Ride the Tiger by Lindsay McKenna Read Free Book Online Page B

the tent and stepped out into the morning sunlight, the temperature and humidity, both well into the nineties, hit him squarely. He settled the dark green utility cap on his head, the bill almost brushing the bridge of his nose to shade his eyes from the blinding sun.
    Marble Mountain was a small base in comparison to Da Nang, which lay to the north of them. It had been erected on virgin white sands at the edge of the turquoise-and-emerald ocean. For as far as the eye could see hard-backed tents and other structures more solidly built out of wood dotted the hilly landscape. In addition, a series of bunkers sat nearby to protect against enemy attack. The place reminded Gib of a hive of busy bees, except that the men were clothed in dark green jungle utilities. In the last month the marines had moved over eight thousand men into Da Nang. Was it the start of a larger American build-up? Gib wondered. On his last tour, he’d worked exclusively with ARVN soldiers, and there had been very few GIs in Vietnam, except in advisory capacities such as his own. Things were changing now, and it bothered him deeply. Part of the reason he’d volunteered for a second tour was because of his strong and personal ties with the Vietnamese ARVN soldiers. Now it was looking more and more like a U.S.-staged event. Stateside, they still called it a “conflict,” but every day Gib felt it looked more and more like war.
    Movement at Marble Mountain was constant: helicopters buzzed overhead; men and jeeps hurried from one place to another. Today, Gib felt the strains and pressures of the ceaseless activity more than usual.
    Steeling himself for Colonel Parson’s questioning, Gib slipped into the tent marked with a red sign trimmed in yellow. Marine Air Group—(MAG)—Headquarters, it proclaimed.
    Parsons looked up as Gib entered. Gib stood at customary attention until he was ordered to be at ease and sit down. “I’ve got the general breathing down my neck,” the colonel began without preamble. “What have you found out about the Villard case?”
    â€œNot much, sir,” Gib admitted. “I talked to Constable Jordan in Da Nang a week ago, and he feels Binh Duc is probably responsible for the placement of the mine that killed Mrs. Villard.”
    Parsons’s lean hand tightened around the pen he was holding. “Any proof?”
    â€œNo, sir. Short of finding Duc and making him admit it, I doubt we’re going to get anything substantial.”
    â€œHave you questioned Miss Villard’s peasants?”
    Gib felt his CO’s probing eyes go through him. With the unexpected number of helo flights the last week, he hadn’t been able to schedule time to see Dany again. “Not yet, but that’s next on my list.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œToday, sir,” Gib lied. He knew he was dragging his feet on this investigation because of Dany’s effect on him. Parsons wasn’t going to allow any more stalling on his part. He might as well get it over with.
    Parsons grunted his satisfaction. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m appointing you official liaison officer to Miss Villard. It’s been so damned busy around here that I keep forgetting to tell you.”
    â€œLiaison officer? What for?”
    The colonel shrugged noncommittally. “Don’t know yet. That’s the word that came up from Saigon a couple days ago. The boys at headquarters don’t think we need to know what’s going on—as usual.”
    Bothered, but not sure why, Gib nodded. “We’re still investigating the death of Miss Villard’s mother, sir.”
    â€œThat has nothing to do with this second assignment, Gib.”
    Irritated, Gib scowled. So what the hell did? “Does HQ have some other plans involving the Villard plantation?”
    Parsons shrugged. “As I said before, Gib, they don’t make me privy to the think-tank personnel who go around