Ride the Tiger by Lindsay McKenna Page A

she might buckle beneath the strain of the crisis.
    â€œI’ve got to go,” he shouted above the roar of the machine. When she nodded that she understood, he added, “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything about Vinh. I’ll be in touch, Dany, I promise.” The urge to embrace her and kiss the anguished line of her mouth nearly unstrung Gib. But instead he squeezed her hand and quickly moved back beneath the copter’s whirling blades. They were finishing securing the boy to the stretcher. Time, Gib knew, was of the essence with a wound like this. He jogged and climbed aboard. Within seconds, the engines shrieked at a higher pitch, blades whirling faster and faster as the aircraft broke contact with the earth. The sliding door was slammed shut and locked.
    There was little Gib could do except stay out of the way as the corpsman worked furiously over the boy. Vinh was given an IV to help stabilize him, then covered with several blankets. As they roared skyward, the group below grew smaller and smaller. Gib’s attention centered suddenly on Dany. What did she mean this incident was her fault. What had she been babbling about?
    Worriedly, Gib crouched against the rear bulkhead of the helicopter as it made a banking turn toward Da Nang. It would be a swift ride to the nearest MASH unit inside the perimeter of the huge base. The boy would get the best medical care available. Gib ached inwardly, poignantly recalling the drawing Vinh had made for him. It was still rolled up in the yellow Citroën back at Dany’s plantation. Gib couldn’t rationalize what had happened to Vinh. He was an innocent child who’d been caught in the crossfire of a lousy war that had no well-defined territorial lines. And he’d lost his right hand and arm, the ones he drew his beautiful pictures with. Maybe it was just as well the youth had lost consciousness again, Gib thought grimly. Who was going to tell the boy he’d lost his arm?
    Sadness moved through Gib as he sat on the nylon seat, the helicopter shaking and shuddering around him with the engine’s deafening sound. Vinh had loved helicopters, but what a hell of a way to get a ride in one, Gib thought bitterly.
    His mind whirled with questions and no answers. Had his presence at Dany’s plantation caused this? If so, who the hell was responsible for it? Binh Duc? Grief flowed through Gib as he sat stoically in the vibrating aircraft. Dany thought she could keep her people and land safe despite the tensions swirling like a gathering storm around her. When was she going to see the reality of the situation? There was no such thing as neutrality in Vietnam, no matter how badly she wanted it. It hurt Gib to know how much Dany must agonize over this latest incident. Seven days ago, she’d lost her mother. Now Vinh, whom she loved fiercely, was badly injured.
    The medevac landed on a huge black asphalt square painted with a white circle. The MASH unit tents that comprised the emergency ward came alive with activity as soon as the crewman shoved open the door. Gib remained out of the way until the team of orderlies, nurse and doctor could take Vinh out of the aircraft and place him on a gurney and wheel him toward the medical unit.
    Gib patted each of the pilots on the back in way of thanks for their mercy run. He shook the hand of the navy corpsman on board and nodded the same. Climbing out of the helicopter, crouching low as the rotor wash buffeted him, Gib moved quickly off the asphalt and back onto the reddish-colored sand.
    Da Nang was a huge, sprawling base that sat on an island. The river that ran between the island and the land mass of Vietnam was spanned by one bridge, heavily guarded by both marines and U.S. Navy Seals. The MASH unit was on the northern edge of the base, and Gib went to the MASH administration tent to call Colonel Parsons and let him know what was going on. Helicopter squadron commanders couldn’t just disappear,