JASON STEED Absolutely Nothing (22 page)

“I’m sure, gentlemen that you all watched the news reports. Five men have been killed while trying to escape. We still have some people in Vietnam loyal to us. They are technically agents deep in enemy territory. They informed us that all nine prisoners escaped. The prison was partially destroyed, and several North Vietnamese soldiers were killed and injured. We are still unsure of the whereabouts of the British men. No bodies have been found. We can only assume they escaped.” Fisher stopped and took a drink of water to clear his throat. “Also, a small village outside
Tay Ninh has been burnt to the ground and bombed. Our informant told us that a blond haired, blue-eyed boy was previously hiding at an Amerasian orphanage. The Vietcong destroyed the village in retaliation. The children have not been seen since, suspected killed.”

“That’s very sad. Although I don’t really believe all this Amerasian children nonsense, just a bunch of Vietnamese refugees wanting a green card. Back to the prisoners. Do we know how they escaped exactly?” President Ford asked.

“No sir, although our informant at the hospital told us one man was seriously injured, but was not shot or cut,” Fisher said.

“Meaning, what exactly?” President Ford asked.

“Meaning that it was the work of someone highly skilled in martial arts.”

“How many Vietnamese were killed on the escape?” Vice President Rockefeller asked.

“Reports say nine dead, six injured. Two of those are serious,” Fisher said.

“Gentlemen. One has spoken to my people who have worked with this Jason Steed chap, If this was his doing expect the body count to increase,”
British Defence Secretary Roy Mason warned. His eyebrows danced as if floating over his head. “He has a viscous temper that he can’t control. He’s a lethal weapon. Two years ago he won the under sixteen Karate Championship when he was only ten. He has mastered other forms and has been trained to kill a man with a single blow. From what I have heard, his speed and reflexes are extraordinary.”

“He’s still a twelve-year-old boy, and we still don’t yet know if it was him that broke them out of the prison camp,” Fisher argued.

“But you can come up with no other explanation either?” President Ford suggested. “Then, if we assume they are still on the run, what’s your plan to get them out?”

“We don’t have a plan. We have to wait. Raymond Steed is a decorated British Naval officer. He must be in charge now. Although he has no combat experience, his son however... well I think we have all read the reports on him now. We will monitor all radio frequencies and let them come to us.” Fisher paused. “Unless we can send in a crack squad to help them?”

“No one steps foot on Vietnam. Jason Steed is working alone. So far he has stowed away on a US aircraft, assaulted a guard at a US base, and stolen a small aircraft that the US army was guarding. If he is responsible and gets caught, we have to distance ourselves,” President Ford said. “Although my thoughts and prayers are with him and the prisoners.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jason noticed a small wooden dock, it had a small boat tied alongside it. On the dock itself was some jerry cans. He hoped they contained fuel.

“I can see a boat dock. Keep down, we may be able to get some fuel,” Jason said. He threw a tarpaulin over his father and the others. Jack made a peephole with his knife.

He slowed the boat down and pulled up to the dock faster than he intended. It collided with a loud thump and made it rock.

“Oops,” Jason said, biting his bottom lip. An angry man limped out of a small hut at the other end of the dock, shouting at Jason. The dock was like a small pier jetting out into the river, no more than twenty feet in length. It had some wooden slats missing that had to be stepped over. Jason thought it would probably fall to bits in a good storm. The collision with his boat couldn’t have helped much.

Jason jumped onto the dock and took a rope from the front of the boat and tied it to a wooden support. The man approached him and, despite Jason’s smile, was still just as angry.

“I need to buy fuel,” Jason said in French, holding out the last of his US dollars. The limping man took the money and counted it. He had no idea what the boy had said but he seemed happy. He laughed and waved his hand at the fuel cans. Jason walked over to two of them and grabbed one in each hand. “Oh,” he said when he realized they were too heavy to lift one in each hand. He managed one at a time. He struggled to lift it across to the boat. “That’s all right, you guys just relax and let me do all the work.” He puffed to the men hiding under the tarpaulin.

As he returned to get the second one he noticed the man with the limp talking to a soldier. He looked at Jason and slowly walked down the small wooden boat dock. Jason hurried and picked up the second can. He carried it back to the boat. The solider lit a cigarette and asked Jason a question in Vietnamese.

Jason nodded and smiled and continued what he was doing. When he tried to untie the boat the soldier asked the question again.

“Parlez-vous français?” Jason asked if he spoke French. He was surprised and relieved when the solider replied ‘yes.’

“What is the fuel for?” The soldier asked.

“The boat. I have to get back to my mother with the boat,” Jason said. He fidgeted nervously.

“Have you bought fuel for your boat before?” the guard asked.

Jason thought he was smirking. “Yes. I always buy fuel for my mother's boat.” Jason said.

“Really? But this is petrol.” he said.

“Yes.” Jason said, unsure why he was asking the questions. “Your French is good,” Jason said trying to change the subject.

The soldier took a step onto the boat. He took his rifle down that was slung over his shoulder. “Your boat runs on diesel not petrol. You are either a stupid half breed or you’re lying to me.”

Jason was lost for words. “Em.” He paused. “I lied sir. I found some guns. I was going to sell them. They are hidden under here.” Jason pointed at the tarpaulin.

Becoming more excited. He threw his cigarette in the water and approached to lift the tarpaulin. Jason spun on his leg and threw a perfectly aimed kick at the soldier. His boot caught the man's stomach and threw him back onto the dock and over the over side into the water. Jason untied the boat and slammed it into reverse.

The soldier came up from the water shouting and screaming at Jason. His rifle was still on the dock. When the boat was far enough away to turn. He put it into forward gear and opened it up on full speed.

As they pulled away the wet solider started shooting. Immediately, the boat started spluttering. Ray and the others climbed out from under the tarpaulin.

“She’s out of fuel son. I fill her up,” Jack said picking up a Jerry can. The boat was far enough away not to get hit but the shooting had attracted more soldiers who were nearby.

“Um, I don’t think that fuels any good It’s petrol,” Jason said sheepishly.

Ray looked at him. “Then why?” He stopped in mid sentence. The engine completely stopped. Cookie tried to start it but it would not fire up. “We’re like sitting ducks out here.” Jason stepped back. He watched his father and the others trying to restart the boat. He noticed a launch coming towards them full of soldiers. It was a Vietnamese Naval armed river launch.

“We have to get off this and swim to shore. Look,” Jason said, pointing at the approaching vessel.

Ray nodded at him. “He’s right. We better make it quick.”

“Give me your lighter,” Jason said to Cookie, holding out his hand. He took the caps off the Jerry cans and kicked them over, spilling the fuel onto the deck. Once everyone had dived into the water, Jason lit the lighter, threw it at the fuel, and dived off the boat seconds before it erupted into flames.

The black smoke from the fire gave them sufficient cover to swim farther along the shore. The shoreline was packed with wooden and bamboo huts, most held together with rope and twine. They came to an uninhabited area of long grass and vegetation. It was not ideal, but they could hide in among it until they could find a way out.

“How was I to know it was a diesel boat?” Jason said. He felt he had let the others down.

“Och don’t worry sonny, you didn’t know.” Cookie smiled.

*

General Chow had previously given orders to be given a full report on anything suspicious or any sightings of the boy with the blond hair. He was at a make shift camp over forty miles away looking for the British escapees. When he was given the news, he smiled in admiration of the British plan to go in the other direction. Immediately, he ordered his helicopter and flew to Ho Chi Min City. His troops arrived by the truckload. Motor launches were being called in along with more helicopters for the search.

The news of the search made it back to Max Fisher. It was frustrating for him knowing the prisoners and Jason had made it so far. The British aircraft carrier, HMS Hermes, was still in the China Sea, only fifty miles from the city.

*

They hid among the water reeds for nine hours until darkness descended. They had stayed still most of the day, apart from pulling leeches off themselves. Jason sat next to his father and rested his head on fathers arm. “Sorry, Dad. I tried.”

Ray stroked his son’s head. “I still can’t get use to you talking now. Your voice has broken.” He sighed. “Well, young warrior what would your Wong Tong say to do now?”

Jason smiled and gazed at his father. He had never shown an interest in his son’s karate and often regarded Wong Tong’s sayings as nonsense. “Well...” Jason said and paused. “To defeat the opponent, you must do the opposite of what they expect. So what would the Vietcong be expecting us to do now?”

Ray lovingly held his sons hand, raised it to his mouth, and kissed it. “Hmm, they would expect us to hide out for a few days and try and carry on down river,” he said.

“So, that means we have to swim back were we came from immediately. Let’s go back to the boat dock and steal a Vietnamese naval boat. You should know how to control it,” Jason said.

“Are you crazy? Did you bump your head son? The place is swarming with soldiers and helicopters looking for us,” Ray said just as another helicopter flew over, its large searchlight brightening up the area.

“Yes, they are searching here, up and down the river, but not where we came from. They will expect us to lay low for a while. Let's go right now and steal a boat,” Jason said.

Ray studied his son. The searchlight broke through the mango tree they hid under, lighting up his sons adorable face. His blond hair was stuck up in all directions. His face was tanned, dirty with mosquitoes bites on his cheeks. “If you feel it’s our best option okay, but if we don’t make it...” Ray paused; he wrapped his arm around his son and squeezed him tight. “I have to tell you, when I saw you taking down those guards back at the prison, standing there watching my son, was the proudest moment of my life. If I get killed tonight I will die a proud man, a very, very proud man. I love you, Jason,” Ray croaked. His body shook as he fought with his emotions.

It was the first time Jason had ever seen his father show real emotion. He was shocked and a little teary eyed himself.

Jason dug his fingers into the mud and came up with two fistfuls of black sticky mud. “Dad,” He whispered. Ray turned and looked at his son. Jason splattered his father's face with the gooey mess. “We need camouflage,” he sniggered.

The four men, all with blackened faces, crept back into the water behind Jason. They gently swam towards the naval launches.

“This is bloody suicide,” Evans hissed.

“War. Huh,” Cookie sang in a low deep voice. “What is it good for?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Evans and Jack sang back in harmony.

“Say it again, y'all,” Cookie sang.

“Shush.” Ray ordered.

Jason looked back and grinned at Cookie.

*

Three Vietcong naval motor launches were moored at the dock. A fourth launch arrived, it’s bright searchlights lit up the area. A few hundred yards away a helicopter was landing in a clearing. The whole area was alive with troops coming and going in their search for the escape prisoners.

General Chow stepped out of the helicopter; he adjusted his eye patch before he saluted a fellow officer. He stood stiffly upright with his hands behind his back and raised himself on his toes and slowly turned his head, his watchful eye capturing everything around him. He barked orders and marched towards the Vietcong new headquarters in Cho Minh City. It had previously been a hotel, but since the defeat of the South Vietnamese and the Americans, it had been taken over.