Forged in Honor (1995)

by Leonard B Scott

  The evening grew longer but no one in the room moved; they all were held spellbound as Stephen spoke of his plan.

  Josh felt his heart pounding and the blood racing through his veins. Stephen Kang had become a true Sawbaw. He was giving his people hope.

  Sitting below a window outside the cabin, Xu Kang leaned against the old sayo logs and listened to his son. A single tear trickled down the old man's face and dropped soundlessly into the dust.

  .

  12 July.

  The early-morning mist was rising from the damp earth as Jacob stood in front of his father. "Will I see you soon, Papa?"

  Stephen reached down and picked the boy up. "Yes, in just a week we will be together, and I'll never have to leave you again." He gave his son a hug and set him down.

  "Promise?" Jacob asked, searching his father's eyes.

  Stephen smiled. "I promise. One week, son. Remember to take good care of Kaska-you are now her protector."

  Jacob nodded and walked over to his grandfather, who kneeled down and hugged him. "No tears, little Sawbaw.

  Soon we will ride through the green mountain valleys and hunt the gyi and wild boar. What glorious days we will have, telling our hunting stories by the crackling fire."

  Stephen found himself smiling as he watched his father lead Jacob to the Jeep. Josh walked up beside Stephen and offered his hand. "I'll see you in five days as per the plan.

  Until then, brother."

  Stephen grabbed Josh's hand and pulled him close to his chest. "Take care of yourself, brother, and take care of Jacob for me. Promise me."

  Josh patted Stephen's back and tried to step away, but Stephen held him in a viselike grip. "Promise me, Joshua you must promise me."

  "I promise you, brother."

  Stephen released him and nodded. "Five days."

  "Five days," Josh said with finality, then turned and walked toward the Jeep.

  Xu Kang buckled Jacob's and Kaska's seat belts and turned to Josh. "I will see you soon, so there will be no farewells between us. We will have such stories to tell at the campfires, eh?"

  Josh forced a smile and clapped his hand on the old man's right shoulder. "You bring the zu, Chindit, and we will lie until the morning frogs croak."

  The old man laughed and rolled back his shoulders. "The gods be with you!"

  Xu Kang walked back to where Stephen stood watching the vehicle disappear down the rutted road. "Too many times I did what you are doing now-wishing things were different and that you had spent more time with your son."

  Stephen reached out and clapped his father's right shoulder. "In five days it will be over. We will finish it together as father and son. The gods have willed it."

  Kang's eyes teared. "Together it is, my son."

  Ministry of Defense, Rangoon Prime Minister Ren Swei stood in front of his office closet mirror as the tailor marked the cuff of his suit trousers. Swei looked at the reflection of his information minister, who stood behind him. "I've read the speech. I made only a few changes. However, I am not comfortable with the questioning period at the end of the conference. Cancel it."

  The thin, bespectacled minister's shoulders sagged as he raised his hands in prayer fashion. "It is impossible, Prime Minister. The press releases and invitations have been out for weeks. It is expected in a democratic-"

  "The prime minister said cancel it!" General Tan snapped from his seat near the door.

  Swei raised his hand. "Wait, let him speak. Please, U Dau, tell me what is expected."

  The little man nervously removed his glasses. "It would be expected of a leader who proposes a democratic government to answer questions from the press. It shows you have nothing to hide and are willing to communicate with the world.

  I will ensure that the press asks only questions you are prepared to answer and that no more than five questions are asked."

  The tailor began pinning up the jacket material, and Swei straightened his back as he looked at himself in the mirror.

  "Yes, I agree. It will be a first in our country. Add that to the next press release."

  Tan eyed the little minister with contempt. "How can you be so sure you can, control the questions?"

  "I will have a drawing, and those reporters who win will be given a list of questions the prime minister deems suitable.

  It is done all the time. They will understand."

  "I don't like it," Tan said, shaking his head. "There will be television crews there."

  Swei smiled. "I like it. I'll be seen as a struggling leader trying to save his country. I can always just say that I'm new to this but I am trying hard to become worthy of the position.

  Yes, I like it. Approved. Now, what is the latest count?"

  The information minister put his glasses back on and took a small notepad from his pocket. "Fifty-two people representing twenty-one countries. The BBC will be filming for a documentary, and you already know about CNN and the Japanese television crews. Germany will also send a crew, as will Thailand."

  The tailor nodded and Swei stepped down from the small stool. "I want nothing but the best for them when they arrive.

  Ensure the hotel staff knows to cater to all their needs and requests. That is all, U Dau. I will make out a list of questions for you this evening and send them over. Thank you."

  Swei took off the suit jacket and handed it to the tailor.

  "Two black and one gray, as we discussed. Please leave us now." He waited until the tailor had shut the door before asking Tan, "Have the wage increases given us the needed rally supporters?"

  "Beyond our dreams," Tan replied with a smile. "The government workers and even the students will be marching with banners to show their support. The army units we planned to bring in wearing civilian clothes are no longer necessary.

  Money talks. The people are ecstatic with the increases in pay; already the economy is beginning to rebound. The markets are flourishing. When you announce tomorrow that you will free all political prisoners on the nineteenth, any remaining opposition will vanish."

  Swei nodded, then walked to his desk and looked out the window. "We have done it, my friend. Our dream is a reality.

  Nothing can stop us now."

  Bangkok, Thailand McCoy stopped once outside the chief of station's house and poked Josh in the chest. "If that old Shan woman spits betel juice in his house, the chief and his wife will kill you."

  Josh shrugged. "Kaska carries a cup around with her. Relax, they'll love her."

  McCoy's glare softened. "The missus liked Jacob well enough. Maybe she'll give the old woman a break. Come on, I've got to get you to the safe house and get you briefed.

  Your performance begins in five days-that's not much time to learn the lingo and memorize the names of the movers and shakers who will be there."

  Josh turned and waved to Jacob, who stood by the window. "I really like that kid, Buck."

  McCoy opened the back door of the sedan. "You'll see him again when the op is over. We've got work to do now."

  Chapter 26.

  18 July, Mingaladon Airport, Rangoon.

  Josh stepped down from the Myanmar Airways Fokker F-28 onto the steaming pavement and followed the other twelve passengers toward the small terminal. His clothes were already soaked with sweat when he entered the stifling and crowded baggage area. After picking up his two large bags, he walked to the Customs gate, where he showed his U. S. passport, visa, and credentials. The Customs officer smiled when he saw the press identification. "Happy you here, Mis-tar Ness. Good things come now with new prime minister. Welcome."

  Josh nodded with a fake smile and took back his documents. Then he picked up his bags and strode toward the exit to find a cab. He had almost reached the door when d petite, attractive Burmese woman dressed in a traditional longyi approached him and bowed her head. "Mis-ta Nessa, yes?"

  "Ness. Who are you?" Josh asked suspiciously.

  "Sorry, Mis-ta Ness," the woman said with a happy smile.

  "I work at Minis
try of Information and have come to escort you to hotel. All press receive very best treatment while in our Country. Please, I take your bags?"

  Feeling relieved, Josh returned her smile. "No, I can carry 'em. Just lead the way, and thanks for the lift."

  The woman opened the glass doors for him and pointed to a Toyota van parked at the curb.

  As soon as Josh sat down in the backseat with the pretty escort, the driver peeled away from the curb. The woman's smile was replaced by a somber, all-business look. "Colonel Banta want you to know all is ready. Last of the men infiltrate into city last night."

  "You--you're with us?" Josh stammered.

  "Many are with movement. Please listen, there is much more I must tell you. There will be a drawing this night, and ..."

  Josh walked into the Strand Hotel lobby and felt instantly at home. The British, pre--World War II relic was one of the oldest hotels in the city and had been his and Jill's home for weeks when he was assigned to Burma in '81. Nothing had changed. The antique ceiling fans still squeaked, and the late nineteenth-century furniture in the lobby was in the same position. He scanned the people in the lobby before approaching the check-in desk. He noted two Burmese men who looked out of place among the small groups of chatting Western reporters. He knew the two men had to be DDSI keeping an eye on the guests. Putting on a weary smile, Josh approached the desk and spoke to the young man behind the counter.

  "I'm Jeff Ness from the Boston Globe. You should have a reservation for me."

  The desk clerk smiled as he looked up at the bearded man.

  "Ah yes, Mr. Ness, we've been expecting you. Your paper let us know a few days ago that Mr. Momery wouldn't be coming and that you were taking his place. Is Mr. Momery feeling better?"

  "Yes, much better, thank you."

  The clerk pulled a large brown envelope from a cardboard box and passed it across the counter. "You are nearly the last one to get here, Mr. Ness. All of the foreign media representatives are staying with us. This packet from our Information Ministry explains the schedule and includes your press pass.

  There is a meeting this evening in the lounge, and don't miss the buses tomorrow at 8 A. M. There will be no other way to enter the Defense Ministry compound. Here is your room key. I'll have a porter help with your bags."

  Josh collected the packet and key with an inner smile.

  Josh stood at the bar among a virtual who's who from the news and broadcasting world. Like the others, he was waiting for the scheduled meeting in the bar. Josh glanced around at the people, all of whom were wearing plastic-covered badges.

  At the top of each was a colored flag denoting their country, followed by the newspaper, magazine, radio, or television organization they worked for, and finally their name. The crowd quieted when a small, well-dressed Burmese man stepped up to a microphone on the band stage. He tilted his head to the audience and stood erect with a big, plastic grin.

  "On behalf of Prime Minister Ren Swei, I welcome you to Myanmar. I am aware most of you call our country 'Burma,' but we prefer to use our language-pronunciation for our country. I am the prime minister's media and press relations officer, U Oo. I hope you have found your accommodations adequate, and I thank you for your attendance this evening.

  In your packets there is an advance copy of the prime minister's speech outlining his plan for our country's three-year rebuilding program and his plan for economic recovery. As your organizations requested, the prime minister will hold a question-and-answer period immediately after his televised speech. The general has allocated ten minutes for this session. In the interest of fairness, I have placed all of your names in this box. My assistant will now draw five names.

  These five reporters will be called on in the order selected to ask questions about the general's programs." Oo motioned to a small, dark-haired woman who walked up the steps holding a wooden box.

  Josh coughed to hide his surprise. The names would be drawn by his pretty escort of that afternoon.

  She shook the box and opened the top. Reaching in, she took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the media officer. "The first question will come from a representative from the Boston Globe-Mr. Jeff Ness. The second will come ..."

  Josh headed for the bar and ordered a beer. Xu Kang's silent army had done its part-now it was his turn.

  "It tastes like piss, don't it?"

  Josh turned to face a big, blond man wearing a wrinkled khaki safari jacket. He read the name off the badge and put out his hand. "Yeah, Robert, but it's cold. I'm Jeff Ness."

  The red-faced man shook Josh's hand. "Robert Fletcher, L. A. Times. You're a lucky sonofabitch. I'll give you five hundred for the spot."

  Josh shook his head. "Sorry. My editor would kill me."

  Fletcher frowned, bellied up to the bar, and called for a beer. He studied Josh's profile for a moment, then pursed his lips. "Haven't seen you before. You're a newbie, right?

  Newbies get all the fuckin' breaks. Well, you sure picked a helluva place to start. This fucking country is a dump."

  Josh shrugged. "I haven't been here long enough to form an opinion."

  Fletcher scowled. "I've been here for two days. Believe me, it's like stepping back into the 1950s. It's backward with a capital B. Aw, for cryin' out loud. Look who just came through the door. You're gonna love Freddie. He's a party animal. Hey, Freddie! Over here!"

  Josh turned and froze. Shit! He'd been had.

  Freddie, wearing a photographer's vest, approached with a confident strut. Grinning, he pounded the Times correspondent's back. "Well, I'll be damned. How the hell are ya, Robert? Haven't seen your ugly face since ... Shit, I can't even remember!"

  Fletcher elbowed Josh in the ribs. "Jeff Ness, meet Freddie Sloan, freelancer for anybody who will keep him in harm's way. Right, Freddie?"

  Still grinning, Buck McCoy stuck his hand out toward Josh. "Right you are. Hi, Jeff. Any friend of Robert's is a friend of mine. What are you boys drinkin'?"

  Josh shook McCoy's hand and tried very hard to break the agent's fingers. "Welcome to Burma, 'Freddie.' "

  Stephen stood on Singuttara Hill's wooden platform and looked over the lights of Rangoon far below. Behind him was the city's most prominent landmark and one of Asia's greatest Buddhist shrines-the Shwe Dagon pagoda, a 2,500-yearold, 320-foot-tall, gilded Buddhist stupa.

  The evening was still and quiet; the only sounds were the soft tinkling of the bells at the pagoda's pinnacle and the shuffling of the barefoot pilgrims who had made the long trek up the stone steps to pay homage. A light breeze carried the smell of incense to him from the hundreds of burning joss sticks by the idol. Stephen watched the silent people who had come to soothe their minds. He knew each would paste yet another thin gold leaf to the stupa in offering for prayers they hoped would be granted.

  Seated on the step, Xu Kang looked up at his son. "They pray for what only mortal men can give them."

  Stephen sat down by his father and said softly, "The radio relay team is in position behind the base of the pagoda platform. Our leaders report our mortal men are in position and ready for tomorrow."

  The old man didn't seem to hear. He waved his hand toward the distant lake that lay glistening in the moonlight at the foot of the hill. "I still have that picture of you and Mya there on Royal Lake when you went sailing with Joshua and his wife."

  Stephen looked up at the sky with a reflective gaze. "It seems like a lifetime ago. We believed things would get better. How were we to know it would turn out like this?"

  Xu Kang patted his son's leg. "You will have your memories forever. There will be more with Jacob as you watch him grow."

  Stephen broke his stare away from the countless stars and stood. Turning, he extended his hand to his father. "It's time for us to join our men. They are waiting."

  Xu Kang took his son's hand and stood. Looking over his shoulder at the pilgrims, he smiled. "Tomorrow, you and I will answer their prayers."

  Josh quickly grew tired of watching Fletcher
and McCoy try to pick up a pair of long-legged blond German reporters.

  He leaned over McCoy's shoulder and whispered, "Room forty-four-five minutes."

  McCoy shrugged noncommittally and scooted his chair closer to the attractive reporter who had been giving him all the right signs.

  Prime Minister Swei stepped into the empty press conference room with his information minister and General Tan. The small information minister motioned to the flower lined stage with pride. "The flower arrangements create an image of freshness and hope. We want the press and invited guests to see, hear, smell, and feel our new beginning. Your words, U Swei, will not be for the press. They will be for our people and the people of the world. They will see a gentle man, a phoenix, lifting himself and his people from the ashes of ruin. They will see a quiet, selfless man offering hope and a new future."