The Cover of War

by Travis Stone

  'Enough.' Hitchcock was shaking. 'What're you basing this crap on?'

  Nash felt like a boxer whose only trick was a predictable right hook. 'It's a hunch Sir, but-'

  'I've told you time and again, sonny. In my unit we don't do hunches. Do we?'

  Nash saw his chance. 'Sir. That's why I need to collect the evidence. Find out once and for all.'

  For the next twenty seconds, Hitchcock stared directly into his eyes without so much as the hint of a blink. Then the Colonel said: 'You can have the two corporals from Army Int. Mancini and Albertez I think their names are. You've got two days. Then you're back on delta-squads - all of you. Is that understood?'

  'Yes.'

  'Yes, Sir.'

  'Yes, Sir.'

  Nash mounted his crutches and left.

  13

  Danny 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

  Tonight, 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 i
n 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.

  16

  When Major Johnson finally left the Maison Blanche he appeared drunk.

  Amai stood and watched him weave down the sidewalk. Despite being sloshed, he moved quickly.

  Amai acted fast; she swallowed her guilt and thoughts of Danny with the last mouthful of vodka, and then led Thi across the street. They merged with the foot traffic and fell in behind the Major.

  Amai's mind focused as the mission took over.

  Where's he going? She thought. Does he expect to be followed? Is he dangerous? Will he be attracted to us? Will he guess what we are?

  Her heart was pounding.

  The Major's shaved head bobbed like a buoy in the crowd's pitch and trough. His height made him easy to follow, so she let him get well in front.

  Groups of squatting Vietnamese, cooking and talking on the roadside, added obstruction to the congestion. The big Major stumbled into a circle of people sitting on small chairs outside a massage parlor, and Thi giggled. The Major apologized, swaying as a hunched mama-san waggled a bent finger at him.

  Thi said: 'How big do you think his - you know - dick is?'

  Amai shook her head. She hoped to never find out.

  'I think it'll be enormous,' Thi went on. 'Like a donkey.' She giggled.

  Amai made her face stern. 'Stay focused. Have you noticed a tail?'

  'I haven't looked.'

  'C'mon Thi, it's your job.' Amai glanced up and down the street as if looking for pursuers. 'Start thinking.'

  The Major backed away from the mama-san, and then continued along the path.

  'I'll follow the Major,' Amai said. 'Let me get well ahead, then follow me.'

  Thi looked scared. 'I think we should stay together.'

  Amai scowled. 'Keep me just in sight - and keep an eye-out.'

  'Okay.'

  The Major took long, expansive strides. Amai followed. After several blocks he appeared to sober up. His swaying stopped. Then he turned right into Dong Du.

  Dong Du was alive with activity. Brightly colored paper dragons writhed to the rhythm of music and clapping. The Major entered the crowd. A bright red serpent block
ed him from her view. She rushed forward. When she saw him again, he was forty yards up the road, squeezing into a cyclo buggy.

  Amai looked back; there was no sign of Thi.

  Amai turned back to the Major. The cyclo rider's sinewy thighs were straining under the Major's weight. He stood tall on the peddles, arching his back to start the wheels turning, while the Major's long arms hung over the sides of the cart, like a baby too big for his pram.

  The cyclo gained speed and Amai realized that if she waited, she would loose him. Thi would have to fend for herself.

  Amai flagged down a cyclo traveling toward her. She probably could've kept pace with the Major's for a while, but over any great distance, she would stand no chance. The cyclo stopped, she ordered the rider to turn around, and then looked back for Thi, seeing only paper dragons and a faceless mass.

  At the end of Dong Du, the Major's cyclo turned left and disappeared from her view.

  Amai felt instant dread. I'll loose him.

  She jumped into the cyclo and yelled the directions to the rider. The cyclo quickly reached jogging speed. Then a fashionable purse hit her in the face, and a pretty girl jumped in beside her. It was Thi.

  Thi grinned. 'Going somewhere without me?'

  'The Major's in a cyclo. I think we've lost him. What took you so long?'

  'We were being followed.' Thi took a handful of her glossy hair, smoothed it, and clipped it back into place. 'When we stopped back there a man behind us stopped. He didn't move when you did, but when I moved, he followed.'

  'Nash?'

  'No.'

  'White?'

  'Yes.'

  Now Amai was worried; she had been playing the following game since arriving in Saigon. She wondered who it could be.

  Their cyclo reached full speed and made the left turn without slowing. Amai could not see the Major. Her shoulders tightened. She looked back. A stubbled Caucasian face watched them from the sidewalk. It wasn't Nash; he had a harder, foreign look.

  'We've lost the Major,' Thi said. 'It's my fault.'

  Amai pinched the bridge of her nose.

  'Well. Does it really matter?' Thi sounded pleading.

  'YES IT DOES.' Amai couldn't stop the venom in her voice.

  Thi fiddled inside her purse.