Chapter 21

  When the chopper hit the ground, two of the Tigers carried Jesse to a truck that would take him to the Xuan Loc hospital. The doc was about to climb into the truck with him when he was approached by Colonel Bennett.

  “Doctor, can I have a word with you, please?”

  The doctor spoke perfect English and said, “Make it quick, Colonel. I have a patient that needs urgent care.”

  “What are his odds?”

  The doc climbed into the truck with his patient, and the driver shut the tailgate. He looked at Bennett through the open canvas flap and said, “Frankly, Colonel, I’m surprised he’s still alive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to try and save this man’s life.”

  Seconds later, the truck sped off.

  *****

  After the truck left, Bennett approached Captain Hung.

  “Captain, I am very sorry for the loss of your men. I also want to thank you personally for bringing my men back.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. The men I lost tonight were all brave, and I am deeply saddened by their deaths. I fought beside all of them for a very long time. I only hope that Sargent Taylor pulls through this.”

  “You’re a fine soldier, Captain; please see to your wounded man and get some medical attention yourself.”

  With that, Hung turned and walked away.

  Colonel Bennett now approached Shawn.

  “Corporal Harris, I’d like to have a word with you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Shawn said as he saluted his commander.

  “Give me a quick rundown of what happened tonight.”

  Shawn filled Colonel Bennett in on everything that happened that night. From the time they boarded the Huey to their return on the Sikorsky.

  “Did anyone record the location on the hill where Captain Hung spotted someone glassing the Huey and the location where you captured the prisoner?”

  “Yes, sir, I believe Captain Hung marked them on his map.”

  “Can you estimate the distance from that hill to our base camp?”

  “Approximately one klick, sir.”

  “Thank you, Corporal. That will be all solider.”

  As Shawn headed to the hospital, he wondered why Bennett asked about the hill and its distance from their base camp and the spot where Jesse was ambushed.

  *****

  After the sniper had killed Sanders and wounded Captain Long, Sydney traveled with the men to the hospital in the same converted ambulance where Jesse would later be placed. She knew that Sanders was probably dead, yet she still held out hope.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  However, when a doctor brought her Sanders personal effects just minutes later, he didn’t even have to tell her the news. Exhausted, Sydney got a ride from an ARVN corporal back to the governor’s mansion, where she removed her blood-stained clothes, took a shower, and let the hot water wash away the blood from her face, arms, and hair. Ten minutes later, she put on a clean robe, poured herself a glass of brandy, and then sat down at the kitchen table. Sydney finished drinking half the glass and then dumped the bag containing Sanders effects onto the floor. She intended to throw away his soiled clothes and pack the rest of his belongings. Sydney put on a pair of rubber gloves that she had found under the kitchen sink and placed his wallet, ring, and watch into a small box. She was about to place his ruined shirt back into the bag when she decided to check his pockets. That’s when she found it. A blood-soaked folded-up piece of paper. The bullet had exited through it and partially destroyed it. She casually tossed it into the trash, thinking it was nothing. She took another sip of brandy and was about to move on when her intuition told her to look at it. She pulled it out of the trash and carefully unfolded it. Parts of it seemed to fall apart in her hands as she did. She pushed everything aside on the table and reconstructed the letter before her. After reading just a few short lines, she became livid. She reached for her drink and was surprised to see that her hand shaking.

  It didn’t take her long to recognize what she was looking at. It wasn’t a letter. It was a draft of an encrypted letter, for above each word was a letter and number. Sydney continued reading the blood-stained document, and her anger rose with every subsequent line. When she had finally finished reading, she slammed down the rest of her drink and contemplated the ramifications of this new discovery. Somewhere out there was the encrypted letter that was not destroyed, and she wondered where it was.

  “You fucking little bastard,” she said with a bit of anger in her voice, “you apparently were one step ahead of me.”

  Sydney thought she had handled the problem, but Jensen had an ace up his sleeve. How could she be so stupid? Now, she knew she had seriously underestimated him. She knew the letter could destroy her. She would probably even do time in a Federal Penitentiary. Then Sydney had another thought. Who was Jensen writing to? From its wording, it certainly wasn’t anyone in the CIA.

  Sydney’s hand shook slightly as she got up and poured herself another drink. She walked to the kitchen table and sat back down. She reread the letter, but this time, she stopped to contemplate every word. The letter didn’t appear to be finished or addressed to anyone. It seemed to be written to someone to explain his actions, and the portion of the letter that wasn’t destroyed never mentioned her by name. But from the portion that wasn’t, Sanders would have known immediately who the letter referred to. Thinking back, now she knew why Sanders had been so cold to her the entire day. He must have found the letter in his room that morning or possibly the night before. She was convinced that he was going to turn the letter over to Tom Polgar as soon as they returned to Saigon. Luckily for her, he never got the chance.

  Sydney finally started to relax a bit, and her analytical skills kicked in. Jensen appeared to be trying to make someone understand his actions. Did he have a friend or girlfriend at the CIA who could decipher coded messages? She doubted it, but there was still that possibility. The man was still a virgin when she met him, although that didn’t mean that he didn’t have a girlfriend. The more she read the letter, the more she felt that the letter was meant for a family member or a very close friend. But who writes encrypted letters to family or friends? The more she thought about it, the more she felt that he simply had a friendship and corresponded with someone he met at “The Farm.”

  As she stared at the page, she concluded that Sanders must have found the letter, and after reading it, he placed it in his pocket. Maybe Jensen didn’t have time to actually make an encrypted copy, but she doubted it. Sydney knew he would have transferred the letters and numbers to a second page as he wrote the letter. She had watched him work. He was methodical and never left anything unfinished unless he was interrupted. Sydney relaxed just a bit with this realization, although she still couldn’t be sure that the encrypted letter was still out there somewhere. If it was, she had no reason to believe that anyone would ever find it before the city was destroyed or even know what it was, but she decided to look for it just the same. She didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

  After she finished her second drink, she was much more composed. The brandy had done its job, and she felt lucky to have the letter in her hands and not in Polgar’s. She got up from the table, grabbed the bottle, and sat on her sofa. She decided she needed to celebrate her narrow escape, even if it was all by herself.