Chapter 4

Note to reader. This chapter and the next are transition chapters to a new story. So if you enjoyed the first 3 chapters please take the time to vote now.

Saigon – 2037 – One week after the USS Tang incident

Zack moved the heavy glass tumbler in a slow circle around the dark wood of the bar top. His eyes and thoughts focused on the finger of caramel brown liquid that he had yet to touch. Finding an empty stool in a quiet corner at the long oak bar he had simply asked the bartender for a scotch. Today was not a beer day. Perhaps, upon seeing Zack’s tired weary unshaven face he realized his customer needed something not on the shelf, so he rummaged under the bar and came out with something special. A ¾ full bottle of Macallan 18, an expensive aged single malt from Scotland. Zack nodded his approval, now noticing the man for the first time as he poured a finger of the whisky into a heavy glass tumbler.

He was middle-aged with dark, short cropped slightly graying hair, an expat Zack assumed since he was Caucasian, and the bar was called the Old Edinburgh Pub. The man stood still eying Zack for a moment before putting the bottle back where he brought it from.

After playing with the glass on the bar top. Zack took up his glass and eyed his drink, examining the aged expensive single malt in the light cast by a large window that looked out over the patio where a few other westerners sat. He raised his glass in a silent toast to the bartender who stood keeping one eye on Zack the other on the rugby match playing on one of the many large screen TVs around the room. He nodded at Zack and waited.

Zack took a sip, marveling at the drink’s smoothness and, tasting some fruit and a smokiness. That was the extent of his palette. The alcohol tasted good and was warm going down until it hit his empty stomach, reminding him he had eaten little in the last two days.

“Nice, smooth,” he said setting the cut-glass tumbler back on the bar.

Zack took a chance and stuck out his hand. They shook, the man had a strong confident grip.

The bartender’s name was Hamish and he and his Vietnamese partner owned the pub.

Hamish had the look of a former military man turned businessman. The type who had been making a home in Asia for decades. But he didn’t ask.

On the sandwich board at the front of the bar, one of the options was bangers and mash. After three days in the jungle, he needed something besides an Army field ration.

“Hamish, can I get your bangers and mash special?” he said to his new friend.

“Good choice,” said Hamish as he pulled out a device and sent the order to the kitchen.

It was still early on Friday, happy hour just starting. Hamish drifted away taking orders and serving drinks as more people took seats at the bar. Most appeared to know Hamish, greeting him like a long-lost brother using a combination of former British Empire accents. The majority of the patrons were men, but a few worldly-looking women floated in too. Mostly an all-expat crowd but a few Vietnamese men and women sat mixed in among the small crowd. He was keeping an eye out for Danika, but it was still early.

Zack had several messages on his device when he pulled it out of the office safe after returning from his mission, but he decided they could wait until after he had had a stiff drink somewhere. His staff job with the ‘Studies Group’ was not a safe rear staff job, as he had found out. Last Monday he was issued a new carbine, field gear, and a fresh tiger-striped uniform devoid of any identifying patches or name tapes. Along with two Master Sergeants (MSG) from his office and a handful of Vietnamese Special Forces they had begun to train up for an unspecified special reconnaissance mission. Two days ago, just before dark, they were dropped off from two older model Vietnamese Army Blackhawk helicopters just across the Laotian border.

They were extracted early this morning, after pulling off the high-risk mission. The national command authority (The White House and Pentagon) seemed pleased as evidenced by the headlines floating across the international news programs like FOX. Only parts of it were true. He smiled to himself and took another sip of the smooth scotch.

Just before leaving his hotel for the bar, he saw a new message from his father requesting a call soonest, but also congratulatory in tone. As an Army Brigadier General assigned to NATO headquarters, Brock would have had access to some of the reporting on his classified mission. On a different note, in the two messages his sister Heidi had left in the last week she seemed pleased and wanted to share some news. There were also messages from others, including his mom, and Rebekah, but they weren’t on his to return call list today, even if he managed to stay awake.

Hamish brought him his order of mash and bangers along with a glass of water. On his device, he saw a message from Danika saying she was walking over from their hotel.

Danika pushed through the door to the Old Edinburgh Pub and began scanning the busy room. First looking over the half a dozen mostly expats in the comfortable looking leather club chairs then along the long dark wood bar until she spotted Zack perched on a stool feeding his face. This time he was facing the door though his attention was occupied by his plate of food and the bartender.

Before she approached the bar, a pretty young Eurasian girl carrying a cocktail tray caught her eye. Danika waved her off while nodding toward the bar. Danika was in a good mood. Stopping briefly at the hotel after work she tossed on her pretty white kimono blouse with the split neckline and a pair of khaki shorts before walking the two blocks to the bar Zack had invited her to.

The classified message traffic this morning stated that US Air Force aircraft had carried out an airstrike on a New Viet Cong (NVC) camp along the border with Laos. The US military believed those responsible for the attack on the USS Tang a week ago were killed in the airstrike. In the same classified message traffic was the information that a combined Vietnamese American Special Forces team had located the base and confirmed the presence of the individuals prior to the airstrike. End of message. She had smiled, the information contributing to her good mood.

The fact that Zack had disappeared a few days ago then suddenly appeared this afternoon told her everything she needed to know for the moment. Danika maneuvered through the happy hour crowd noticing a few appreciative glances from the mostly male crowd before she stepped up on the empty stool next to Zack. The bartender, a handsome graying-haired older man, looked her over as she sat down next to Zack.

“Nice choice Zack,” she said referring to the bar, keeping the conversation easy to start off with.

“Thanks, the guys in the office recommended it and is just far enough from the hotel,” he said between mouthfuls of mash potatoes.

She saw the tumbler of whisky by his glass of water and knew this was not an ordinary evening. Zack only hit the spirits on special occasions. Again, confirming her earlier suspicion and the fact he badly needed a shave were among the other small clues that only a woman who knew him intimately would pick up on.

She waited for him to talk while she got comfortable on her padded stool looking at the bottles behind the bar while ignoring the sports on the TVs.

Zack had seen Danika walk through the door. A few heads turned to watch the pretty, heavy-breasted blonde in the white blouse as she headed in his direction. The bartender also noticed and waited for her as she took the open seat next to Zack. Hamish let his eyes linger, eyes squinted a bit, perhaps noticing the small Naval Academy ring on her left hand or the deep v cut of her blouse. Then he gave them a moment, moving off to fill a drink order from the pretty waitress.

He knew Danika would have questions. But the noisy bar was not the place. Even somewhere more private there were things she could not be told. Like the fact, a high-ranking Chinese Army officer and an NVC political commissar were now being ‘questioned’ at a joint American-Vietnamese detention facility outside of Saigon. The airstrike covered up the reality of the reconnaissance/prisoner snatch mission. But it was no longer his problem. He could enjoy his drink and his friend’s company.

When Hamish returned, she asked for white wine and ordered the same meal as Zack.

“How was your trip up to Cam Ranh Bay?” he asked, breaking the ice. Referring to her sudden trip to the naval base to visit the crew members taken off of the USS Tang for medical care after the near-miss from the naval mine. She had been gone when he went into isolation and started training for the special mission.

“Good. Six injuries, just a few broken bones, and a concussion or two.” She paused “One yeoman requested to stay on shore duty with me and the rest are on their way back to the states.” She reported and then took a drink of her white wine.

“I’m glad,” he said. If the mine had seriously damaged or sunk the boat the response from the President might have been more robust than bombing a patch of jungle and calling it a victory, he thought to himself.

They sat in silence each lost in their thoughts, he supposed, after the long week. Enjoying the simple company that two people who have known each other a long time, can enjoy.

Hamish set Danika’s order on the bar with the warning the plate was hot.

The bartender lingered then asked Danika a question. “Is your father Brad Van Winter?”

The question surprised her for a moment, but a lot of people knew her father these days.

“Yes, I’m Danika,” she said a questioning look on her face.

Hamish smiled and reached a big hand across the bar that she took. The first smile Zack had seen on his face. “I thought you looked familiar, I’m Hamish...” after a pause “ ... Sinclair.” Dropping the last name like a secret password.

Zack was watching her face at the mention of the name Sinclair, her mother’s maiden name, and the name of her clan. Her smile dropped for a moment, her head cocked a bit to the side as she looked at the man, still holding her hand. He placed his other hand over hers.

“Nice to officially meet you, cousin, I’ve seen you in quite a few of the family videos,” he said letting go of her hand.

“And you, cousin,” Danika replied. Her food forgotten for a moment, she studied him closely. Her cheeks suddenly warm at the thought of this stranger seeing what she did with her family.

Hamish did not wait but again pulled out the bottle of expensive whiskey along with two tumblers from under the bar. Toping off Zack and pouring a finger for Danika and one for himself.

A sweet Scottish-accented voice spoke from behind Danika. “Father who is this, that you are pouring our good stuff for?’

Zack found himself looking into the big dark eyes of the pretty Eurasian waitress. She stood about 5 feet, with long silky dark hair, the strong features of her face spoke of her mixed heritage. She was lovely and now seemed vaguely familiar.

“Emily, this is my ‘cousin’ Danika Van Winter and her friend Zack. You may remember them from Florida back in ‘29,” he said then paused turning to Danika, “I was not there but you met my wife Ai (eye) ... Emily would have been with the younger kids.”

Zack’s quick brain was working again, fueled by good whisky this time. He did remember a gorgeous Vietnamese woman who was part of the official Sinclair party from Scotland. She was his first Asian woman and was amazing. He remembered how her dark silky hair brushed over his face as her slender hips rose and fell over his cock, and the long kisses. She spoke English like a proper University educated British lady even while they fucked. He still remembered every moment of that hour. He did not see her again after that short week. Emily would have been too young to even wear a red thong, but he did remember seeing the young girl out and about with her mom, especially during the Highland games. Her husband was a Royal Marine Commando and unable to attend if he remembered correctly.