SEAL Team 666: A Novel

“I got it to interface with the MBITR and the base station, but it’s a software problem. His phone isn’t a real iPhone. It’s a knockoff. It uses an old Android operating system.”

“Can you make it work?”

“I’m not a software guy, but I remember some of it. All I can say is I’m trying.” He pulled out the phone and began to type into it.

Eddie glanced forlornly at what had once been his phone. Walker watched the man’s face for a moment before turning away. Fake or not, it had probably cost the man a good chunk of savings. It was also probably a status symbol and the SEALs had taken that away from him.

Then Walker reminded himself that Eddie was part of the crew who had killed and/or captured the other SEALs. In fact, it was time they talked about that.

“So Eddie, let’s talk about your military friends.”

Eddie shifted in his seat.

“Who are they and where are they from?”

“Karen,” he said, only pronouncing it as kayin. “From Kadwan.”

“Are they from the Myanmar military?”

Eddie shook his head.

“Then where did they get the uniforms?”

“We made them.”

“So they wanted us to think it was the military. What was the plan—for us to get mad and attack?”

Eddie shrugged. “I don’t know plans. I know that him wants to rule again. He wants to be king.”

“I wasn’t aware Myanmar had kings,” Yaya said.

“We don’t.” Eddie hastily added, “Not anymore. Not yet.”

“Tell me about Kadwan.”

“Old capital of Kayin. Him has removed everything new.” Eddie paused to swerve around a bike pulling a cart with a mound of old plastic bottles. “Everything is gone. My mother lives there and her home is gone.”

“What do you mean gone? Was it bulldozed?”

“His qilin. They destroyed it for him.” Eddie’s jittery eyes glanced toward Walker. “Please, no more.”

“Not yet. We need to know about the qilin.” He described the creature they’d come into contact with on the cargo ship. “Is this one of them?”

Eddie nodded.

“How do you destroy them?”

Eddie gave a shocked look, then shook his head. “Can’t be destroyed. They are messengers from the gods.”

Walker and Yaya exchanged glances.

Yaya mouthed, Messengers from the gods?

Walker nodded.

“Which gods made the qilin, Eddie?”

“All of them.”

Walker didn’t like the answer, but he didn’t feel that having Eddie try to explain would help them much, so instead he asked, “What’s their message?”

“It is said that they come when a new ruler comes. Him has come.” Eddie looked down into his lap and grabbed the cable. He took it into his mouth and resumed driving. Clearly he wanted to be invisible for a time.

Yaya continued to work on the Android software as best he could. The bumping, jumping ride down the road didn’t help, but there was nothing to be done about that.

Eddie laid into the horn to get around a group of men carrying baskets of vegetables on their backs. They wore sarongs on the lower half of their bodies. They were shirtless. On their feet were simple pieces of rubber with straps. He edged around them, and was once more at speed. But it didn’t last. Suddenly, Eddie slammed on the brakes, stalling the engine. Had Yaya not put his foot on the dash, he would have smashed forward. As it was, Walker was unprepared for the sudden stop and slid from the seat into the front window. He struck with his shoulder, almost losing his grip on the pistol.

They slammed back into the seat.

In front of them lay an overturned vegetable cart and a motorcycle. Two men argued. The one in the motorcycle helmet was taller, but the other man seemed angrier, gesturing in great chopping motions at the produce. There seemed to be space to their left to drive around them.

A policeman approached and smacked the hood of their truck with a baton. He wore a black Mao cap and black fatigues. An orange reflective vest covered his torso. He struck the hood again and screamed in Myanmarese, gesturing angrily down the road. It didn’t take a linguist to understand the international symbol for get moving.

Eddie hastened to start the truck, turning the lever on the dashboard. The engine sputtered and stuttered. He glanced worriedly at the policeman.

Walker noted the policeman had a walkie-talkie on his left hip. A Chinese PM pistol rested snugly in a patent leather holster on his right hip. He held the baton in his right hand, so if he was to grab his pistol, he’d lose precious seconds either dropping the baton, or changing hands.

“Yaya,” Walker whispered. “See that walkie? Can you use it?”

“Maybe. Not getting anywhere with this damned software. Using our tablets, I should be able to use the phone’s SIM chip. I won’t know until I try.”

“Put that stuff away then. I don’t want it to get smashed.”

“What are you going to—” Yaya glanced at the policeman, and comprehension showed on his face. Then he hastened to shove his work into the extra-large glove box.

Walker reached out and put his hand over Eddie’s to stop him from trying to crank the engine. “Remain calm.”