“Shouldn’t they be in bunkers?” asked Christian.
“All of the important operations are. This is where they wanted to meet.”
“We’re being tested,” Perry told Zeus before following the ambassador inside.
Perry’s assessment seemed at least partially true, but as the meeting with the assistant deputy in charge of defense began, Zeus got the impression that the Vietnamese had no expectation that the Americans would really help them. This was probably because their memory of the American Vietnam War was still very fresh, even for the men, like the deputy, who were too young to have experienced it firsthand.
The deputy, Hai Ba, was roughly the equivalent of an undersecretary of defense. Only a few years older than Zeus, he moved with a stiff and very formal gait. He also spoke English well enough to dispense with a translator, though one remained discreetly behind him during the meeting.
“We are grateful for your interest,” he told Perry and the others after they were shown into a small conference room on the first floor. “It is a difficult time.”
“We believe we can help,” said Perry. “The president wants you to know that he is extremely interested in assisting Vietnam at this critical point, and that he wishes to help in any way possible. He told me this himself. Personally.”
“That is appreciated.”
The conversation continued like that for a while, until the ambassador interrupted to say that America was ready to make its goodwill tangible. The president was willing to provide real assistance, including military intelligence, if the Vietnamese wanted it.
“What conditions?” asked the deputy.
“No conditions,” said Behrens. “None.”
“A man that was held prisoner by us now wants to become our friend?”
“In the president’s view, Mr. Deputy, Vietnam is just the first of many states that will be attacked by the Chinese,” said Perry. “He wants to stop the attack here.”
“It has been a ferocious attack so far,” said Ba.
“And it’s going to get worse. We have an idea about where the Chinese are going,” added the general. “And we have a plan to stop them.”
“I see.”
Hai Ba listened as Perry and the ambassador outlined what other things American aid would mean — and what it wouldn’t mean. No loss of Vietnamese sovereignty, no large formations of American troops on its soil. America would be a guest, a helpful guest, ready to leave when requested.
And in exchange?
“In exchange you stop these bastards here, now,” said Perry. “It’s a fair deal for us. A very fair deal.”
The deputy soon excused himself, presumably to report back to his boss. A succession of army officials joined them for discussions that were basically variations of the one they had had with Ba: generalities, never specifics. Zeus was mostly an observer during these conversations, and an unimportant one at that.
Not one of the Vietnamese asked what sort of plan the Americans thought would stop the Chinese. Perry mentioned several times that he had brought along “experts” who had studied the Chinese tactical situation; each time the Vietnamese nodded politely before moving on to other subjects.
Deputy Ba reappeared about two hours later. Zeus noticed for the first time that he was walking with a limp. Looking at his leg, Zeus realized that there was a bandage or a brace on it.
“The premier would be pleased if you could see him,” Ba said.
“It would be my pleasure.”
The jeep and bus were waiting out front.
“Nothing like treating VIPs in style,” said Christian.
A police car had been added to the convoy. Its siren rebounded off the buildings as they sped through the center of town. Whole blocks had been wiped out, reduced to nothing but rubble, while the next street appeared completely unscathed.
“They’ll get the rest tonight,” said Christian. “Hopefully we’ll be out of here by then.”
The Vietnamese took them a few miles south of the city, past a suburban section to an area of farms. They passed a large military base, where soldiers were mustering into trucks and armored vehicles; they sped by so fast Zeus didn’t get a good enough look to guesstimate how big the unit was.
Two miles farther down, they veered off the highway onto a dirt road. It looked like a mistake — the area ahead was an open field. Two motorcycles raced out of nowhere, overtaking them as if they were standing still. Two more appeared, slowing and flanking the military vehicles at the front of the convoy. As the land dipped down, a wall topped by barbed wire came into view. There were warning signs in front of the wall: the area was mined. The wall itself was lined with soldiers and flanked by two tanks, both of them ancient T-54’s.
Passing through a pair of gates, the convoy swerved slowly in an S pattern around a set of concrete barriers designed to slow a would-be suicide bomber. A second wall, this one much higher and also topped by barbed wire, sat beyond the first. A pair of men held open the gate at its center.
Zeus counted more than thirty men standing on his side of the road after they passed through the gate. Mobile antiair missiles and guns were positioned around a wide dirt courtyard. A half dozen small, low-slung buildings sat in the middle of the dust.
The structures were entrances to an underground bunker complex. Far from elaborate, they consisted of large concrete slabs that sheltered wide stairways. These steps, about twice as wide as the bus Perry’s party had taken, ended in a narrow hall that had a passage at the side leading downward. The passage was so narrow only one person could go down at a time.
A pair of guards waited at the bottom of the ramp. Each one of the Americans was checked for weapons with a detector rod.
‘‘Your communication devices will not work here,” Hai Ba told them, watching as the checks were completed. “Just so you know.”
“Of course,” said Perry.
“The nonessential members of your party should stay behind,” added the deputy minister, glancing at the four Delta Force sergeants who were part of the security team. Perry told Ford that only officers would accompany him to the meeting. Ford nodded without comment; the order meant that only he would stay with Perry.
While Perry was still making all of the expected diplomatic noises, Zeus could tell the general was starting to get a little annoyed. This was even more obvious at the next security station, which was down another set of steps. Perry held his arms out with a frown Zeus recognized from their war games; he was probably one bad poke away from losing his patience.
The ambassador made a joke that the security was almost as bad as going to a Washington Nationals game. Perry didn’t laugh.
They were led to yet another set of stairs, these much wider. The stairwell had low-energy fluorescents that gave it a pure white glow, almost surrealistic under the circumstances.
A tall man dressed in a Western-style business suit met them at the base of the stairs. He was the foreign minister, and after greeting them he began talking to Behrens in Vietnamese. Despite the circumstances, both smiled broadly, chatting as they walked down the hall.
A thin industrial-style carpet covered the floor; the walls and floor of the passage were smooth concrete. A single steel door sat at the far end of the hall. A guard, armed with a Russian-made submachine gun, stood at attention in front of it. He moved to the side as they approached, watching the Americans warily.
The room behind the door looked like a staff room, dominated by two large tables pushed together. Simple wooden chairs were arranged around them; the chairs were slightly askew, as if a meeting had broken up a short while ago and no one had had a chance to put them back in place. There was nothing on the walls: no maps, no charts, no whiteboards or projection equipment. The only thing breaking the monotony of the dull white concrete was two doors on either side of the room. Both were solid steel, gray and featureless.
The foreign minister gestured to one side of the table. General Perry and the ambassador took seats at the center. Zeus, Christian, and Candy sat to their left; Perry’s translator and Captain Ford sat to the right. Zeus was closest to the door.
The foreign minister sat opposite them.
“Tell me now why you’ve come,” said the foreign minister. His English was not quite as sharp as the deputy
