Rules of Engagement (1991)

by Joe Weber

  "I've memorized all the flight times," she confessed. "I'll plan to leave early in the morning. My flight is scheduled to land in San Francisco at ten thirty-five."

  "I can't wait," Brad replied, then added, "if you have any problems, or if you get delayed, please call the Fairmont and leave a message for me."

  "Okay. Do you happen to have the telephone number?" "Yes," Brad answered, struggling to free his wallet. He gave her the number, and she read it back to him.

  "Oh, one other thing," Brad said, folding the confirmation notice from the Fairmont. "Your room is booked in your name, so please go ahead and check in, then relax and enjoy San Francisco."

  "I'll do that."

  "I should arrive in the early afternoon," Brad continued, returning his wallet to his back pocket. "If I encounter any delays, I'll leave a message for you."

  "Oh, Brad, I can't wait to see you."

  He could feel the excitement stirring inside of him. "I'm the one who can't wait."

  "I'm going to call and confirm my airline reservations right now."

  "Good idea, and get some rest, if you can."

  "I don't think I can sleep," Leigh Ann laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  Brad tensed as the airliner lifted off the runway at the Haneda Airport and banked toward the Pacific Ocean. He had always been uncomfortable in an airplane, unless he had access to the flight controls. Looking around the sparsely filled jet, Brad was thankful that he had all three seats to himself. He stared blankly out the window, feeling a tinge of guilt about abandoning Harry.

  Tilting his seat back, Brad felt the continuous bumps as the airliner climbed through the lower choppy air. A moment later, the flight suddenly became smooth as the jet gained altitude. Reaching into the oversized shopping bag in the center seat, Brad removed the box containing the beautiful kimono he had purchased in one of the stores at the airport.

  He unfolded the soft garment and inspected the craftsmanship. The loose Japanese robe was a tasteful example of the traditional kimono. The luxuriously tailored silk gown featured wide sleeves and a broad sash.

  Satisfied, he replaced the light beige and blue kimono in the box. He hoped Leigh Ann would be pleased with the gift.

  Brad opened the latest copy of Newsweek and leafed through the magazine, skipping the articles having to do with the war. When the airliner leveled at cruising altitude, he placed the magazine in the seat back and thought about Leigh Ann. Would she really be as wonderful as he envisaged?

  "Sir, would you care for a beverage?"

  Lost in his thoughts, Brad had been unaware of the charming young Japanese woman standing next to him. "Sure," Brad responded, folding the seat-back tray into position. "I'll have a scotch and soda."

  He gazed out of the window at the setting sun, feeling the tension drain from his body. He pulled Leigh Ann's pendant from under his shirt and admired it.

  His drink finished, Brad put the glass down and exhaled. A few minutes later, he drifted into a sound sleep.

  Chapter 29.

  HANOI

  Jean-Paul Bouvier, the Hanoi correspondent for the French newspaper L'Humanite, held the Chevaliers magnifying glass over the black-and-white photographs.

  He was a small man with a receding hairline and thick glasses. He studied the pictures for a minute with rapt attention. He had captured the unusual pictures of an American F-4 Phantom from a vantage point on the flight line at Phuc Yen Air Base.

  The photographs clearly showed an American fighter plane flying down the runway a scant twenty feet above the surface. The Phantom had been showcased between the vertical stabilizers of two parked MiG-21s.

  For Bouvier, the shocking sight of the F-4 and the thunderous sonic boom had temporarily unnerved him. After the American pilot had turned and fired two missiles, Bouvier had finally raised his camera. He had snapped a number of pictures of the fast-moving fighter, but only one photo showed recognizable elements of the airfield.

  He had taken the time to extensively photograph the wreckage of Maj. Nguyen Thanh Dao's burned and twisted MiG-21. The second leading ace in the North Vietnamese Air Force had died a savage death at the feet of his comrades. Bouvier had also shot a number of pictures of the destroyed MiG-17 at the end of the runway.

  Well aware of the American-imposed rules of engagement, Jean-Paul Bouvier knew that Phuc Yen had been declared an off-limits airfield. If the sanctuary status of Phuc Yen had been removed, the French correspondent had no doubt that the American pilots would have arrived en masse and bombed the base to oblivion.

  Unsure of the current U. S. military position in regard to Phuc Yen, Bouvier had decided to wait a few days before he talked with anyone. If he supplied any information about the attack, he had to be absolutely positive that the American assault had been an unauthorized and premeditated strike.

  Bouvier had already sent a release to L' Humanite, describing the circumstances surrounding the death of Major Dao. He had been careful to phrase his words so he would not sound accusatory.

  Now, after the uproar from the North Vietnamese government and military officials, Bouvier was certain that the attack had been a rogue ambush. This was the type of incident that could provide great prestige for the timid correspondent. To expose the unlawful attack, Bouvier needed positive proof of the origin of the aircraft. Had the F-4 been an air-force plane or a navy aircraft?

  Bouvier had his assistant print a larger picture of the trespassing Phantom. Using the enlarged magnifying glass, he was able to read the serial number and side number painted on the fuselage of the treacherous offender. He was surprised to see the name of an American aircraft carrier displayed on the side of the aft fuselage. The bold NAVY was partially obscured by the wing, but there was no question. The fighter was a navy F-4 Phantom.

  Awakened by turbulence, Brad shifted in his seat and looked at his watch. Two hours and ten minutes to arrival time in San Francisco. He reset his watch to Pacific Coast time, then closed his eyes. Immediately, images of the war surfaced. He opened his eyes and stared at the seat in front of him, forcing himself to think back to Hawaii and Leigh Ann. His mind kept returning to the war. What was happening to Bull and Russ?

  Catching a glimpse of the approaching flight attendant, Brad looked up and smiled.

  "You must have been very tired," she teased. "You slept through our two meal services."

  "I apologize. I'm sure they were very good."

  "I will be happy to warm a meal for you," she offered shyly. "You must be hungry."

  Although not interested in eating, Brad did not want to appear ungrateful. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thanks."

  After he had consumed a respectable amount of his Kobe beef, rice, and salad, he slid the tray to the table opened over the middle seat and watched the clouds until the airplane began the descent toward San Francisco International Airport.

  FAIRMONT HOTEL

  Leigh Ann stepped out of the taxi under the canopied entrance to the elegant hotel. Two bellhops eagerly gathered her luggage while she paid her cab fare.

  Following the two red-jacketed men, Leigh Ann was fascinated by the marble columns in the richly appointed lobby.

  "Miss Ladasau checking in," one of the bellmen said as they approached the desk.

  "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, flashi
ng 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.

  HANOI

  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 so happy 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 at actually being in San Francisco with Brad. Was it really true?

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

  "Before we go," Brad stopped, remembering the gift he had purchased 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 befor
e 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?"