Shock of War

Theodore pushed in. Linda Holmes, his legislative coordinator, came in behind him. Both had serious expressions. Holmes, in fact, looked as if someone in her family had just died.

“We need to look at C-SPAN,” said Theodore, walking toward the TV.

“Here,” said Greene, picking up the remote control from the edge of his desk.

The television snapped on. C-SPAN was broadcasting from the House floor. Thurman Goodwell, a first-year congressman from New Jersey, was making a speech.

“And I tell you solemnly, and with the utmost sincerity, that I have absolute proof, absolute proof of what I am saying.” Goodwell was a short man — no more than five-four. He was young, too — no more than thirty. Greene thought he looked like a child dressed up as a congressman. “I have absolute proof that American troops are fighting and dying in Vietnam.”

“Shit,” muttered Theodore.

Holmes’s face was white.

“I am asking this house, this body, this duly elected body of representatives, to conduct a hearing, to start an immediate investigation into this and other illegalities,” continued Goodwell. “An investigation that will lead, inextricably, to the impeachment of President George Chester Greene.”

“Motherfucker,” said Theodore.

“You can say that again,” snapped Greene, flipping off the TV.

23

American embassy, Hanoi

Zeus ran his hand over the stubble on his chin, tracing the boundary of the wound across his neck. The nurse who cleaned it was so appalled by the dirt and ooze that she had wanted to put him out, fearful of the pain. But Zeus thought an anesthetic would put him out for weeks, not hours, and that was simply too much time to lose.

The cloth and gauze she daubed so lightly against his skin felt like an ax at first. Now, though, it felt slightly warm and even pleasant, as if it were a hot rag a barber applied after a close, bracing shave.

“Major Murphy, I was looking for you.”

Zeus rose as Juliet Greig came into the room. She looked prettier than he remembered, but a little shorter, too. She walked over to the desk where Zeus was being treated.

“I’ve been looking into that matter you asked about,” Greig told him. Her voice had a distinctly businesslike tone — the sort of voice someone would use if they thought they were being monitored.

The nurse left. But Greig remained uncomfortable, stiffer than she had been the other day. Much more formal.

Was he being watched? Is that why they’d taken him to the office rather than some other room? Why hadn’t Perry come down to see him yet?

Their eyes met. Greig held his glance for a long moment before letting her gaze fall to the floor.

“We’re not in a position to do anything about your request,” said Greig.

“You know where she is?” Zeus asked.

Greig shook her head slightly.

“Is she in Hanoi?”

“It’s an internal matter.”

Greig raised her head. Zeus looked into her face, trying to understand what else it was that she was saying. Because she was saying something else.

“There’s nothing we can do?” Zeus asked.

“Nothing.”

As Greig turned, her hand brushed into the stack of white steno pads that had been stacked on the corner of the desk. Flustered, she bent and scooped them up, then walked briskly from the room.

Zeus watched her silently, perplexed by their exchange. He got up and began pacing, flexing his tired muscles.

She’d left a piece of paper between the steno books. It was barely visible, poking out from the edge.

Zeus paced some more. There must be a video camera that he wasn’t aware of.

So now his own people were spying on him. But maybe they always had.

He went behind the desk and sat down. As idly as he could, he pretended to play with the notebooks, then let them slip to the floor. When he scooped them up, he grabbed the paper as nonchalantly as he could, putting it into his pocket.

“Zeus.”

He looked up and saw General Perry, standing in the doorway.

“General.”

“Follow me, Major.”

Zeus trailed the general as he led him upstairs to the ambassador’s office. It was empty. Perry sat behind Behrens’s desk.

“I’ve arranged for your flight home,” said Perry. “Your mission here is complete.”

“Sir?”

“You’ve done more than enough,” said Perry.

“General — ”

Perry shook his head. “The Vietnamese are very appreciative. You’ve accomplished far more than anyone could have hoped, or even wished for. You were almost killed, or worse, captured. Several times. Your mission is complete.”

“General, I did nothing wrong.”

Perry stared at him. “Were you ordered to help the Vietnamese use the weapons?”

“I wasn’t ordered not to.”

Perry scowled, shaking his head ever so slightly before continuing.

“I’m sure it will all come out very agreeably for you, Major,” he said. “Now get yourself ready to go home. A car will take you back to your hotel. I’ll call you once I have the arrangements for your return.”

“I lost my sat phone, sir.”

“We’ll get a new one over to you.”

Zeus saw no point in arguing. He left the room and walked to the stairway, descending slowly.

In the car, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled note Greig had left.

Cao Dien Army prison

That was where Anna must be. Greig was telling him she couldn’t help. Maybe no one could.

No. One person could. And he owed Zeus.

He definitely owed him.

* * *

General Perry sat in the ambassador’s chair for several minutes after Zeus left. He’d been utterly unfair to the young man.

True, he was acting in not only the country’s best interests, but in Zeus’s as well. Yet that was hardly a consolation. There was something about being unfair that bothered Perry on a very basic level. It was a transgression that could not be entirely expunged by the fact that he was simply doing his duty.

And yet he was doing his duty. The U.S. absolutely must not get any more deeply involved in the war.

Greene’s policy was taking them there. Inevitably. Inextricably.

And Zeus was helping. It was a miracle he hadn’t been killed. Given enough time, he surely would be.

Harland Perry couldn’t be responsible for that. More important, he couldn’t be responsible for any more Americans getting killed here. What had happened to Christian was already bad enough.

It was wrong, and it was unjust. The country could not be allowed to drag itself piecemeal into this war. If they weren’t going to fight it right, there was no sense fighting at all. It was the wrong war at the wrong time in the wrong place.