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Bunth looked up. "That is only to be expected. He must be a very important and rich man to send a helicopter for him."
At that point Wolf opened the negotiations. In ten minutes they settled on an ounce of gold, worth about $40. Touby spoke a few words to two men outside the rear of the longhouse.
In moments they produced the sleeping bag. Touby's eyes flickered when Wolf unzipped it and steeled himself to look inside.
"There seems to be some mistake," he said, and held open the flap. The decomposed but unmistakable features of an elderly villager gaped at them.
"It is regrettable," Touby said without looking at the body.
"Perhaps one could be persuaded to make a better search for that rich man."
"Perhaps the rice drops and the ammunition drops that fatten this village cannot be persuaded to continue," Wolf added in a reasonable voice.
Touby's body tightened in anger. "Go with them," he hissed, waving at the two Hmoung, who straightened up from the sleeping bag and stepped out of the longhouse.
Wolf and Court followed them out of the longhouse and to a nearby thatched hut, where they stood at each side of the opening. The crew chief stayed outside when they entered and found Perrit's body. It had been stripped bare.
1845 Hours LOCAL, MONDAY 21 OCTOBER 1968 AMERICAN HOUSING AREA, VEFNTIANE.
ROYALTY OF LAOS.
They landed at Vientiane just before dusk. Jim Polter and two DEA men met the helicopter. The two men took Perrit's body and said they would debrief Court and Wolf at the Emba.s.sy.
Jim Polter drove them there in his jeep and said to come by his office when they were finished and to plan to spend the night at his villa. He would arrange a plane to get Court back to Ubon tomorrow.
The DEA men were competent and professional. They took Wolf's statements without comment until Court told them what Wolf had had to go through and what he had had to pay to get the body back.
"We can't refund you, I'm afraid," the heavier of the two men said.
"The h.e.l.l we can't," the younger man said and took two twenty-dollar bills from his pocket and handed them to Wolf.
Unlike in South Vietnam, Americans stationed in Laos could deal in dollars, not military scrip. "Listen," he said, "you did a h.e.l.l of a job. Most people would just have left him there. James Penit was, well, really into his work. He could be abrasive.
Thanks for the debrief and we will continue to track Bunth and Touby."
"You got anything at all on unusual activity in that area other than dope traffic and the commies?" Wolf asked.
"Like what?" the older man said.
"Like Russians."
The older man laughed. "You're nuts. Nothing like that in Laos."
"Try the Agency," the younger man said. "That's more their line of work."
"No point in seeing them," Wolf said as they strode down the hall.
"Mister Sam has told them all we know. Although I might see if the boss of that Scheisskopf Powers is back. He's the one I was supposed to meet in the first place." He entered the office.
A comely brown-haired woman standing by the empty desk said Mister Powers and his boss were in Bangkok for an unspecified period on Company business. She eyed Court with obvious approval and seemed about to speak as they walked out and headed for Jim Polter's office.
Polter had a visitor, a firm and st.u.r.dy blonde wearing a tan skirt and light blue blouse. Her eyes widened as she saw them.
"Vulfgang," she said in surprise.
Wolf Lochert snorted in recognition. His mouth moved from a glad smile to a heavy frown. He had met Greta Sturm earlier in the year, when he had rescued her and Jim Polter from the roof of a CIA safe house that had no longer been safe in Hue, South Vietnam. She had been a nurse with the German Maltese Cross mission. At first reluctant to shoot at the attacking North Vietnamese, she had later proved to be cool and capable with an M- 16. Afterward, quite taken, Wolf had talked at length with her, and revealed a reflective and gentle side of himself not seen since the days before he had left the Maryknoll Seminary to become a soldier. She had told him she would leave the mission and get a job as a nurse in Saigon to be near him, to be his girlfriend, but when Wolf had gone to her apartment shortly afterward, she had not been there, and the neighbors, who worked at the German Emba.s.sy, had not seemed to know her very well or where she had gone. He was disappointed and bitter that she hadn't tried to see him.
"Just what are you doing here?" he sputtered.
She looked like a doe trapped in a hunter's spotlight. "Not here," she said, and moved swiftly into the hall. Wolf followed her. Court eyed Polter, who winked and stayed behind.
In the hall she reached for his hand but he jerked away.
"Wolfgang, I know you must be angry. You must think I lied to you." She spoke in a low, urgent voice. "I know I said we would see each other, then I was not available." Without makeup, her face looked like that of a young Teutonic boy with a firm chin.
"What are you doing here?" he repeated.
She licked her lips. "I am here on business. I work as an administrative nurse for the Agency for International Development. They sent me here with some studies." She wrung her hands. "Oh, I didn't want us to meet like this. I was afraid this would happen. Why didn't Jim tell me you were here?"
"You weren't in Saigon when I went to see you," he persisted.
"You never told me you were coming." Her gray, wide-set eyes looked worried and she seemed happy and fl.u.s.tered at the same time. There were dark circles under her eyes. For the first time Wolf noticed how thin she was compared to the last time he had seen her. Greta spoke.
"Please-I must talk to you. I must explain."
Jim Polter walked up with Court. "C'mon, you two, quittin' time," he said with a grin. "I'm taking you over to my place for dinner." He grabbed them both by the arm and urged them out the Emba.s.sy door. No one noticed the brown-haired woman from Powers' office who watched from down the hall. She allowed a knowing smile to cross her face as she made plans to undertake a little seduction that night.
Polter drove them in a jeep to his rather sumptuous villa in the American compound called KM6.
"Yes," he said, only slightly embarra.s.sed as they entered through wide doors into the polished, teak-floored hallway of his one-story American-style rambler, "it is like back home, isn't it?" The house was in a peaceful neighborhood with other ramblers. There were manicured lawns, a few pools, concrete driveways leading up to garages, a few kids playing, bikes lying on the gra.s.s. Typical American suburbia in Vientiane, Laos.
Many of the Emba.s.sy and AID people lived in these surroundings. Their younger grade-school-aged children went to the International School in Vientiane. High-school-aged children went to the International School in Bangkok. Those college age kids who were actually in college were in Switzerland, taking advantage of the AID tuition and travel benefits.
Most, however, were flitting about the world in gra.s.sy attempts to find themselves.
Polter showed the two men to the guest room. Polter offered Greta a room because, he said, they would probably be up talking well past curfew. She nodded but didn't reply.
After cleaning up, they sat in Polter's air-conditioned, teaklined study, and were served drinks while they discussed the results of the last few days. Court was wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts, a tank top, and thongs. His tanned body was fit and trim. Wolf had put on civilian khaki pants and a short-sleeved sport s.h.i.+rt that accentuated the ridged muscles and dark hair of his forearms. Court and Polter had beer in thermal mugs so chilled that ice crystals had formed in the foam. Greta and Wolf had iced tea.
Wolf outlined his findings, saying he was quite sure Touby was in charge of Bunth and his men, and that he was playing both sides of the war, as well as the opium smugglers. Polter agreed and said small indicators in the past supported the theory. At dusk he brought them to the brick patio in the rear and put steaks on the gas grill while a servant hovered and replenished drinks. A large, curved pool, as fresh and immaculate as if it had just been constructed that afternoon from a picture in a garden magazine, stretched out to the tall trees and thick foliage around the patio. They settled in lawn chairs about a round white metal table with a center hole for an umbrella; muted cla.s.sical music came from two waterproof speakers under the eaves on each side of the patio. They were discussing life in Laos in general and in Vientiane in particular.
Jim Polter had just told them a Russian Emba.s.sy was there, and that occasional contact was made with the Russians on the streets and at the occasional functions attended by all of the diplomats in Vientiane.
"We kind of have fun with the Sovs, bait the attachds with phony stories, kiddy stuff like that. Years ago, before they stopped coming in to Wattay, we used to get drunk with the pilots who were flying stuff in for the PL." He got up to attend the grill as the sun set and a servant fit the Tiki torches. Greta looked imploringly at Wolf, who finally got the message and asked if she wanted to look at the flowers at the other end of the pool. Court sipped his beer and tried not to smile as they walked away.
They sat on a cement bench in a small flower garden that gave them partial concealment from the grill and the house.
She took his big hand in hers.
"Wolfgang, if I hurt you, I am so sorry, so very sorry."
He remained quiet.
"Please," she said, "I did not handle it well. I know that. The battle, the fight, the deaths ... you being so, so fierce and gentle at the same time . . ." She trailed off.
He shook his head. "I told you so much. You seemed so ... defenseless.
Then you shot so well. You put on quite a show. I should have known.
The villa, after all, belonged to the Agency's man in Hue."
Her eyes widened. "You think I am with the CIA?" There had been a b.l.o.o.d.y firefight during the escape. Greta Sturm had said she was a nurse and could not, would not, shoot a weapon, but when things had been at their worst, and a man with an M-16 had been killed next to her, she had picked up the weapon and proven to be a very good shot, quite cool under fire.
"it was quite a show."
"It wasn't a show. Oh no, I was afraid. I was very much afraid. I was not sure I could do it. I was not sure I could kill."
"All that about you being a nurse and your father not wanting you to be a doctor. And your joining the Maltese Aid Society to get away from him. That wasn't true-was it?"
"Stop it," she said. "Stop it. It is true, all of it. Why don't you believe me?"
"Then why have you avoided me?"
She calmed down. "Because ... because you are a soldier, a warrior."
"You knew that when we met and when we saw each other once at Tan Son Nhut."
"Yes, but ... but ... this is difficult ... if I were to lose you ...
maybe I thought if I didn't see you ever again, then there would be no pain if ... if--2' "If I got my tail shot off."
She wrung her hands. "Oh, I did miss you and I am glad to see you. So very glad."
Wolf turned to her. The torchlight framed her face. He shook his ma.s.sive head. "We talked so much. I told you so many things about myself."
"Were they true?"
"Yes."
"Do you regret it?"
He thought for a moment. "I suppose not."
"Suppose? Why suppose?"
He inhaled a deep breath. "I have never revealed so much of myself to anyone, and when I could not find you I thought maybe ... maybe I had scared you away."
She took his big hand in hers. "Oh, Liebchen, you could never scare me.
You are so gentle. I am so sorry for what I did. I promise, I will not again hide."
He took her hand. "You look very nice," he said in a soft voice.
These were the most romantic words Special Forces Lieutenant Colonel Wolfgang X. Lochert had ever said to a woman in his life. Greta Sturm was the first woman seriously to attract his attention since his infatuation with a leggy dancer named Charmaine years ago. When he had watched Greta in the fierce battle at the Hue villa, calmly firing three-round bursts from an M- 16, dirt smudge on her forehead, blonde hair falling over the stock as she took aim, he had thought he had never seen a more attractive woman.
"No, I don't." She took her hand away. "I look terrible. I'm worried and all tired out."
"Well, you've lost weight."
"Mein Gott, Vulfgang. You do not know how to compliment a woman, do you? Lost weight, ach." She laughed and tossed her head. "Yes, I've lost weight. I work too hard. I can't help it."
"Tell me why you are really here in Vientiane."
She smiled. "You are only being nice to me to learn why I am here."
"Perhaps."
"I am here delivering some papers."
Wolf made a small sound in his throat, which she interpreted as a snort of derision. "You don't think a woman should be out here?"
"Hold on, there. I didn't say anything of the sort."
"You had better not. Your precious Army doesn't see fit to use women in anything but typing jobs. At least AID lets us get out in the field once in a while."
Wolf gave her what he hoped was his most sincere smile.
"That they do," he said. "Delivering papers."
"You think I'm just a courier? Well, I am not. These papers are the results of my studies on health care for children in South Vietnam and Laos."
"What did you find?"
"South Vietnam-some care. Very little in Laos, outside of the Tom Dooley foundation."
They sat silently fora moment. "Wolfgang," she whispered into his ear.
"Regardless of what you think about me, I am glad to see you. I mean it, I do want to see you in Saigon." In the darkness, she turned and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"We will see each other," he said quietly.
Jim called that chow was about to be served. They went back and talked with Court for a few moments, when they heard the sound of the front door being opened by the houseboy, then the slap of sandals on the teak floor. The brown-haired girl from Powers' office stepped through the French doors onto the patio. She wore a brightly colored summer frock.
The men rose.
Her brown eyes grew large in exaggerated surprise. "Oh, Jim, you have company," she said breathlessly. "I'll come back."
She swept her eyes around and looked long at Wolf and Court.