The Washington Sanction

by Mark Arundel

  ‘It’s impossible to choose a favourite; I’ve enjoyed every one of Natalie’s films,’ he said.

  Natalie smiled sweetly. ‘Thank you, Mr. Rafferty,’ she said, with her big, dark brown eyes shining.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, ‘it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He smiled back, and then he turned and grinned victoriously at Isabella, who conceded defeat graciously.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’ she asked.

  Natalie wasn’t sure and she looked up at Rafferty.

  ‘Coffee for me,’ he answered.

  ‘Yes, coffee, it’s too early for the champagne. A pot of coffee, please John. Oh, John, is Mr. Tobias coming down?’

  ‘He’s in his study, ma’am. He said he would join you shortly.’

  ‘Thank you, John.’

  ‘Who are the other guests?’ Rafferty asked Isabella.

  ‘...other guests?’

  ‘Yeah, you said Natalie was one of your Christmas houseguests.’

  ‘Oh yes, well there’s you, of course; that makes two.’

  Rafferty suddenly realised and quickly diffused the potential awkwardness with a seamless question to Natalie.

  ‘Natalie, do you live in LA?’

  Isabella almost laughed, but just managed to stop herself.

  ‘Yeah, I live in Beverley Hills.’

  There was a pause as Rafferty tried to think of something else to ask her. Natalie saved him with a comment of her own.

  ‘Isabella tells me you live in a beautiful apartment in Manhattan overlooking Central Park.’

  ‘I bought it when I left the army; I needed somewhere to store my stuff. I wouldn’t describe it as beautiful, but I do enjoy running in the park in the mornings.’

  ‘I’m hoping to see the sights of Manhattan, while I’m here.’ Natalie told him. Isabella didn’t miss her chance.

  ‘Rafferty will show you around, it’s his hometown and nobody knows it better than him,’ Isabella said kindly, before looking at Rafferty expectantly.

  Rafferty forced a smile.

  ‘Yeah, sure, I’d be happy to.’

  ‘Oh really, great, I’d like that very much, thank you,’ Natalie exclaimed excitedly. Isabella smiled and looked at Rafferty triumphantly.

  Just then, the coffee arrived followed by Richard Tobias.

  ‘Ah, my boy, you’re here.’ Richard extended his hand and the two men shook. Richard Tobias was now in his seventies but was still a dapper dresser. His Christmas Day choice was a light grey Italian suit with a thin navy pinstripe.

  ‘Thank you, John,’ Isabella said as she picked up the coffeepot and began pouring. Rafferty passed a cup to Natalie, then took his own and sat down on the sofa. Isabella gave Richard his, who had sat down in the leather wing chair, before sitting down herself in the cream upholstered armchair. They all sipped from their cups.

  ‘We met Natalie earlier this year when we were visiting Los Angeles; this is her first break from filming since then. She was eager to get away from Hollywood and we knew how much she wanted to see New York so we invited her to come and stay for Christmas,’ Isabella explained. Rafferty nodded, and then Richard saved him from further matchmaking, for a while anyway, by interrupting.

  ‘Presents!’ he exclaimed with a clap of his hands. Isabella turned to her husband.

  ‘I’ll fetch them; who will help me?’ she said.

  ‘I haven’t finished my coffee,’ Rafferty said.

  ‘Come on, it’ll only take a minute.’

  The presents were on a table in the atrium beside the fifteen-foot tree, which glittered and sparkled with hundreds of white lights. The presents Rafferty brought were out of his bag and placed on the table with the others.

  ‘Hold out your arms,’ Isabella instructed.

  ‘I’ve only brought a present for you and Richard,’ he told her.

  ‘What do you think of Natalie? She's recently divorced from her actor husband. They were very young when they married.’

  ‘I don’t have a Christmas present for her.’

  ‘Don’t worry; I’ve got you a present to give to her.’

  ‘…a present, really, well I…’

  ‘Don’t be a grouch on Christmas Day.’

  ‘Look, Isabella, this matchmaking thing you’re doing, I…’

  ‘I just want you to be settled and happy, that’s all. Just be your usual charming self and let’s see what happens. Now hold out your arms, come on.’

  Isabella piled on the presents and then tugged his arm as she guided him back to the drawing room. Rafferty put them down on the coffee table and Isabella handed them out one at a time. The opening of each present was accompanied by either an expression of approval, gasps of surprise or murmurs of displeasure.

  ‘…and this present is for…’ Isabella picked up the next present and read the tag, although she already knew what it said. ‘…Natalie, from an admirer,’ Isabella pronounced and handed it to the surprised Natalie who took the small red and gold box and then turned to Rafferty.

  ‘Are you my admirer?’ she asked.

  Isabella was smiling.

  ‘It would appear so, yes,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have, you didn’t have to get me anything, thank-you.’

  I didn’t get you anything was what he wanted to say, instead, he said, ‘I hope you like it.’

  ‘What is it?’ Natalie asked a little excited.

  Rafferty wanted to say, I’ve no idea, but instead, again, he said something different. ‘Open it and let’s find out.’

  Natalie smiled happily and began unwrapping. Rafferty and Isabella glanced at each other and Isabella winked. Rafferty suddenly had the horrible feeling it was a ring. No, don’t be stupid, he told himself, it’s not a ring. No, it’s probably just socks or something equally harmless.

  Natalie had completed the unwrapping and was taking the little bottle from its box. It was perfume, Chanel perfume.

  ‘Oh, Chanel, my favourite, thanks,’ Natalie said, tipping the bottle onto her finger and dabbing it on the soft skin of the small round indentation at the base of the neck. She leant over and kissed Rafferty softly on the cheek.

  ‘Thank-you,’ she said.

  Rafferty’s heart suddenly jumped in his chest as though someone had hit him with a baseball bat. No, it wasn’t the kiss. It was breathing in the Chanel scent. Marilyn always wore the same perfume. Her memory came to him in a rush, in full vivid colour, and it hurt. Obviously, a year and five months weren't long enough. Perhaps it was always going to hurt and only stop when he was dead too. He could see her face, happy and smiling. She was looking at him in that way she did; as though he were the most important thing in her life and that, she needed something to exist that only he could give her.

  Richard was talking to him and Rafferty forced away the memory.

  ‘Thank you, my boy; just what I needed.’

  Richard was holding up his present from young Rafferty. It was a silk tie in navy blue with a black diagonal stripe. He only had about two hundred ties already.

  ‘I can always use a new tie,’ he said with a smile.

  Isabella laughed.

  ‘Thank you, I love the material,’ Isabella said.

  She was holding up her gift from Rafferty. It was a silk scarf in dark blue with a grey stripe at the edges.

  ‘We can wear them at the same time,’ Richard said. ‘We’ll be known as the couple with matching neck apparel.’

  His joke was funny and Natalie laughed.

  Isabella came to Rafferty’s defence.

  ‘Ignore him,’ she said, ‘they’re lovely, thank-you.’

  Richard clapped his hands again.

  ‘Right, who wants a glass of champagne?’

  ‘Yes please,’ answered Natalie.

  ‘I’ll have a beer,’ Rafferty told him.

  John brought the drinks on a silver trolley. He gently popped the champagne cork and made cocktails filling the flutes with a sugar cube, angostura bitters, orange liqueur
and then the Moet. He used a bottle opener to remove the top from Rafferty’s bottle of Rheingold beer.

  Isabella sipped her champagne cocktail, which always reminded her of her first visit to Players, Richard Tobias’s Gold Coast mansion, as a young single woman back in the twenties. Richard had invited her to a party, which put her on a life-changing path.

  Rafferty slugged his beer and grinned at Natalie who was enjoying her cocktail and her choice of Christmas invitations.

  ‘What are we having for dinner?’ Rafferty asked Isabella.

  ‘Our usual Christmas dinner, of course, and Richard’s favourite,’ Isabella told Rafferty and Natalie, ‘baron of beef, with all the trimmings.’

  Rafferty was getting hungry with the anticipation of the juicy double sirloin cut of meat. Natalie knew what beef was, but didn’t have any idea what baron of beef was.

  ‘Mm, sounds wonderful,’ she said politely.

  ‘Rafferty must be getting hungry,’ noted Richard. ‘As a growing boy he used to eat me out of house and home,’ he joked. ‘His appetite was always so good that Mrs. Graff, our cook, insisted on higher wages because of all the extra work.’

  Natalie laughed again.

  Rafferty was beginning to think he should have found somewhere else to spend Christmas Day. He might have been safer with his old pal, Patrick Smith, or Smithy as he called him, although Smithy was somewhere in the South China Sea, so maybe not.

  As Rafferty thought about his friend, Smithy, an idea for the Vietnam assignment occurred to him. He was considering this idea further and beginning to formulate it into a plan when Natalie spoke to him. She had been watching him and considering him while he was concentrating on something in his head. He was a strong looking man, with a square face and hard, dark eyes. Natalie didn’t think she liked him, romantically, but she knew it was impossible not to be attracted to his character. He had a powerful quality, dominant, perhaps even dangerous. He was very different from her ex-husband. However, if Natalie had to use one word to describe Rafferty, which she understood, it would be unmarried. He was a man who was alone.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked.

  Rafferty broke off his planning and looked at Natalie but didn’t reply. She widened her eyes, expecting an answer. Still nothing, and then he said to Richard, ‘I need to make a telephone call.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Isabella admonished, ‘not more work on Christmas Day?’

  ‘I’ve just thought of something; it won’t take long.’

  ‘You can use the telephone in my study,’ Richard told him. Rafferty stood up and headed for the study. Natalie watched him go.

  Inside the study, he sat behind the desk, moved the black telephone closer and dialled the number from memory. As the line buzzed, Rafferty sat back and gazed through the double glass doors into the courtyard. He stared at the statue of the kneeling stone girl, his thoughts went to another statue, one from his past, the statue of Aphrodite and he remembered the woman he had lost. A voice came on the line and he shook the memory from his mind.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. The female voice sounded New York, confident and around thirty years of age.

  ‘Is this Karen Brekke?’ Rafferty asked.

  There was a momentary pause.

  ‘Yes, who’s speaking please?’

  ‘This is Bluebeard,’ he said, using the codename McGrath had told him to use.

  Again, there was a momentary pause.

  ‘It’s Christmas Day.’

  Rafferty ignored her.

  ‘I need you to communicate a message to Patrick Smith in Da Nang,’ he told her.

  This time, there wasn’t any pause.

  ‘What’s the message?’ she said.

  38 December 26, 1963, South China Sea

  The Norwegian-built Tjeld-class fast patrol boat was cruising at twelve knots on a northerly bearing three miles out from the black coastline.

  The raven painted war boat was a menacing vessel. Its jutting bow and windowless, low cabin underlined its threatening purpose. Fitted with armaments, two powerful machine guns and long-range mortars, the craft was prepared for battle. Its matching twin shadowed it. The pair had launched from the naval base in the South at Da Nang.

  The night sky had a deep blackness only spoilt by light wispy cloud, tinged silver by the alabaster moon. A gentle shimmer cast over the quiet water in a narrow band, not powerful enough to show the boat on the open sea. Any danger of anyone seeing them was minimal and the size and location protected it from radar. The engine noise was much more prominent, but didn’t pinpoint a location and at twelve knots, there wasn’t any significant water slap.

  The patrol boat changed course and headed port towards the coastline. Smithy checked his US navy issue wristwatch. The luminous dials told him it was 0400 hours. They were on schedule. He went over the plan one more time in his head, looked over at the second boat and then settled in his seat and watched the dark shoreline come closer.

  The conflict between North and South in Vietnam was worsening. The Russian-backed North, the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, was determined to move south and America was just as determined to stop them. The anti-communist government in the South was getting more and more support, both financial and military, which came with American advice. Advice that was not optional. One suggestion was a highly classified program of covert attacks against the North. Hanoi had lodged a complaint with the International Control Commission, which oversaw the terms of the Geneva Accords, but America had denied any involvement.

  Smithy stared at the lights on shore. The two boats were about seventy nautical miles north of the 17th parallel. It was at this point they split, and the second boat headed towards the mouth of the Giang River. Smithy’s patrol boat remained on course nearing the North Vietnamese coast at the Cape of Vinh Son.

  Both boats had soldiers aboard, but they were not American soldiers, they were Vietnamese soldiers from the South. The Americans could not actively engage in hostile actions against the North. So what was Smithy doing there?

  The Vietnamese soldiers in the South were American-trained commandos. They called themselves the Lien Doi Nguoi Nhai, roughly translated, the soldiers that fight under the sea. They were tough and had learnt well. This mission was easily within their capabilities. There needn’t be any problems.

  The boat Smithy was aboard was now in position and the commandos prepared the shipboard canon. Their target was a radar installation, clearly visible through binoculars, less than fifty yards in from the shoreline. The coordinates were calculated and checked. The big gun was loaded and ready to fire. Captain Chin, the Vietnamese in command of the boat, gave his orders and Smithy stood aft and watched the radar installation through his binoculars.

  The canon released its high explosive shell to the accompaniment of thunderous recoil. The shell landed high on the front wall and exploded sending rubble, debris and shrapnel flying, leaving a rising trail of black smoke. The trajectory was good and their coordinates were accurate. The machine gun chattered ferociously as two commandos targeted the windows. For the next twenty minutes, the bombardment continued with huge destructive force, and Smithy watched as the building was demolished as if it had been squashed by a giant in a cartoon who had sat down to take a rest.

  Inside, before the bombardment, thirty men slept in their beds in the living quarters, unaware of any danger. At the end of the twenty-minute attack, only four remained alive. They had been in the furthest room from the initial explosion and managed to flee in time. The other twenty-six men all died, cut down by the high-powered machine gun fire as they fled from their beds and ran for their lives. Some made it further only for falling masonry to crush them or high explosive shrapnel to lacerate their bodies. The burning rubble lighted the night sky.

  Further, up the coast, the second boat was holding a position in the mouth of the Giang River. It too was carrying out its mission. Its target was the Quang Khe naval base. Again, the bombardment followed a professional path, carrie
d out with destructive and murderous intent. The trained commandos carried out their assignment with cold proficiency, hitting the vessels and buildings with their explosive onslaught. The risk for this mission was if a North Vietnamese boat escaped the bombing and came after them. They countered this with the time of the raid, which shortly before dawn was a well-proven attack time. Nevertheless, the commandos were under express orders to attack for a maximum of fifteen minutes only, before retreating and rendezvousing with their partner boat, and then returning safely together to Da Nang.

  A team of six North Vietnamese naval officers was returning to base from a forty-eight hour period of leave when the bombardment began. They made their way along the dock on the far side to their own PT boat. It waited moored and patient. Within ten minutes of the first explosion, they had readied their vessel and were heading out, keeping to the darker side, close to the bank of the river’s edge. As they cleared the mouth and hit the open water the pilot opened the engines and sped towards the enemy. Their single purpose was to attack and destroy the aggressor. Just then, the attack boat’s commander gave the order to cease fire, turn and retreat. As he lifted his binoculars one more time to view the destruction before leaving, the dark form speeding straight for them off the starboard side caught his attention. He had to make an instant decision, flee or fight. He reinforced his order to flee with greater urgency. The war boat turned as tightly as it could, leaning and cutting the water, straightening and then quickening away with the engine at full throttle. The aft dipped and dug, with the bow rising and the sea was churned white. The chasing PT boat was already at full throttle, only a hundred yards behind and closing. Both commanders were barking their orders and both were yelling at their machine gun operators to prepare for action.

  Smithy checked his wristwatch again. It was time to leave. The party was over. Where was the other boat? They should be back by now. He stood against the rail and searched the sea through his binoculars. He turned back to the boat commander who had to make a decision, leave, wait or go looking. At that very moment, they heard two different noises. The first was the sound of two boat engines and the second was the sound of machine gun fire. Smithy immediately raised his marine glasses and searched; there they were. Their partner boat had picked up some trouble. Both boats were coming straight for them at full speed and both were exchanging machine gun fire. Smithy looked at Captain Chin and waited to hear his orders.