“By shooting them?”
Carl shook his head. “I crawled into their huts at night and slit their throats.”
Ami turned pale.
“My war was very personal, Ami. I looked into the eyes of the men I killed.”
“Were…were you still in the Unit when you went AWOL in 1986?”
“Yes.”
“But the Vietnam War must have ended a few years after you joined.”
“The Unit still had its uses after we left Vietnam. The communists didn’t go away. There was still the cold war.”
“How did your missions change?”
“There was more espionage. I investigated suspected spies; I used my intelligence skills to bug embassies.” Rice smiled coldly. “I also bugged congressmen and officials of the United States government.”
“Americans?”
Rice nodded. “I wasn’t told what use was made of the information I collected, but I noticed that some of the senators or representatives I had under surveillance changed their votes on certain bills or initiated legislation that went against their former voting patterns. I also found it interesting that the General remained the head of the AIDC no matter who was president.”
“Did you ever…were there more assassinations?”
Rice nodded.
“Was this in Vietnam still?”
“No. The focus changed. There was a Russian agent in Madrid, some people who were working for the Chinese.”
“How did you…?”
“I stabbed the Russian to death in an alley behind a bar and I…I shot the two subjects who were working for the Chinese.”
“How many people have you killed, Carl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Didn’t it…bother you?”
Carl took a sip of water while he considered her question.
“At first, no. I had never killed anyone before we went after the electronics equipment in that Navy plane. During the mission I was so scared and exhausted that I was running on instinct, like an animal. Then the patrol boat rescued us. I was fed, I was given dry clothes, and I got some sleep. After I woke up I went on deck. I remember sitting with my back against the pilothouse wall, feeling safe for the first time in days. The jungle was quiet and beautiful. I was completely at peace. That’s when it occurred to me that I had killed several men.
“In training, I wondered if I would freeze, but I hadn’t panicked. I realized that I hadn’t thought about the killing at all. I’d just done what I was trained to do. The act of killing had not been a cosmic event. There was nothing philosophical about it. In the heat of battle it was simply a choice between them and me.”
“This was in combat, though,” Ami said. “You told me that you killed the Russian by…you stabbed him to death. And the Chinese spies, that wasn’t in the heat of battle. Did you feel differently about those killings?”
“You want to know if I felt remorse?”
“Yes.”
“The people I killed were the enemy, and it was my job to kill the enemy, but I never enjoyed it. I believed I was doing the right thing. That helped me deal with what I’d done. But the longer it went on…” Carl paused. His eyes dropped to the covers on his hospital bed. “I had bad dreams. I had doubts.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WASHINGTON, D.C./ LOST LAKE, CALIFORNIA/ ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA-1986
Carl had met his date in a singles bar the previous Saturday. She was attractive and shy and sweet. Even if their relationship got off the ground, Carl knew that it would end within months, as always. Usually the women called it quits when they grew tired of his sudden disappearances, his moodiness, or his inability to display any real emotions. Whenever the woman wanted something permanent, Carl would pull the plug. Sex without strings was a good way to forget, if only for a short time, the vivid memories that were starting to creep into his head more frequently, even when he was not asleep.
Carl always chose an upscale Vietnamese restaurant near Dupont Circle for the first date. He had just finished impressing the young woman by ordering in Vietnamese when Vanessa Wingate came in on the arm of a man who could have stepped right out of
Carl’s date was asking him where he had learned Vietnamese. They all did, so he was able to tell her his programmed answer while he stood up.
“Will you excuse me for a minute?” Carl asked. “I just spotted an old friend I haven’t seen in years.”
Carl’s date followed his gaze. She kept smiling and said, “Sure,” but Carl would have known that she wasn’t happy if he’d been paying any attention. By the time he was halfway to the maitre d’s station he had forgotten that he was on a date.
Seconds before he reached her, Vanessa saw Carl pushing through the crowd. They hadn’t seen each other since high school, and confusion flickered across her face at first. Then Carl saw amazement and finally what he had been hoping for, a wide smile of welcome.
“My God!” Vanessa said. Her date looked at her, then followed her eyes and saw Carl.
“Vanessa,” Carl said, smiling as broadly as his former lover.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live in D.C. Well, in Virginia, really. Are you living here or just visiting?”
“I’m in Georgetown.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Vanessa’s date asked, annoyed at being left out of the conversation.
“Sorry. Bob Coyle, this is Carl Rice, an old friend.”
“Glad to meet you, Carl.”
Coyle’s crushing handshake told Carl firmly and clearly that Coyle was an alpha male protecting his mate. Carl let Coyle stake out his territory by submitting to the painful pressure. He could see that Vanessa’s date wanted him to leave, and he didn’t want to spoil her evening.
“Look, I’m with someone,” Carl said, “but I’d love to catch up on old times. How can I get in touch with you?”
Coyle scowled when Vanessa told Carl her home phone number.
“Nice meeting you, Bob,” Carl said as he returned to his table. As soon as he was seated, Carl explained that Vanessa was an old high school friend. His date accepted the explanation and renewed her question about Carl’s knowledge of Vietnamese. Carl kept her entranced with war stories-most of them lies-but he could not stop thinking about Vanessa.
Vanessa was sitting at a quiet table in the back of a bistro just a few blocks from her apartment in Georgetown. She was dressed in a tan pantsuit and white silk blouse and looked terrific. Carl was wearing gray slacks, an Oxford blue shirt, and a blazer. His hair was shaggy and he looked more like a young lawyer than a member of the armed forces.
