Shock of War (31 page)

27

American embassy, Hanoi

The phone seemed
to weigh twenty pounds. General Perry pressed it harder against his ear as he spoke.

“Mr. President, if we're not all the way in, we should be all the way out. As I've said.”

“You're saying, give up,” responded Greene.

“I'm saying, we have to play our cards wisely. It's a long game.”

“You sound like a defeatist, Harland.”

Perry was surprised by Greene's tone. He'd disagreed with him countless times before; almost always he had been logical, willing to at least listen to the argument. Now it was clear his mind had already been made up.

“Doing something is better than doing nothing,” continued Greene. “You have to agree.”

“Not necessarily. And not in this case, if we take the long view.”

“That's where you're wrong, Harland. I think we can give them enough of a bloody nose here that they'll be deterred. It's in our best interests to drag it out. I'll bring Congress around eventually. You needed more weapons; here they are. You don't think Russian equipment is good enough?”

“George, history suggests—”

“History is on my side, Harland. Look at the Russians in Afghanistan. What happened there? Carter and Reagan helped the rebels. They drew it out. It helped collapse the Soviet Union.”

“I don't know that that conflict is a good example,” said Perry.

Greene didn't respond for a moment. Perry saw him shaking his head, squeezing his lips together. His mind was definitely made up; he was dealing with a recalcitrant subordinate.

“I always follow orders, Mr. President,” said Perry. “My orders here, your orders, were to give you my opinion without prejudice. And that's what I've done.”

“Yes.” Greene was silent again for a few seconds—a very long few seconds. “I'll consider your advice,” he told Perry. “In the meantime, tell the Vietnamese their weapons are on the way. Someone will forward the details.”

28

The White House

Greene held the phone
for several long moments after General Perry had hung up. He couldn't remember a time when he had disagreed with Harland on anything more substantial than the probable outcome of a baseball game.

Perry was telling him to stop helping Vietnam—now, rather than later.

Was that really the wise thing to do? If they didn't get some weapons, they had no chance of surviving. There were downsides, certainly. And
real
intervention—real
assistance
—was the right approach. But when you were President, you had to compromise. A lot.

He put the handset back, then immediately picked it up.

“Get me Peter Frost, please.”

Frost came on the line moments later. He was still at home.

“Peter, I didn't wake you, did I?”

“No, sir, Mr. President. Just about to head in.”

“The project we spoke of regarding the Russian arms—let's move ahead.”

“Uh, yes, sir. Of course.”

“Problem?” asked Greene, noting the slight hesitation.

“I did take the precaution of having the legal review so we could expedite things.”

“And?”

“Divided opinion.”

“That's fine.”

Legal reviews had been de rigueur at the CIA for some time. There were more lawyers involved in some operations than officers.

“I should tell you, even Bindi's opinion was borderline,” added Frost. “And that was our lone positive.”

Bindi was a CIA attorney known for taking very pro-administrative stances. Frost was telling Greene that the weapons procurement and transfer would be on extremely shaky ground legally.

“The nonaggression law of 2011 specifically outlawed third-party sales to allies,” Frost explained. “The three negatives pointed that out.”

“Vietnam is not an ally,” said Greene, switching into his own lawyer mode. “Congress's refusal to authorize the bill to enter into a treaty with Vietnam proves they're not an ally. So the law doesn't apply to them.”

“That was Bindi's position.”

“Slam dunk. I like that man.” Greene chuckled. “It's fine, Peter. Don't worry about it. I take full responsibility.”

“Mr. President…”

Greene waited for Frost to complete his thought. Instead, Frost took a deep breath.

“We'll make it happen, Mr. President.”

“Very good, Peter. I'm counting on you.”

29

Hanoi

Zeus woke with a start.

He was in Anna's apartment, in her room, in her bed. It was nighttime. She wasn't there.

He got up slowly, body stiff from his ankles to his neck. He turned his head against a knot in his neck, teasing against the pain.

His first step was a stumble, feet moving awkwardly. Zeus pushed his arms back, gathering himself. He was in a fog, his mind in cotton, distant from his body.

Where was Anna?

Zeus stooped down and picked up his clothes from the floor. He dressed awkwardly, off-balance. With each piece of clothing, he regained more of his equilibrium, became more of himself. By the time he buttoned his shirt, all of his senses had returned. He was a soldier again, at least most of him was … Some part remained with her, with Anna, resting in a dream.

Zeus walked into the kitchen. A single candle on the stove provided light. She wasn't there.

“Damn,” he said to himself. He rubbed his eyes, then the top of his head.

What should he do? He had to get back—

Just then, there was a sound at the door: a key placed into the lock. The door opened; Anna came in with a bag of food. She pushed the door closed behind her, slipping in quietly without looking, so that when she finally turned back and found him staring at her across the kitchen she was startled.

“I got some things,” she said, her voice a soft whisper.

“Good,” said Zeus.

He took a half step to hug her, but she was in motion, moving around the kitchen. Zeus retreated to a nearby chair, pulling it out to sit on and watching as she lit the burner.

Anna put the tea kettle on the burner, then lit another candle, putting it on the table. Zeus caught her hand as she placed it down. She turned and gave him a look of such sadness that he felt as if his heart had been stabbed.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She managed a smile, then slipped her hand away. She got out two cups, and retrieved a small bottle from her bag.

“I found you coffee,” she told him, holding up a jar of instant. “Good?”

“Thanks.”

She put the groceries away.

“What time is it?” Zeus asked, though he had a watch.

“Eight.”

“God, I slept all that time.”

“You are very tired.”

Anna poured the water, then sat. She blew gently on her tea.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“No,” said Zeus. “Are you?”

She shook her head.

“My legs feel restless,” Zeus told her. The aroma of the coffee reminded him of soggy cardboard. He hated instant, but he treated the liquid as if it were the most precious in the world, nursing the cup in both hands, the steam rising against his face. “Do you think we could go for a walk?”

She answered with a question. “When do you have to be back?”

“Eventually.” He took a tentative sip. The liquid was still very hot. “What happened in there?” he asked. “At the hospital. Who was the man who was shot?”

She looked straight down at her tea. Her features seemed to harden, the soft frown she'd worn turning into a grimace.

“Can you tell me?” Zeus asked gently.

“He was a Chinese pilot. A bandit. The director's family had been killed by a bomb two days before.”

“Who was the officer who shot him?”

She shook her head.

“I'm sorry,” said Zeus. “Bad things happen in wars.”

“My grandfather was killed by bombs in the American war. And two of his brothers.”

She stared at him for a moment, then sipped her tea in silence.

“Let's try that walk,” he told her finally. “Come on.”

*   *   *

There had been no attacks
on Hanoi that day, no bombings. But the quiet only increased the tension. Smoke curled in the far distance, the remnants of fires that the emergency crews had not yet succeeded in putting out. Zeus felt torn—his place was at the battlefield, but he wanted to be with Anna as well.

“I saw the bombs fall the first night,” she told him. “I was standing at my window. There was a floodlight in the sky. Sticks fell through it. I thought there was something wrong with my eyes.”

Distance grew between them as they walked shoulder to shoulder, her arm occasionally jostling against his. The closeness that he'd felt in bed, making love, sleeping next to her, dissipated. His mind pulled toward duty. It was like gravity.

She stiffened when he took her hand.

“I want to see you again,” he said.

“In Vietnam, it is not usual to hold hands in public,” she said in a voice so faint that he barely heard.

“It's dark. The streets are deserted.” He squeezed her fingers, looking down into her face. “Okay? You'll see me again?”

“Yes.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly, gently, on the lips. She hesitated but then surrendered, her lips meeting his. It was a tantalizing shadow of what he had felt earlier, being pulled into bed.

But just a shadow.

*   *   *

When they turned the block
on the way back to Anna's house, Zeus saw a Honda Accord sitting in front of her building. He kept walking, hoping it wasn't waiting for him.

But of course it was.

“Where the hell have you been?” demanded Christian, opening the door and getting out as he approached.

“Taking a walk,” said Zeus.

“All night?”

“Major Christian, this is Anna Anway,” said Zeus. Anna stiffened. She held her arms close to her body, as if she were trying to present as tiny a front to the world as possible.

“Hi.” Christian nodded, then frowned as he turned back to Zeus. “We gotta go. Perry's going to have a cow.”

“He told me to get some rest.”

“Yeah, well, he thought you disappeared. You weren't answering your phone.”

Zeus had left it upstairs. Christian had used the GPS tracking function to find him.

“I knocked on every door,” Christian told him. “Nobody answered.”

Upstairs, after he retrieved his phone, Zeus told Anna gently, “I'll see you as soon as I can.” She gazed into his face, then took both of his hands and squeezed.

Their bodies were about a foot apart, an immense distance.

“Will you be at work tomorrow?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“I'll get there. Somehow.”

She nodded, then closed her eyes as he kissed her.

*   *   *

“She's a dish,”
said Christian as they drove away. He was sitting in the front seat, next to a driver hired by the embassy. Zeus sat in the back. “What a babe.”

Ordinarily, Zeus would have been angered by the comments, but he felt immune to them now. Immune to Christian.

“You know Perry was trying to get A-10 Warthogs here?” asked Christian.

“Huh?”

“There was a wing in Korea, already on the way. Some sort of political deal crushed it. Now we're on our own.” Christian's voice had a note of disgust in it as he continued. “I talked to these commanders yesterday. Pep talks? What a waste of time.”

“What's the military situation?” asked Zeus.

“Chinese consolidated around Tien Yen during the day. Some of the Vietnamese armor's engaging them outside the city. Thinking is they move farther south tonight. Probably already started by now.”

“Any action near Lang Son?”

“Lang Son?” asked Christian.

“The place on the border I showed you.”

“Nothing going on there that I heard,” said Christian.

The driver took them to Trung's bunker. The general was in a conference with his commanders, but he smiled when Zeus came in. Perry was sitting in the corner, grave-faced.

“Our American friends have arrived,” said Trung. “Just in time to hear of the bad weather.”

The others smiled, as if this was some sort of inside joke. And perhaps it was; Zeus still felt a little off balance.

“A typhoon is approaching,” explained Major Cha
Å«
, the senior translator who had led Christian around on his tour of the Vietnamese troops. “The estimate is that it will strike the coast in less than twelve hours. The path is unpredictable, but it is highly likely to make landfall.”

Zeus looked over at Perry. “I didn't think this was typhoon season.”

Perry nodded as the translator explained that while typhoons were rare in February, they were not entirely unknown, averaging one every other third year prior to 2005. Over the past few years, the frequency had increased, possibly, though not definitively, as a result of global climate change.

This was a reasonably strong storm, with winds up to 125 knots projected. Rain was falling at over two inches per hour near the center. Total rainfall in the path of the storm would depend on its route, but could be anywhere from a “scant” ten inches to fifty and beyond.

Zeus realized the implications immediately.

“We can use it to stop the Chinese advance in the east,” he said. “As long as we can keep them near the coast. Once they get west, they'll be free.”

Trung nodded. The situation was somewhat more complicated than that, not least of all because the typhoon would affect the Vietnamese as well as the Chinese. Still, it was an extremely fortunate development, one that could be capitalized on. The generals had been examining topographical maps in the area of the Chinese advance. The area in the vicinity of Dam Tron would be flooded early during the storm.