The following morning, Sydney was in the shower, letting the hot water stream over her body while Jesse had propped himself up on a pillow, smoking a cigarette. Idling the minutes away, he watched the frayed ceiling fan drive cable make its journey from the motor mounted on the wall to the fan blades in the center of the room. He was amused as the blades squeaked and wobbled but could still carry out their intended purpose of moving air throughout the small room. He wondered when the last time it had seen any maintenance…probably years, if ever.

  Sydney came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and tucked in just above her breasts.

  "I see you finally woke up, sleepyhead. Did you wear yourself out last night?" Sydney teased.

  "Come over here, you gorgeous thing. I'll show you who's worn out," Jesse said with a sly grin while putting out his cigarette.

  "No, I have to get ready for my meeting with General Dao and his staff in an hour. Sanders will be picking me up very soon."

  "Five minutes, that's all I want, I promise."

  "No, sweetie, you've had enough. Besides, you need to save your strength for your stroll through the forest later today."

  "Two minutes, please."

  "God, is that all you men think about? No, I'm clean, and I intend to stay that way; now get out of bed and make yourself useful and make some shitty coffee that you're good at making while I get dressed."

  "Can I at least help you put your bra and panties on?"

  She turned and looked at him with a bemused look on her face.

  "God, you're incorrigible, you know that, don't you?"

  "Yes, but you probably wouldn't like me if I wasn't."

  She started to laugh and said, "That's probably very true. Now, will you make some coffee…please?"

  Undeterred, Jesse said, "If you come over here and give me a kiss, I will."

  "If you're trying to get me into that bed again, it won't work. But I will give you a little kiss if that's what it's going to take to get your cute little rear end out of my bed."

  Sydney sat on the edge of the bed, leaned into Jesse, and kissed him tenderly.

  "God, you smell good," Jesse said as he pulled her gently into him and tried to pull off her towel.

  She immediately pulled back and slapped his hand.

  "Stop that; you're just going to get yourself all worked up."

  "Too late, I'm already worked up."

  "Ahhh…you men, you're all alike. All you want is sex, sex, sex."

  "Well, what's wrong with that?" Jesse said sincerely.

  He pulled her close again, but this time she didn’t resist. As they kissed, his hands moved under her towel until her breathing started to come in quick, short bursts, and her passion started to rise. Realizing what was happening, she pulled herself away and said, “You bastard, I’m not going to make love to you again; I need to get ready for my meeting.”

  But a few seconds later, she leaned into him, and a short while after that, the towel came off, and she slipped into bed.

  *****

  Twenty minutes later, Sydney was back in the shower, cursing herself for her lack of control but inwardly contented by the man who had her completely enchanted. Jesse slowly climbed out of the bed and lit up another cigarette. Finishing it, he headed to the bathroom. After splashing hot water on his face and brushing his teeth, he went to the kitchen. Jesse was drinking coffee when Sydney came into the small kitchen. She poured herself a cup of black steaming coffee and gave Jesse a quick kiss before she pulled up a chair across from him and sat down.

  “Coffee doesn’t smell that bad,” Sydney said as she put her lips to the coffee cup.

  “It’s a little strong. I think I might have used too much coffee grounds. What have your top spy boys heard about the latest troop movements?”

  Jesse asked as he lit another cigarette and took a sip of coffee. He took up the bad habit when he first arrived in Vietnam. His mother was a dentist and would undoubtedly kill him if she knew he was ruining his beautiful white teeth with tobacco smoke.

  "We got word that there was another assassination attempt on President Thieu yesterday," Sydney said casually. "A South Vietnamese pilot bombed the Independence Palace with his F-5 Tiger. Apparently, he's okay, but Thieu's government is in sorry shape. A few days ago, the South Vietnamese Senate recommended forming a new government. That's shaking up a lot of people. The Prime Minister resigned, and Thieu replaced him with one of his cronies. He also arrested a few army commanders for the debacle in the Central Highlands for their failure to hold Nha Trang."

  Jesse flicked his hand and said, "The price you pay for command, laurel wreath one day and the next your head has been removed from your body, and it's rolling on the ground."

  “We’re gathering the latest intel on NVA troop movements in the meeting this morning. But it looks like two or three days before the first engagement here.”

  “Well, you should know, little Miss CIA spook.”

  Sydney shot him a glance that said, don’t go there, mister.

  “I am not a spook; I am a CIA interpreter and data analyst,” Sydney said with a bit of irritation in her voice.

  “You can call yourself anything you want, but anyone who works for the CIA is a spook in my book.”

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Macho Green Beret man,” was her terse reply.

  After a few moments of silence, Jesse said, “Ok, I’ll be nice; please continue, Miss Data Analyst,” while pretending to look sincere.

  Sydney gave him a hard stare for a few moments before they both started to laugh.

  “Okay, let’s move on. Graham Martin refuses to believe the SIGINT we are giving him and has stopped all daily briefings. I think he’s in denial that the war is all but over. Rumor has it that Frank Snepp said that he threatened to cut the balls off of Tom Polgar, the Saigon station Chief.”

  “Who’s Frank Snepp? You never mentioned him before.” Jesse asked as he leaned back in his chair and blew smoke rings.

  “He’s the chief CIA strategy analyst stationed at the US Embassy in Saigon. Sanders and I answer to him. I’m going to make some tea.”

  “What, you don’t like my coffee.”

  Jesse put on his best act of being hurt. Sydney got up, gave Jesse her best smile, then came around the table, pulled his head back, and kissed him on the forehead.

  “Poor baby, you don’t belong in the kitchen,” she said as she walked to the stove to light the burner.

  “So, you’re saying Ambassador Martin believes he has better Intel than the CIA. What the hell does he use, a crystal ball?”

  “Martin was an Army Intelligence Officer in WW2. He thinks he can sort through the bullshit better than we can. I’ve met him several times. He’s a charming and intelligent man, but he’s also a staunch anti-Communist who believes we can still hold onto Xuan Loc with the ARVN 18th Infantry Division and Tiger Force Ranger Units. Everyone thinks he’s delusional, including Kissinger, President Ford, and of course…myself.”

  Sydney heard a light knock on the door and went over to answer it. A few seconds later, an old Vietnamese woman who cooked and cleaned for Sydney was ushered in. They both entered the small kitchen, and Sydney sat back down while the old woman gave Jesse a slight bow, took his coffee cup, and said. “I make tea for you, no shit coffee,” she gave him a stern look and turned away.

  “I think she likes me,” Jesse said with a slight chuckle.

  “You do have a way with women,” Sydney replied.

  After giving the old woman her breakfast request and job duties for the day, Sydney turned her attention back to Jesse.

  “Are you and Shawn going out on recon with the Tigers today?

  “Yeah, it looks like one more night, and then it’s back to Saigon in a couple of days. After we pulled out all of our troops in seventy-three, I feel we’ve come full circle here. We started as advisers to the South Vietnamese Government in the 1950s, and we’re ending it the same way. But you know what the sad thing is? As I see it, we’ve accomplished very little, and a lot of good men have lost their lives. To me, it’s all senseless.”

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  Jesse became very quiet now, and for the first time since he entered Sydney's quarters, his infectious smile eluded him. He was reflecting on all the friends he'd lost. Sensing his change, Sydney asked Mia in her native language if the tea was ready. She replied that it was and brought over the steaming liquid on a silver platter. Mia poured the tea for both of them, then left to get their breakfast in the mansion's central kitchen.

  As they waited for Mia to return, Sydney said, "You know we've only known each other for a few weeks, and I still don't know where you grew up and not much else about you for that matter."

  "Well, we have been busy! But my past is boring compared to your world travels and academic achievements, not to mention you being a spy." Jesse said, trying to change the subject. He felt wholly inadequate compared to Sydney's pedigree.

  Sydney knew what he was up to, and she wasn't having any part of it. "Are you trying to goad me, mister? I'm not a spy or a spook, but I am dangerous and will hurt you. Now, please tell me about your family and all your girlfriends back home, wherever that is?" She enjoyed watching him squirm; he had avoided talking about himself in their past encounters, but she knew it was just a matter of time before he would open up.

  "Alright, you win," he said with a sigh.

  Before he started, he leaned forward and looked in both directions, pretending to look for any eavesdroppers or lurking spies.

  "I didn't want this to get out, but you pushed me into a corner. Remember, this is classified stuff I'm about to tell you." Jesse let out a long sigh before he continued. “I was abducted and raised by Gypsies.” He paused to see the reaction in her face and was met with only an amused stare.

  “We went from town to town drinking, singing, dancing around campfires, and occasionally stealing pigs and chickens. My new mother, Jezebel, was a fortune teller and a very good one, I might add, and my new father, ahhh…Yoska had a gift of relieving people of their assets, which made him very unpopular with the local constables. My sister engaged in what some would say was the world’s oldest profession, but I didn’t hold that against her, well…. maybe just a couple of times. You know, someday I might need to see a shrink about that. But anyway…. for my part, I sold snake oil to the unsuspecting suckers, ah…I mean lucky customers. All in all, I had a wonderful childhood with them. Now, are you happy?” he said while brushing back a false tear from his eye.

  Sydney just stared at him and finally said, “Are you enjoying yourself?” She said with a bit of indignation in her voice.

  Jesse lowered his head and arched his eyes upward to look at Sydney with a sad look.

  With no smart retort forthcoming, Sydney asked in a mocking tone, “And in what city did this alleged abduction take place?”

  Jesse raised his head in shock. “Alleged… now you’re a lawyer on top of being a spy, a spook, and God only knows what else. And by the way, I was only five when I was abducted, so I don’t know what city I lived in, for God’s sake.”

  Sydney just shook her head and started to laugh. “Ok, I give up, Jesse. I’m sure Jezebel and ah, was it Yoska, were very fine parents.”

  There was a slight knock on the door again.

  "And oh…and by the way, you'll be sleeping with Mia the next time you come over here. Now, let's have some breakfast, shall we."

  Sydney got up, gave him another kiss on the forehead, and went to answer the door.

  "You know I didn't want to tell you this, but since you brought it up, I've had my eye on Mia for quite a while now. You know, it might just work out.

  Sydney turned abruptly and put her hands on her hips, "You are such an asshole!"

  "Yes, but I'm a charming asshole," was Jesse's quick reply.

  After several seconds and a beguiled look, Sydney said, "That you are, I admit."

  Mia came in with breakfast and served them while Jesse pretended to ogle Mia, which made Sydney laugh. While they ate, they made idle conversation about the war and its eventual outcome and aftermath. Sydney said that it was a shame the North would win the war. Vietnam would be frozen in time, just like Cuba, with an eventual embargo on all goods coming out of their country, unlike Japan and Germany, which now prospered after the United States had defeated them in WW2. After a few minutes of silence, Jesse unexpectedly started to tell Sydney about his real past.

  "I grew up in the small town of Bemus Point in western New York State. It sits on the banks of Lake Chautauqua. My mother is a dentist in Jamestown, a few miles away, and my father was a carpenter and painter who worked at the Chautauqua Institution."

  Sydney arched her eyebrows up for a moment and quickly tried to hide the recognition on her face, as she didn’t want Jesse to stop. She had visited the Institution with her parents when she was twelve. Her father, a Wall Street power player and lobbyist, was invited by his longtime friend, a U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission member, to hear his lecture on global economics.

  While most Americans took vacations at Disneyland and SeaWorld, the social intellectuals and political elite spent theirs at The Chautauqua Institution. A learning center and resort for social, political, and academic issues where Plato, Aristotle, and Voltaire would have felt right at home.

  “My grandmother died when I was thirteen, and my mother received a substantial inheritance. With it, my mom and dad purchased this big, run-down turn-of-the-century Queen Ann Victorian on the shores of Lake Chautauqua. Their dream was to open an Inn. The house was in pretty good condition on the inside but needed extensive restoration on the exterior. My dad and I must have put five hundred gallons of paint on that monster in the four years it took to finish it. Originally built by a wealthy lumber baron, the house has three stories, eight bedrooms, six fireplaces, four porches, two balconies, three bay windows, a turret, a tower, and massive amounts of decorative trim and elaborate brackets. But the thing I loved most was the copula. From the huge unfinished attic, a rough, wooden, spiral staircase led to a trapdoor in the copula floor. The trapdoor was perfectly counterbalanced, so a light pull of the operation rope would open and close the door. Climbing up, you entered this eight-foot diameter octagon room with plantation-style shutter windows that opened to let the summer breezes come in. The cupola had a door on one side that led to an octagon deck and railing with magnificent views of the lake and surrounding hills. On the deck was a park bench where I would sit and read for hours. In the summer, I would watch the sailboats glide by with their bright-colored sails filled with wind and dreamed of sailing on the Mediterranean Sea like the ancient mariners. My dad and I would sit up there after dinner. He would have a cigar and tell me stories. He could always make me laugh.”

  It was extremely hard for Jesse to talk about his father, and he paused momentarily to collect himself. “My dad was a gunner’s mate on the Yorktown in World War II. He saw action at the battle of the Coral Sea and Midway. He was eighteen when he enlisted in the Navy. He never talked about the war very much, only that his friends and shipmates who had died would stay forever young in his memories. He was a volunteer fireman in Bemus Point and a city council member, and he gave a lot of his time and money to the church or anyone who needed help. Everyone that knew my dad loved him.”

  The tone in Jesse’s voice had changed as his emotions welled up inside of him. He paused again to collect himself while Sydney sat silently, deeply captivated by his story. For the events that he was about to tell her seemed like they happened only yesterday, yet on the other hand, they appeared to have occurred ages ago.

  "My dad never missed any of my football games or any sport I played. One fall night in our fourth game of the year, I couldn't find my mom and dad in the stands. I was our team's starting quarterback, and I remember the second-string quarterback coming into the game to replace me. I was confused when he told me the coach wanted to see me. When I was coming off the field, the coach was talking with the county sheriff and his deputy. The coach and sheriff put their heads down when they saw me coming. The scene became surreal; my heart started to beat fast, and I couldn't breathe. I knew something was wrong. I couldn't hear the crowd any longer; there was no sound, only silence. My legs felt like they were stuck in quicksand. I don't remember walking up to the coach and sheriff, but somehow I got there. When the sheriff told me that my father had been in an accident, my heart sank, and all I could hear after that was, "I'm sorry, son." I don't remember much after that. The world seemed to stop, and I fell to my knees. I remember saying, "Please God, this can't be happening." Then, arms were around me, and I was being helped to the sheriff's car, but I don't remember walking. Apparently, after my dad left work that day, he stopped to help an elderly woman with a flat tire along the highway. He had planned to pick up my mother and drive to the football game. There wasn't much room on the shoulder of the road, and a car traveling west at sunset was blinded by the oncoming lights of a semi-tractor trailer. My dad was off the road but was killed instantly when the driver moved over to avoid the semi and didn't see my dad or the car on the shoulder."

  Jesse now had tears running down his face, and he stopped to wipe them away.

  “My dad was my best friend. We did everything together; he taught me how to sail, hunt, fish, and play every sport you can think of. I was a gifted athlete and excelled in whatever sport I took up, but I was at my best on the football field. In my senior year of high school, we were approached by college recruiters from Penn State, Ohio State, and many others promising full scholarships and perks. School came easy for me; I was a straight-A student without trying very hard. But I loved school, and I loved to learn. That all changed when my father died. In fact, my whole life changed at that moment. But I’ll tell you about that…another day.”

  Sydney was surprised by his sensitivity. She had only seen the tough side of the man that had intrigued and captivated her. Yet, Sydney hid her own feelings, or lack thereof, from the world. "I'm so sorry, Jesse; I didn't mean to pry."

  She got up from the table and moved behind him; she put her arms around his shoulders and chest and rested her head on his. No words were spoken. Sydney simply embraced Jesse as he held her hands.

  Jesse started again, "At my father's funeral, one of the gun crew from the Yorktown gave the eulogy. He told of my dad's courage and bravery under fire. I became aware for the first time what a hero my father was. He had never shared with his family what he had gone through during the war. As the Japanese torpedo planes, dive-bombers, and fighters attacked the Yorktown at the battle of the Coral Sea, my dad loaded the quad fifty-six-caliber guns non-stop. When the gun captain and pointer were wounded and dying from the Japanese Zero's fifty caliber guns, he said that my father knelt down and comforted them. What my father did next stayed with him for the rest of his life. During the heat of battle, he prayed with the dying men and held them as they died. He then jumped into the gunner's seat and never stopped firing the big guns even though he was hit himself by shrapnel. At the battle of Midway, he was burned and wounded, yet he continued to help other shipmates before the ship was scuttled from its death blows by the Japanese attack. He received the Navy Cross and two purple hearts for his actions, but he never once showed them to me or my mother."

  After a long pause, Sydney said, "What a wonderful man your father must have been; I'm sorry I'll never get to know him."

  Jesse bowed his head and said, "If I could only be half the man he was, I would count myself to be a lucky man."

  Mia entered the small kitchen, started picking up the breakfast plates, and told Sydney she would be finished cleaning soon. Sydney checked the time and told Jesse that Dave would be there to pick her up very soon.

  “Thanks for listening to me. I haven’t told anyone that much about myself in five years except for Shawn,” Jesse said in a very somber tone.

  “Any time you want to talk, Jesse, I’ll be here for you,” she said sincerely.

  Jesse finally looked up, and his cheerful attitude returned, “Well, you have your meeting, and I have to go and pull Shawn out of that house of ill repute before he gets too attached to it. Besides, I want to get out of here before Sanders gets here. No sense in stirring the pot.”

  Sensing his change, Sydney said, “Since when were you ever worried about stirring the pot? And don’t worry about Sanders; he’s harmless.”

  Jesse laughed and said, “I hope we have one more night together before we pull back to Saigon. I’ll be thinking of you tell then.”

  They both got up and moved toward each other.

  “You’re so sweet. Come over here and give me a kiss, you big stud,” Sydney said in a sexy voice.

  They embraced and kissed for what seemed like an eternity until Jesse finally pulled away and said, “I’ll see you in two days, and we can continue where we left off.”

  “I can’t wait, Mr. Wolf,” Sydney said with a smile.