of the AK-47 that hung off his shoulder. His narrow eyes never left the line of uniformed figures stationed on the denuded ridge.
The guide said something in the native language, got an answer, responded in kind. Stone listened to the exchange for several moments, taking the opportunity to fade back by degrees, placing himself a few strides closer to the open doorway of a long-abandoned hut. Around him he could see the others taking similar precautions, seeking places of retreat in case a firefight should erupt now, without further warning.
He could not make out what Lon Ky and the leader of the uniformed patrol were saying to each other, but he did not have long to wait. After a moment the Khmer Rouge guide turned toward him, frowning, translating the patrol leader's comments into English.
"He believes that we have drugs," Lon Ky explained, "or else that we intend to purchase them from someone nearby. I try to tell him we are simple traders, but he is suspicious."
And rightly so , Stone thought. Ironically, though, the team leader had tagged them for the wrong offense. Stone wondered why he had not opened fire immediately.
"Will he take a bribe?"
Lon Ky shrugged casually. Too casually.
"It is difficult to say. If I ask now, in front of all his men, he may feel obligated to reject it. Or . . ."
Stone did not have to hear the alternative. If the offer struck the leader wrong, if it angered him in any way, he would not hesitate to open fire upon them.
"We need time," Stone said again. "Keep him talking."
A glance to either side showed him Wiley and Loughlin drifting out to flanking fire positions, Loughlin leading the pack mule with its precious load of gear. The four Hmong tribesmen seemed distracted, almost bored by the proceedings, but a closer look revealed that each of them was primed for combat, each with his finger on the trigger of his weapon, muscles tensed and ready for the sudden move they all knew was coming any second now. As soon as Lon Ky ran out of things to say.
And if the patrol leader could not be bought off, there would be killing.
Even if he could be bribed, Stone was worried that he might have second thoughts a mile or two along the trail. He might double back and pursue them . . . or radio a message on ahead.
And they could not afford a double-cross. Not now, with so much at stake, and so far yet to go.
He was turning back to face the ridge when an unexpected movement caught his eye, away to his left flank. Loughlin was there, with the mule, and now, glancing back in that direction, Stone picked out two more figures closing on the Britisher, their rifles held at the ready.
They were uniformed Cambodian
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