Flight of the Intruder jg-1

by Stephen Coonts

  “I sure would. I might not have anything else.”

  “Ching-ni gei-womaner-shih-ssu-ge chao-tzu, lian ping pi-jyou, ” said Callie. Jake was startled again at her verbal metamorphosis.

  “You’re really good,” said Jake when the woman had gone away.

  Callie grinned. “How would you know?”

  “If we get dumplings and beer, I’ll know you’re good. If we get fried snakes or toasted rabbit ears, I’m know you blew it.”

  Callie threw back her head and laughed.

  The woman brought a mound of dumplings on a single plate, which they shared. Jake gingerly picked one up. “Pretty tasty,” he said with his mouth full. He reached for another.

  “I told you they’d be good.”

  After the dumplings were gone, Jake thought about ordering another beer.

  “Are you rejuvenated?” Callie asked.

  “Like an actress with a facelift. I’m ready for anything.

  “Good. Let’s go to the Peak, then. It’s a wonderful day for it.”

  As they headed for the Star Ferry, Callie took him down side streets they had not been on before. Jake stopped to look at a man, sitting on a stool, who was writing while a gray-haired woman standing next to him spoke. The black Chinese characters seemed to flow from his pen. “He’s a calligrapher,” explained Callie. “He’s writing a letter for the woman because she doesn’t know how to write. She’ll pay him for it.”

  “What’s the letter about?”

  “Wait just a minute.” Callie eavesdropped. After a moment she said, “My goodness, Jake! Her granddaughter has had twins! There’s great rejoicing over this event, which portends many good things for the family. But I don’t know who she’s writing to.”

  “That’s great news,” Jake said. “Congratulations,” he said to the woman, who looked up at him. Jake raised two fingers in a peace or victory sign. The great-grandmother smiled back and bowed her head in acknowledgment. When they started to walk away, the woman called out something to them. Jake asked, “What did she say to us?”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure I should tell you.”

  “Come on. What’d she say?”

  “All right, I’ll tell you. She said that she hopes we’re similarly blessed.”

  “That’s a nice thought.”

  The second-class seats on the Star Ferry had the wooden slats that made Jake fidget. Yesterday the water had been dark, but today it was blue-green and sparkled. Jake enjoyed the breeze, although it some times carried a smell of fish. He marveled at how these slow-moving junks and other small craft managed to avoid colliding with the ferry. Callie sat next to him on the open side of the ferry, and her yellow dropped earrings danced.

  When Jake put his arm around her she put her hand on his leg.

  As it neared the pier, the ferry vibrated from backing engines. Callie said, “Let’s take a cab. Unless you want to hike uphill.”

  “I left my mountain-climbing shoes at home.”

  They waited at the Peak Tram station on Garden Road, passing up opportunities to board until Callie could be sure of getting seats at the rear of the tram on the right side, where the view would be best.

  Pulled on rails by a thick steel cable, the rumbling packed train rose steeply toward the Peak, and the city fell away behind. The L-shaped Hong Kong Hilton and other high rises seemed to be shrinking. Across the street from the tram station was the American consulate, an attractive, balconied building that Callie pointed out to Jake after they had left the cab. She had also pointed out Estoril Courts, her apartment house a tan concrete building two blocks from the consulate Most of Callie’s neighbors had put out flowers and plants on their balconies; Callie had told him that from her balcony you could see the harbor, but new construction was blocking the view.

  The tram stopped a third time, with a gentle rocking back and forth. Jake said, “How many more stops before we get to the top?”

  “Who cares? It’s such a beautiful day!”

  The tram rose even more sharply and Jake felt that he was more lying on his back than sitting down. He said to Callie, “If this tram moved eighty times faster, you’d have an idea of what it’s like to zoom-climb in an A-6.”

  “Sounds like great fun,” she said. “Will you take me flying someday?”

  Jake looked at her closely. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he said, “You can count on it.”

  At the Peak, hawkers selling photographic transparencies and other souvenirs aggressively worked the crowds spilling out of the tram station.

  Callie took Jake’s hand and led him across the street where there was an outdoor restaurant.

  Jake stopped. “I hope you’re not going to suggest we have tea again.”

  “Not at this tourist trap. But what would be wrong with having tea?”

  “Sammy gave me a lot of flak about meeting you for tea. He calls you my tea-and-crumpets girl.”

  She laughed. “I’ve been called worse. Well, you can tell Sammy that I think he’s a nice guy but a bit presumptuous.

  “Presumptuous?”

  “Don’t you think so? Calling me ‘your girl’?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” said Jake with a grin. “Sammy’s not a guy who jumps to conclusions.”

  Reflecting, Callie pursed her lips. “I’m nobody’s ‘girl,” actually. But I suppose that I could be somebody’s…… She gave a laugh. “No! That wasn’t coming out the way I intended it to.” Callie paused, and said, “Maybe I should try saying it in Chinese.”

  “No, don’t do that,” he laughed. “Then I’d never understand you. Look, let’s try this. Why don’t we see what we can do to not make a liar out of Sammy. Hell we’ve got to protect his honor.”

  Callie shook her head slowly. “Jake Grafton, your a tricky SOB. But all right. I’m willing to explore, for today anyway, how we can preserve Sammy’s honor.”

  “Time’s awastin’,” Jake said. He put his hand around her arms and gave her a brief kiss. Then he drew her close to him, and watched her dark eye slowly close; he felt her relax in his arms. He kissed her again, and this time her body pressed against his.

  Their tongues touched once, surprising him, and something electric jumped in his body. He didn’t want to stop, but she eased them apart. Jake became aware that he was breathing heavily, and he noticed Callie was too.

  Running her hand through her hair, Callie said “We’ve got to stop doing this in public.”

  “I don’t think the public gives a damn. But I’m easy. I’ll do it wherever you want.”

  “Come on, smart ass,” she said, taking his hand.

  “Let’s see what we came here to see.”

  They stood together near a rusty coin-operated telescope, to which a young Chinese man wearing aviatortype sunglasses held up his gesticulating, noisy, chubby-legged son. Jake was watching them when Callie spoke. “It’s so clear I can’t believe it. This is really unusual. The pollution is getting so bad that very often you can’t see much.”

  “The visibility is terrific. It’d be a great day for flying.” He looked at the harbor, and at the disorderly congestion of sailing craft and motorboats. Only the Star ferries seemed to have destinations. He counted three of them moving between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon.

  “See that mountain in the distance, Jake? That’s The Castle Peak. Behind it a few miles is Deep Bay, where Wang Chiang’s brother drowned.”

  “I see it.”

  “On the other side of the bay is mainland China.”

  Jake gazed at the massive blue-gray mountains. They made the green Virginia mountains he knew so well seem like mere hills. Rugged country if you were shot down, he reflected. “Yeah,” he said at last.

  “They’re impressive.”

  “Sometimes I come here alone,” Callie told him. “I usually walk along the road to the other side of the Peak to get away from the crowds. It’s a good place to sort things out. To try and figure out what you believe in.

  “Have you figured anything out
yet?” asked Jake, still looking at the mountains.

  Callie considered the question. “Nothing earthshaking. I’ve always believed in God. But I decided that organized religion doesn’t do much for me.

  I guess I don’t want anything intruding between me and God.”

  She smiled. “Like Moses, I prefer direct contact.”

  Jake grinned. “But Moses had a mountain. Have you ever brought stone tablets up here and looked around for bushes on fire?”

  “No,” she laughed. “I’m still looking for the right mountain.” She canted her head. “Maybe I should place an ad in the newspapers.”

  “Let’s see. You could say: Wanted, one mountain.

  Must be able to withstand huge bolts of lightning, hurricane-force winds-and a voice a thousand times louder than thunder.”

  Callie picked it up. “Will pay generous price for the right mountain, plus a bonus if equipped with stone tablets. Call Sundays. No agents, please.”

  They laughed together.

  Callie’s eyes were still wet when she asked, “What do you believe in?”

  “These days I’m not sure. But I do believe this. I believe in Jake Grafton. I believe if he’s tough, enough alert enough, and good enough, he can keep himself in one piece. Maybe.”

  Callie furrowed her brow. “That sounds pretty macho to me. Chest-thumping stuff.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “You’re talking about surviving. I can understand that. But you must have some beliefs about other things.”

  “What difference does it make what I believe in if I don’t survive? I’ve got to believe in myself. If I don’t have confidence in myself, I’m dead. If you’re short of confidence and you fly off carriers, you’re going to be history pretty quick.”

  “Haven’t you ever lost your confidence?”

  “There’ve been times when it got mighty shaky, but I don’t think I’ve ever lost it. In Intruders, the planes we fly, you get a lot of moral support from the guy sitting next to you in the cockpit, the bombardier.”

  “This flying you do sounds tough. I guess you can’t afford to make mistakes.”

  “Every pilot makes mistakes. In fact, there’s no such thing as a perfect flight. You make a lot of mistakes. Some you correct, and some you can’t. You just can’t make the mistake that will kill you. That’s where the confidence comes in. You have to know you’ll never make that fatal slip.”

  They came down from the Peak on a tram that was not full. The late-afternoon breeze was cool and Callie huddled next to him. They had hardly spoken since boarding the tram.

  “A plugged nickel for your thoughts?” said Callie.

  “They’re worth more than that. I was thinking about you.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

  “I sure as hell don’t want to leave you. I wish I had more time here.”

  “I wish you had a lot more time here. But let’s not get gloomy. The night is young, and I’m so hungry I could eat half a horse.”

  “Half a horse?”

  “I’ve never been hungry enough to eat a whole horse.”

  With a laugh, Jake said, “I’m hungry enough to eat a team. But what I could really go for instead is a good steak.”

  They took a cab to Jimmy’s Kitchen, a Western-style restaurant that Callie said was a favorite with the consulate crowd. They were shown to a table in the corner of the dark, wood-paneled restaurant by a waiter with bushy eyebrows. Jake was amazed at his resemblance to Chou En-Lai, whose picture he had seen in news magazines.

  “I thought you only drank beer,” said Callie, dipping a shrimp into cocktail sauce.

  “I like scotch, too.” Jake took another swig. He buttered a roll and ate it in three bites. When the waiter brought their salads, Jake ordered another scotch on the rocks.

  Callie sipped her gin and tonic. Then she said casually, “I’m still not sure what you believe in besides Jake Grafton.”

  Jake watched the candlelight flickering in her eyes. When he answered he said, “There’s something else I believe in. I believe in keeping the faith with the guys I fly with. You try not to let each other down.”

  “Does everybody keep the faith, the men you fly with?”

  “Yeah, for the most part.” Jake put down his drink and examined it. Then he spoke without looking up. “It has to be that way. Especially with your bombardier. Jake raised his head. “You have to depend on him an he has to depend on you. If either of you seriously screws up, you can both die. There has to be the feeling between you of great trust. But it’s not anything you talk about. If it’s there, you know it. If it’s not, you know that, too.”

  Then he spoke with mock seriousness emphasizing each word with a jab of his finger. “Never fly with a man you don’t trust.”

  “I don’t go anywhere with a man I don’t trust,” Callie countered.

  She took a bite of salad and chewed meditatively. “So, not everybody keeps the faith.”

  “Some do a better job of it than others.”

  “I know you do a good job of it. I can tell.”

  Jake took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’d like to think so. But sometimes I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked with surprise in her voice.

  He hadn’t planned to tell her about Morgan. when he started out he wondered why he was telling her. But in the end he told her everything about his last flight with Morgan, including what the cockpit looked like when it was over. The dreams, though, he didn’t tell her about.

  “Surely you don’t blame yourself?” Callie said. “It doesn’t make sense to do that.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t make sense. But I feel some responsibility. Like Chiang does for his brother.”

  “You did what you could do,” said Callie.

  “You can’t do more than that. You kept the faith.” Chou En-Lai’s double was supervising the flaming production of two chateaubriands when Callie returned from the restroom. A waiter Jake had not seen before whisked away the glass in which he had been rattling his ice. Callie put her bag on the corner of the table. “I hope you’re still plenty hungry.

  “They look huge.”

  “I could scarf them both.”

  “You just keep your mitts off mine, Jake. I’m starving. The waiter put a glass of red wine in front of Callie. Looking at Jake’s fresh scotch, she said, “Another one?”

  Jake shrugged. “I didn’t order it.”

  “Oh.”

  With a smile and a flourish, the waiter presented her with a chateaubriand that sizzled in its plate. Callie thanked him in Cantonese. She waited until Jake had been served before cutting her meat.

  Callie said, “Fantastic.”

  His mouth full, Jake nodded enthusiastically. They said little until the steaks were nearly gone.

  ‘You picked a great place,” he said.

  “I’ve been thinking,” said Callie. “Thinking about you. “Not much profit in that.”

  “I think you’re a good man, Jake.” She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “I’m glad you told me about Morgan. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to do that.”

  “It’s not a nice story.” Jake shoved two french fries around his plate with his fork. “I just wish I was sure what Morgan died for.”

  Removing her hand, Callie said, “You don’t think we ought to be in Vietnam?”

  “That’s not what I mean,” said Jake. “I mean that I worry that Morgan died for nothing because the bastards in Washington won’t let us win the war.

  They’re afraid to do the things we need to do to win. We could win the war, you know, if they’d let us.”

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t be in Vietnam at all.”

  Jake tossed off the last of his scotch. He was uneasy. “It was probably a mistake that we got involved in the first place. Hindsight and
all. Especially when you consider that there’s hardly any support for the war at home. But that’s water over the dam. The fact is, we are there, and I don’t think we can just cut and run.”

  “Are you saying that we should stay there only to save face?”

  “No, I’m not saying that, that we should stay for that reason only. Look at it this way. What kind of credibility would the U.S. have, what kind of respect would we have, if we ran from a fight for freedom? Leader of the free world? We’d make a mockery of that.” Jake paused and traced a circle with his fingertip on the white linen tablecloth. “And there are other reasons.”

  “I’d like to hear one that makes sense.”

  Jake felt his face flush. He tried to speak calmly. “Okay. I’ll give you one real good reason. Right now there’re over a thousand guys in prison camps in Vietnam-nobody knows for sure how many. Those men are being starved, tortured, humiliated. Our POWs are going through hell while long-haired creeps in the States are burning their draft cards or hiding in graduate schools and trying to convince themselves the war is immoral because they know, deep down, that they don’t have the guts to fight.” Jake coughed, and went on in a lower voice. “We have to get our POWs out. If we don’t they’ll rot to death in the prison camps. We’ve either got to win the war or put enough pressure on the commies to make them return the POWs and account for our M I A - We’ve got to keep faith with those guys.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Jake. I’d like very much to see those men released, too. But hundreds of people are dying in the war every day. Think of the many thousands of lives that would be saved if we could end the war now.”

  “End the war now? Cut and run? If we abandon the POWs, if we break faith with them, where will we get men to fight the next war?” He picked up his glass and looked into it. “All we have is each other.”

  He put the glass down and met her eyes. “Let’s be realistic, Callie. For you, the war might as well be on the far side of the moon.”

  “Well it isn’t,” Callie said softly. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. Theron, my brother, was-“