Edge of War

Josh shrugged. “I slept okay.”

Kerfer pushed the beer toward the bartender. “Couple more,” he said in English.

“We have to talk, Lieutenant,” said Mara. “Over there. In private.”

Kerfer got up and followed her toward the side of the room. “You sure this place ain’t bugged?” he asked.

“We’re not talking inside.”

She went down the hall through a staff-only door and out into the back lot.

“You know your way around pretty well,” said Kerfer.

“Listen, your men have to keep their weapons out of sight.”

“Eric’s is under his shirt.”

“Little Joe was swinging his around like he was exposing himself in a girl’s boarding school.”

Kerfer laughed. “Well, you got him pegged.” He took out a cigar. “Copped this from the bartender. Cost me ten U.S. You figure that’s a good deal?”

“Conserve your money,” she told him. “I need to run a few more errands. We’ll meet at the train station at noon.”

“Train station?”

Mara stared at him.

“You’re out of your fucking mind, lady.” Kerfer clipped the end of the cigar with a cutter, then poked it in his mouth. “We’re going to take a train?”

“Why not?”

“Chinese’ll bomb it as soon as they can spare the iron.”

“We’ll be in Saigon by then.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“I know my way around. I don’t need you to hold my hand.”

“I’m supposed to get you back in one piece. You and Junior in there.”

“You were assigned to get me out from behind the lines. You did a fine job. I can take it from here.”

Kerfer laughed. He puffed up his cigar, pushing the flame with a series of sharp breaths.

“You’re just good enough to be dangerous,” he told her.

“Just get Josh to the station in one piece, okay? If you don’t want to come with us, then you don’t have to. We’re probably safer traveling on our own.”

“You believe that?”

“Yes.”

He laughed again, then blew a ring of smoke from his mouth. “I’ll have him there,” said Kerfer. “You trust me to do that?”

“Not really.”

8

Hanoi

Jing Yo had first met Hyuen Bo three years before, when he was assigned to visit Vietnam as part of a training regime for the commando regiment. He’d already been in combat for nearly a year, assisting guerrillas in Malaysia; the assignment was intended mostly as a rest period, but also helped familiarize him with the country of a traditional enemy. It would turn out to be the first of several trips, though at the time neither he nor his superiors knew that.

Hanoi had been his base of operations. As cover, he had enrolled in the college of science as a biology student. It was there that he met Hyuen Bo.

She was working as a clerk for the registrar, and helped him with his paperwork. He stared at her long black hair as she showed him the forms, entranced by her face and the scent of jasmine surrounding her.

He found an excuse to come back the next day, telling her that he was confused about whether he was assigned to the right class. There was no mistake, of course, and she looked at him oddly.

Raised in the cloistered monastery, Jing Yo had always been shy with women. With Hyuen Bo he was beyond awkward. But his attraction was so strong that he delayed his plans to travel to Saigon. He went to class a third day, and afterward went to the registrar, determined to see her again, though even as he came through the door he didn’t know what excuse he would invent.

Another woman was in her place.

All the blood seemed to drain from his head. He had faced gunfire more times than he could count, but the fear he felt at the possibility of never seeing the girl again was more palpable than anything he had felt during war.

The woman at the desk explained that Hyuen Bo had been given a new job. She was due to start in the central ministry as an aide and translator within a few days. The office had given her the rest of the week off as a reward for her good service.

Jing Yo managed to get her address. He went directly to the house. Hyuen Bo wasn’t there. He waited, sitting on the pavement in front of the door as the afternoon grew into evening. When darkness fell, he began to feel sick to his stomach — the only reason she could be staying out this late, he reasoned, was that she must be seeing a boyfriend.

Hyuen Bo’s neighbors watched from a distance. He could see them stealing glances, but none approached. He would have ignored them if they had.

Jing Yo sat cross-legged near the door to the house, sitting and staring into the growing blackness. He emptied his mind. He had done the same thing at the monastery for years and years, and so it did not feel overly difficult or boring. But his stomach continued in turmoil.

And then finally a cab pulled up, and Hyuen Bo stepped out.

Jing Yo felt his heart stop.

She started to walk right by him. He couldn’t say a word.

“You want something?” she said, turning her head.

“It’s me, the student, Jing Yo. I heard you are gone from the college.”

“I… What are you doing here?”

He rose. His tongue felt frozen but he forced it to work.

“I wanted to ask you to go out with me,” he said.

“A date?”

“Yes.”

She stared at him. “When?”

“Now. Or another time. Now would be better,” he added, feeling his heart would never work again if she didn’t say yes.

“We could take a walk,” she said finally.

And so they did.

* * *

“Why are you here?” Hyuen Bo whispered as he pushed her gently away from him.

“I have to find an American,” he told her.

“What?”

“Is there anyone in your apartment?”

“No. Come on in, yes. You don’t want anyone to see you.”

The small apartment was exactly as he remembered it. Two thinly upholstered chairs dominated the front room. A table sat to one side. A stereo rested on the top, an MP3 player connected by a snaking wire to his USB port.

“Do you want some tea?” she asked.

“Yes.”