Rules of Engagement (1991) (34 page)

"Yes, Miss Ladasau, we have your reservation right here," responded the portly gentleman behind the desk.

"Do you have any messages for me?" Leigh Ann asked, hoping that there had been no delays in Brad's travel itinerary. "No, Miss Ladasau, no messages."

"Thank you," Leigh Ann replied as she placed her credit card on the marble counter.

The gentleman looked confused, then said in a very discreet voice, "Miss Ladasau, your room has been arranged in advance."

"Oh . . . thank you," Leigh Ann responded, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. She wondered if the elderly gentleman would approve of a young woman traveling alone to San Francisco to meet a man.

"Here is your room key, Miss Ladasau," the gentleman said, flashing a knowing smile. "The bellman will take you to your room. I hope your stay with us will be an enjoyable one."

After tipping the young bellman, Leigh Ann went directly to the window overlooking the bay. The view was exhilarating. She could see the Golden Gate Bridge, resplendent in its coat of red paint. She scanned the windswept bay dotted with sailboats, yachts, and ferryboats.

Turning to unpack her suitcase, Leigh Ann was startled by a knock at the door. She walked to the entrance and opened the wide door.

"Miss Ladasau?" the beaming Asian asked.

"Yes," she replied, glancing at the room-service cart in the middle of the hallway.

"Compliments of Captain Austin," he announced, stepping to the rear of the serving table.

Moving aside, Leigh Ann felt like Cinderella with a fairy godmother as she watched the man wheel in the cart, place a tray on the coffee table, followed by a champagne bucket, a bottle of white wine, and two stemmed glasses. Awed, Leigh Ann offered the waiter a gratuity, which he declined.

"Thank you," he replied, "but Captain Austin took care of everything."

When the man had gone, Leigh Ann stared in disbelief at the bountiful arrangement of hors d'oeuvres. The spread of assorted cheeses was surrounded by a variety of crackers, English tea biscuits, canapes, and cold fresh fruits. All thoughts of her father's disapproval vanished.

Forgetting about unpacking for the moment, Leigh Ann placed a selection of cheese, crackers, and melon on a plate. Turning to the wine, she was relieved to see that the bottle had already been opened. She carefully poured a glass of wine and pulled a chair and end table closer to the window.

Sitting down, Leigh Ann placed her plate on the end table and sampled the sauvignon blanc. The white wine had a distinct, deliciously crisp taste.

Leigh Ann smiled and gazed across the picturesque bay. She thought about Brad Austin, and realized that she had never been more excited in her life.

Jean-Paul Bouvier had carefully drafted a release for his newspaper, detailing the facts surrounding the American attack at Phuc Yen. He had included a picture of the navy Phantom jet, along with photographs of the crashed MiG-21 and the MiG-17 on the taxiway.

After sending the evidence to L' Humanite, he had visited with his close friend and colleague, Marc Chauveron. After explaining the situation in detail, Bouvier asked Chauveron for his advice. The senior journalist for the prestigious Agence France Presse, Chauveron had a close rapport with the British consul general. Chauveron convinced Bouvier that they should enlist the support of the British consul general, and present the evidence of an American violation to the North Vietnamese.

The dignified Englishman had been uncomfortable about the accusation aimed at the Americans, but had agreed to accompany the journalists to the Communist party headquarters.

Bouvier had shown copies of the incriminating photographs to a senior officer on the staff of President Ho Chi Minh. The aide-de-camp had rushed off, leaving the three civilians sitting alone for more than an hour.

When the officer returned, he had a statement to be issued through the international press corps. He had also insisted that
Bouvier sign his name as a witness to the breach of rules by the Americans.

The general account of the unlawful incident, including a formal protest and letter of condemnation aimed at the United States government, would be distributed internationally in twenty-four hours. The photograph of Brad Austin's F-4 Phantom would be flashed around the globe.

Chapter
30.

Brad handed the bellboy a generous tip. "You can leave everything on the bed."

"Yes, sir."

When he knocked on Leigh Ann's door, Brad could feel his heart racing. Would they share the same emotions and passion they had felt in Hawaii?

Opening the door, Leigh Ann flashed her radiant smile, then threw her arms around Brad. He held her tightly, brushing her cheek with a kiss. They stood in the open door and embraced before either spoke.

"Brad," Leigh Ann said enthusiastically, "I thought you would never get here."

Brad held her at arm's length. "Well, I'm here, and we are going to enjoy San Francisco. May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," Leigh Ann replied as Brad stepped inside her room and she closed the door.

"Brad, you look great. Forgive me for staring, but I am s
o h
appy to see you." The vision of him that she had kept in her mind had not faded. He was as handsome as she had remembered. "Where is your room?"

"Next door," he answered, gesturing to the door that connected the two adjoining rooms.

Leigh Ann looked at the door, then smiled and gave Brad a suspicious look. "How convenient . . . "

Brad chuckled, again feeling the exhilaration that had swept over him in Hawaii. "Would you like to begin our sight-seeing tour at Fisherman's Wharf?"

"That would be wonderful," Leigh Ann answered, embracing him again. "Let's take the cable car."

"Great idea."

Leigh Ann turned, remembering the bottle of wine and the tray of appetizers. "Before I forget, I want to thank you for your thoughtfulness. The wine and hors d'oeuvres were excellent. That was very kind of you."

"I'm glad you enjoyed them," Brad replied, mesmerized by Leigh Ann's delicate features. "One of my favorite diversions is sipping chenin blanc, with shrimp Louis and sourdough bread, while watching the ships and small boats in San Francisco Bay. That's why I enjoy going to Fisherman's Wharf."

She clasped her hands together. "I can't wait."

"It will be even more special, sharing the afternoon with you."

"Thank you," Leigh Ann said softly, still a little dazed a
t a
ctually being in San Francisco with Brad. Was it really true?

Was she really here, finally, with the man who had so overwhelme
d h
er in Hawaii? She wondered if Brad felt the same way she did.

"Before we go," Brad stopped, remembering the gift he ha
d p
urchased at the airport, "I've got a present for you."

"You do?" Leigh Ann replied with genuine surprise.

"Yes, all the way from Japan," he answered, walking to her doorway. Brad grasped the doorknob, then hesitated and turned around. "If you don't mind unlocking the door between our rooms, I'll close our front doors."

Leigh Ann winked. "You're pretty smooth, aren't you?" Brad grinned. "Are you suggesting that beneath my cosmopolitan charm lies an ulterior motive?"

"I'm suggesting," Leigh Ann laughed softly, "that Cary Grant you are not."

"Thanks," Brad chuckled, pulling her door closed behind him. Entering his room, Brad closed the door and picked up the box containing the kimono.

When he walked into Leigh Ann's room, Brad found her at the window. He walked over and joined her. "I apologize for not having it gift wrapped, but there wasn't much time."

"Brad," Leigh Ann smiled as she accepted the box, "please don't apologize. You shouldn't have done this."

"Go ahead, open it."

Removing the top of the box, Leigh Ann's eyes widened. She carefully lifted the kimono and held it in front of her. "It's beautiful . . . absolutely beautiful!"

She kissed Brad on the cheek. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Brad responded, feeling a sense of pleasure as he watched Leigh Ann slowly run her slender fingers over the smooth silk fabric.

She walked to her closet, removed a satin hanger, and hung up the delicately beautiful robe. "I feel awful . . . I didn't get you a gift."

"Yes, you did."

"I did?" Leigh Ann asked, returning to the window and grasping Brad's hand.

"Yes," Brad responded, suppressing his desire to take her into his arms again. "You being here with me is the greatest gift I could possibly want."

"Well, I feel the same way, but I do appreciate my kimono," Leigh Ann smiled. "You must be exhausted after flying such a long distance. Would you like to freshen before we go to Fisherman's Wharf?"

"Actually," Brad replied awkwardly, "I'd like to take a quick shower, and change into fresh clothes before we leave, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Leigh Ann said, glancing at her luggage.

"Also," Brad said uncomfortably, "I've got to call a friend's wife. She's pregnant, and I want to see if she is getting along okay."

"Take your time. I need to unpack, and I want to try on my new kimono."

Hand in hand, Leigh Ann and Brad walked through the lobby. They emerged at the entrance in the midst of an arriving group of conventioneers. Working their way through the crowd, they rounded the corner and walked the length of the Fairmont Hotel to Powell Street. Brad and Leigh Ann managed to hop a departing cable car just as it began to roll.

They took seats at the rear of the rumbling car. Laughing together, they rode north on Powell Street before turning west on Jackson Street.

"Brad," Leigh Ann said over the clanging bell, "this is fantastic . . . being here with you. San Francisco is wonderful!"

Brad smiled broadly as the cable car jolted and clanked through the turn to Hyde Street. Passing Greenwich Street, Brad suddenly turned to Leigh Ann. "Let's get off," he paused while the motorman loudly clanged the bell, "and take a look down Lombard Street."

"You're the tour guide," she smiled warmly. "Whatever you suggest."

"I think you'll enjoy this landmark," Brad replied as they hopped off the cable car. "This section of Lombard Street has been a tourist attraction for years."

They walked over to the top of the steep, winding street. The narrow thoroughfare twisted back and forth in sharp s-turns as the roadway dropped sharply toward the street below.

"This is astonishing," Leigh Ann commented as they watched a green van carefully navigate down the one-way brick lane.

The driver rode the brakes hard, twisting the steering wheel from side to side. Close to the curb, he narrowly missed a number of the ornate pots filled with bright flowers.

Watching the Volkswagen van grind to a halt near the bottom of Lombard, Leigh Ann pondered what would have happened if the brakes had failed. "What's the name of the street at the bottom?"

"Leavenworth," Brad replied automatically. His mind flashed back to what Harry Hutton had said when they chased Major Dao toward Phuc Yen. Was this an omen of things to come? If found out, would he spend time in the federal prison at Leavenworth, Kansas?

"Brad?" Leigh Ann asked, canting her head. "Are you all right?"

"What?" Brad brought his thoughts back to the present. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Leigh Ann asked with genuine concern in her voice. "You turned pale for a moment."

"Yes, I'm fine," Brad responded, hearing the clanging of another cable car. "We'll continue on to Fisherman's Wharf, or walk for a while, if you like."

Leigh Ann laughed. "Actually, I'm anxious to see Fisherman's Wharf."

Brad and Leigh Ann stopped for a late lunch at a charming restaurant overlooking the bay. Leigh Ann moved her captain's chair closer to Brad. She slid her slender arm under his and clasped his fingers. "Isn't the bay beautiful?"

He looked into her eyes and smiled. "It sure is . . . and so are you."

"Brad," she responded, squeezing his hand, "you're making me blush."

"I'm sorry, but it's true. You are beautiful."

Leigh Ann lowered her head and withdrew her hand, obviously embarrassed. "Could we change the subject? Those people at the next table overheard you . . . and now they are staring."

"Okay," he grinned, "if you insist, but I would rather talk about you."

"I insist," Leigh Ann said in a low but firm voice. Brad chuckled, "I'll abide by your wishes."

They sipped their wine and Leigh Ann became quite serious. "Brad Austin, what are you about?"

The unexpected question startled Brad, but he attempted to keep the conversation light. "What am I about? I'm not sure I understand the question."

"Who are you? What do you believe in? What do you think about the war?" She paused, then spoke quietly. "My Dad thinks the war is unjustified and immoral. We had quite a talk before I left."

Leigh Ann noticed that Brad showed no emotion. She wondered if he had even heard her. Leigh Ann decided not to make an issue of what her father had said just yet. Actually, he had been very outspoken about what he thought of Brad and his activity, and had made his daughter feel uncomfortable about meeting the pilot.