The Daisy Ducks Read Online Free PDF

His pal was coming at me
with a knife, blade low, edge up, when Roantis blew in on the scene
like a dust devil. In less than ten seconds it was all over, though I
was on the ground and barely conscious enough to witness it. Roantis
was all hands and feet, moving like lightning. Now, as I stared at
the weary face of the fifty-five-year old veteran, it was hard to
imagine he'd been so swift and lethal. They led one punk away in
bracelets; the other one needed a stretcher.
    "Thanks again for saving my skin in the parking
lot, Liatis. You knew when you called tonight I couldn't refuse you."
    He pointed a stubby and stained linger at my chest.
    "Now Doc. Maybe you've been wondering why I
invited myself here. It wasn't just to mingle with all those fancy
people and drink free booze."
    "Well I know it wasn't for the fancy people
anyway. I assume that your surprise visit, besides enabling you to
consume twenty bucks worth of free hooch, has something to do with
the statue."
    "Uh, right. It's all gotta do with Siu Lok's
loot. That's why I brought the pictures."
    "But we only saw one picture," said Mary,
reentering the porch with a mug of warm milk.
    "Decided to hear more of the story?" I
asked.
    "Uh-huh. Besides, I'm so edgy I couldn't sleep
now if I tried. Okay Liatis, I'm all ears again."
    "Oh yeah," said Roantis, "the other
picture." He produced another folded snapshot. He placed it on
the table between us. The picture ran horizontally, with the crease
running through the middle from left to right. In the picture were
eight men: three standing in back and five kneeling on one knee in
front. Rather like a sports team. The white crease lay above the
heads of the kneeling men and across the stomachs of those standing.
It obscured nobody's face. The men wore camouflage fatigues, but not
any fancy insignia or headgear, nor any badges or rank. No weapons
were visible. Roantis, looking deeply tanned and quite a bit younger
and thinner, was standing proudly in back center, his hands clasped
behind him. He was obviously team leader. Two of the men were black,
and both wore mustaches. Two seemed to be Hispanic, and one of them
wore the trim, lean mustache so favored by many Latinos. One of the
kneeling men had a broad, flat Asian face and small tight eyes. Two
of the men were very big: one of the blacks and a tall, blond giant
with a big gold handlebar mustache.
    I saw that three of the men had black X 's marked on
their chests in pen.
    "These guys dead?"
    "Yeah. Well, two are dead and the other guy
might as well be. Hill Royce, an air force commando, went nuts in
seventy-two. He's still in a hospital in the Philippines. This guy
here, Larry Jenkins, was an SF trooper who worked with me several
times out of Long Binh. He did long-range recon work all over Laos,
too. After the Daisy Ducks, he went back to Laos to recruit and train
more mercenaries. He was missing in action on the Plain of Jars up
there. Larry was the best of the best. This guy here, Ton Youn, was a
Korean. ROK special forces. Great soldier. Mean sonofabitch, too. He
was our interrogation man. He was hit on the outskirts of Saigon in
seventy-one by a sniper."
    "So there are five Daisy Ducks left?"
    "Right. Mike Summers here was the other black
guy besides Jenkins. Ghetto kid from Chicago. Tough as hell, and
hands quick as lightning for a big guy. You can see how big he is.
Got him from the one-oh-one. Good man. Solid and brave. He's back in
Chicago now. South Side. Now this guy, the other spic besides
Vilarde, is a Puerto Rican named Jusuelo. Jesus Jusuelo. Now he just
might be the best soldier of all the Ducks. He was a navy SEAL.
Anyway, Jusuelo's a merc now, just like I used to be, somewhere in
Africa I think."
    "Do you know where in Africa?" Mary asked.
    "Nah. He probably moves around. Hell, there are
twenty places right now in Africa where a good merc can find work."
    I tapped the man with the big gold mustache.
    "This guy looks right out of the SS."
    "Hmmmmph! Yeah,