They had theirs. And he had his.
As for Kate’s choices, the reality was he had been crushed. He had, after all, hoped Kate would be his salvation; he had willed the past to rewrite itself with a new beginning that went beyond working for a country he was a citizen of, but had no particular fondness for. Southeast Asia always had been, and always would be, his home, while America was an arrogant big pirate who could do, and had done, great things for many, and yet had a very bad habit of stomping all over their little whores when they deemed it in their best interest.
Pirates and Whores. He wondered if Phillip had shared that story with Kate.
The journals and pages in his hands were enough to make Tolstoy weep. What a fool he had been to want to give Kate every knowledge about him that no one else had. And now, if he opened his hands and threw it all away upon the South China Sea as intended, no one else ever would. At least not by virtue of all the memories he had recorded, many of them honoring the voices of his teachers, their lessons.
JD debated. He thought he detected a faint whiff of jasmine and sandalwood, a distant wind chime of a whisper telling him, You silly boy, do you think it will change anything? You know the story isn’t over yet, now don’t you? There will be more to tell.
He hesitated, but only slightly, before laying his life story on the deck, beside his feet, protected from the sweet, cool breeze that softly kissed his ear.
As the boat moved on and up and over the next swell he thought of another boat, where he had given Kate the Go stone as a symbol his life was incomplete without her.
She had given it back to him, along with his silver Montagnard friendship bracelets, in Paris. Only then had she confronted him about leaving her alone to fend for herself on the boat.
He had done no such thing, of course. Two of the special forces marines who had come to summon him were specifically assigned to stay until he returned, and upon realizing such was not to be, he had secured the necessary promise from General Claymore, who reported to Phillip, that Kate would be safely returned to the mission.
Even so, he took responsibility for not anticipating the initial protection might be insufficient, his orders trumped, or the promises given, a sham.
Whether it was Phillip or The Pale Man or possibly both who ensured she was kidnapped to trap him into their game, he did not know. But the end result to his and Kate’s relationship was the same. Kate believed the worst of him, that he would leave her unprotected, his promises as worthless as the father that had deserted her mother. And she had turned on him as a result.
He wanted to believe that was excuse enough, that he would have done the same thing, and what they once had was still worth fighting for.
JD fingered the white Go stone Kate had returned. There was a last golden rule of Go that was not his favorite but held great wisdom for those players who would heed it: Look for peace. Avoid fighting in an isolated or weak situation.
JD skated the white stone across the water and watched until it sank beneath the sea.
Red Fish in Love with Lotus Flower
Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.
Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning
The End
Page Ahead For An Excerpt from
UNSPEAKABLE
Acknowledgments
Olivia and I have been fortunate to work with Nina and Brian Paules at eBook Prep and ePublishing Works! who have provided us with their insightful, enthusiastic publishing support. We are also indebted to early readers Nuala Vermeiren, Anne Algard, Sonja Kamber, Nancy Gold, Judy Wolf, Christine Rupprecht, and especially my dear brother Joseph Hart. Gratitude and special thanks to our expert consultants Dr. G.S. and Dr. N.S., Sue Elle, and dear friend and Vietnam War veteran helicopter pilot Steele Clayton. To my teachers, master calligrapher and Chinese Brush artist John Nip, and master Chinese Brush artist Shirley Pu Wills: it is an honor to be your student. A very special gratitude to the esteemed Tai Ji master Chungliang Huang who also honored me by taking me on as a student and inspired many aspects of this story. For Professor Alfred W. McCoy whose work, writings, and courage has informed us and provided source and reference material. Thanks again to Nora Tamada for early story and editorial feedback and to Gerry Lopez for her art expertise. You are very much appreciated. We especially thank Scott Rupprecht and Andrea Hart for once again going the distance and carrying us through another long march of storytelling with your love and support. Thank you brave women and men of the 98th (KO) and 8th Field Hospital, the Red Cross, those that volunteered and served in missions and NGOs, and those who fought and served during the Vietnam War. You gave your hearts and souls and, too many of you, your lives. You are not forgotten. We thank you all.
–John Hart
Author’s Note
The music of the 1960s and early '70s plays a significant role in Unknowable, which ends in May 1970. For storytelling purposes we needed to slightly alter the timeframe of the following releases: "Ohio" by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (June, 1970); "War" by Edwin Starr (June, 1970); "What's Going On" and "Mercy, Mercy Me" by Marvin Gaye (1971); and "The Candy Man" by Sammy Davis, Jr. (1972).
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Unspeakable
Murder on the Mekong, Book Three
The extraction was not easy. Mainly because the one being “extracted” was a Saigon Vietnamese journalist who lived in a well-guarded compound. Of course this guy Trang already knew he was on a watch list and two of his colleagues had been “disappeared” so that was making him a bit more difficult to be “disappeared” himself.
Jerry Prince knew he’d rather be deader than dead than switch places with the problem journalist he had orders to deliver to The School.
As fond as he had become of The School, it was nice to get out of the Highlands compound for a change and go hunting in downtown Saigon instead. Saigon had a lot going on right now. For one thing most of the American troops were gone and most of the contractors with any sense at all were getting out yesterday with any money or family that they had—which pointed to the other big thing: there wasn’t much American money to be had anymore anyway. He’d been here over seven years now, if he included that stint before getting shipped back to the Madigan General Psych Unit, make it the locked ward, and he had to say there’d never been a scarier time to be in South Vietnam. The whole place literally reeked desperation. He didn’t need any School experiments to prove that jumpy, desperate people were dangerous and even he needed to be careful.
Trang was about twenty feet ahead of him on the bustling sidewalk. A moving carnival of cars, jeeps, bicycles and Vespas blared horns on the street to his left. To the right was an endless line of glass fronted shops showcasing everything from Seiko watches and Teac tape decks to vibrant bolts of raw silk and cigarettes. The smell of pho and weed was everywhere. But mostly Jerry smelled the fear rolling off Trang like he was pissing all over himself in a foxhole.
Trang sped up. Jerry kept pace with his quarry. Trang furtively glanced back. Jerry immediately glanced in the direction of a shop window and—
That’s when he bumped right into another pedestrian.
“Excuse me,” Jerry apologized.
“My fault. Sorry, man.”
American. Jerry knew that voice. Nobody had a voice like that except…
Holy. Fuck. It was his old pal Dr. Gregg Kelly. What the hell was he doing here?
It was only a split second of eye-contact Jerry
told himself as he put his head down and hurried on; but peripherally, reflected in the shop window, he saw Gregg still standing there, mouth open, looking like he’d seen a ghost.
Don’t look back, he ordered himself. Don’t run.
Jerry forgot about his quarry. He could be disappeared later. Right now his main concern was disappearing himself.
After a quick half block, a sharp turn down an alley, then a zig-zag cross between two other busy streets, Jerry stopped in front of a bakery. His 20/10 vision assured him that Dr. Gregg Kelly was nowhere in sight. Instincts that made him deadlier than an Asian cobra agreed.
Still, Jerry Prince pretended to study the array of exquisite French pastries on display in the storefront window while assessing his reflection in the glass. Bleached blond hair, worn on the long side, looked nothing like his natural thick crop of black, regulation military style. And thanks to a plastic surgeon at The School he had a new nose. Plus he was wearing brown contacts. And civvies. Nah, Doc Kelly couldn’t have recognized him. He hardly recognized himself. Only…
“Excuse me.”
“My fault. Sorry, man.”
He’d recognized Gregg Kelly’s voice before registering the startled look on his face.
Doc Kelly was a good shrink. Shrinks actively listened to voices all the time. Even with the disguise job and nearly three years apart, it was entirely possible Kelly had made the ID with two muttered words: Excuse me.
Why the hell did he have to go and be so goddam polite? And just what the hell was Kelly doing back in Nam anyway? Now he might have to kill his favorite shrink. Again. The first time hadn’t worked out as planned. And why? Because he’d been too reactive instead of keeping a clear head.
Jerry did the ten breaths the professor had taught him to shift to clarity thinking. And then he had it.
He wasn’t going to kill Doc Kelly. He was booking him a first class reservation at The Killing School instead.
UNSPEAKABLE
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The Murder on the Mekong Series
UNBREAKABLE
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UNSPEAKABLE
BLIND SPOT
About the Authors
Hart Rivers is the pen name for bestselling co-authors John L. Hart and Olivia Rupprecht. John, Creator of the Murder On The Mekong series, has been a practicing psychotherapist for over 40 years, starting in Vietnam where he was a psychology specialist. He received his doctorate from the University of Southern California, is an internationally respected lecturer, has been a consultant to the nation of Norway for their Fathering Project, and maintained a private practice in Los Angeles for twenty years. His time is divided between Hawaii—where he enjoys snorkeling, stand up paddle boarding, and is a featured artist at the Mauna Kea Hotel—and Vancouver Island, B.C., where he is an adjunct associate professor at the University of Victoria in British Columbia.
Olivia is an award-winning author whose novels have sold worldwide, and Series Developer of True Vows, the groundbreaking series of reality-based novels from HCI Books. She lives in a historic tavern on a lake in Wisconsin.
We love to hear from our readers. Please visit us at www.MurderOnTheMekong.com.
UNKNOWABLE (Murder on the Mekong, Book 2) Page 37
