The Quest: The Rainey Chronicles, #5

By B.G. Cousins

The sword is lost.

While on a mission into Laos in 1969, Peter Rainey leaves the Rainey sword in the care of a wounded, young North Vietnamese soldier he helped before he is captured by intelligence officer Pho Tan Li. After his escape, he goes on a journey to recover the sword with the young soldier and a Special Forces sergeant.

 

Li has her own problems. Recalled to Hanoi to face charges of sedition, she is saved by a mission to find the owner of a sword that was presented to her uncle, Ho Chi Minh. The weapon is a link to a man Minh met during the Versailles Treaty meetings in Paris fifty years earlier.

 

Rainey's search for the sword and Li's search for him becomes a quest that will change both their lives forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: B.G. Cousins
• Release date: Nov 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781777329556

B.G. Cousins

B.G. Cousins has travelled the World, sort of. Trained as a metallurgist, his career took him to many places around World, although not to the touristy places normal people go. Most of the time, all he saw was the inside of the local airport and then out to the local mine. An avid reader of history and historical fiction, he spent many a layover at airports in their book stores. He has always had ideas for stories from his vivid imagination, but never had time to do more than jot down notes. Then in 2015, during a lull in contract work, he took those notes and produced the novel. “The Locket”, which he published in the Spring of 2016. He prides himself in doing extensive research to make his novels as historically accurate as possible, weaving historical anomalies into rich stories of love, conflict and adventure. He has also produced some new short back stories for some characters from the novel B.G. Cousins currently resides in Calgary, Alberta, with his wife, Carmen, his dog Piper, and his ever present bagpipes that he has been playing and travelling with for over 40 years.

Book preview

Follow the continuing saga of the Rainey clan through history with The Quest.

The Rainey Chronicles

The Locket

The Great Celt

Dark Before Light

The Tachi

The Quest

The Quest

Published by

Glen Kelty Books

a division of Corrxan Inc.

3140 89 Street NW

Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

T6K 2Z4

Copyright © B.G. Cousins, 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage the piracy of these copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Please purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN # 978-17773295-5-6

Publisher’s Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally, as with the use of actual historical figures and events. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party web sites or their content.

www.glenkeltybooks.com

Text Description automatically generated

I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.

Dwight D. Eisenhower

March 5, 1953

Istanbul

Prologue

Jeremy Rainey stood on the old Theodosian Wall where the Lycus River streamed through into the city. Gazing out towards the west, he tried to imagine Mehmet the Second’s great army firing cannons at the wall and making frontal assaults five hundred years before. He had read a description of the siege written by his ancestor, Connor Rainey. Known as the Great Celt, his journal was one of many sitting on a shelf in the Monteaux office in Limoges, France. Pierre Monteaux oversaw the management of the Rainey fortune and legacy now. Jeremy smiled, thinking about the association between the two families since the 1300s.

His ancestors had lived through many key historical periods. The siege of Constantinople was one of them. Jeremy looked around, wondering where Connor had stood on that fateful day when the city fell.

Rainey sensed Raynykov approaching before hearing him. Raynykov came up beside him and turned to look at the same scene Rainey was observing.

The Great Celt stood somewhere right around here, Rainey commented.

He was here? Raynykov asked.

Rainey nodded. Right after the siege, he escaped north to Kiev and eventually to Moscow.

Where he met Ivan the Great.

Rainey turned to his friend. And the rest you know.

Raynykov smiled. Now I know little bit more.

They stood in silence for a moment. Connor Rainey was an ancestor to both men. Raynykov was a Russified version of Rainey. Since working together in Germany during the last war, they had kept in contact through secret channels. Their goal was to avoid another all-out war, one that would be devastating with the development of nuclear arms.

Okay, Konstantin. What’s the emergency?

Rainey had gotten the message twenty-seven hours before and immediately left New York for Istanbul. Whoever called the meeting would pick the place for it. Rainey thought it odd Raynykov had picked Istanbul after Turkey joined NATO in 1952, but it was his job to get there, not argue over the location.

Stalin is dead, Raynykov said, deadpanned.

Rainey froze. When?

Today. He had stroke five days ago. The General did not find out for two days. When I left Moscow, there still chance Stalin would recover.

The General was Yuri Krasenovsky, a senior officer in the Soviet military intelligence branch, the GRU, and a man with a long history with Rainey’s father.

We suspect something happened when odd moves began in Politburo, Raynykov continued. Sense of leadership change.

And now Stalin’s dead, Rainey remarked. Let the games begin. Who’s in the running?

Raynykov shook his head. Malenkov. He will be more of same as Stalin. Beria would be worse.

Aren’t those two allied?

Leadership open. Nothing taken for granted.

So, anyone could end up with the job.

Raynykov looked out from the wall, not answering. Rainey followed his gaze across the roofs of the city. He sensed the world was shifting under their feet. Malenkov had been the central figure overseeing Soviet nuclear and missile technology development. Beria was the security chief, head of the dreaded NKVD, the Soviet internal security service. Basically, the NKVD was a Soviet version of the Nazi Gestapo.

Both Malenkov and Beria were hardline communists.

Who does Yuri like? he asked.

Raynykov sighed. For some reason, he like Krushchev. Says smart, more realist. Hardliner’s too paranoid.

Like Stalin.

"Da."

Rainey turned to his friend. What is Krushchev’s position?

Leader of Communist Party in Moscow and Moscow Province, part of Stalin’s inner circle.

Rainey nodded. The next few months are going to be confusing. You know we will help the best that we can. Whatever Yuri needs, just let us know.

Raynykov shook his head. Not even he know what can be done. How you say? Keeping head down.

Rainey smiled. Good advice.

What you need know now is opening in Korea.

Rainey was surprised. Peace talks in Korea had been going on for two years while the armies continued to battle. How so?

With leadership game, Yuri can slow supplies to North. Also, GRU officers hinting support may stop altogether. Small window of opportunity.

What should we do?

Raynykov looked serious. Do not allow concession now. North will buckle soon.

Rainey smiled. I don’t think a concession is in the cards anyway. We know the North and the Chinese have been losing an enormous number of soldiers lately.

They dedicated communists. You call fanatic. Loss numbers not concern. They must be shown no purpose to continue.

Rainey nodded. He remembered the fanaticism of the Nazi regime even up to the time of the Soviets running through the streets of Berlin. We’ll send a note to the negotiators to hint of a Soviet drawback as they sort out their leadership.

Raynykov pointed at him. Not before announcement of Stalin death.

Of course. No one will believe it if we use it before then.

They both turned to the west again. The sounds and smells of the city washed over them. People talking, vehicles moving through the streets, and the smells of kabobs stands filled the breeze. Rainey glanced at his watch. It was dinner time in Istanbul.

Will this ever end? Raynykov asked quietly.

In his mind, Rainey searched for an upbeat answer for his friend, but there wasn’t one.

I don’t know. Secretary of State Dulles and his CIA brother Allan are so anti-communist, they can’t tell the difference between communists and people just wanting to be free of colonialism. Our attempt to slow Senator McCarthy’s stirring of the pot failed. He found himself another investigative arm to attack communists with. Even Eisenhower’s hands are tied. You are public enemy number one.

We are trying to rebuild our country. We did not want war in Korea.

I know, but dictators are hard to control, on both sides.

Raynykov chuckled. Kim Il-Sung is more fascist than communist.

Syngman Rhee is cut from the same cloth, Rainey replied. He shifted to conversation. Where do you think we’re going to have our next problem?

Raynykov did not hesitate. Indochina. French should never have gone back.

Rainey had to agree with him. America had armed the partisans there to fight the Japanese, making France’s return an uphill battle. But France still wanted its empire.

The French will lose eventually, Rainey remarked.

Sooner than you think. Mao supplying arms now. He paused before continuing. Will America stay out?

Rainey shrugged. No idea. Our pull in Washington isn’t what it used to be. Less and less people want to talk to my mother since Roosevelt died, and I’m just an analyst in the CIA. Anti-communist sentiment is strong.

There is no good news.

Rainey smiled. Actually, there’s one bit of information that may interest you.

Raynykov turned to face him. I am listening.

Do you remember Gordie MacDonald?

Of course.

Rainey grinned. Well, he was up in Narvik with me at the end of the war and he swears he saw Hitler get on a plane.

Raynykov frowned. How that good news?

Because, about a year and a half ago, Gordie tracked him down to a jungle hideaway in Argentina.

So, he was not dead.

And he still may not be. Gordie found him on a terrace slouching in a wheelchair, drooling. He thought Hitler suffering like that should be extended as long as possible. Then he found a better target.

And who that be? Raynykov asked, sounding bored.

Rainey grinned. Hans Kammler.

The shock on Raynykov’s face made Rainey laugh.

Apparently, the building you dropped on him didn’t take, Rainey said.

He dead now? Raynykov asked.

Yeah. Gordie put him down, and then fled for his life. Took him three weeks to get clear of the pursuit squad.

Raynykov nodded. Puts end to that war. He reached out and took Rainey’s hand. Let us not start another.

May 1969

Laos-Vietnam Borderlands

1

The helicopter noise was deafening. Lieutenant Peter Rainey looked out at the green canopy of the jungle, bordered by the mountains in the distance. This was his third mission into the wilderness to find the elusive Ho Chi Minh trail.

The team on the chopper was small. There were only seven of them, led by a captain and a lieutenant from Special Forces. The remaining team members consisted of four black soldiers who looked experienced. None of them knew Rainey’s name. They just knew their orders to take him into Laos over the mountains in the distance. They had made the assumption that Rainey was G2, army intelligence. He let them continue to think that. He was actually with the air force, part of a group with a long acronym no one would recognize. His job was to find a particular transfer point of the Ho Chi Minh Trail in Laos where supplies split off in different directions into Vietnam. He would relay its location to three B-52 bombers that would arrive in the area in five days.

Rainey shifted on the bench, adjusting the Asian sword strapped under his pack so the tip didn’t intersect with the seat. He looked up to find one of the soldiers watching him. Rainey smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. That didn’t surprise him. Most black soldiers didn’t trust white officers and Rainey had seen many examples as to why that was.

A voice spoke through the speaker in his headset. LZ in five minutes.

Rainey looked out the open door to see the Huey gunship surge ahead. It would check the landing site before his chopper arrived. One of the black soldiers got up and sat with his feet hanging out the open door, pointing his M60 machine gun downwards. Another soldier reached down and clipped a strap from the man’s belt to a ring on the floor to ensure he didn’t go flying out the door if the helicopter banked too hard.

It was routine. The soldiers didn’t need orders to move to a defensive posture with the gunship heading off. Rainey took the time to check his Thompson machine gun, Colt 45 pistol and the coding radio with which he would signal the B-52’s. All he had to do was turn it on and punch in the code. The transfer point would automatically appear on the bomber’s targeting computer.

The five minutes passed in an instant. The helicopter dipped forward to lose altitude.

LZ reported clear, the pilot relayed through the headset.

Everyone on the chopper finished up with their weapons check. Rainey pulled the bolt back on his Thompson. His father, Jeremy, had told him to go with what had a proven track record in battle. Although an old design from the Second World War, it turned out the Thompson held up much better in the jungle than the new M16 rifles supplied to US troops.

The nose of the helicopter tipped up as the ground came closer. Slowly, the machine descended the last few yards to the ground. The soldier with the M60 reached back, unclipped himself, and jumped off just before the chopper touched down. Everyone bailed out within three seconds, crouching beneath the tops of the tall grass. The chopper lifted off and headed back to base. The gunship followed.

As the sound of the helicopters faded, the captain unfolded a map from his pocket. He looked at it for a moment, then pulled out a compass.

Lieutenant, he commanded. We’ll head into those trees. Move them out.

The lieutenant turned to his men. Jack, take point. Swampy, watch the rear.

The nicknames were all that Rainey had to identify the individual soldiers. There was Jack, Noodles, Cass, and the sergeant was Swampy. Rainey wondered what event had gotten the sergeant named Swampy. The two officers were only known by their rank, and no one there had any idea of Rainey’s name or rank. He was called by what they assumed was the intelligence arm he belonged to.

G2, you’re with me, the captain said.

Silently, they moved through the grass into the trees. They had five days to cover the many miles to the trail and find the junction point for targeting. There would be no radio contact at all. They were on their own.

No one said a word for hours. The lieutenant rotated his men every half hour with hand signals to take point and rearguard positions. As dusk settled, the group found a small clearing with a solid rock wall along one side, part way up a mountain. Rainey recognized it as a good defensive position.

After they had made camp and set up the picket line, the captain motioned Rainey over.

So, we’re about here, he said, the map lit with a very dim flashlight. We’re going to follow this creek up to the pass. Where do we go from there?

Rainey drew his finger along an inch of map down the other side of the mountain. We figure the hub point is somewhere along there. If we approach it towards the north end, we can follow the route south to the target.

How will we know we’ve found it?

It will look like a supply depot. Equipment and weapons move down the trail to these hub points and get sorted before heading off on trails in-country.

There’s more than one hub?

Yes, but our intelligence says this one is key to supplies heading into the Mekong Delta. We blow it up, and the Cong will be starved of supplies for a few weeks. Or at least, command hopes that’s what will happen.

The captain didn’t look convinced, but it wasn’t like he was going to cancel the mission. We’ll start out at first light.

There would be no fire or lighting in the camp. Rainey settled himself down against a tree and placed his Thompson on the ground beside him. Looking up, he spied the black sergeant up against another tree staring back at him. Rainey smiled and got a confused look back.

None of these boys are used to white men smiling at them in a friendly way.

He reached into his pack and pulled out a ration for dinner. It was best to eat before everything went black at night. There was no moon scheduled to rise before four in the morning. He looked around to see everyone doing the same, except the sergeant.

You’re not hungry? Rainey asked him.

I like ta stay alert. I eat later.

The sergeant’s accent gave Rainey information about him. He hailed from the deep south. But Rainey knew that was all he would be able to glean from anyone. They weren’t out there in the middle of the jungle to make new friends.

As darkness set in, Rainey made himself as comfortable as he could among some long grass. Closing his eyes, he went immediately into a light sleep. He had always been able to sleep anywhere and still keep himself at a certain level of alertness.

***

G2.

Rainey’s eyes popped open. An M-16 rife muzzle was right by his nose. His hand shot up and grabbed it, lifting it away from his face.

Easy, G2,

Rainey glanced up to see the sergeant’s shadow standing over him.

It’s 0500, the sergeant said. Time ta pack up.

Rainey sighed. Could you avoid waking me up with your gun?

We’ll see. Sergeant Swampy stepped away to wake the rest of his men.

Rainey wiped his face with his hands. It was still very dark out, but he could make out the captain and the lieutenant in the throes of breaking camp.

First things first was food. Rainey opened his pack and pulled out another ration. He ate it fast, knowing he had only about five minutes before they hit the trail.

Swampy, the lieutenant said, take Cass and go on ahead. You know what to look for. We’ll be three minutes behind you.

Sir, Swampy replied. He turned to Cass. Lez go.

The team headed down to the creek and began the climb towards the pass. Rainey found it easy going until they came to a forty-foot waterfall. It took fifteen minutes for all of the team to climb to the top. Once there, they spotted Cass, who was pumping his fist at them.

The lieutenant pointed to the bush beside the creek.

Rainey jumped into the long reeds by the shore and scrambled up into thicker jungle before turning around and watching. He held his Thompson at the ready. He reached back with his left hand and stroked the crest at the bottom tip of his sword for luck before he realized he was doing it.

Square and compass. Keep me safe.

He imagined his father, grandfather, and he didn’t know how many other past ancestors, had done the same thing since whenever the crest had been mounted on the scabbard’s tip. There were many other crests and tokens adorning the scabbard and hilt of the sword, but the masonic one was in just the right place to reach as a touchstone.

The only sound was the water gurgling over the rocks in the creek. Then another sound reached Rainey’s ears. Men, walking through the ankle-deep water towards them. He crouched a little lower and watched as a patrol of seven North Vietnamese Army soldiers made their way towards him. Slowly, they passed by his position. Rainey thought they looked bored, probably because they had been sent out on this patrol knowing that it was highly unlikely any enemy troops would be in the area.

One soldier, however, looked nervous. He seemed to Rainey to be no more than a boy, perhaps sixteen or eighteen years old.

He must be out on his first patrol. Considering how lackadaisical the rest of the patrol was walking, the boy was not learning much from them. Rainey felt sorry for him.

The patrol moved on, not discovering the Americans hiding. The lieutenant waited ten minutes after the patrol passed before he came out of the jungle. He signalled everyone forward. Nothing was said. Everything was communicated with hand signals.

They didn’t come across any other patrols as they reached the top of the pass and made their way into Laos. No one talked during the day. Rest breaks were signaled by hand. They were in enemy territory. Any noise they made risked attracting unwanted attention.

The captain signalled for a halt as the sun began its daily passage over the horizon. Later, as the stars came out, Rainey watched in fascination as the captain took out an astrolabe and looked up into the sky. Taking a measurement of the North Star, he pulled out a little notebook and jotted it down. He waved Rainey over as he pulled out the map.

Do you always carry one of those on missions? Rainey asked.

Best way to figure out where you are, the captain replied without looking up.

And longitude?

I have a very good watch and marked the time of sunset relative to Da Nang. He pointed to the map. We’re here. It’s about another day’s hike to get within striking distance of the north point you suggested, assuming we don’t meet anyone.

Rainey nodded. Can we follow the length of the trail in a day?

The captain shrugged. We’ll need to keep in the heavy jungle for that. It will slow us down. He began folding the map. Of course, you could go out and ask a gook where his hub is.

Rainey shook his head. No, I think I’ll pass on that strategy.

2

Lieutenant Pho Tan Li sat at a folding table, reading intelligence reports from the Viet Cong in the Mekong Delta. She had spread the papers across the table, her way to get the big picture. Most of the reports were about recruitment to the cause since their ranks had been decimated by the ill-advised offensives of the previous year.

The Americans had called it the Tet Offensive because of when it started. Combining the militia groups (Cong) in South Vietnam and a large portion of the North Vietnamese Army (NVA), the communist leader Lê Duân had planned a massive conventional attack against American and the South Vietnamese Army (ARVN). It had worked years ago against the French at Dien Bien Phu. Li believed the superior equipment and firepower the Americans could bring to bear would not make their attack successful. She was right. The results were the deaths of so many North Vietnamese combatants.

Afterwards, the official reason for the attack was changed to the inciting of defections and rebellions. According to the reports in front of Li, that was failing as well. She could see that rebuilding the Cong units in South Vietnam was going to take a long time.

The flap of the tent was pulled open and Major Tran, Li’s superior, entered. Li stood up quickly and saluted.

Lieutenant, Tran said, we just received a report of two American helicopters sighted to the west, just over the mountains. The sighting was three days ago. He held out a map.

Li stepped forward and took the map from him. Scanning it, she surmised the reason for the sighting.

They may have inserted a reconnaissance team, she replied. It is close to this pass in the mountains.

I agree, Tran said. I think they are looking for this location. They have tried before but have never gotten this close.

If it has been three days, they are likely already on our side of the mountains.

Tran nodded. I have informed the general. You will take the lead on this. I have been ordered back to Hanoi for a briefing that I am not looking forward to.

A sense of dread ran through Li. It was no secret that Tran had been against the all-out frontal attacks on American positions, and had voiced disgust by what had happened in Hue in February of 1968. Luckily, Li had been no where near Hue during the massacres, thanks to Tran stationing her in Hanoi at the time.

Tran was a good officer and a mentor to Li. She had known him since she was a child and he had helped her become accepted into the Tðng cųc Tinh báo, the North Vietnamese security service.

I could speak to my uncle, she said.

That would make it worse, Tran replied. Your uncle is purely a figurehead now and doing so might expose you for who you are.

Li lowered her gaze, trying to hide her fear. The world still saw her uncle as ruling over North Vietnam with an iron fist, but that hadn’t been true for almost ten years now. For her own safety, only Tran knew her uncle was Ho Chi Minh.

When do you leave? she asked quietly.

I am heading out in ten minutes. I will leave security matters in your capable hands.

That made Li smile. At only twenty-four years old, she had proven her acute understanding of her job. Tran had trained her well. I will check in with the general later today to see what the patrols have found.

Tran turned to leave. Li felt she should say something encouraging, but Tran was out of the tent before she could think of anything. Deep inside, she had a feeling that she would never see him again.

***

Rainey lay as flat as he could among the long grass, holding his breath as the enemy patrol passed by his position. The patrols had become more frequent, which told him two things. One was they were getting closer to their target. The other was more frightening.

They know we’re here.

Regular patrols were one thing. Since Rainey and the team had come up to the northern point of their search pattern, the patrols had become larger and much more attentive, like they were actually looking for something. They were also