“Some tea?” Jing Yo asked.
Hyuen Bo went to the kitchen to make it. Jing Yo followed.
“I don’t want this tea,” said Jing Yo loudly, inspecting the cupboard. “I’ve had this tea — it is always disagreeable.”
Hyuen Bo looked at him, confused.
“Let’s see if there’s a shop on the street,” he told her. “It should take only a minute. Come.”
She followed him out silently. He explained on the street.
“It is likely our conversations will he overheard by spies,” Jing Yo told her. “I should have realized this before. You must be very careful. Talk very little.”
“How long are we staying?”
“I’m not sure,” said Jing Yo truthfully.
His phone rang. It was Mr. Tong.
“Your subject is in District One. Near the river. We will give you more details shortly.”
The line went dead.
“I have to go see someone,” Jing Yo told Hyuen Bo. “I’ll be back.”
“When?”
“Soon. I’m not sure. In the meantime, trust no one.”
“I trust you.”
Jing Yo felt a pang. He was the last person she should trust, though he didn’t have the heart to tell her.
6
The grilled meat tasted far better than Josh had thought it would, and he quickly finished it, surprised at how hungry he was.
“One thing you have to learn, kid, is keep your strength up.” Kerfer nursed his beer. “Your body’s a furnace. Keep it hot.”
“Isn’t that how I got sick? Eating stuff?”
“You just ate the wrong stuff. Besides, who cares how you got sick? You work on getting better. War is an endurance race,” added Kerfer. “It’s a marathon. You’re a scientist. You ought to know this shit.”
“I have allergies. I can’t eat certain things.”
“Like burgers?”
“Burgers I can eat.”
“Then you’re good. What kind of allergies?” Kerfer asked. “Like hay fever?”
“Yeah. It has to do with the enzymes. They’re the same as in the pollen. I can’t eat apples. Nuts.”
“Beer?”
“Beer I’m okay with.”
Kerfer went over to the minifridge.
“You have your choice of a Foster’s that looks like it’s been in the fridge since Saigon belonged to the French, or a Tsing Tao. Chinese beer. Foster’s is a can,” added Kerfer, “Tsing Tao is a bottle.”
“Bottle.”
“Reasonable choice.” Kerfer took it out.
“Doesn’t seem to twist off,” said Josh, after nearly tearing his hand on it.
“Gimme.”
Josh handed it over. He wouldn’t have been surprised if the SEAL had used his teeth to rip the top off. But his solution was much more elegant, not to mention dentally hygienic — he placed the cap against his belt buckle and popped it off.
“You’ll feel better in a few,” said Kerfer, handing it over.
Josh took a small sip. The cold liquid was bitter in his mouth.
M? was sleeping on the couch. Kerfer had put a blanket over her.
“Wish I could sleep like that,” said Josh.
“You do. You just don’t realize it,” said Kerfer. He pulled over the chair and leaned back. “You like being a scientist?”
“Scientist? Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Always find something new.”
“About the weather?”
“About how plants interact with it. And how we interact with plants.”
“We eat them.”
“If there are any.”
“Plenty of plants, kid.”
“Not really. That’s what this war is about.”
“It’s about oil, kid. You notice how cheap gas is here compared to anywhere else? Hell, you can fill up a car with less than a hundred bucks.”
“The government subsidizes it.”
“Sure, because they’re Commies. But the reason they can do that is they have the oil fields offshore. You know what gas goes for back in the States. You think we could subsidize it?”
“No. But we’re not Communists.”
“Not yet,” said Kerfer.
“Really, it is about food,” said Josh. “China’s in a drought. Their crop production has been cut in half each year over the past three. That’s a huge amount of rice.”
“And?”
“Vietnam is getting two and three crops a year.”
“That’s because of the weather?”
“Partly. And changes in the seeds and the way they grow. That’s what the war’s about. Food.”
There was a knock on the door. Kerfer went over, pistol out. “Yeah?”
“It’s Mara. Let me in.”
He cracked the door open, peeking into the hallway before letting her in.
“What are you doing with a beer?” demanded Mara as soon as she saw Josh. “You’re supposed to be sick.”
“Don’t go schoolmarm on the poor kid, for Christ’s sake,” said Kerfer. “He’s trying to get better.”
“What is that, SEAL medicine?”
Kerfer smiled. But Mara remained cross.
“They told me downstairs the prescription came,” said Mara.
“Little Joe brought it up,” said Josh.
“Let me see the pills.”
“Man, you are a schoolmarm,” said Kerfer.
Josh handed over the bottle.
“They’re some sort of penicillin thing,” said Kerfer. “I checked them. You think I’m going to let him take poison?”
“You have him drinking beer.”
“It’s good for him.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “Put the beer down. We have to go for a walk,” she told Josh. “Do you feel up to it?”
“I can walk.”
