Flight of the Intruder

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 stream 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?”

“I sure would. I might not have anything else.”

“Ching-ni gei-womaner-shih-ssu-ge chao-tzu, lian ping pi-jyou, ” said Callie. Jake was startled again at her verbal metamorphosis.

“You’re really good,” said Jake when the woman had gone away.

Callie grinned. “How would you know?”

“If we get dumplings and beer, I’ll know you’re good. If we get fried snakes or toasted rabbit ears, I’m know you blew it.”

Callie threw back her head and laughed.

The woman brought a mound of dumplings on a single plate, which they shared. Jake gingerly picked one up. “Pretty tasty,” he said with his mouth full. He reached for another.

“I told you they’d be good.”

After the dumplings were gone, Jake thought about ordering another beer.

“Are you rejuvenated?” Callie asked.

“Like an actress with a facelift. I’m ready for anything.

“Good. Let’s go to the Peak, then. It’s a wonderful day for it.”

As they headed for the Star Ferry, Callie took him down side streets they had not been on before. Jake stopped to look at a man, sitting on a stool, who was writing while a gray-haired woman standing next to him spoke. The black Chinese characters seemed to flow from his pen. “He’s a calligrapher,” explained Callie. “He’s writing a letter for the woman because she doesn’t know how to write. She’ll pay him for it.”

“What’s the letter about?”

“Wait just a minute.” Callie eavesdropped. After a moment she said, “My goodness, Jake! Her granddaughter has had twins! There’s great rejoicing over this event, which portends many good things for the family. But I don’t know who she’s writing to.”

“That’s great news,” Jake said. “Congratulations,” he said to the woman, who looked up at him. Jake raised two fingers in a peace or victory sign. The great-grandmother smiled back and bowed her head in acknowledgment. When they started to walk away, the woman called out something to them. Jake asked, “What did she say to us?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“Come on. What’d she say?”

“All right, I’ll tell you. She said that she hopes we’re similarly blessed.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

The second-class seats on the Star Ferry had the wooden slats that made Jake fidget. Yesterday the water had been dark, but today it was blue-green and sparkled. Jake enjoyed the breeze, although it some times carried a smell of fish. He marveled at how these slow-moving junks and other small craft managed to avoid colliding with the ferry. Callie sat next to him on the open side of the ferry, and her yellow dropped earrings danced.

When Jake put his arm around her she put her hand on his leg.

As it neared the pier, the ferry vibrated from backing engines. Callie said, “Let’s take a cab. Unless you want to hike uphill.”

“I left my mountain-climbing shoes at home.”

They waited at the Peak Tram station on Garden Road, passing up opportunities to board until Callie could be sure of getting seats at the rear of the tram on the right side, where the view would be best.

Pulled on rails by a thick steel cable, the rumbling packed train rose steeply toward the Peak, and the city fell away behind. The L-shaped Hong Kong Hilton and other high rises seemed to be shrinking. Across the street from the tram station was the American consulate, an attractive, balconied building that Callie pointed out to Jake after they had left the cab. She had also pointed out Estoril Courts, her apartment house a tan concrete building two blocks from the consulate Most of Callie’s neighbors had put out flowers and plants on their balconies; Callie had told him that from her balcony you could see the harbor, but new construction was blocking the view.

The tram stopped a third time, with a gentle rocking back and forth. Jake said, “How many more stops before we get to the top?”

“Who cares? It’s such a beautiful day!”

The tram rose even more sharply and Jake felt that he was more lying on his back than sitting down. He said to Callie, “If this tram moved eighty times faster, you’d have an idea of what it’s like to zoom-climb in an A-6.”

“Sounds like great fun,” she said. “Will you take me flying someday?”

Jake looked at her closely. Putting his arm around her shoulder, he said, “You can count on it.”

At the Peak, hawkers selling photographic transparencies and other souvenirs aggressively worked the crowds spilling out of the tram station.

Callie took Jake’s hand and led him across the street where there was an outdoor restaurant.

Jake stopped. “I hope you’re not going to suggest we have tea again.”

“Not at this tourist trap. But what would be wrong with having tea?”

“Sammy gave me a lot of flak about meeting you for tea. He calls you my tea-and-crumpets girl.”

She laughed. “I’ve been called worse. Well, you can tell Sammy that I think he’s a nice guy but a bit presumptuous.

“Presumptuous?”

“Don’t you think so? Calling me ‘your girl’?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Jake with a grin. “Sammy’s not a guy who jumps to conclusions.”

Reflecting, Callie pursed her lips. “I’m nobody’s ‘girl,” actually. But I suppose that I could be somebody’s…… She gave a laugh. “No! That wasn’t coming out the way I intended it to.” Callie paused, and said, “Maybe I should try saying it in Chinese.”

“No, don’t do that,” he laughed. “Then I’d never understand you. Look, let’s try this. Why don’t we see what we can do to not make a liar out of Sammy. Hell we’ve got to protect his honor.”

Callie shook her head slowly. “Jake Grafton, your a tricky SOB. But all right. I’m willing to explore, for today anyway, how we can preserve Sammy’s honor.”

“Time’s awastin’,” Jake said. He put his hand around her arms and gave her a brief kiss. Then he drew her close to him, and watched her dark eye slowly close; he felt her relax in his arms. He kissed her again, and this time her body pressed against his.

Their tongues touched once, surprising him, and something electric jumped in his body. He didn’t want to stop, but she eased them apart. Jake became aware that he was breathing heavily, and he noticed Callie was too.

Running her hand through her hair, Callie said “We’ve got to stop doing this in public.”

“I don’t think the public gives a damn. But I’m easy. I’ll do it wherever you want.”

“Come on, smart ass,” she said, taking his hand.

“Let’s see what we came here to see.”

They stood together near a rusty coin-operated telescope, to which a young Chinese man wearing aviatortype sunglasses held up his gesticulating, noisy, chubby-legged son. Jake was watching them when Callie spoke. “It’s so clear I can’t believe it. This is really unusual. The pollution is getting so bad that very often you can’t see much.”

“The visibility is terrific. It’d be a great day for flying.” He looked at the harbor, and at the disorderly congestion of sailing craft and motorboats. Only the Star ferries seemed to have destinations. He counted three of them moving between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon.

“See that mountain in the distance, Jake? That’s The Castle Peak. Behind it a few miles is Deep Bay, where Wang Chiang’s brother drowned.”

“I see it.”

“On the other side of the bay is mainland China.”

Jake gazed at the massive blue-gray mountains. They made the green Virginia mountains he knew so well seem like mere hills. Rugged country if you were shot down, he reflected. “Yeah,” he said at last.

“They’re impressive.”

“Sometimes I come here alone,” Callie told him. “I usually walk along the road to the other side of the Peak to get away from the crowds. It’s a good place to sort things out. To try and figure out what you believe in.

“Have you figured anything out yet?” asked Jake, still looking at the mountains.

Callie considered the question. “Nothing earthshaking. I’ve always believed in God. But I decided that organized religion doesn’t do much for me.

I guess I don’t want anything intruding between me and God.”

She smiled. “Like Moses, I prefer direct contact.”

Jake grinned. “But Moses had a mountain. Have you ever brought stone tablets up here and looked around for bushes on fire?”

“No,” she laughed. “I’m still looking for the right mountain.” She canted her head. “Maybe I should place an ad in the newspapers.”

“Let’s see. You could say: Wanted, one mountain.

Must be able to withstand huge bolts of lightning, hurricane-force winds-and a voice a thousand times louder than thunder.”

Callie picked it up. “Will pay generous price for the right mountain, plus a bonus if equipped with stone tablets. Call Sundays. No agents, please.”

They laughed together.

Callie’s eyes were still wet when she asked, “What do you believe in?”

“These days I’m not sure. But I do believe this. I believe in Jake Grafton. I believe if he’s tough, enough alert enough, and good enough, he can keep himself in one piece. Maybe.”

Callie furrowed her brow. “That sounds pretty macho to me. Chest-thumping stuff.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You’re talking about surviving. I can understand that. But you must have some beliefs about other things.”

“What difference does it make what I believe in if I don’t survive? I’ve got to believe in myself. If I don’t have confidence in myself, I’m dead. If you’re short of confidence and you fly off carriers, you’re going to be history pretty quick.”

“Haven’t you ever lost your confidence?”

“There’ve been times when it got mighty shaky, but I don’t think I’ve ever lost it. In Intruders, the planes we fly, you get a lot of moral support from the guy sitting next to you in the cockpit, the bombardier.”

“This flying you do sounds tough. I guess you can’t afford to make mistakes.”

“Every pilot makes mistakes. In fact, there’s no such thing as a perfect flight. You make a lot of mistakes. Some you correct, and some you can’t. You just can’t make the mistake that will kill you. That’s where the confidence comes in. You have to know you’ll never make that fatal slip.”

They came down from the Peak on a tram that was not full. The late-afternoon breeze was cool and Callie huddled next to him. They had hardly spoken since boarding the tram.

“A plugged nickel for your thoughts?” said Callie.

“They’re worth more than that. I was thinking about you.”

“I’m flattered.”

“I have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about it too.”

“I sure as hell don’t want to leave you. I wish I had more time here.”

“I wish you had a lot more time here. But let’s not get gloomy. The night is young, and I’m so hungry I could eat half a horse.”

“Half a horse?”

“I’ve never been hungry enough to eat a whole horse.”

With a laugh, Jake said, “I’m hungry enough to eat a team. But what I could really go for instead is a good steak.”

They took a cab to Jimmy’s Kitchen, a Western-style restaurant that Callie said was a favorite with the consulate crowd. They were shown to a table in the corner of the dark, wood-paneled restaurant by a waiter with bushy eyebrows. Jake was amazed at his resemblance to Chou En-Lai, whose picture he had seen in news magazines.

“I thought you only drank beer,” said Callie, dipping a shrimp into cocktail sauce.

“I like scotch, too.” Jake took another swig. He buttered a roll and ate it in three bites. When the waiter brought their salads, Jake ordered another scotch on the rocks.

Callie sipped her gin and tonic. Then she said casually, “I’m still not sure what you believe in besides Jake Grafton.”

Jake watched the candlelight flickering in her eyes. When he answered he said, “There’s something else I believe in. I believe in keeping the faith with the guys I fly with. You try not to let each other down.”

“Does everybody keep the faith, the men you fly with?”

“Yeah, for the most part.” Jake put down his drink and examined it. Then he spoke without looking up. “It has to be that way. Especially with your bombardier. Jake raised his head. “You have to depend on him an he has to depend on you. If either of you seriously screws up, you can both die. There has to be the feeling between you of great trust. But it’s not anything you talk about. If it’s there, you know it. If it’s not, you know that, too.”

Then he spoke with mock seriousness emphasizing each word with a jab of his finger. “Never fly with a man you don’t trust.”

“I don’t go anywhere with a man I don’t trust,” Callie countered.

She took a bite of salad and chewed meditatively. “So, not everybody keeps the faith.”

“Some do a better job of it than others.”

“I know you do a good job of it. I can tell.”

Jake took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’d like to think so. But sometimes I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with surprise in her voice.

He hadn’t planned to tell her about Morgan. when he started out he wondered why he was telling her. But in the end he told her everything about his last flight with Morgan, including what the cockpit looked like when it was over. The dreams, though, he didn’t tell her about.

“Surely you don’t blame yourself?” Callie said. “It doesn’t make sense to do that.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t make sense. But I feel some responsibility. Like Chiang does for his brother.”

“You did what you could do,” said Callie.

“You can’t do more than that. You kept the faith.” Chou En-Lai’s double was supervising the flaming production of two chateaubriands when Callie returned from the restroom. A waiter Jake had not seen before whisked away the glass in which he had been rattling his ice. Callie put her bag on the corner of the table. “I hope you’re still plenty hungry.

“They look huge.”

“I could scarf them both.”

“You just keep your mitts off mine, Jake. I’m starving. The waiter put a glass of red wine in front of Callie. Looking at Jake’s fresh scotch, she said, “Another one?”

Jake shrugged. “I didn’t order it.”

“Oh.”

With a smile and a flourish, the waiter presented her with a chateaubriand that sizzled in its plate. Callie thanked him in Cantonese. She waited until Jake had been served before cutting her meat.

Callie said, “Fantastic.”

His mouth full, Jake nodded enthusiastically. They said little until the steaks were nearly gone.

‘You picked a great place,” he said.

“I’ve been thinking,” said Callie. “Thinking about you. “Not much profit in that.”

“I think you’re a good man, Jake.” She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “I’m glad you told me about Morgan. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me to do that.”

“It’s not a nice story.” Jake shoved two french fries around his plate with his fork. “I just wish I was sure what Morgan died for.”

Removing her hand, Callie said, “You don’t think we ought to be in Vietnam?”

“That’s not what I mean,” said Jake. “I mean that I worry that Morgan died for nothing because the bastards in Washington won’t let us win the war.

They’re afraid to do the things we need to do to win. We could win the war, you know, if they’d let us.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t be in Vietnam at all.”

Jake tossed off the last of his scotch. He was uneasy. “It was probably a mistake that we got involved in the first place. Hindsight and all. Especially when you consider that there’s hardly any support for the war at home. But that’s water over the dam. The fact is, we are there, and I don’t think we can just cut and run.”

“Are you saying that we should stay there only to save face?”

“No, I’m not saying that, that we should stay for that reason only. Look at it this way. What kind of credibility would the U.S. have, what kind of respect would we have, if we ran from a fight for freedom? Leader of the free world? We’d make a mockery of that.” Jake paused and traced a circle with his fingertip on the white linen tablecloth. “And there are other reasons.”

“I’d like to hear one that makes sense.”

Jake felt his face flush. He tried to speak calmly. “Okay. I’ll give you one real good reason. Right now there’re over a thousand guys in prison camps in Vietnam-nobody knows for sure how many. Those men are being starved, tortured, humiliated. Our POWs are going through hell while long-haired creeps in the States are burning their draft cards or hiding in graduate schools and trying to convince themselves the war is immoral because they know, deep down, that they don’t have the guts to fight.” Jake coughed, and went on in a lower voice. “We have to get our POWs out. If we don’t they’ll rot to death in the prison camps. We’ve either got to win the war or put enough pressure on the commies to make them return the POWs and account for our M I A - We’ve got to keep faith with those guys.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Jake. I’d like very much to see those men released, too. But hundreds of people are dying in the war every day. Think of the many thousands of lives that would be saved if we could end the war now.”

“End the war now? Cut and run? If we abandon the POWs, if we break faith with them, where will we get men to fight the next war?” He picked up his glass and looked into it. “All we have is each other.”

He put the glass down and met her eyes. “Let’s be realistic, Callie. For you, the war might as well be on the far side of the moon.”

“Well it isn’t,” Callie said softly. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you. Theron, my brother, was-“

“Your brother? Yeah, your brother thinks the war is wrong, immoral. Right?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact. But what I was-“

“Did God whisper in your brother’s ear about the joys of living in Canada? Freedom comes a little cheaper there these days. Is he happy, listening to his stereo and smoking pot and feeling very moral? Or is he at Berkeley? Protesting the war between fixes and-“

Callie stood up and grabbed her purse. She leaned over the table and spoke deliberately. “I was about to tell you-before I was interrupted-that my brother lost both his legs in Vietnam. He wants desperately to believe that the war is morally right. But he can’t. And it’s eating him up.”

Callie turned to leave just as the waiter arrived with two cups of coffee. Jake said, “You’re not going to leave? Just like that?”

“Oh yes I am. Just-like-that.”

Jake stood up. “I didn’t know, I .

“You can be very cruel, Jake Grafton.” She put out her hand to stop him.

“I’d like to leave alone.”

The waiter stood holding his tray. He wore a puzzled expression. Callie walked around him and out of the restaurant.

Jake sat down and lifted his coffee, which sloshed out of the cup.

For a long time he stared at the full cup on the other side of the table. Then he paid the bill and left.

It was dark outside. He took a cab to the consulate where he looked across the street and saw a crowd at the tramway station. He looked up to the right and saw the outline of Victoria Peak, dotted with lights. Remembering where Callie’s apartment building was in relation to the consulate, he walked up Garden Road His emotions swirled like autumn leaves caught in a windstorm.

He found the building, finally, and explored the empty hallways, looking at name tags on each door. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the uncarpeted halls. He climbed to the third floor. On a tatter buff-colored tag below the peephole of the door was her hand-lettered name: “C. McKenzie.” He knocked and she opened the door. She was wearing a pretty yellow silk robe. Her eyes were puffy.

Jake spoke. “I’m very sorry about Theron. And I’m sorry about what I said.”

He watched Callie’s tight-lipped expression soften. “Thanks,” she said.

“Now I know the way I felt was right.” She drew him inside and closed the door.