Authors: Brian Haig
“That means the place sucks.”
“No, it’s lovely.”
“That’s what you said when you sent me to Iraq.”
“Well . . . okay, the country does happen to be under an oppressive dictatorship, and maybe it’s a little dangerous. You’ll need a good cover and strong support from our people in the embassy. And if you’re caught, the prisons are absolutely abysmal.” She added, “You’ll have to be careful.”
“Stop trying to tempt me.”
“This is a very important job. American corporations are very interested in this place, as is our navy. Its future strategic value could be enormous.”
“Phyllis, you’re not listening. Take this job and shove it.”
I had exhausted her patience. She leaned across the table and, with real steel in her voice, said, “Drummond, open the damned envelope. Now.”
Well, why not? I opened it and saw that it contained a first-class plane ticket, a brief description of the mission and the mission number, as well as the name, current address, and a little background about the target for recruitment.
Phyllis was right. It did not look like a tough sell. Plus, the recruit would make a fabulous asset.
I set it down on the table and said, “You’re trying to get me out of the country for a few weeks while this thing blows over.”
“I won’t deny it.”
“I won’t be bribed.”
“Don’t be stupid. We all have a price.”
“How do I know the address is correct?”
“Trust me.”
I stared at her very hard.
She quickly said, “One of our people from the embassy was waiting when Bian landed in Saigon . . . known these days as Ho Chi Minh City. That’s a horrible and unfortunate name, if you ask me. I have such fond memories of when it was still Saigon—”
“Phyllis.”
“All right. He followed them.” She added, “The address is an orphanage run by Bian’s aunt, her mother’s younger sister.”
I placed the ticket and information in my breast pocket.
Contents