Page 53 of Cry Havoc (Tom Reece #1)

THE PHONE IN TOM’S room rang not long after Ella left for the day.

“You awake?” Serrano’s voice echoed through the line.

“Of course. Been up for hours.”

“Good. Meet me at Givral.”

Tom rolled out of bed and picked up his Submariner on the nightstand. At some point he would need to get the stainless-steel bracelet put on at a jeweler.

It was 7:30 a.m.

He quickly showered and slid into his jeans, Top-Siders, and green button-up safari shirt to better conceal the Browning. He then made his way downstairs, through the lobby, and across the street to the café where Serrano was waiting.

“Coffee, just black, right?” Serrano asked, pointing to the mug opposite him at the small round table.

Tom looked at Serrano’s cup, which was clearly doctored with cream and honey.

“That’s right,” Tom replied.

“Thought so.”

“Who’s with An today?” Tom asked, indicating a table in the far corner where Pham Xuan An sat with a man wearing a safari jacket.

A long cigarette was hanging from the right corner of the man’s mouth, its ash in danger of losing its fight with gravity at any moment.

He was leaning forward, intensely taking notes in a worn leather journal, an Accurist Shockmaster timepiece on a tan crocodile strap peeking from under his cuff.

An’s German Shepherd sat obediently by his master’s side.

“That’s Jean Lartéguy. He was with 1st Commando Group in World War Two.

He’s now an author and war correspondent with Paris Match.

Wrote an article called ‘Les Guerilleros’ last summer.

I’ll get you a copy. Last I heard he was in Latin America but looks like he has the scoop on a story here now.

He met with Che Guevara just before he was killed in Bolivia in October.

Wrote The Centurions and The Praetorians. Have you read them?”

“No.”

“You should. You will find them useful if you stay in this line of work.”

“I’ll add them to my list.”

“How’s it going with Ella?” Serrano asked, getting back to business.

“I don’t know. She either loves me or hates me. If I were her, I might hate me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that she considers both Vietnam and France home. She sees the result of our involvement here firsthand. She thinks we are tearing her country apart.”

“She actually wants us to leave and give Vietnam to the communists?”

“I think she would say that they made their choice and voted for Ho in 1946, so we are just prolonging the inevitable.”

Tom lit a Marlboro and inhaled deeply.

“You should definitely read The Centurions,” Serrano said, nodding toward Lartéguy. “Any indication of when she might take over for her father?”

“Could be today. Could be five years from now. She doesn’t really know. She is focused on being as prepared as she can be.”

“Where does she stand?”

“I think she’s a pragmatist. All she has known is war, first with the French and now with us. She had a reprieve at a boarding school in France and then college. I think she was hurt in a relationship with an older guy. I get the impression it might have been a professor or someone in that orbit.”

“If she takes over, do you think we can pull her into ours?”

“I don’t know. I think she just wants to be left alone. She wants the war to end.”

“Part of it is good for business,” Serrano said. “Rebuilding will be good for business too.”

“She has plans to relocate to Bangkok when she takes over.”

“Regardless of if Saigon falls?”

“I think so.”

Tom exhaled a plume of smoke and flicked the ash into an ashtray on the table.

“Nick, I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Serrano smiled knowingly.

“Everyone says that when they start, Tom. You have feelings for her. I get it. I saw it the moment you met her in the hallway outside my office.”

“Is that why you picked me to go to dinner at the plantation and not Quinn?”

“One of you was going to take care of Amiuh. Quinn recruited him, so that made him the natural choice to complete that mission. And, to answer your question, it helps us that you and Ella have feelings for each other.”

“Helps us?”

“Yes. The Agency. The country.”

“And you.”

“Well, yes, but only by default. We are still courting Gaston, but he finally made his position clear at dinner: he’s a businessman.”

Tom extinguished his cigarette.

“Ella is about to be a major player,” Serrano said. “She knows I am going to ask you about her and her father’s business dealings. She’s not na?ve.”

“I still feel guilty.”

“That’s good, Tom. It means you are human. I’d worry about you if you didn’t feel that way.”

“When can I get back to Phu Bai?”

“Let this play out a little while longer. Gaston will keep playing both sides, especially after Tet. Now, instead of turning him, we need to focus on identifying his Soviet contact and compromise his communications. That prospect might even be more valuable.”

“Not sure how much longer I can lie to Ella.”

“Don’t look at it as lying. It’s not. I can tell your feelings are true. And never forget that in any situation where feelings and alliances are at play, the other party might be playing you as well. Do you have any plans to see Gaston again?”

“We are meeting him for lunch later this week at Cercle Sportif Sa?gonnais.”

“Cercle Sportif on Rue Chasseloup-Laubat,” Serrano said.

“You know it?”

“Of course. It is the place to see and be seen for Saigon’s elite; kind of a who’s who for the city and visiting dignitaries.

Gaston is a member. It started as a fencing, horse racing, and shooting club in the late 1800s.

It’s grown into a country club that rivals anything the Brits have in Hong Kong or Singapore; ten tennis courts you can watch from the dining room, a soccer pitch, and a main building with a library and reading room, a dance hall, fencing rooms, and a billiard hall.

Their open-air pool and diving board are probably the biggest draw.

The ambassador frequents it. You will see Vietnamese politicians, military officers, and a lot of the same crowd you see at the Continental Shelf.

Did you ever try their signature drink?”

“Sure did. It packs a punch.”

“That it does. Listen, Tom, I am sorry to have put you in this position. I promise to get you back to your team in Phu Bai as soon as I can. We need you on this right now.”

“For God and country,” Tom said, not believing for a second that what he said was the truth.