The Cover of War (8 page)

13

D
anny sat alone in a muggy
Bangkok
prison cell.

He'd been
stripped of all personal possessions; all except the
Washington
drop-box number, hidden in his underwear. He had no idea what had
happened to Benmore or his driver. 

All he wanted
now was to get out and get back to Amai; he had a bad feeling - he was anxious
to see her.

A man in an ill
fitting tweed suit came into the corridor, carrying a manila folder. A Thai
police officer opened the cell and the man in the tweed suit stepped inside.

'Hi, Danny. I'm
from the Embassy. I'm here to help.'

Danny stood and
shook hands, but didn't believe the man was a diplomat; his jaw was too strong,
his face too hardened, his shoulders too powerful.

'The man you met
with.

'Yes.'

'He's been
extradited.'

'For what?'

'I wasn't told.
Why did you meet him?'

'That's
private.'

'Okay. How did
you get into
Thailand
? There's
no record of your arrival.'

Danny shrugged.
'I paid for a ticket.' He found it hard to lie, but had to protect General Weyand.

'Which airline?'

'Thai.'

The diplomat
nodded. 'I'm afraid I have some bad news for you Danny - you're banned from
re-entering
Vietnam-
'

Danny's gut
dropped. 'You can't-'

'They, Danny.
They can. They have. You're a threat to national security, and are to be
escorted, under guard, back to
Washington-
'

'This is
bullshit. I have rights.'

The diplomat
took a page from his folder and handed it to Danny. 'Your rights in this
situation are clearly stated-'

'You're an
asshole.'

'I'm your friend
in this Danny. Your flight leaves first thing in the morning; I'll pick you up
from here.'

'I'll sue.'

'Good luck with
that. See you in the morning.'

The diplomat
left and the Thai officer clanged the barred door shut.

Danny slumped
against the wall. A awful emptiness engulfed him.
I'll never see Amai again!

14

T
onight,
Saigon
was
its usual humid and malodorous self.

As she watched
the entrance of The Maison Blanche from the adjacent café Le Jardin, Amai
fidgeted nervously.

She feared
getting caught.

What would
they do to me?

Opposite her,
Thi sucked Coca-Cola up a pink and white straw. Dressed to kill, Thi wore a
body-hugging mango colored dress, split from knee to hip. Ever conscious of
fashion, Thi had swapped her snakeskin handbag for a matching purse with a
subtle, floral motif. Candle light flickered on her delicate necklace, and Amai
thought:
She looks a million dollars
.

Images of their
shameless act of lust penetrated Amai's thoughts. It was so wrong; so
un-Vietnamese. Thi said they had nothing to be ashamed of, but her
happy-go-lucky nature did nothing for Amai's anxiety, and something told her
that Thi did that sort of thing often.

Focus.

Amai thought of
her little niece. The child's life was in her hands. The responsibility carried
a physical weight. Amai understood that she had to suppress the feelings and
focus on the task, for as always, distraction in this game meant death.
Military Intelligence knew who she was. They would be hunting her.  

Yet here I
am,
she thought
. In the most obvious place in
Saigon
.

Focus,
she thought.

Neither she nor
Thi could enter the Maison Blanche for fear of capture, but their plan was
simple: wait for this Major Johnson to leave the club; follow him; seduce him;
drug him; question him; escape. Amai would then dismiss Thi, and tell Major
Johnson the details of Triet's Tet slaughter.

Amai stroked the
small vial in her moneybag with her index finger. According to Triet, the drug
would take effect in minutes. Major Johnson would become sedate, carefree, and
unable to lie.

And if it
fails?
She thought.

Amai had not been
told why Major Johnson had been targeted by General Giap's Intelligence staff,
but knew he held secrets vital to
Vietnam
's security. Amai only hoped she could extract them quickly and
painlessly.

Assuming he
takes the bait,
she thought. She knew he would.

The reason that
the black Major had been given to Amai, she knew, was simple: his fetish for
beautiful Asian girls had been noticed by Triet's surveillance teams.

I'm fresh
meat.

Focus.

According to
Triet, several weeks of shadowing had identified the Major's voracious sexual
appetite. However, he targeted only the most beautiful girls, shunning
prostitutes and uglies. For the Pentagon Major, only the best would do, and
apparently Triet thought that two beautiful girls would quadruple the allure.

Amai shuddered.
She loathed the thought of betraying Danny. He was the man she loved. She
looked across the street to the Maison Blanche's heavy oak doors, and thought:
We
have to find this Major first.

On the street,
foot and vehicle traffic merged in a well rehearsed ballet, and scattered
fragments of light, cast from paper lanterns and headlamps, speckled every
surface with pastel dots.

The scene was
calm. Amai was not.

She wished she
could run to Danny and tell him everything. She scanned the dimly lit street,
knowing full well she could not go to Danny. She had to finish the job.

To calm her
nerves, Amai ordered Binh Tay in a fruit cocktail.

A skinny waiter
with a limp served them croissants with a bowl of spicy dipping sauce. Amai
picked. Thi ate with a large smile and flashing eyes.

How can she
possibly be enjoying this?
Amai thought.

Thi leaned back,
stroking her neck. 'Cheer up. I've never fucked a black man before,' she said.
'I hope we get to.'

Amai smiled
inwardly at Thi's energy. She supposed that Triet hadn't threatened to cut off
any of her family members' body parts. But Amai
was
worried about Thi's
flamboyantly seductive behavior. It was what the mission called for, but Amai
hoped her immaturity didn't convert to flakiness at the wrong time. In a
pressure situation, her life would be in Thi's hands.

They had both
memorized a photograph of Major Johnson, and sat watching the shimmering
puddles of light on the sidewalk, scrutinizing every African-American face that
appeared.

Thi said: 'They all
look the same.'

'Try not to look
so obvious.'

Thi re-crossed
her legs, exposing her upper thigh. She began slipping a high-heel on and off.
'Relax. This will be easy - and fun.'

The waiter gave
Amai her vodka. She downed it and ordered another. The waiter stared too long
at her breasts and Thi giggled.

Suddenly
serious, Thi sat upright, focusing her attention across the street. Amai
looked. An enormous black-man, wearing green Army fatigues was striding along
the sidewalk toward the Maison Blanche. He fitted the description Triet had
given:
Height 6ft 6, weight 280lbs
. Amai had never seen anyone so tall.
Her eyes zoomed in: he wore Major's rank insignia. She suppressed a jet of
fright and tried to match his face to the picture in her mind.

Is it him?

She felt
incredibly nervous.

It is.

Thi said: 'He's
huge.'

With his head
shaved smooth, and walking with a swagger, Major Johnson oozed confidence.

Thi bounced in
her seat.

The Major was
alone, as Triet said he would be. He entered the Maison Blanche and shook the
doorman's hand with an elaborate series of slaps.

In the sky
above, the black clouds had started to drift eastward, revealing clear patches
of the night sky, several clusters of stars, and a round moon. Despite the
balmy night air, goose-bumps shimmered over Amai's skin.

Then her hand
went to her mouth.

Only seconds
after the Major entered the building, a familiar figure with a familiar gait
sauntered toward the door. It was General Loan. From the other direction came a
more powerfully built figure, rocking on crutches. The two men stopped and
spoke.

Thi said: 'Oh
shit.'

Amai raised a
finger to her lips.

Thi looked ready
to run. 'What do we do? They'll see us.'

Amai put her
hand firmly on Thi's bare knee, and said: 'Stay calm.'

Amai had chosen
this particular vantage point because the fusion of light and shadow provided
maximum concealment. She knew that from across the street, the two men would
only see silhouettes sitting at tables.

Loan went into
the club. The man on crutches stood to the glass and re-styled his hair,
winking to his reflection before following Loan inside.

The co-incidence
of their appearance worried Amai.

Thi was pale.
'What if we're caught?'

'Just act
naturally.'

Thi lent over
and took a mouth full of Amai's drink.

When she
returned the glass, Amai took Thi's hand in hers. 'We won't be caught,' Amai
said. 'They have no idea who we're after - and why should they - there're
hundreds of American officers in
Saigon
.'

Thi's small hand
trembled.

'Anyway,' Amai
said. 'They probably think we've gone to ground.' Amai made her eyes seductive,
playing up to Thi's need to view others sexually. 'Remember, this will be easy
- and fun.'

Amai hid her
fear for Thi's benefit. She couldn't afford to have her blow the operation.
Images of her niece hovered in her mind like ghosts. She had to be successful
for her sake.

'The man on the
crutches,' Thi said. 'His name is Nash. He's cruel.'

Nash and Loan
emerged from the Maison Blanche and stopped on the pavement. They talked
animatedly for several seconds, as if disagreeing, and then scanned the street.

'They're looking
for someone.' Thi said.

Me,
Amai thought.

A jeep pulled up
next to the men and they climbed in. Loan's arms waved around like a giant
stick insect's as he argued some point. The jeep jerked as it pulled away and
Amai's heart jerked with it.

15

I
've got to get back to Amai.

Danny saw no
possible way to make it happen. He would be taken stateside under guard;
probably armed - he would never return to
Vietnam
again.

For some reason,
Chaske popped into his mind. Chaske Thorn was his half-brother, and a decorated
member of some kind of covert government Special Operations unit. Chaske was in
Vietnam
.

But what
could he do?
Danny thought.
I'm locked up - in
Bangkok
.

The Thai guard
was moving down the line of cells, peering into each one before moving to the
next. Danny went to the bars. The guard eyeballed him.

Danny said:
'Hey, I need to make a call.'

The guard
shrugged, probably not understanding.

Danny mimed a
telephone receiver with his right thumb and small finger. 'Phone. I need to
make a phone call.'

The guard rubbed
his thumb and index finger together. 'You pay?'

Danny pointed to
the exit door. 'My bag. If it hasn't already been robbed.'

The guard went
away, returned with Danny's satchel, put it on the concrete, and started going
through it. He pulled Danny's wallet out and took out its contents; Danny
guessed about twenty US dollars.

The guard held
up the notes. 'Phone?'

Danny nodded.
The guard pocketed the money and opened the cell door. He led Danny out of the
cell block and into a small room with a desk, on which sat an old-fashioned
telephone. The guard pointed at the phone and stood in the doorway.

Danny could not
call General Weyand; Weyand had to remain anonymous. He picked up the receiver.
In the center of the dial were written the numbers 001. Danny dialed them and
an operator answered in
Thai.

After going
through various switchboard operators, Danny finally got through to the
operator at Tan Son Nhut Air Force Base.

Chaske
probably won't be on base anyway,
Danny thought.
And
even if he is, the operator won't be able to find him.

'What number
would you like to be connected to?' The female voice said.

'The Special
Activities Division ready-room, please.'

'Who should I say
is calling?'

'Captain Chaske
Thorn's brother.'

Ten minutes
later a deep male voice came down the phone line. 'Captain Chaske Thorn.'

'Chaske, it's
Danny. I can't believe you answered.'

'Danny.'
Chaske's voice was jovial. 'What's up brother. We need to catch up.'

'Problem,' Danny
said. 'I'm locked up in a
Bangkok
jail. I'm to be extradited in the morning.'

'What the hell
have you done?'

'Met with the
wrong contact. But Chaske - I have to get out of here - I have to get back to
Saigon
.'

'What're you
asking me to do?'

'Last resort. I
guess I was hoping you'd bust me out.'

Chaske laughed.

'I'm dead
serious Chaske. Can you get me out?'

'Not even for
all the candy in your top drawer.' The line went dead. Chaske had hung up.

A needle of
adrenaline tracked through Danny's veins.
Not even for all the candy in your
top drawer.
It was something they had said to each other as kids, before
Chaske had gone away. Did it mean Chaske would try?

Did he
suspect a line-tap, and encode his answer?

Danny hung up
the receiver and the guard took him back to his cell.