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 form 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 into 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 ok?"
"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 blonds 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, adrenalin 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.
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