Edge of War

the tables overlooking the river were empty; the few patrons in the place were huddled near the bar.

The sun had just set. Ordinarily, the view of the river and nearby city would have been spectacular, lights beginning to glow everywhere, ships passing below. But now the view was one of a darkened city. Boats passed as shadows below in the waning light. The far bank looked like a cluster of cards set down on an uneven table, waiting for players to arrive.

A waiter approached as Mara scanned the horizon. “The lights will be turned off very soon,” he warned in English, “because of the war restrictions. Would you like a drink?”

“No, I’m good,” she said, though she instantly craved one. “I was just leaving.”

Josh and Kerfer were watching television when she got back to the room. The newscaster was telling a story about how the “glorious forces” had won a “courageous victory” against the “dastardly invaders.” The newscast was in Vietnamese, but an English translation, more or less accurate, rolled across the bottom of the screen.

“Things must be worse off than we thought,” said Kerfer, “if they’re already declaring victory.”

He drained the beer he had in his hand and went to the minifridge to fetch another.

“Better go easy on that,” said Mara.

“I’m not driving.”

The can opened with a loud pop. Kerfer took a swig, then went over to the desk and took a pad of paper from the top drawer.

Place bugged? he wrote.

“Maybe,” answered Mara.

“When do we get out of here?”

Good question, she thought. She bent over and wrote, I have to call home in a few minutes. I’ll find out.

“Good,” said Kerfer.

It will take a few minutes. I have to find a good place to call where I won’t be overhead.

Kerfer put his hand on her back. She almost jumped.

“Sooner we’re out of here, the better,” he whispered.

Mara straightened. “Yes.”

Kerfer pulled over the pad. You want me to go with you?

“I can manage,” she said.

* * *

“She ain’t that bad-looking,” Kerfer told Josh after Mara left.

“I didn’t say she was.”

“But that’s what you were thinking. You go for the brainy type, I’ll bet.”

“I don’t have a type.”

“Sure you do. Everybody’s got a type.”

“What’s your type?”

“Naked and drunk. In that order.” Kerfer laughed and sat down in his chair. “I think she likes me. What do you think?”

Josh shrugged.

“You want her for yourself, huh?” Kerfer laughed again. “Don’t worry, Josh. If it turns out we’re going to be here for a while, we’ll find somebody for you. Plenty of girls in this town.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That how you got sick?” “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Probably from something you drank,” said Kerfer. “Shame, though. You gotta pay the price, you oughta at least enjoy the meal.”

* * *

Mara crossed the street in front of the hotel and began walking north along the edge of the park bordering the river. A naval patrol craft was tied up at the landing nearby. She walked past it, catching glimpses of the ship through the trees.

Mara spotted a bench as she neared the entrance to the ferry slip across the Saigon River. There was no one else nearby, so she sat down and took out the phone.

DeBiase answered as soon as she called. “I hope they fluffed the pillows for you,” he told her.

“First-class service,” she said. “What’s the deal on our flight?”

“We’re still working on it. We’re trying to stay under the radar.”

“Damn it, Jess, this is bullshit. Just get us the hell out of here.”

DeBiase took a long, slow breath, the sort he always took before putting on his sturdy professional voice. Sure enough, his next words were almost surreally calm.

“We’ll get you out. There’s a lot of politics involved, Mara. Not just there, but at home.”

“Crap on the politics.”

“I know you’re tired. Keep it together.”

“I’m not tired,” she said. “Josh is sick. He’s got some sort of urinary tract infection. The doctor said it might be in his kidneys. We have to get him out.”

“Did you get him medicine?”

“I’m working on it. That’s not the point.”

“Tomorrow the airport will reopen. The airplane will come in. You’ll go out. Why don’t you get a good night’s sleep? That’s what you need.”

Politics. Mara wondered if maybe some people in the agency didn’t want them to get out. Maybe they wanted to see Vietnam crushed. Or maybe a few dead Americans would help whatever cause they were pushing.

Maybe somebody’s father or uncle or brother had been killed during the Vietnam War. Ancient history to most people — but not if the war took someone close to you. Personal grudges had a lot more to do with what happened in the geopolitical world than people thought.

“You’re still with me, Mara?”

“I’m here.”

“Listen, I’m getting pinged,” he said, using one of his slang expressions for receiving a message over the secure text message system. “Lucas wants to talk to you. He needs to talk to Josh, too. He’s in D.C.”

“Josh isn’t with me.”

“That’s okay. Can you get him?”

“I don’t know. He may be sleeping. I told you, he’s sick.”

“I know… Why don’t you see if you can get him, though? We’ll call you in a half hour.”

“When you call, tell me when the airplane is going to pick us up,” she said.

“I’m doing my best.”

5

Ho Chi Minh City

Ms. Hu’s assistant Mr. Tong gave Jing Yo the key to an apartment in District 5, better known as Cholon, or Chinatown. The area would not have been Jing Yo’s first choice. But he was not in a position to argue.

A notice was posted in the entrance hallway to the building declaring that the city was under complete blackout rules as of 8 p.m. All patriotic citizens were expected to comply. A similar handbill had been pushed under the door of the apartment.

The unit was spacious, with two bedrooms besides a large living room and kitchen. There were a few pieces of furniture, low couches and tables in the Vietnamese style, as well as two Western-style easy chairs.