JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (19 page)

“We have no more information. At this point, we don’t know if he is even still alive. If he is, he will be making his way towards Tay Ninh. Our information leads us to believe this is where the prison camp is.”

“How would this twelve-year-old boy, staying at one of our academies, get hold of that information?” Vice President Rockefeller asked.

Max turned and stared at Roy. “Because he asked the head of SYUI, a Mr. George Young. Apparently Mr. Young didn’t think it would do any harm and has a soft spot for the boy.”

Roy  squirmed in his chair. He faked a cough before stiffing up again.

“So that’s your plan B? You have a twelve-year-old old boy working alone trying to help his dad, but for now we have no idea if he is alive, dead, or just out surfing,” the Australian Prime Minster said. “What you're saying is he’s the only chance we have of us getting the men out? What are his chances one or two percent? If you ask me, not much of a plan B.”

“This is the same boy who rescued the marines off Jakarta and crash landed the aircraft at Broomfield Airfield and managed to get the cassette back to stop the nuclear warhead going off. He is the youngest person in Britain to hold a pilot's license. He has been awarded the VC and is a black belt in various karate disciplines. He’s smart, fit, and determined. He has probably more chance than any adult agent we could send because no one would suspect him,” Fisher argued.

“Agreed, but he will leave a trail of bodies behind him. After the Coca Bites affair, the Triads swore revenge on him. Many members of the public got caught up in the crossfire. Don’t expect him to ask for his father's release nicely. He will take down anyone who gets in his way.” Roy said.

“Well gentlemen, for everyone’s sake, let’s hope he's still alive and can help the prisoners. His mission is personal and has nothing to do with the United States. If the media heard about this they would have a field day. As it is, they're calling our troops ‘Baby Killers.’ I will pray for him,” President Ford said.

“He’s British, Sir it won’t come back on us,” Fisher suggested.

“Yes it will. He’s a student at an American military academy. You know how the media would put a spin on it. Whatever the outcome, we must keep this under wraps.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jason found the journey hard work. The jungle was dense. He had to climb through palm trees, bamboo, and thick, luscious foliage. To make matters worse, a thunderstorm erupted in the sky. He was soaked to the skin. It rained so hard the ground eventually became mud. He squelched and splashed forward, pausing every now and then to examine his compass. His feet started to suffer as they rubbed against the wet leather of his boots.

The arduous journey never stopped his determination to keep going forward. Lightning lit up the sky. The crushing rain was so deafening he never heard the thunder that followed. Jason couldn’t hear anything but the crushing rain. He had a comforting thought that if he couldn’t hear anything then neither could anyone else.

He came across a small river. While looking for an easier place to cross, he noticed a large flat bottom barge tied up to the bank. He climbed on board. It was empty but sound. He guessed it was used to transport troops up and down the river during the war. As he examined it, he noticed it had no engine but was floating and quite stable.
Would have been perfect if it had an engine
he said to himself as he jumped off and waded across the river.

*

The nine remaining prisoners huddled together, trying to avoid the worst of the leaks in the roof. They were only given water this morning. Today, they had not even been fed the rotten mangos or maggot infested bread that they normally were given. Ray had watched the others break down one by one. Some would actually cry, some would rant and rave, others just sat quietly and prayed with tears in their eyes. Today, he struggled himself to hold it together. He was unconcerned about himself. It was his son, Jason that weighed heavy on his mind. He never told him much how proud of him he was and how much he loved him.

A rat squeaked and sheltered in the cell with the men. Ray shooed him away. “Go get out of here. Get back to your family,” Ray whispered. His attention was drawn to outside. The sound of trucks splashing through the mud road. Ray climbed to his feet and peered through the bars. General Chow had returned. He climbed out of the armoured truck and watched his troops dismount from the two troop trucks. Chow glanced across at the prison hut. He grinned at Ray. He delighted in keeping prisoners and was looking forward to the fast approaching deadline.

*

Jason broke through the dense foliage and came across the prison camp. He crouched down and took in his surroundings. His eyes darted around the small buildings. His attention drawn to a hut with bars on the front.

“Dad,” Jason said under his breath excitedly. He could see his father at the bars looking out. Jason’s heart pounded. He wanted to shout out and run over. The child in him was pulling him forward. He longed to get a hug from his dad and show him that he made it this far alone. He took a deep breath and told himself to come up with a plan. He noticed the armed guards, and although he had a pistol, he knew he would be out numbered and out gunned.

He continued to take mental notes of where the guards came and went. He thought one small hut over a stream was used as a bathroom. The guards went in and left a few minutes later. The sleeping dorm and a larger building used for preparing food. There was one hut that was solitary. He was unsure what it was until he saw General Chow.

The third guard manned the lookout post twenty feet in the air. He used binoculars to check the perimeter. Most of the time he leant back and sucked on a cigarette.

The pirate looking guy from the motor launch
, Jason said to himself as he watched General Chow. Jason studied the area, trying to come up with a plan. He sat back against a tree hidden in the undergrowth and slept on and off for a couple of hours until it was dark. He had less than twelve hours to do something before execution of the prisoners started.

He quietly made his way down to the stream that ran between the camp and waded in. He slowly walked into the camp, keeping low. He paused, buried his hands into mud on the bank, and covered his hair and face in the brown stodgy mess. He crept up to the largest wood and bamboo hut it was raised high off the ground to keep it dry when in severe rainstorms the stream matured into a river.

He crawled on the soggy ground and slithered underneath the hut. He could feel a leech on his forearm. Ignoring it he kept moving forward. He placed a Claymore mine under the hunt and slowly made his way back out, making sure he never pulled out the wires. Further up the stream, he placed another under a hut he suspected they used for cooking and supplies.

One guard sluggishly leant against a flagpole. The red communist flag flopped down and dripped water as if in submission. Jason put his equipment down and slowly made his way towards the guard. Pausing to concentrate, he built up an adrenaline rush inside his system. His pupils darkened and his heartbeat raced. He blocked out every sound around him and focused on the unsuspecting guard. He crept forward on his toes behind his prey like a lion ready to pounce. Every muscle fiber in his agile body was fully wound and alert, ready to spring into action.

He knew he had to be quick. One sound from the guard would alert the whole prison. Jason came up behind the guard and tapped him on the shoulder. As the guard turned, he pulled his right fist back, threw it forward and, just before impact, threw his shoulder into the blow. He struck the guards windpipe. The ferocious blow smashed the guard’s trachea. He tried to gasp for air, but Jason unleashed a second blow to the poor man's nose. It was ferocious enough to knock him out cold.

Jason picked up the guard's gun and moved to his next victim. This guard was sleeping in a chair outside the general’s hut. Jason slowly approached along the wooden walkway. Below, the stream cascaded smothering the light sound of his footsteps. Jason thought it would be a perfect place to lower his unconscious body.

“Oi!” shouted the startled guard clambering for his rifle. Jason launched into a kick and struck his face with his right foot. He had been taken by surprise as much as the guard. He thought the man was sleeping. “Giúp!” The guard screamed for help as he fell back, clutching his injured face.

“Shut it.” Jason cursed. He pounced on the man and threw four punches into his face. Another shout came from up in the lookout post. The guard on lookout duty turned on the spot light. It shone around and soon found the injured guard with Jason pounding him.

A shot rang out, narrowly missing Jason. The whole camp came alive. Jason cursed to himself. His plan had gone disastrously wrong. He pulled the pin from a grenade, jumped up, and threw it up at the lookout post. It exploded and blew it apart. The guard fell with the wreckage.

The prisoners woke and peered out of the bars. “It’s a rescue party,” one shouted excitedly.

Jason dived back down to the stream, found the switch, and set off the Claymore mines. The explosion tore apart the sleeping quarters. Two of General Chow’s men had got clear. They ran towards Jason shirtless, carrying rifles waist height, and shooting at anything that moved.

“Look! Ione of ours down there by the stream,” Marcel Deschamps said, pointing at Jason. “He looks French, but small.” The others looked as Jason rose and opened fire with his pistol in his right hand, shooting at the oncoming guards. With his left hand, he tossed a grenade. “God he’s young, looks like a kid.”

The words
looks like a kid
hit Ray like an atom bomb going off in his head. Ray’s heart pounded as he pushed past the others and forced his head tight between the bars for a closer look, deep inside he was desperate. Could it be that it was the one person in the world he loved?

The prisoners looked in the direction of the explosions. A huge ball of flames shot across the compound. They could just make out the image of someone running fast along bamboo the walkway. A guard stood in his way and raised his gun. The runner jumped into the air in a flying karate kick and took him out.

“Wow did you see that?” Marcel shouted. “Look at that little guy go.”

As Ray watched, he could hardly believe his eyes. “It’s Jason,” he cried. Tears streamed down his face as he proudly watched his son sprinting towards General Chow's hut. The grenade exploded. The two men in pursuit were blown several feet up into the air. Fire had broken out in most parts of the camp and illuminated the whole complex.

From out of nowhere, a soldier ran towards Jason, swinging wildly with a sword. Jason skidded and slid below the sword and took the sword-wielding soldiers feet away. The man's legs were sent up in the air. Before he landed, Jason pulled his victims arm over his shoulder and, in a classic Judo move, threw him. The sword pinned the man down into the ground through his chest. Another soldier ran towards Jason shooting his rifle. Jason dove into the stream and went under.

For a few moments he was gone. Ray looked on, terrified that his son had just been hit. The guard searched the area, prodding the long grass with his rifle. An ear-piercing scream broke the temporary silence. Jason had sprung up from under the water and hit the man between the legs with all his power. It caused a
vascular rupture on the man's reproductive parts. He whimpered and collapsed in severe pain.

“Ouch, I bet that hurt.”
Carl Bradley, the American journalist, grimaced. “That guy looks young. He’s got to be a US Navy Seal. They seem to be getting younger or I’m just getting old.”

“No, he must be a French Legionnaire. Look at him go,” Marcel said. “We have been rescued by the French.
Vive La France
! That guys amazing.”

General Chow aimed and shot his rifle at Jason. The bullet hit the ground near his foot. The mud splashed up and hit Jason. He ran forward crouching and keeping low. In this position, Chow could not see him for a good shot. He had to move further into the open by the bank of the stream.

Chow paused. The boy was gone. He shot several shots into the water and cursed. He kept firing until he had unloaded his rifle, still cursing and screaming and calling Jason a half-breed. Chow’s attention was drawn to the prisoners who looked on. In anger, he fired at them before realizing his rifle was empty. He cursed again and threw the rifle at the prisoners. He took out his revolver and took aim.

Ray and the others looked horrified. They had no protection from the insane general. Jason appeared from behind a burning hut and ran towards the general. He leapt into the air in a flying kick and caught General Chow’s arm. Both fell to the ground. The revolver span towards the stream.