by Mark Arundel
Chin hesitated.
Smithy yelled out for him.
‘Move now! Hard to port. We’ll come around and get behind them.’
As Chin relayed Smithy’s orders in Vietnamese, the activity was instant.
Captain Chin had now found his voice.
‘Man the machine guns,’ he yelled.
The commandos were already doing it.
The boat accelerated, dipped, slewed and then turned, in a tight port loop, coming about as the other two boats came alongside.
Aboard the pursuing PT boat, one of the naval officers, on recognising another enemy vessel, swung his single machine gun ninety degrees and opened fire.
The bullets slammed into the cabin and Smithy dropped onto his front. After a couple of seconds, the stream of fire had ceased and Smithy jumped back up. The pilot went to full throttle and the sea spray soaked Smithy’s face as the boat slapped the water, picked up speed and chased the other two boats. Smithy saw him immediately. The front gunner had sustained an injury and he had fallen from his position and was lying unconscious on the deck.
Smithy didn’t stop to consider the danger. He acted on years of training, experience and instinct. He moved quickly over the soaked deck and reached the gunner’s position. His hands gripped tightly on the coaxially mounted machine gun and he swung it up and around, taking aim, but the target was too far away to fire. The two boats ahead were weaving together and firing at each other. The pilot steered a straight path, gaining on the fighting pair. Within five minutes they had made up the distance and as the enemy boat changed course, slowing and dipping, giving Smithy a clear view of the cabin. He pulled the gun across and aimed at the wheelhouse. The machine gun clattered loudly sending its bullets ripping through the rear opening and hitting the two men inside. They both went down. With the wheel unmanned, the PT boat slewed, losing direction, and then turned side-on, swung by the movement of the sea.
Smithy’s instinct was to continue with more machine gun fire, then board the boat and finish off anyone that was still alive. Instead, he remembered he didn’t have authority to be there in the first place. Watching the other patrol boat speeding away, he made his decision.
‘Full speed ahead—now. Let’s make a run for it,’ he shouted.
Captain Chin relayed the instructions and the pilot didn’t need a second invitation. His hand was already on the lever, he steered a southerly heading and opened the throttle, chasing after his comrades-in-arms who, obviously, had had the exact same idea.
Smithy stood aft and stared through his glasses. He couldn’t see them. They weren’t giving chase. It was not surprising, with two men down and an impossible distance to make up. It was time to head home. There would always be another day. Smithy realised he was smiling. It was just like old times; he was full of adrenalin and he burned with the exhilaration only combat action gave him.
39 December 26, 1963, Manhattan, New York
Natalie awoke in the guest bedroom of Rafferty’s Upper East Side apartment. She had slept deeply and for a moment had to remind herself where she was. Oh, yeah, she thought, I remember, and then had a rush of excitement.
Her two suitcases rested against the sidewall, one of them was open and some of her clothes were on the floor. She was wearing her panties and a nightshirt, and she still smelt of Chanel.
The heavy curtains were keeping the bedroom dark, despite the early morning winter sunshine. Outside, it was bright but bitterly cold. The central heating kept the apartment warm despite the high ceilings.
Natalie stretched and awoke a little more. Yes, she definitely felt excited. She moved her hand down and slipped it into her panties. Her eyes closed, her heart rate quickened as her fingers rubbed, and her mind fantasised. She wasn’t surprised to find herself thinking of his thickly bristled chin and hard, dark eyes. Natalie withdrew her hand and sat up, she was eager to look at the real thing again, but perhaps not with her hand in her panties.
At the bedroom window, she moved the curtain and looked out at the day. She blinked as her eyes adjusted and she focused on the thrilling Manhattan scenery.
Rafferty was right, the apartment wasn’t beautiful, it was too masculine for that but it was magnificent with big windows and a wonderful view of the park.
Isabella had suggested the idea, sometime around seven. …why don’t you ride back with him this evening and stay the night in his spare bedroom? Then tomorrow you’ll be ready for a full day of exploring. He won’t mind. You don’t mind, do you? What could Rafferty say? A little later, Natalie and her two suitcases had ridden with Rafferty in the Tobias’s Rolls Royce, destination Manhattan and Rafferty’s apartment.
They had talked as they rode and she had told him about her house in Hollywood. He was knowledgeable about Los Angeles and they had chatted openly. Even so, she realised, he hadn’t actually told her anything about himself or his life, past or present.
Natalie used her en-suite bathroom, found her silk robe and slip-on fluffy-toed slippers from her suitcase and then went to the kitchen in search of tea.
Rafferty ran through the park in his dark blue tracksuit, varying his route as usual. He didn’t expect any trouble but routine would make an opponent’s job easier. As he ran, he let his mind work. He couldn’t believe the new administration was planning to increase military force in Vietnam. It had only been ten years since Korea. They were making a big mistake. Rafferty didn’t feel regret; he was a soldier, after all, but if the old administration had still been in place then this might not be happening.
Then he let his mind move to Natalie. He would guess her age at twenty-five. She was attractive with a gentle, friendly face, big brown eyes and an open, submissive smile. Features, he was certain, looked good on a 20 x 12ft silver screen. She also had that actress thing, the same as Marilyn had had. It was a particular form of charisma, projected effortlessly, and deadly when exposed to in high doses. Rafferty hadn’t been with another woman since Marilyn. He hadn’t wanted to. Now he started to think about it again. When Natalie smiled, and the curve of her body, her shiny dark hair all made him desire the woman. Her actress’s magnetic death-ray was in good working order.
Rafferty ran past the children’s zoo, out of the park and onto Fifth. He waited for the lights, crossed the road and ran into his building. Riding the elevator to his floor his heart rate slowed and he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He pulled his apartment key from his zippered pocket and went in.
The kitchen was his first heading and there she was, just out of bed, wearing a robe with messy hair. She was making tea, and turned to look as he came in; and there was that death-ray smile—oh, God.
‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘Coffee,’ he said, and then as an afterthought, he added, ‘please.’
Natalie busied herself with making his coffee.
‘I slept really well,’ she said and turned to him. ‘That bed is wonderful. When I woke up I almost forgot where I was.’ She smiled at him again. ‘How was your run?’ she asked.
‘Useful,’ he said. He sat down at the round kitchen table. Natalie carried over their drinks and sat down with him.
‘Do you eat breakfast?’ she asked.
‘We’ll drink these, take a shower, get dressed and then head out. First stop, breakfast; I know just the place.’
They each used their en-suite bathrooms and Natalie dressed quickly, so they were both ready at the same time. She wore a simple black, tight fitting pinafore-style dress under a deep purple woollen tailored coat. Black boots, gloves, handbag, a mauve silk scarf and a black boater with a purple sash completed her sightseeing outfit. Natalie looked elegant and expensive.
Rafferty guessed she would dress up so he wore a black silk suit, a dark grey woollen overcoat and a felt homburg.
‘Ready?’
They stepped out onto Fifth Avenue together, looking sophisticated and attractive. The sun was low and bright, and the air was dry and cold. Natalie took out
her sunglasses from her handbag and pushed them on.
Oh, God, Rafferty thought again, I’m stepping out with another Hollywood movie star.
The breakfast establishment was less than a block away. I know just the place was a diner with red vinyl booths, where the waitress kept her pen behind her ear.
‘What can I get you, folks?’
They felt a little overdressed.
‘Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, grits, orange juice and coffee,’ Rafferty said, placing his order without looking at the menu.
Natalie stared at him and then smiled.
‘The same for me except tea instead of coffee,’ she said.
Their booth was at the front and they looked through the glass panels at the people walking by.
The waitress, wearing a red and white striped apron, returned with their order and Rafferty began eating his breakfast. Natalie watched him. He used his knife to pile the egg onto his buttered toast and add tomato ketchup. He took a bite of his crispy bacon using his fingers and then added a big bite of his egg on toast. He chomped successfully and looked at Natalie. She took a sip of her juice and then copied what Rafferty had done. She too chomped successfully while grinning conspiratorially at her breakfast partner.
‘So, why have you never married?’ she asked while she continued to eat.
That was a bold question, he thought. He wasn’t sure how to answer.
‘No one’s ever asked me,’ he said.
‘I got married when I was eighteen,’ she said.
‘I joined the army when I was eighteen. Your choice was braver than mine,’ he told her with a grin.
Natalie laughed.
‘What did you do in the army?’
‘Soldiering stuff,’ he said. ‘In the war, I fought as a combat soldier in Italy and France.’
‘Oh, right, yeah, marriage is much braver than that,’ she said.
Rafferty laughed.
Oh, God, she was funny, too.
They cleaned their plates and sat drinking their tea and coffee.
‘So, what do you want to see first?’ he asked.
Natalie’s eyes widened.
‘Um, the Empire State Building—I want to see Manhattan from the sky,’ she said.
Rafferty paid their waitress and tipped her five bucks. She smiled. It was the only time.
Back on Fifth, he stopped a cab and they got in.
‘The Empire State Building,’ he told the driver.
‘Sure, Mac, no problem.’
The ride was just over thirty blocks straight down Fifth to the lower edge of Midtown. The cab was pulling up outside in no time. Rafferty paid the driver and they jumped out. Natalie stood and stared up at the 1930 art deco skyscraper.
‘Tall, isn’t it?’
‘…yeah. Come on,’ he said.
He took her arm and they went in through the doors and entered the golden foyer. The marble floor shone and the geometrical design was uniform and tidy.
Rafferty bought two tickets and they rode the elevator all the way to the 86th floor and the observation deck. It was colder half a mile in the air. Natalie pulled her coat tight and gazed in silence at the views. From here, New York seemed crammed packed as though every inch contained a building. There was the flat water and then the tall buildings and nothing else. Natalie pointed and turned to look at Rafferty.
‘That’s downtown, Lower Manhattan, the skyscrapers of the financial district.’
Natalie pointed again.
‘…that’s the Hudson and New Jersey beyond.’
‘It seems even more crowded from up here,’ she said.
‘Manhattan Island is only three miles wide and twelve miles long,’ Rafferty said.
Natalie took a coin from her purse and slotted it into the floor standing binoculars. She peered through and swivelled at the same time. Rafferty watched her for a moment and then gazed out himself across the place where he had been born. Manhattan was a great town, his town and he never felt at home anywhere else.
Natalie’s money ran out.
‘Where next?’ Rafferty asked.
‘I don’t know. You choose.’
‘The Rockefeller Center is close. Let’s go there.’
‘Okay. What’s the Rockefeller Center?’
‘Well, it’s a collection of buildings; there’s probably a museum or something and they have a really big Christmas tree with lots of lights.’
Natalie had begun to scrunch her face up by the word museum and even a big Christmas tree with lights hadn’t managed to change it back to a smile. Rafferty laughed at her reaction and at his bad sales job for the Rock.
‘Okay, where else can we go?’
There was a pause while they both thought.
‘We could ride the Staten Island ferry and take a close look at the Lady of Liberty,’ he suggested. Natalie’s face didn’t register enthusiasm.
Then Natalie had an idea.
‘Aren’t there some famous department stores on Fifth Avenue?’ she asked.
‘…department stores?’
Natalie didn’t answer; she just smiled at him sweetly.
‘Shopping isn’t sightseeing,’ he said.
‘I’d really like to see them. They’re very famous.’
‘…in Hollywood maybe.’
‘Please, we’ll be able to get a coffee and use their restrooms.’
‘Which one do you want to go to?’ he asked.
Natalie smiled.
‘Can we go to Saks Fifth Avenue, please?’
Saks, of course, Rafferty might have guessed.
‘Don’t they have a Saks in Beverley Hills?’
‘Please.’
‘Did you say they have coffee?’
‘Yes,’ Natalie confirmed with a big smile. She skipped over to him, stretched up with her arms and kissed him on the cheek.
‘Thank-you,’ she said with her brown eyes shining.
They left the observation deck and rode the elevator back down to the lobby. Once outside, they headed to the sidewalk and Rafferty searched for a cab.
‘We can’t go, there aren’t any cabs,’ he said.
Natalie ignored him and pushed by, searching up and down the road.
‘There’s one!’ she shouted, putting her fingers in her mouth and whistling loudly. The driver heard her and looked. She flagged him down, opened the door and jumped in. Rafferty followed her onto the back seat.
‘Saks Fifth Avenue, please,’ Natalie said giving the cab driver their destination with a note of confidence and then turned to Rafferty and smiled.
‘How famous are you?’ he asked.
She looked at him.
‘Pretty famous, I guess. I am a movie star.’
‘No one’s recognised you,’ he said.
‘This is New York.’
Yeah, that’s true, Rafferty thought.
The cab hadn’t taken long to drive the fifteen blocks back up Fifth. They pulled over in front of the impressive seven or eight storey building and Natalie stepped out. Rafferty paid the fare with a buck tip and then together they walked into Saks Fifth Avenue luxury department store.
Shopping was obviously popular, Rafferty thought, as he was bustled by a gaggle of young women carrying more bags than seemed humanly possible. He searched but couldn’t see a café or coffee stand, or anyone drinking coffee. Natalie was searching too, as though operating a hidden internal radar system, excited by the anticipation of praying at the altar of fashion and design.
‘Where’s the coffee?’ he called out.
Natalie turned to him and laughed.
‘Let’s go this way. I think I can smell Columbian beans being ground,’ she told him. It was Rafferty’s turn to laugh.
He followed her through the crowded shop, between an array of sales stands with pretty assistants wearing Saks Fifth Avenue uniforms. They arrived at the elevators where there was a store guide on the wall. They stood side by side and both read it. The elevator sounded and the doors slid open. A melee of
people came out, moving as a single mass leaving an empty space behind them, which Natalie walked into.
‘Come on.’
Rafferty hadn’t followed her.
‘There’s a café on the ground floor somewhere,’ he said.
‘There’s also one on the sixth floor. It’ll have a better view. Come on.’
The elevator doors began to slide shut. At the last moment, he slid his hand into the vanishing gap, the doors reversed, and he stepped inside. She smiled at him. She was enjoying herself. Rafferty wasn’t used to doing things he didn’t want to. Natalie didn’t think she could push him too much further.
The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and the sliding doors opened.
‘Look, shoes!’ exclaimed Natalie.
‘No!’ Rafferty interjected quickly. ‘Coffee first. We’ll come back. Anyway, you need the restroom.’
Natalie pouted but remained silent. The elevator doors closed and they carried on up to the sixth floor.
They found the café at the back, behind linens, drapes and rugs and had to stand in line for a minute.
‘One tea and one coffee,’ he said, ordering for both of them. The waitress didn’t bother writing it down. As she turned away, he pointed to the corner. Natalie looked and read the sign hanging above the alcove: Restrooms.
‘I’ll wait and go before we leave.’
The waitress brought their drinks and put them down the wrong way round.
‘Thank you,’ Natalie said. They pushed each other’s cup and saucer across the table and Natalie smiled at him.
‘Don’t you ever drink tea?’ she asked.
‘From time to time,’ he answered, ‘but I prefer coffee. I once knew another girl who drank a lot of tea,’ he told her. ‘It’s a popular drink in Russia, did you know?’
Natalie smiled at him.