“Soon,” she said.
“That ain’t good enough, kid.”
“You’re calling me kid now?”
“I call everybody kid. I figure that’s better than lady, right?”
“Mara works.”
Kerfer frowned. She could only guess at his age — late twenties, maybe thirties. He had a rough face that seemed made of unpolished stone. His green civilian shirt and blue jeans made him look more military, not less, even though he was unshaven and his hair edged over his ears.
“All right. So Mara — what are we doing?”
“We need to get south of Phu Xuyen,” she told him.
“Where’s that?”
“Twenty-one miles south of Hanoi. Things are less tense there. We shouldn’t have to worry about being stopped.”
“I thought Major Murphy said these guys are on our side now.”
“I wouldn’t trust them for the time of day.”
Kerfer frowned again — it seemed to be his basic facial expression — then slowly nodded.
“What about the little girl?” he asked.
“Washington says she can come back with us,” said Mara. “That’s what you want, right?”
“Hey, I don’t care. Better than an orphanage, right?”
M? had a hell of a story to tell, which was the real reason Washington wanted her back. Still, she could live a far better life in the States than she could here. Regardless of the war.
“When are we getting out?” Kerfer asked.
“I’ll tell you in plenty of time.”
Kerfer pushed himself back in the seat, extending his legs to relax. “Girl jumping, too?”
“She can come with me. We’ll go out uphill. It’s like stepping off an escalator.”
“I’ve done it before.” He smelled of sweat. “Country’s falling apart?”
“Not really,” said Mara. “If that was happening, the train would be packed.”
“People are afraid to take the train because they know the Chinese will bomb it soon,” said Kerfer. “It’s an easy target.”
“They haven’t bombed it yet,” said Mara.
“That’s because they figured they would waltz right through. They wanted the train. Now that they’re starting to slow down, they’ll bomb everything in sight. They won’t care about how many they kill. They’ll just lay it all to waste.” He turned to her. “That bother you?”
“It’s not my job to be bothered by that.”
Kerfer laughed. “You do a good imitation of being a hard-ass,” he told her. “I’ll give you that.”
The train started braking. Mara looked out the window. She wasn’t sure where they were, but she knew they couldn’t be much more than halfway there; they hadn’t even passed Phu yet. She got up and walked to the vestibule of the car.
“Problem?” asked Kerfer, following.
“We shouldn’t be stopping,” she said, taking a train key from her pocket and opening the door.
“Nice,” said Kerfer.
Mara leaned out of the car and saw a contingent of soldiers near the side of the track ahead. They must be the reason the train was stopping.
It was too late to run for it.
“Back in the car. Group together,” she told Kerfer. “I do the talking.”
“They going to ask us for passports?” said Kerfer.
“Hopefully not.”
“We got ‘em.” The SEALs had prepared civilian covers for this very contingency. They were a soccer team, in the country for an international goodwill tour.
“Hold on to them,” said Mara. “The girl is my daughter. I talk. No one else.”
Josh straightened and took a slow breath. The putrid air of the closet-sized bathroom only made him feel worse. What he needed was fresh air.
“Josh? Stay in there,” said Mara outside. “You’re all right?”
“Yeah.”
“There are soldiers coming onto the car. Stay in the bathroom. Don’t come out unless I tell you.”
Josh heard her tell Squeaky to stay there as well. He pressed the tap to get some water and wash his hands, but nothing flowed. And then there were Vietnamese voices in the car.
Mara had gone back to sit with M?. The little girl was tense, sitting stiffly upright. They were two seats from the end of the rear door, just up from the restroom.
She wouldn’t have minded the soldiers at all, except for the fact that she had to jump from the train. She wasn’t sure how they were going to react if half a dozen foreigners went off the side.
The train began moving. Mara pretended to be interested in the scenery.
Josh was still in the restroom as the train started to move again. Now that the soldiers were in their seats, Mara decided it was time to get him back out. So she went over and put her head to the door. Squeaky blinked at her, trying to puzzle out what she had in mind.
“Honey, are you okay?” asked Mara. She made her voice just loud enough for the soldiers to hear, guessing that they would know at least a little English.
“I’m okay,” said Josh.
“Come out and sit with me,” said Mara, her voice softer.
Josh immediately opened the door. Squeaky hesitated for a second, then slipped inside as if he’d been waiting.
“What are we doing?” asked Josh.
“You can have the window,” said Mara, gently pushing his side.
He slipped M? between them and sat down. A few seconds later, the door at the front of the car opened. Another pair of Vietnamese soldiers entered — a lieutenant and a corporal.
The lieutenant immediately frowned at the foreigners. “Why are you on this train?” he said to Kerfer, who was sitting alone in the seat closest to the door.
“Going to Ho Chi Minh City,” said Kerfer. He held his ticket, folded down, in his hand.
The lieutenant shook his head. “You’re Americans?” His English was good, his accent by now familiar.
Mara got out of her seat. “We were all here on a visit to Hanoi University,” she told the soldier, walking forward. She switched to Vietnamese. “The government advised us to join the rest of our group in Saigon.”
“Who?” said the lieutenant, still in English.
Mara used the first name that came into her head — Phu, claiming he was from the education ministry, which had sponsored their soccer visit. The soldier would have no way of checking, and she calculated that if she seemed sure and exact, he would eventually drop the matter.
But she calculated wrongly.
“We will search your bags,” said the lieutenant.
“Why?” said Mara, switching to English as well so Kerfer would know what was going on. “Why are you going to search our bags? Do you think we are thieves?”
“Let me see your passport and visa,” demanded the lieutenant.
“Okay. Let me get it.”
