Jake sighed. So, he had screwed it up. He had tried to bomb a target that was, for once, truly importantand he had clean missed it. Apparently. Was he supposed to think his bombs had instead destroyed a hospital teeming with people? He decided that he wouldn't let the dream lay a guilt trip on him. To hell with it.
He stood up and stretched. He looked at Lundeen, who was sleeping on his back with his mouth wide open, breathing noisily. Jake smiled. Hey, shipmate, he said to himself, you know what I ought to do? For you and Morgan and every other guy who's hanging his ass out for nothing? I ought to find a fat target way up north and bomb the living shit out of it. One good target. For all of us.
He walked into the bathroom, chuckling at his bravado. But what the hell, he thought. I might actually do it.
He didn't bother to shave. He found his running shoes, shorts, and T-shirt buried deep in his clothes bag. He dressed in the weak light coming through the window.
He started running as soon as he reached the bottom of the hotel's back-door steps. It took only a few minutes for him to realize how out of shape he was. His breathing was labored, without rhythm, and his legs felt wooden. It was not a good day for running; the air was chilly and the fine drizzle would soon soak his clothes. He would take a long hot bath when he got back to the hotel.
On the narrow streets Jake had to dodge and weave to avoid obstacles: bicycles, an occasional automobile, pedestrians who looked at him with curiosity, chattering black-haired, shiny-faced children who mostly ignored him, and shopkeepers raising their brightly colored awnings and arranging wares that spilled onto the streets. Jake was surprised there was so much activity shortly after eight in the morning.
He was glad to reach Nathan Road, a four-lane boulevard where the sidewalks were wider. He passed stores selling electronic equipment, cameras, watches, imported perfumes, and clothing; revving buses and honking taxis passed him by. The red-and-white double-decker buses reminded him of London, but the many large unlit neon signs-SONY, WINSTON FILTER CIGARETTES, COCA-COLA-reminded him of Times Square.
After he had run about a mile and a half, a splash of vivid red caught his eye. As he jogged closer he saw a red sweater, worn by a young woman in a straw hat and jeans. She was sitting on a small metal stool beneath a low awning at the entrance to an alley that ran between two apartment buildings. In her lap was a sketch pad, which he glanced at as he ran behind her. He saw the vague outlines of buildings and the beginnings of some human figures.
He decided that he'd run for ten more minutes, five minutes in the same direction and then he'd circle back and hope to find the woman again. His breathing was rhythmic now, and he ran more on his toes. This would make his calves ache tomorrow. Twenty minutes or so would be a good run. Enough for one day.
When he returned she was still there, sketching under the awning. A crowd of children, ranging in age perhaps from five to eight, played in the alley and on the sidewalk, oblivious to the drizzle. The drawing had progressed markedly. The buildings and storefronts had taken shape and she was working on the children, who seemed to present a challenge because she erased some legs.
Jake stood a moment behind her, then he moved up to her left.
"You're doing a nice job," he said.
"Thanks," she said with an American accent. She looked quickly at Jake, who noticed that her eyes were
very dark and that she appeared to be in her mid twenties. "But I'm afraid it's really not very good." She
brushed away the eraser crumbs with the edge of her hand.
"It's tough when your models won't sit still."
She was working on the children again and didn't respond right away. "I'm not sure that it would make any difference if they were still as statues," she said, not looking up. "I've always had trouble with legs-bare
human legs, that is. Children always give me fits, damn their pudgy little knees."
Jake chuckled. "I have a solution. I'll go down the Street and buy long pants for all these kids." "Including the girls?"
"Sure," said Jake. "I'll explain that they're required to wear trousers in the service of creating great art." She gave a short laugh. "I'm sure they'll be persuaded by that argument."
"They will be when I give each one a dollar."
She turned her head and looked at him. "Bribery is very effective in Hong Kong," she said with a quick smile. Her white teeth contrasted with her tanned face and her complexion was clear except for a small dark brown mole on her left temple. She wore no make-up that Jake could detect.
"I don't know much about Hong Kong," he said, wishing that he had shaved.
She didn't take up his remark but held a pencil to her lips and studied her sketch. Waiting for a reply, Jake examined the children in the drawing-they floated above the sidewalk, unconcerned that they had no legs. Finally Jake said, "Ever try taking photographs?"
"No," she said, not looking up.
"I meant that you could take pictures of the kids and work on your sketch at home. You could even trace the legs to get the hang of it." Jake moved closer to her and squatted down with his forearms on his knees. "Hey, I don't know anything about art. Paintings, drawing,-,, what do I know about it? If I made a dumb suggestion just,
"Do you always run around in the rain in yon shorts?" she said, regarding him with raised eyebrows. "Maybe you should go down the street and buy long pants." There was a hint of a smile. "I'll give you sdollar if you do."
Jake grinned. "American dollar or Hong Kong? While I'm at it, I'll buy you a camera."
"TbucM," she said. She swiveled on her stool to face him, and smoothed her jeans as if she were wearing a skirt. "You're in the service, aren't you," she said stating it as a fact.
Jake was surprised. "How'd you know?"
"Your haircut. It's easy to spot a military man. But your T-shirt threw me off. Are you really a member of the Jersey City Athletic Club?"
"No, I stole this T-shirt from a guy named Cowboy Parker. He stole it from a guy named Little Augie. Was only mine until someone steals it from me."
"'Cowboy,' `Little Augie. W-which service are we talking about?"
"Navy. I'm a pilot."
"A carrier pilot? Do you fly over Vietnam?" "Unfortunately-"
"Why unfortunately?"
"It's a lousy business."
"'Then why do you do it?"
Jake looked down. "You wear the uniform, you take the pay, you fly where they tell you."
"That's not very illuminating," she said. "So you're here on leave. How long will you be in Hong Kong?"
"Just a few days. I have to leave Monday morning." With a groan, Jake stood up slowly. "I'm a little stiff."
"You must be chilled to the bone," she said. "Better get something hot in you."
"Aren't you chilly too?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. I think I've had enough of sitting and this weather." She turned from Jake and gathered her pencils and sketchbook into a large floppy leather bag. From a side pocket she yanked out a bundled-up khaki raincoat.
Jake put his hands under his armpits for warmth. "What would you say to getting something hot to drink? Coffee, tea, or whatever. I think we both need it."
"I think you need it more than I do," she said, grinning. She bent over her stool. "Sorry. I have a date to go shopping this morning with a friend." She pushed a catch on the stool, and the seat flipped vertical. "I'm meeting her at ten." Gathering the legs together, she fitted the stool into her bag.
"Amazing," Jake said. "That's some gadget. Any chance we can get together later? For lunch or dinner? I'd like to get to know you better."
She stood facing him now, with her arms crossed in front of her. "Well, you're off to a rocky start, I'm afraid. It seems that I've been asking most of the questions. I know something about you, but you don't know anything about me."
"You didn't ask my name," he said.
"Got me there. What is it?"
"Jake. Jake Grafton."
"Hello, Jake." She began unfolding her r
aincoat. "It was nice talking to you."
Without forethought he put his hand lightly on her left shoulder. Her shoulder fit in the palm of his hand; he felt the smallness of her bones and the warmth of her body through the sweater. She took a step away from him.
Jake said, "Hey, that was a bum rap you laid on me. 1 guess I'm not the kind of guy who naturally asks a lot of questions." She started putting on her raincoat. He didn't want her to leave. "I really would like to know you better. It would help if I knew your name."
She took a deep breath. "Callie."
"Callie?"
"Yes. That's right."
"Last name?"
"McKenzie." Jake nodded his head in acknowledgment. she said, "don't you think Callie is axe unusual name?"
"I've never heard it before."
"Don't you want to know how I got it?"
"I'll bite. How'd you get it?"
"I'm glad you asked something," said Callie. "When I was little, my brother, who was just a tot, had trouble saying my name, which is Carolyn. So heron-my brother-called me Callie. It was easier for him to say."
Jake smiled. "Theron?"
"Yes, Theron," she said. "By the way, let me tell you the fascinating story behind my brother's name." "Uh oh."
"When my brother was a little boy his younger' sister-when she was just a tot-had trouble saying his given name, which was-uh-Aloysius. So . . ." She began laughing. Jake joined her. They stood facing each other as pedestrians moved around them.
"Really," said Jake, "how'd your brother get that name? How do you spell it?"
Callie spelled it out for him. "My father got it out of a book he was reading when my mother was pregnant. I think that he ... Jake! You're shivering." She touched his chest, near his heart. "No wonder, your shirt is soaked. You'd better get back where you can put on dry clothes. Where're you staying?"
"The Peninsula Hotel."
"Oh, the Peninsula. It's a wonderful hotel. Absolutely first class. Do you like it?"
"Yeah, but it's expensive. I guess you get what you pay for."
"You do at the Peninsula. I had a room there for a few days when I first came to Hong Kong, before I moved into an apartment. I enjoyed it so much that I was reluctant to leave. But I got a nice place only a couple of minutes from where I work." Callie lifted her straw hat and brushed her hair back with her hand. Her hair was curly and reached to her shoulders; it was dark brown, but her eyes were darker and shone like black marbles.
"Well," she said, "don't you want to know where I work?"
Jake smirked. "Sure. Of course I do. I've been wondering about that."
"Since you asked, I work at the American consulate."
"What do you do there?"
"I do a variety of things. But mostly I examine the cases of mainland Chinese refugees who want to obtain visas to the U.S."
"Do you like the work?"
"It's okay. The State Department requires a lot of paperwork for these visas, and sometimes I feel as if we're papering over the human misery of the Chinese refugees. These people have risked everything to e-, cape to Hong Kong."
"Paper shuffiers! Well, they're everywhere. They're the ones who'll really inherit the earth."
"Too true. Listen, Jake. I really do have to go. And you need to get back to the Peninsula." She picked up, her bag and put her arm through the straps.
"Callie, could we get together for lunch?" She shook her head. "How about dinner?"
"Thanks, but I'm afraid I can't make dinner." "Why don't we take a walk this afternoon, maybe see some sights?"
"It doesn't look like a good day for it." She sighed. "Tell you what. I could meet you for tea." "For tea?"
"Haven't you ever met anyone for tea before?" "Nope, but I'm game. Where do we meet?"
"At your hotel. In the lobby. They do a lovely tea.
there. Four-thirty?"
"Four-thirty would be fine," said Jake. "I'll be there."
She walked away briskly, into the drizzle. When she was half a block away she stopped and turned. He was still watching her. "Don't just stand there!" she shouted. "Go get some dry clothes on."
Jake waved. "See you at the Peninsula!"
He walked away in the opposite direction. After a few minutes he broke into a trot, and he didn't really mind that he was cold and creaky.
"At least you could've asked her if she had a girlfriend," Sammy called from the bathroom where he was shaving.
Jake stood by the window watching the rain and the low gray clouds scudding across the harbor. The water was so calm and dark it appeared oily, and the clearly defined wakes left by sampans, barges, and ferries were like ripples made by toy boats on a pond. After he returned to the hotel, he had spent a long time luxuriously soaking in the tub. Now his calves were beginning to tighten up. "I wish this rain would stop."
"If it had been me, I would've asked if there was a spare girl stashed somewhere for you. The world is full of lonely women pining for a chance to meet some swell guy with a wad of bucks. Here I am, eligible, handsome, modestly well-heeled, and you didn't even give one of those languishing females a chance. Now I ask you, is that friendship?"
Jake turned his head toward the bathroom. "Hey, I was lucky to get a date."
"A date? You call meeting a girl for tea a date?"
"It was the best I could do."
"Did you ask if she had a friend? Huh? Bet you didn't even fucking try."
"It wouldn't have worked, Sammy."
Sammy came out of the bathroom in his skivvies. "Okay, Grafton, I'm beginning to get the picture. You just don't want me around mucking up things between you and your tea-and-crumpets girl."
"Nah, that's not it. Like I said-"
"Just forget it." Sammy dismissed Jake with a wave of his hand. "I can find a date for myself. I don't need your help with my romances. I'm just pointing out this little blot on our friendship." He wore a hurt expression. "But I'll never forget this, Grafton. Never. I may even tell Parker that you're the guy who stole his towel and locked him out of his room."
"But you did that!"
"Yeah, but when roommates get on the outs they start telling lies, and who knows where it'll stop."
"Better not," Jake said, "or I might have to tell 'em you're the Phantom."
Lundeen shot him a hard glance, and went over and sat on his bed. He looked at Jake and grinned. "Thai just happens to be true."
"What?"
"Yeah. I'm the Phantom," he said, laughing. "You never suspected, did you?"
"Are you crazy? They're looking for some pervert to ship to a mental institution. If they catch you, you'll gc back to the States in a straitjacket. My God.... You're kidding me, right?" He carefully examined Lundeen's face. "You're pulling my leg again."
"mope. It's the truth. I am the Caped Crusader. No, that's Batman and I don't have a cape, although I could use Cowboy's towel. " He stood on the bed and struck a pose. "I am the Winged Wraith, the Ghost of Bureaucratic Stupidity." He sat down heavily. "No, I gotta think of something else."
"You've flipped out, you stupid jock. Why in the name of God did you do an insane thing like that?"
"Why did you throw that guy in the alligator pond? Because you were fed up with senseless blockheads like him! Well, I'm a little fed up, too. `Lieutenant Peckerhead skillfully and courageously avoided heavy, accurate enemy opposition and pressed home a devastating attack on the Bang Whang Tree Farm. His courage and, tenacity reflected great credit, blah, blah, blah, and were in the highest traditions of the naval service."' His voice rose to a shout. "I've had it up to here with, that kind of crap."
He stared at Grafton. "So I got to thinking about aUh this shit and decided to take a shit. And I got a big laugh out of it and I felt a lot better about the whop thing and I wrote another half dozen recommendationa for medals and sent them to Rabbit Wilson and the jerk loved them and I didn't puke."
Jake turned toward the window. Through the mist he could barely make out the batwing of a junk. He watched
a merchant ship with sampans and barges clustered around it, unloading goods. "Everybody's a fucking hero," he said.
"That's the crazy part of the whole thing," Sammy said. "All those guys are heroes. They're out there risking their asses on every damned flight. They dodge the flak and SAMs, they press the targets, they put the bombs right on the money. Flight pay sure doesn't cover it. They deserve the medals." He stood up and kicked the footboard of the bed. "For what? Tell me for what! I sure as hell would like to know."
"I wish I knew . . ." Jake turned to face Sammy. "You ready for lunch?"
Sammy didn't answer right away. "Yeah. I guess so."
They were alone in the elevator. "I didn't do that last job," said Sammy. "I retired before the skipper of the ship got really pissed. Somebody else did that last one."
"I hope you stay retired."
"Yeah, I think I'm gonna. I like to fly too much." The elevator doors opened at the lobby level but Sammy didn't move. "Maybe there's a reason for it all-some kind of reason that makes sense-and I'm just not smart enough to figure it out."
"I hope so," Jake said, thinking of the flak, the missiles, and of Morgan. "I really hope so."
They walked into the lobby. "I wish you had asked her if she had a girlfriend."
"Next time."
Jake munched on a cookie that was too dry and sweet for his taste. fie was thirsty but the Darjeeling tea was still too hot to drink. He wanted a beer. His eyes wandered to the ivory-colored pillar behind her. It was as thick as four men and mounted on a marble base and gilded at the top. The high ceilings were gilded as well.
"I can see you don't want to talk about it," said Callie. Her chair faced the same direction as his and they had to turn awkwardly to speak. The tea and cookies-"biscuits" the Chinese waiter had called them --were on a low table between their chairs. "Tell me about the flying part. You really like that part of it, don't you?" She sipped her tea, waiting for him to answer. Without her hat her face was rounder, softer; she seemed younger. Her hair, which she had neatly brushed out, was less curly.
The many voices in the spacious lobby reverberated, and Jake had to speak uncomfortably loud to be heard. "Sure, I like the flying." Why had she brought up the goddamn war? "I used to think that I was the luckiest guy in the world-to be paid by the navy to do something I'd be happy to do for free."
Flight of the Intruder Page 15