Читать книгу Mission To Burma - Don Pendleton - Страница 14

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Tom Marchant frowned as his phone rang. He had not been expecting the call. He turned on his voice scrambler and picked up the phone. “Variance,” he answered, using his code name.

Captain Dai spoke in Mandarin. “Variance, this is Tiger Fork.”

“Go ahead, Tiger Fork.”

“We have encountered unexpected resistance. We believe Miss Na and the American commando are receiving aid from local Western assets.”

Marchant rolled his eyes but kept his tone professional. “Impossible. I would know of any CIA assets in play.”

“We believe the American knows he has been compromised somewhere along the line. We believe perhaps he is receiving aid from MI-6.”

Marchant quirked an eyebrow. “Interesting.”

“We believe he must be a local MI-6 asset. The Ministry of State Security believes it is most likely to be a man involved in drug interdiction, probably in league with or under the aegis of Interpol. Can you be of assistance?”

“I believe I can. Though it will take me a little time. What is your situation now?”

Dai paused. “We have taken casualties. We are down to two trackers.”

Marchant stared at the map of Burma on his computer. “Do you require local reinforcements?”

“We believe the mission can be accomplished with the present force level. The enemy is leaving a fairly clear trail and we are gaining. Give me an update on their current position.”

Marchant poured himself two fingers of cognac and swirled the snifter as he watched the satellite stream on his computer. “They are currently 8.4 kilometers north of Myitkyina. Five kilometers south of your position. They are currently heading straight for the city, and slowing. They are paralleling the main road. I suggest you make all effort to run them down now. If they reach the city, they will have multiple venues of escape, refuge and perhaps even allies.”

Dai clearly didn’t like receiving suggestions. “We are making every effort.”

Marchant made another suggestion. “Who is your fastest runner?”

“Despite his age, Sergeant Cao.”

“You can’t afford to put your team on the road and be spotted, but send Cao. Send him with just a pistol and knife and in native clothing. Have him run ahead into the city along the road. If you fail to overtake the American on the trail, I will vector Cao in to intercept.”

Dai’s silence was stony, but it was clear he didn’t have a better idea. “I will dispatch Sergeant Cao immediately.”

“I will contact you as soon as I have the information you requested. Variance out.” Marchant killed the connection and gazed once more upon the map of Burma. He was surprised that the Chinese were having such problems with their quarry. Burma was practically their playground. English interference was an interesting gambit, but one he had a counter for. Marchant connected to another sat phone. An English-accent voice answered. “Hullo?”

Marchant spoke in English. “Morris, you dizzy bastard! How’s it hanging?”

Hugh Morris was MI-6’s head man in Southeast Asia, and he and Marchant had worked on some very successful operations together. “Bloody hell, haven’t heard from you in a while. Don’t tell me, you need another bloody favor.”

Mission To Burma

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