JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (18 page)

The woman was thin. Jason thought she looked about sixty. She wore a cross on a chain around her neck and a plain black dress. He assumed she was a nun or something like one. She spoke in Vietnamese. The boy spoke to her and informed her Jason could not speak Vietnamese.

Jason tried Chinese and English. To his surprise she spoke back in French and called herself Claudette.

“You’re French?” Jason asked in French.

“Yes, I am. Can you speak French as well?” She asked. Jason was pleased he could finally communicate with someone. She wrongly assumed he had been thrown out of his home or village like all the other children. This was an orphanage for Amerasian children; the few orphanages in Vietnam would not always allow Amerasian children to stay. If it was not for a few places like this, many Amerasian children would be left to fend for themselves. She believed she was doing God's work and was the children’s, teacher, guardian, cook, and nurse.

He was given a stew of vegetables and meat. The meat was scarce; he only came across one small piece. He felt better after eating and drinking until he asked what the meat was. It was the first and, he hoped, last time he would ever eat dog again. He was annoyed with himself for eating it. He had seen it earlier but was so tired and hungry he just forgot. She offered to make Jason up a bed for the night, but he told her he couldn’t stay he needed to find the prison camp.

Claudette refused to give him the whereabouts at first eventually, she gave in and told him that a few locals had mentioned an older prison camp by the Suoi Da River. He pulled out his map; she started to show him on the map, until she noticed it was stamped
Property of the US Army
. After flashing his winning adorable smile and some persuasion, she showed him where the locals had mentioned where the prison was. He was given food and water for his journey and said goodbye to Claudette. Even after he left she was unsure if he was telling her the truth. His story seemed a little far-fetched.

A
blood-curdling scream, followed by more screams and shouts, came from the lower end of the village. The caged dogs barked, the roar of a truck engine broke the sleepy quiet village. Two troop-carrying trucks followed by a small armoured personal carrier stopped in the village center. General Chow stepped out and dusted himself off; he stood with his hands on his hips and watched as his troops disembarked.

An officer barked orders, the troops started searching each home. The terrified villagers were being rounded up.

“Jason, you had better leave,” Claudette warned. “Go out the back. God will protect you.”

Jason nodded and ran into the dense undergrowth. He wanted to hide and see what happened. Maybe he could help. But knew he was seriously outnumbered and was totally unaware of why General Chow had come to the village. He thought it best to take Claudette’s advice and leave while he still could.

General Chow forced the villagers to stand in three rows while he inspected them. When he came to the children he spat on the floor in disgust. He pushed a small boy out of his way so he could barge past. The boy,  no more than four-years-old, fell to the ground.

Claudette objected. Within seconds she had six rifles pointed at her. “They are just children,” she pleaded.

“Children of the dust, children of the enemy,” General Chow shouted at her.

“They are also half Vietnamese, but more importantly they are just children, God's children,” she argued. The boy ran to her and hugged her legs.

“We are looking for one particular Amerasian boy. We tracked him here. He has blue eyes and blond hair. Tell us where we can find him, and you can live in piece with these disgusting vermin children,” General Chow said. His one eye glared at Claudette.

“These
are
all the children. The last one to join us was Huong. She has been with us for a month now.” Claudette stroked the head of an eight-year-old girl. “As God as my witness, I have seen no boy as you describe, General.”

General Chow paced up and down, staring at the children and villagers. His troops had finished the search of the village and had found nothing.

“When I catch this boy, he will be tortured and questioned. If he
has
been here, we will be back and will squash this village.” General Chow snarled, waving his fist as if he was squashing a bug in his hand. He gave the orders, and the troops climbed back on the trucks. Within minutes they were gone, trying to track the Amerasian blond haired boy.

Jason had only travelled two hundred meters. He was aware he was being followed. He ducked down into the undergrowth and waited, listening to his follower's feet scuffle on the ground of fallen leaves. It was two of the children he had seen them at the orphanage, a boy and girl about nine. They looked similar, and Jason thought they might be twins. After they passed and he was sure they were alone, he followed them. They turned and smiled when they saw him.

“What do you want? Why are you following me?” Jason asked. They said nothing and took his hand. Reluctantly, he went with them. They took him deeper into the jungle and stopped by a large fallen tree trunk. They moved some palm leaves that had been carefully placed to conceal a bamboo covered hole and climbed down into the ground.

Jason followed them down an underground tunnel; it was damp, muddy, and full of crawling bugs. They turned on an oil lamp and went farther down into the tunnel on hands and knees. He followed them farther along, every few paces they had to clamber over tree roots that had grown into the tunnel.

They came to an opening; Jason was amazed at how large it was. It opened up to a large room with two more passageways going off in other directions. The girl lifted a secret door in the ground and climbed down. The boy gestured Jason to follow. He felt uneasy, but he trusted the two children and followed her into the lower level. Her brother passed down the oil lamp. When the light came down, Jason gasped. The secret room was full of weapons. He examined them and found them to be mostly American.

They had been collected by the Vietnamese army and hidden. After the war, they had been forgotten. Jason picked up a semi-automatic Smith & Wesson Model 39. He looked it over. It wasn't too large for his hands. When he checked the clip he saw it was fully loaded. Jason made himself busy. He filled six more clips with 9mm bullets. Once he had finished, he picked up a holster and belt. He had to use his knife to cut a new hole so it would fit him, since it was made for an adult.

His eyes darted around the room, looking for something else. He picked up a belt full of hand grenades. It was too heavy for his slim waist so he put it over his head then scooped up an M18 Claymore mine. It came complete with a long wire and blasting cap. Jason thought it seemed simple to use. On the front it had the words ‘Front toward Enemy.’ He took two of those and packed them in his backpack. Finally, he picked up a grenade launcher. It was heavy and had no instructions on how to use it. After a few seconds stroking it, he placed it back It was too heavy and cumbersome to take into the jungle.

“This is all I need, thanks,” Jason said to the twins. They both smiled at him and laughed as they watched him struggle to squeeze back up to the room above with the grenades around his neck. “Don’t bloody laugh. If these go off in here, they'll hear the bang back in London.”

They smiled at him, not sure what he had just said to them.

Once they got outside, Jason thanked them both. He felt sorry for them. Stuck at the orphanage with little chance of being adopted and hated the local people because of their western appearance. It made Jason think about the runaway children at the Chicken Ranch. They had no idea how lucky they were to be British rather than born in Vietnam, fathered by an American who was either dead or gone home to his American life.

Chapter Twenty-One

The United States held an emergency meeting at the Pentagon. It included the US President Gerald Ford and Vice President Rockefeller along with the head of the CIA. The defence minister from Great Britain had arrived, along with his French counterpart. Gough Whitlam, the Australian Prime Minister, had also flown to the United States to attend the meeting. They sat along a forty-foot table; the Chief of Staff sat to the right of the US President. The twenty-seven men were introduced to Max Fisher.

Max marched up to a large screen. He was smartly dressed in an Italian suit. He held a large wooden ruler. The screen turned on and showed a picture of the ten captured prisoners that was taken a few days before when all ten were still alive.

“We still have some sources in South Vietnam. Our information is sketchy to say the least, but it’s all we have.’ He paused and took a breath, almost afraid to say what he was about to announce. “It is possible we have a plan B,” Max said.

“I won’t put another US soldier's foot in Vietnam,” President Ford insisted.

“No sir, you don’t have to. It’s a British foot.” Max smiled.

“What? It’s a bit late to plan anything now. We have less than twenty-four hours.” British Defence Secretary, Roy Mason, choked. His huge eyebrows rose higher than his hairline.

“We think he’s already there, Sir,” Max said the interruptions were annoying him. “Three days ago Jason Steed disappeared from
Quentin Roosevelt Military Academy.” Max clicked a hand held switch and a picture of Jason wearing his Sea Cadet uniform appeared on the screen. A rumble went around the room.

“Is this a bloody joke mate? He’s a kid!” argued the Australian Prime Minister. The room fell silent when Roy got up from his chair and walked closer to the screen. He jabbed his finger back and forth towards Jason’s image and nodded before sitting back down again.

“I know of him and what he is capable of. Carry on, Fisher,” Roy said.

Max cleared his throat. “We believe he stowed away on an aircraft that flew from the military airfield across the street from the academy. Jason Steed was given a pass so he could workout with some of the security staff.”

President Ford interrupted him. “What kind of idiot gave him a security pass?” he snarled, looking at Max, who turned red, cleared his throat, and, ignoring the Presidents question, carried on.

“Jason Steed is an expert in martial arts. Well, to cut a long story short a boy fitting his description assaulted a guard at
U-Tapao Pattaya International Airport in Thailand. He was asking questions about the prisoners. A few minutes later a small plane was stolen and—” He was interrupted again.

“You're not suggesting this boy, Steed, stole an aircraft?” scoffed President Ford.

“Yes, Sir. He holds a pilot's license.” He paused. “Let me take you back eighteen months ago. Jakarta. The Sea Cadet that recovered the missile arming cassette, freed the prisoners, and flew them out on a vintage bomber and landed it in Australia?” Max said.

“Is this the same boy?” President Ford asked, getting up from his seat and looking closer at the image on the screen.

“Yes, Sir. Since then, he has been working with SYUI and MI6, undercover of course. He was also the inside person that gave SYUI information on the Coco Bites Scandal by the Triads. However, this time, of course, he’s working alone as it’s personal. The plane he stole from U-Tapao Pattaya International Airport was forced down on a beach in South Vietnam. The pilot was never found and then another incident happened. Two days ago two Vietnamese army armoured boats were destroyed. From what information we can gather, a blond haired, blue-eyed boy aged around twelve forced the crew off one with a grenade and used it to ram another while leaving a live grenade. One man died and one is seriously injured. We believe that boy to be the very same Jason Steed, and like I said, this time it’s personal.”

“Exactly why is it personal?” Roy asked. “Isn’t this just Jason Steed doing what he does best?”

“No, sir. He’s working alone. It’s not a planned mission. It’s personal because one of the British prisoners, Lieutenant Raymond Steed, is Jason’s father.”

The room fell silent again for a few moments. Eventually, Roy  stood. “The British government does not use children on missions, Fisher. He was on vacation in Jakarta with another one hundred Sea cadets when that went off. We were all lucky that the boy was there and got caught up in it.”

“And the Triad Coco Bites Mission or the more recent mission where he helped close down a child abduction gang? Did he just get caught up in that as well?” Max scoffed.

“Hmmm, good point. Well, however it seems, this time he’s on his own. What are his chances?” Roy asked.