Flight of the Intruder jg-1

by Stephen Coonts

  “Jesus!” said Jake. “I don’t know how he managed to swim the rest of the way after that.” Jake could envision the terror in the darkness as the boy fought the panicky clutches of his drowning brother. He remembered that Morgan had also clutched at his arm. “At least Chiang’s brother knew what he died for.”

  “I guess he did know. Mainly he wanted a better way of life. And the family had prepared both the boys. Their father had told each son to go on if the other ran into serious trouble. Chiang’s family was very practical. They knew the risks. At least they didn’t encounter any sharks.” She leaned across and touched the back of his hand. “Are you okay?”

  Jake took a deep breath. “Oh, yeah. But Chiang didn’t really follow his father’s instructions-which I can understand. I’m not sure I would’ve either. Although I see that it would be much harder now on Chiang if his father hadn’t given him those instructions. Does the family know what happened?”

  “Uh-huh, they know. There are ways of communicating across the border.”

  He looked around the bar, at the tables, the British gentlemen in expensive suits tossing back their pint the Chinese bartender washing glasses, the mirror reflecting and enlarging the room. He thought of struggling to stay afloat at night in a running sea waiting for the sharks. “Can you get Chiang to the States?”

  “I’ll do my best, Jake.” She sipped the last of her drink and sighed. “Well, I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

  “You have to go?” Jake said.

  “Alas, I need to get home and change for the shindig tonight.”

  “I’d like to see you home.”

  “Thanks, but there’s no need to go through all that It’d mean two ferry rides for you.”

  “No problem. Riding boats is one of the things they pay me for.”

  “No, it’s really too much trouble.”

  “I want to see you again.”

  Callie looked down at the table. “I have a clear day tomorrow.”

  “So do I.”

  She raised her eyes. “Why don’t you walk with me to the Star Ferry? We can talk on the way.”

  The rain had stopped. Callie and Jake passed by Rolls and Mercedes sedans parked in the curved driveway of the hotel. Although the harbor was only a short distance away, Jake could not see it, so thick was the fog.

  Callie ran her hand through her hair. “Ugh! This weather. And I won’t have much time to do anything with my hair.”

  As they crossed the street three teenaged boys came toward them. Their black hair was slicked down and they wore open-collared, long-sleeved shirts in bright, solid colors. They talked loudly and one tried to bump into Callie, who adroitly sidestepped him. “Teddy boys,” she said to Jake. “Hong Kong’s version of juvenile delinquents.”

  They edged onto the sidewalk, which was packed with people. Callie and Jake, joining the crowd, had to slow their pace. High-pitched, sing-song voices beat against his ears. Jake felt clammy, and his stomach tightened. “So many people,” he said. “There are five thousand men on my ship and it’s never this crowded. How do you stand it?”

  Callie laughed. “Did I say I could stand it? It’s like living in a closet with five million people. Stay with me; it’s not much farther.” Passersby jostled him, sometimes roughly.

  There were fewer people as they neared the terminal landing, but directly ahead was a dense crowd that Jake assumed was waiting to board the ferry. He caught glimpses of the harbor. Callie stopped. “Look,” she said. “See that building? That’s the Ocean Terminal where the passenger liners dock and disgorge crazed shoppers.” Jake said nothing and they went on.

  She told him as they walked about the excellent shops, the many fine things for sale in Hong Kong, and the restaurants-Maxine’s Boulevard was her favorite.

  She talked about the Star House Arcade, next door to the terminal, where there were other interesting places to shop, including a store devoted entirely to Seico watches. If he wanted a good watch, that was the place to buy it. She chattered on, and Jake thought she sounded like a tour guide.

  “Callie,” he said, interrupting her. “Cool it. I’m not some idiot congressman.” Callie stopped and looked up at him, astonishment spreading across her face.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t come to Hong Kong to shop. I came to get away from the goddam war. Now all I want is to be with you.” He cupped her head in his hands; his palms pressed lightly against her ears, his fingers entwined in her springy hair.

  He brought his lips to hers. So soft, he thought. So gentle. He felt her arms encircle his waist; he put his arms around her, drawing her closer. She smelled fresh an springlike as lilacs. She broke off the kiss and said “That was a surprise.”

  Because of the crowd it took five minutes for Jake and Callie to get near a turnstile for the ferry. They decided on their plans for the next day while two ferries filled up and left. Jake escorted her to the turnstile an she went through. Turning back toward him, she called out, “See you tomorrow!” When she smiled broadly and waved, a pleasant warmth suffused him, like the first swallow of a mellow scotch. He watched the green and white ferry slide into the fog.

  By the time Jake got back to the hotel it was dark. His stomach felt queasy again. He was glad to enter the lobby and leave the hordes and the humidity behind When he got to his room he was disappointed that Sammy wasn’t there, but not surprised. He had wanted to tell him about Callie.

  After a long shower he changed into fresh clothes. Feeling better, he went down to the Swiss restaurant in is the hotel, the Chesa, and had a steak and a beer. It settled his stomach. He returned to his room and, lighting up his last cigarette of the day with hands that shook slightly, watched television before going to bed.

  At first he thought about Callie, replaying as best he could what they had said to each other and what they had done. Then he recalled those crowds of Asian faces, those voices. They had pressed their flesh against his. Their babble had assaulted his ears. It was as though they wanted him to know they were real.

  What you try to do, Jake thought, is to keep it fuzzy in your mind that you kill real people. You pickle the bombs and you don’t see them fall and you don’t hear the explosions. You see only silent puffs of smoke sometimes and how could they kill anyone? It’s not real. You begin to think that maybe Orientals don’t breathe, don’t eat, don’t shit, can’t feel pain, don’t cry out. You begin to think they’re not real. You try to keep it fuzzy in your brain where the truth of it all resides because you know that you don’t want to kill-God, you don’t want to kill. But yet you do kill, maybe as many as fifty at a time. You have bombs and there are no fair fights and you know it’s wrong. You live with shame. It would be different if you knew that if you didn’t kill a man he would kill you, like gunfighters facing off or fighter aircraft dueling in the sky. Sometimes you get to attack those who try to kill you with flak and missiles and if you kill them you can handle it. But you have bombs. Mostly you kill those who aren’t trying to kill you. It’s the children you’ve maybe killed that give you the worst dreams of all because you can see what your bombs do to their small bodies and you can hear their screams. But you don’t really know if you’ve killed children-maybe you haven’t. You can tell yourself you haven’t unless you learn that you’ve screwed up and your bombs have hit a hospital or a school. So you try hard to keep your mind fuzzy about all this, about the truth, about what the truth might be. And you want to rip the balls off a grinning bastard who tells you how many, precisely you’ve killed.

  ELEVEN

  Sammy threw open the curtain and dazzling sunlight burst into the room.

  “C’mon, Grafton. Get your arse moving. It’s gonna be a great day.”

  Yawning, Jake said, “Arse?”

  “I’ve been hanging around with the Brits. smashing guys. I “What time is it?” Grafton noticed that Lundeen’ bed had not been slept in.

  “Almost ten. Lets go, matey. Up an’ at ‘em, shit an shave.”

 
“What’s the rush?” Jake groaned. “Where were you last night, anyway?”

  “These Brits I met-Royal Navy types-fixed me up with an Aussie lassie, an airline stew who immediately recognized my sterling qualities. Couldn’t bear to spend the night without me.” Sammy rolled his eyes appreciatively. “Cool Hand, this is your lucky day She’s got a friend. A sex-starved female just dying to meet you.”

  Jake rose and went into the bathroom, and Sammy came over and stood near the door. “Hey, Grafton Has it been so long you’ve forgotten what sex is? I said I got you fixed up. Had to lie a little, of course. Told her you had hundreds of females fighting each other for your bod.

  But what the hell, a friend’s a friend, right?”

  “Right,” said Jake. He came out of the bathroom. “I really appreciate this, but there’s a glitch. l-“

  “A glitch? What’re you talking about?”

  “Remember that woman I told you about yesterday?

  The one who-“

  “What?” said Sammy, incredulously. “You mean Miss Tea and Crumpets? You can’t be serious. I’ve got you fixed up with a real woman, also an Aussie. As good as I am, I couldn’t possibly handle them both.”

  “Sure,” said Jake. “But I’ve got a commit-“

  “Now look, Jake.” Sammy spoke very slowly and deliberately, as though he were speaking to a small child.

  “Let me make this very clear. You can get laid today. By this voluptuous hunk of very tall blonde woman. This woman will overstress your main spar, laddy.

  You know what I’m talking about. L-A-I-D.”

  “Yeah,” said Jake. “But listen a goddamn minute to what-“

  “Okay,” said Sammy with finality. “I got the picture.” Walking toward the door, he said, “Well, I was gonna go to breakfast with you, but I can see you’re off your rocker today and I’m starving, so I’m not gonna wait.” Sammy opened the door, then turned toward Jake. “Tell me this. Did you get into her crumpets?

  “Huh? Huh? Go to hell.”

  “Ha! I knew it! I rest my case.” He slammed the door.

  Deciding he’d shower later, Jake shaved hurriedly. He caught Sammy at breakfast. The residue of fried eggs was on his plate. Jake ordered coffee, tomato juice, and toast with orange marmalade.

  “You should’ve checked first,” said Jake. “I told you about her yesterday.”

  “And just how could I do that? Anyway, how can I take seriously a broad who says she wants to meet you for tea? Tea.”

  “I take her seriously. She’s all right.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’d like you to meet her,” said Jake.

  “Don’t see how I could fit that in. I’ve got a lot of things to do today.

  Arrangements would have to be rearranged, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know. I sure do appreciate what you did. But I want you to meet her. Like to know what you think.”

  Sammy took two sips of coffee before answering “Well, as I said, I’ll be pretty busy today. But I’ll give consideration to it.”

  When Callie called from the lobby, Jake told her that he wanted her to meet a friend of his. In the hallway Sammy said, “What the hell are crumpets, anyway?”

  “Beats me.”

  As they waited at the elevator, Jake said, “Be nice okay?”

  “Grafton, if my little deal with the Aussie sisters falls apart because I can’t come up with another guy, your ass is grass.”

  They walked into the lobby, which was brighter than Jake had ever seen it.

  “Is that her,” Sammy said standing by the pillar?”

  “Yep,” said Jake, returning Callie’s wave. “That her.”

  Callie was wearing dark slacks and an unbuttoned white sweater over a yellow blouse. She carried a small shoulder bag.

  “Not bad,” Sammy said. “Not bad at all.”

  Jake wanted to hug Callie, but instead he introduced her to Sammy, who stood with his feet together and made a little bow. Callie smiled and said, “Jake told me you’re his roomie. Are you a pilot, too?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Sammy. “I’m crazy, too.”

  Callie laughed. “I didn’t know you had to be crazy to fly.”

  “You gotta be nuts to fly and nuts to be in the navy,” Sammy said solemnly. “So we’ve got a double whammy. Only insane people could live for months cooped up on a ship like a bunch of monks.”

  “How long have you two been inflicting craziness on each other?”

  The men exchanged glances. “We’ve known each other a couple years, I guess,” Jake said.

  “Yeah,” said Sammy. “And we’ve been living together for about a year, so I know all Jake’s faults. I can make up a list when we get back to our floating monastery and send it to you. That much paper will have to go freight-rate, though.”

  Callie looked at Jake with raised eyebrows. Then she turned back to Sammy. “Not meaning to change the subject, but are you enjoying Hong Kong?”

  “Definitely,” said Sammy. “I’m having a blast.”

  Jake said, “Callie’s going to show me the real Hong Kong. She’s going to keep me out of the tourist traps.”

  “With one exception,” said Callie. “We’re going to the Peak. That’s one tourist attraction nobody should miss.”

  “I know,” said Sammy. “I was there last night.”

  “Last night?” said Callie. “You couldn’t have seen a thing!”

  “My friend and I didn’t mind.”

  “Well,” said Jake. “I can see that months of contemplation and prayer have done you no good at all.”

  “You and your friend should go back,” said Callie, “To check out the view.”

  “I’ll seriously consider your advice,” said Sammy “Well, I must leave you young people.” He leaned down and spoke softly in Callie’s ear. “Jake’s list of faults isn’t so long. In fact, you’re lucky. He’s really a great guy.”

  “What do you think of Sammy?” said Jake as he an Callie stepped out into the bright day.

  “He’s funny,” she said. “Only a little crazy. I like him.” The sky was blue and cloudless, and the air was comfortably dry. It was breezy. Jake took Callie’s hand and they walked up Nathan Road. “Most of the stores are open, on a Sunday?” he said.

  “They do a booming business. Tourists like to shop here.”

  Callie led him down a narrow side street where vendors hawked fresh vegetables and plump fruits, the many colors, shapes, and textures overbrimming the large wicker baskets. “What are these?” asked Jake picking up a small fuzzy object.

  “Kiwi fruits. Those are mangoes. They’re sweet an delicious.”

  The air was heavy with the smell of produce and the street was thronged with shoppers, many carrying bulging plastic bags. Jake yanked Callie out of the path of a wobbling bicycle ridden by a boy of seven or eight “Bet he doesn’t have a driver’s license,” said Callie.

  “He’s probably late for a date with his girlfriend.”

  They passed a flower shop. The window bloomed with multicolored plastic flowers. An old woman wit missing teeth darted up from the doorway and grabbed Jake’s sleeve. “Flowers for the lady? Flowers for the lady?”

  Jake smiled at Callie. “If she has some real ones, would you like some flowers?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t know where I’d put them.”

  The woman kept up her chant and tugged harder at Jake’s sleeve. “No flowers,” he said. “The lady doesn’t want flowers. No, thank you.” The old woman beamed and pulled all the harder at Jake. “No, no. No flowers!

  No!”

  Callie laughed. “She knows a soft touch when she sees one.” She then spoke to the woman in Cantonese. Her voice sounded to Jake like the other nasal, singsong voices he’d been hearing. He was startled. For a moment he felt as if Callie were an imposter: a Chinese woman wearing the skin of an American. The old woman immediately dropped Jake’s arm. But when she turned to Callie, her eyes were twinkling and she launched into a str
eam of comment, from which Jake and Callie fled down the street.

  After a while, having walked street after street, Jake decided that just about anything a person might want could be bought in Kowloon. But he didn’t want any of it-no jade, no sequined sweaters, no watches, no sculptured ivory sampans or concentric bails, no gold trinkets, no enameled rings, no silks, no toys. Although he had gotten hungry, he didn’t want to try the duck a vendor was roasting over a charcoal fire, and he didn’t want to taste the golden egg yolks that had been salted and dried in the sun. In fact, he temporarily lost his appetite after seeing a butcher shop where chickens dangled by cords and cows’ heads lay in pools of blood. And he didn’t want his fortune told-that least of all.

  Callie tried to talk him into having a suit and some shirts made. “You’re missing a terrific opportunity.”

  “That’s all right. I don’t wear civilian clothes very often. Are you ready to go to Victoria Peak?”

  “Are you tired?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “All these people, everybody pushing you to buy something.”

  Callie put her hand behind his head and massaged his neck. Then she kissed him. “I bet you’re hungry.”

  She led him down an alley that was only as wide as a sidewalk. It was lined with racks of cassette tapes an books, some of which were in English.

  “These books and tapes aren’t for sale,” Callie said “They’re part of a lending library.”

  Farther down the alley Callie stopped. “This is it, she said, and opened the door to a very small room. Jake stepped inside and looked around.

  There were only three tables, which were covered with newspaper and in the back of the room a middle-aged man an woman were busy cooking. A young Chinese couple were seated at a table. Callie led Jake to a table by the window, away from the other couple. As they sat down a fly landed on Jake’s forehead. He swept it away “Trust me,” said Callie. “It’s a lot better than it looks.

  The blue walls were faded and a single wooden fan squeaked overhead. The woman came up to them wiping her hands on her apron. She smiled widely when she recognized Callie. Callie said to Jake, “I’ll order some dumplings. I think you’ll like them better fried Would you like a beer?”