Nguyen let his Chinese version of a soup spoon settle into his bowl of traditional Korean soup. The sounds penetrating the thin walls assured that no listening devices, if planted and that didn’t seem remotely possible, would hear nothing.

“When I stopped by your apartment in San Clemente to drop off the nativity scene I spoke with Mary for some time. She is the woman you described so often. She gave me your telephone number but that number’s been turned off since you moved. She also gave me a number for a man named Matt, so I called him. I had nowhere else to turn. When I called Matt he couldn’t help me with immigration or with getting me on a flight home but he did get me a flight on a military plane to Yongsan airport here in downtown Seoul.”

My mind began to whirl. Matt, with no seeming authority and not having a clue about my relationship with Nguyen arranged for a Military Air Command flight from one American base to another. It was a wonderful thing for him to do but seemed totally out of character when it came to the nature of the organization I was now working for. If anything, I thought, the fact that my newly invented companies, if they got off the ground, would help so many people outside of working to get agents in and out of countries unidentified, might just make the people making the decisions at higher levels not support the whole operation. I was having to rethink the CIA as I went and that wasn’t proving to be a straightforward pursuit.

“A M.A.T.s flight,” I mused, more to myself than to Nguyen. Why fly Nguyen home on commercial, with the expense and all that entailed, if I could put him on a military flight like Matt had?

“Two flights,” Nguyen corrected. The first long one was to Osan and then a helicopter to Yongsan.

To put Nguyen on a flight to the States I’d need to get him to Osan. I didn’t know much about Yongsan but I did know that large aircraft didn’t fly in or out of it because its runway was too small. The whole base was about the size of Central Park on Manhattan Island in New York. Osan was another forty miles away, and hence the helicopter. However, the likelihood that a plane was headed the right way to bring Nguyen to me in Seoul and then a helicopter, just by luck was there at Osan to bring him down to Yongsan, was a little too much to process, or even believe. My Korea ‘mission’ was turning out to be one where I just kept learning more while I was understanding less.

Once again, I felt the need to talk to my wife. I was getting out on a diving board and working on the difficulty of my coming dive while trying not to notice that there could well be no water in the pool I was about to dive into. We needed a fax machine, I realized, the thought coming out of nowhere. The time change was killing my ability to communicate with home, not to mention all those listening in to our conversations whom I had little or no idea of. Fax transmissions turned letters and words into abbreviated codes like court stenographers used but much more complex. I could fax at any hour in any place I was, as long as that place had a fax machine. Most high-class hotels should have those machines but I wasn’t at all sure about that. It was useless reflecting on that need until I was home again, however.

I explained my plan to Nguyen. He listened silently.

“You may have your money back,” was his only comment, as he reached for his backpack.

“No, military flights can take you anywhere, not necessarily where you want to go or end up. You may need the money if they dump you somewhere odd.

“Need a blanket, flights are cold,” Nguyen said, “and water and pillow.”

I smiled. Military flights could be very bare bones when it came to amenities, I understood.

“Pillow? Are you getting soft?”

“Yes,” Nguyen answered without a delay and without a smile back.

“We’ll see what we can find along the way. Let’s figure out how to get to the Yongsan Army base.

Nguyen preceded me out of the little room. Neither of us had gotten back to the soup, which was amazingly good but the timing was all off. The decision to head for Yongsan right away was made without much any discussion. It made all the sense in the world to get Nguyen out of the country as quickly as possible. For some reason, the expressed attitude at the embassy had seemed to indicate that there was some suspicion about him. Were the suspicious security men somehow involved with that? There was no way to answer that question with what either of us knew. Nguyen wasn’t CIA, not even close. Making him an asset to get the new green cards was an artifice, although, although it might not turn out that way. A bunch of stuff was going to have to be moved around to several countries. Things like the new-fangled fax machines and dedicated telephones couldn’t be shipped unaccompanied in a world where those innovations were sought after by almost everyone in sometimes the most nefarious of ways.

Ho wasn’t standing ‘guarding’ the door, as he’d indicated when we’d gone inside the little room and that was odd. Despite only knowing the man for such a short time I’d gotten the impression he was not only tickled to death to work for so much money doing almost nothing but he was strangely developing a sense of loyalty and real interest in me and what I might be doing.

We found Ho outside, just beyond the busy sidewalk, the tuk-tuk he sat in, engine running, was doing its tuk-tuk sound thing.

“We are being followed and you must get in,” he said, no humor in his voice, as he gently revved the tiny engine.

I pushed Nguyen onto the back bench seat before jumping in myself, as Ho took off, veering almost immediately down a narrow alley filled with tables and people selling all manner of things. I looked behind us as we went but could see nothing that looked anything like a tail…and in fact, was beginning to wonder why we would care if something actually was following us.

“There,” Ho yelled, crossing a regular street, while horns honked all over the place. “Itawan, see the car,” Ho pointed his left hand out through the tuk-tuk’s open side.

I caught a glimpse of a black sedan, modern, not one of the small Korean things that almost everyone drove around Seoul, if not on a bike, cycle, or in a tuk-tuk. Ho dived us into the mouth of another alley, nearly colliding with several cycles all trying to fit into the same space.

“They tracking from alley to alley,” he yelled back over his shoulder, which made me wonder why we were continuing the way we were going, but I held on for dear life as the tuk-tuk bounced, swayed, and occasionally bounced off a table corner or sometimes a person who didn’t get out of the way fast enough.

I leaned forward to tell Ho to stop the tuk-tuk, as quite possibly remaining in the middle of one of the crowded alleys would made the car less effective in trying to follow us. As I leaned forward a piece of bamboo embedded itself in the back of Ho’s seat. I grabbed the bamboo with my left hand, in total surprise. What was a piece of bamboo doing stuck into the back of Ho’s seat, I wondered at first, before coming nearly instantly to the right conclusion.
“Faster Ho,” I said, right into his right ear, holding on to the shaft of the arrow for balance as the tuk-tuk careened. I looked out the back of the vehicle but could see nothing except a sea of people folding back together after parting to allow the tuk-tuk through.

Nguyen leaned toward me, his head close to mine as he examined the arrow.

“Pheasant feathers,” he said. Koreans are the world’s best archers,” he said, giving me no comfort at all.

If the arrow had struck one of us, the way it was deeply embedded into the back of Ho’s thick seat, either Nguyen or I would likely be dead or very badly injured. The message that came with the arrow was not one of communication or warning. However, was following us was playing for keeps. I grabbed the handle located in the center of the back bench seat with my left hand and hung on while I reached up, unsnapped, and then let the .45 fall into my right hand. There was a round in the chamber, as always. I flicked off the safety although the sound of the tuk-tuk’s engine and passage through the crowd didn’t allow me to hear its distinctive click.

Ho sped across the last street that fronted the Han River, the river that ran a serpentine track through Seoul’s very center, exiting the huge city at the ocean within a few yards of the border to North Korea.

Without stopping or slowing down the tuk-tuk shot across the street, barely being missed by about twenty motorcycles and three or four small Korean cars. The tuk-tuk went straight out onto the top of a very long wooden pier, the slats of wood set perpendicular to its length just wide enough to accommodate the tuk-tuk’s rear wheels.

Ho did not slow down. I hadn’t even thought to look for the car following us as I was paying full attention to throwing myself out of the tuk-tuk if it went into the river. I could see only one small skiff-like boat at the end.

Finally, Ho stopped the tuk-tuk and jumped out.

“My uncle, water taxi,” he said, his excitement and fear making his bad English worse.

I turned to look back up the pier to the shore but there appeared to be no one there or even paying attention to the tuk-tuk’s wild ride or its final destination.

My Colt was in my hand, which I held close to my right thigh. Nothing and no one was acting in any threatening way in the distance much less anyone that might need shooting. I eased the weapon back up into its cross-draw holster and buttoned my coat. There was no sense scaring Ho even more or his uncle, much less revealing things I didn’t want to be revealed.

“Where?” Ho asked, stepping from the side of the still-running tuk-tuk to the edge of the pier where his uncle stood.

“U.S. Embassy,” I said, immediately, as I figured Nguyen and I would be among friendlies who could get us to the Army base.

“Yes, on river,” Ho said, with a big smile. “I will tell him.”

Ho spoke for a good minute while I looked around for anyone who might have an interest in us but could see no one. The arrow had upset me to the point where I walked over to the tuk-tuk, leaned down, and worked to pull the arrow from the back of Ho’s seat.

The bamboo wasn’t really thick, maybe about the same as a fountain pen and I didn’t doubt the three parts of feathers were from a pheasant. The head of the arrow wasn’t what I expected though. It wasn’t an exotic many-bladed hunting head, as I’d seen in sporting goods stores back in the States. It was merely round and sharp-pointed, as it if was a target arrowhead. I decided to take it with us, as a reminder never to let my guard down in a foreign environment.

We climbed aboard the boat. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my last twenty-dollar bill and handed it to Ho, who disappeared it instantly into his shirt pocket.

“Not in front of my uncle,” he whispered, before stepping back

“I see you at hotel,” he said, waving as his uncle eased us away from the pier and then out into the main current of the river, which was moving fast.

There were reasons why there were so few boats on the river I realized, and the current was probably one of them.

The forward part of the taxi was lined with curved benches along the side bulkheads, which were only about two feet off the water. The air felt good passing by, warm but not fetid and hot like it had been deeper into the interior of the city itself.

Nguyen pushed down my left shoulder. “We rest, like in the jungle,” he said, his dark eyes as deep and serious as they’d been back in the valley. I caught his meaning from that expression and laid down flat on the bottom of the boat. He took up a position next to me.

No one was going to see us from the shore, nor from any other boats that might be in the area, and no arrows were going to find us. I examined the arrow while we lay there until Nguyen took it from my hands and examined it for himself.

“No point,” he finally said, handing it back to me. “Only a small hole where point should be. Do not touch.”

I examined the tip of the arrow more carefully, before tossing it out over the port gunnel of the fast-moving little craft. Poison? Who would use such an arcane and easily detectable means of coming against either myself or Nguyen? It, along with a whole lot of other things, was a complete unknown. Were all my future missions going to be conducted with so much missing from any advanced material? It was disappointing to lay in the bottom of the boat, staring up into a beautiful cloud-studded sky, and think such thoughts. The CIA had already demonstrated extraordinary power, an ability to back huge operational costs and even apply a sense of civic responsibility and care…so what were the leaders sending people like me out to the field really thinking?

The boat began to slow dramatically. Both Nguyen and I peered out over the upper edge of the port gunnel. We were coming in but there was no pier to use in getting off the small craft.

“No pier on base,” Ho’s supposed uncle said, cupping his hands, as the boat veered into the shore with no guidance on its tiller. With a jolt the taxi stopped, its stern being pushed into a weedy mud bank by the strong current.

“Base?” I said to Nguyen, but he remained expressionless.

I’d asked to be taken as close to the embassy as possible, or at least I presumed that was the message Ho had given to his uncle.

Nguyen got up, put one foot on the top edge nosed into the shore, and jumped. I positioned myself to do the same, except with the advantage provided by Nguyen turning back to extend his right hand. I jumped and he caught me, which helped keep my balance on landing but didn’t keep my feet from sinking six inches deep, or so, into the soft gooey mud. I staggered back and up to get my balance, the boat already making its way out toward the center of the huge flowing river. I’d not offered to pay or been expected to. I shook my head as I followed Nguyen inland, through the banyan-like trees and low jungle bracken. It was like being back in the valley except the sun, although making it hot, was nothing as bad as the heat and humidity at the bottom of that hell.

A chain-link fence rose up out of the mess we were plodding through, festooned with signs every few yards that read “No Trespassing. US Army Property.” The fence wasn’t more than shoulder high and there was no barbed wire across the top links, much less concertina. The base was one of very low security.

“I wonder how many Koreans know what trespass means?” I said to myself when we were both over the top of the fence and walking toward a concrete structure not very far away.

The building was low but huge but there was a Jeep parked near the far corner. The ground had become more solid, so the walking was easier. How I was going to be able to enter the embassy as the sweaty muddy creature I’d become in such a short period I didn’t know. The bottom of the boat had been wet, as well, so I was hot, soaked, emitting a nasty aroma, and miserable. Nguyen had to be in similar shape but said nothing.

An Army sergeant came out of the building through a door near where the Jeep sat unattended.

“You two look like hell,” he said, although smiling while he said words. “You know, the base has a front gate.”

I reached into my pocket and took out my wallet. I showed him my military I.D. card and he promptly came to attention and saluted. I nodded back as Marines don’t salute unless wearing a cover outdoors or bearing arms while inside. That made me think about the .45 inside my coat, which might be a liability if anybody found out about it on the base, Wearing a coat at all was also likely to make me look suspicious, although I had no choice unless I could conceal the Colt in some other way.

“We need to get to the U.S. embassy, sergeant,” I said, looking over at his Jeep.

“It’s only about half a mile or so up this road,” he replied, getting into the vehicle and hitting the ignition button. The Jeep fired up and sat idling.

“It’s on the base?” I asked, in complete surprise, never thinking for a moment that any embassy would be located on a military base.

“Since right after the war, but they’re going to move it soon. Hop in, sir, and I’ll give you two a ride.”

I thought for a moment. Somehow, through another strange twist of fate, Nguyen and I were standing on the base we wanted to get to and we no longer needed to risk anything by going to the embassy at all. When I’d come to the embassy earlier there’d been no gate entered, just the building sticking out on the road. It was a strange setup, but then everything was proving to be strange to me that I ran into.

“What about the M.A.T.’s office?” I asked, climbing into the Jeep’s passenger seat, while Nguyen clambered in over into the back storage area.

“Hangar, you mean,” the sergeant replied, putting the Jeep in gear and taking off up the road. “That’s about half a mile to the airstrip. This isn’t a terminal so there’s just one Staff Sergeant for that. Maybe he’s there and maybe he’s not.”

The Jeep raced along, and the passing air felt good. It wasn’t going to be enough to dry my clothing but then I wasn’t planning on seeing anyone of rank like would have happened at the embassy.

The hangar was a normal-looking post-war thing, made like a Quonset hut but much larger. The sergeant drove into the large cavern exposed by giant vertical doors that looked like they were never closed.

“You’re in luck, that’s him,” the sergeant said, driving right up to a man sitting at a desk next to a Sea Knight helicopter.

I thanked the sergeant as Nguyen and I got out of the vehicle. The sergeant didn’t reply, instead putting the Jeep in reverse and backing out of the building. His expression, although friendly, left me with the distinct feeling that he wanted nothing to do with whatever we were.

“You would be?” the staff sergeant said, not getting up.

I took out my I.D. card once again and showed it to him.

The staff sergeant didn’t get up.

“What can I do for you, sir?” he asked, in a tentative way.

“A few days ago, this man flew in on one of your choppers,” I said, pointing over at Nguyen. He has a green card and I need him to get to Osan and from there a flight back to the States, west coast if possible.”

“Yes, I recall that event, sir?”

Once again, I noted the delay before the noncom used the word, Sir.

I ignored the deliberate but nearly unidentifiable slight. I stood, putting my I.D. back into my wallet and then my wet wallet back into my wet trouser pocket. The mission had everything to do with getting Nguyen home and nothing to do with killing the sergeant in front of me. I breathed deeply in and out, trying to bring myself back from the valley where the man’s attitude was trying to send me.

“Authorization?” he finally said, losing the sir altogether.

I looked down at the desk in front of the man. I took a government pen from an old cigar box that appeared to be full of them.

“Paper?” I asked, with a fake smile.

“Certainly, sir,” he replied with his own fake smile, shoving a table toward me.

I wrote briefly and the paper and gave it back, replacing the pen in the box after doing so.

“Call the number, assuming that phone here can connect, and then, when asked if the person answering can be of help, read that second number,” I replied, keeping control of my voice as best as I could.

“Washington D.C. area code,” he noted with new interest. “You Department of State, FBI, DEA, or something like that?”

“CIA,” I replied. If he called the number then he’d know right away anyway. I was tired, a physical and mental mess, and my patience was wearing way too thin to put up with nasty idiots. I fought to remain calm and accomplish the mission.

“Chopper to Osan coming right up, sir,” the staff sergeant said, his snotty attitude gone as if it’d never been there in the first place. I’ll get him on the Hawaii flight, stopover for twenty-four, and then on to Whidby Island in Washington State. After that, in CONUS, he’s on his own, but I presume that’s okay with you, sir?” the staff sergeant stood up and saluted, holding his hand to his forehead and waiting for some response.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Everything was going to be alright. Nguyen was going home. Why my wife hadn’t told me anything about his calling I now understood. I hadn’t given her any opportunity. When was I ever going to learn to listen better and more often than I talked? Tom Thorkelson and Chuck Bartok had taught me better. Maybe the CIA could do a better job getting me to work with whatever talents I had instead of just letting or making me run out into the field on my own.

I turned to face Nguyen.

“You’re on your way,” I said, my relief nearly overcoming me. I’d saved one of my men. Maybe just one, but it meant everything to me

“Forget about the money,” I blurted out for no reason I could think and immediately wished I hadn’t said it.

“No,” Nguyen replied. I repay you with what Mary has.”

“What?” I asked, not understanding at all. “You gave my wife money?”

“The Nativity set. The weights in the bottoms of the pieces are not lead.”

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