[ THREE ].

9 Degrees 59 Minutes 28 Seconds South Latitude 20 Degrees 33 Minutes 39 Seconds East Longitude (Route Nationale No. 39, The Bush, Near Saurino, Katanga Province, Congo) 1310 16 May 1965 Smythe's flat-black L-19 was at 3,500 feet above, and perhaps a quarter mile behind, a Ford and Peugeot truck convoy moving through the bush. So far as Smythe had been able to see, there was no other traffic on the road for five miles or so in either direction.

He had been following the four-truck convoy for about an hour, ever since it had passed through Saurino. He hadn't had to stay on its trail like a bloodhound. There was only one road capable of taking the trucks within seventy miles; all he had to do- had done-was make wide circles, which every ten minutes brought the convoy in sight again.

He had flown over the road at a very low altitude the day before with a surprisingly pleasant and cheerful-even, for once, happy-Father Lunsford in the backseat, looking for a place to set up the ambush. Lunsford had apparently done this sort of thing before, because when he saw the hill, with a curving road running along its side, he had pointed it out and told Smythe to land as close as possible so they could reconnoiter on the ground.

Smythe had landed the L-19 on the highway itself, after determining there was no traffic on it that would reach the landing site within the twenty minutes Father said he would need to have a look.

Then he had flown Father back to Kamina, where Lunsford immediately reported to that absolutely stunning lady from the CIA, and then, in two flights, had flown Master Sergeant Thomas and a Congolese sergeant first named Jette to the site.

They would remain overnight, preferring that to a sixty-plus-mile trip in a jeep or three-quarter-ton truck from Kamina.

Doubting Thomas told him it was his military creed: "Never stand if you can lie down; never run if you can walk; and whenever possible, go by air."

Like he was about many things Doubting Thomas said, in what appeared to be absolute sincerity, Smythe was really not entirely sure how serious he was.

Trucks under SFC Jensen had set out from Kamina at first light, carrying a platoon-plus of Congolese paratroopers. They were now in the bush a half-mile on either side of where Thomas and Jette were in position.

"You should be able to see them any moment now, Jesse James," Captain Darrell J. Smythe said into his microphone. "They're about halfway up the hill, about to make the turn."

"I have a visual, Aunt Jemima, thank you very much. I think you can have the cavalry sound the charge," Thomas said into his microphone.

He laid the microphone on the ground beside him and picked up a black pistol that looked something like the legendary Luger 9-mm Parabellum. It was, in fact, a Ruger Mark II .22 Long Rifle Caliber semiautomatic pistol, to which had been added what the Army called a "suppressor"-the term "silencer" was either not wholly accurate, or politically incorrect. There was an eight-inch cylinder attached to the forward end of the barrel.

When fired, the sound was a soft thut. thut.

Sergeant First Jette had required a practical demonstration of the weapon-Thomas had set up quart cans of tomato juice beside one of the Kamina runways-before he was willing to accept that, although it went thut thut instead of instead of bang bang when fired, it was still a real pistol. when fired, it was still a real pistol.

Once convinced, Jette was enthralled with the weapon, and Thomas realized he was going to have to fabricate yet another wholly dishonest official document, this one stating that One Each Pistol, Ruger, .22 LR, SN 14-48070 had been lost while conducting operations against a hostile force. It was either that or fight Jette to the death to get it back.

Thomas also had a little trouble convincing Jette that his concept of shooting tires out on a truck-firing a clip of 7-mm rifle ammunition at them-would not be as efficacious in this situation as what he intended to do.

"We don't want these guys to hear gunfire, Jette," he had explained. "That would make everybody in all four trucks nervous, and they would come out of the trucks with their weapons ready to shoot anything they saw. This way, they won't even hear the thut thut thut thut as we shoot little holes in the front tires. The tires will not blow out, but they will quickly go flat, and they will get out to see what happened, leaving their weapons in the truck. And then the cavalry will roll up, from behind and in front of them, with machine guns over their cabs, and their beds full of shooters with their weapons trained, and if these people have the brains to find their ass with both hands, they will just put their hands up. Get the picture?" as we shoot little holes in the front tires. The tires will not blow out, but they will quickly go flat, and they will get out to see what happened, leaving their weapons in the truck. And then the cavalry will roll up, from behind and in front of them, with machine guns over their cabs, and their beds full of shooters with their weapons trained, and if these people have the brains to find their ass with both hands, they will just put their hands up. Get the picture?"

"You have done this before, Major, sir?"

"I have done this before."

Thomas stood up and signaled that the trucks were about to be upon them. He couldn't see Jette, but he knew that Jette could see him.

Then he went back into the bush, no more than two meters from the road, behind a large tree, and took up a position where he could rest his elbows while holding the Ruger with both hands.

The sound of the first truck grew louder, and then he could hear the sound rocks made when they shot out from under tires as the trucks entered the bush.

Here lies Master Sergeant William Thomas, who took a rock between the eyes on a deserted road in the Congo bush.

And then he sensed the truck next to him before he actually saw it.

When he saw the tire, he squeezed the trigger.

Thut, thut, thut, thut.

The second truck appeared. He didn't fire at it. The second and fourth trucks were Jette's.

The third truck appeared.

Thut, thut, thut, thut, and, what the hell, and, what the hell, thut, thut. thut, thut.

The Ruger's magazine held ten cartridges.

The fourth truck passed him.

When it was out of sight around the bend, Thomas stood up and signaled Jette to have a look through the bush.

Then he picked up his microphone.

"Do I get the purple stuffed gorilla?" he asked.

"The first truck has pulled to the side," Major Smythe reported.

"Where's the cavalry?"

"About a quarter mile in each direction," Smythe reported.

Not quite a minute later, a military truck roared past him, a Congolese paratrooper standing in the front seat manning a 7.62 machine gun in a ring mount, its bed jammed with paratroopers holding FN 7-mm rifles.

And then the second.

He didn't see SFC Doc Jensen, which meant he was with the trucks coming in the other direction, "The cavalry is at the scene," Smythe reported. "Lots of hands in the air. Good show, Thomas!"

"Right you are, Percival," Thomas said. "You want to come down and pick me up?"

"You don't want to go to the scene of your victory?"

"No," Thomas said. "I don't."

And I don't want to think what's going to happen to those poor bastards once they get their fair, by-the-goddamned-book court-martial.

Well, shit, they knew what they were letting themselves in for. Why the fuck didn't they stay in fucking Cuba?

He slipped his arms into the backpack radio and came out of the bush and started walking down the hill to where Smythe would land the L-19.

He found the microphone.

"Custer, Custer, Jesse James," he called.

"Go, Jesse," Jensen replied immediately.

"Start walking down the hill. Aunt Jemima will fly you out of here."

"I'd rather stay with my trucks."

"The way this works, Doc, is that I tell you what to do, and you do it. I'll wait for you. Jesse James clear."

Thomas walked slowly down the road, looking over his shoulder from time to time until he saw Doc Jensen coming down the road after him.

Then he stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"What's going on, Thomas?"

"Father wants us out of here, that's what's happening," Thomas said. "Did you hear that 'good show' bullshit from Aunt Jemima?"

"I think he wants to be an English officer and gentleman," Doc said. "But I sort of like him."

"Yeah, me, too."

He pointed toward the sky, where Aunt Jemima's flat-black L-19 was making its approach to National Route 39.

[ FOUR ].

SECRET.

HELP0041 2220 ZULU 16 MAY 1965.

VIA WHITE HOUSE SIGNAL AGENCY.

FROM: HELPER SIX.

TO: EARNEST SIX.

AFTER-ACTION REPORT #5.

REFERENCE MAP BAKER 111. AT APPROXIMATELY 1200 ZULU 16 MAY 1965 CAPT DARRELL J. SMYTHE FLYING RECONNAISSANCE IN AN L-19 NEAR SURINO, KATANGA PROVINCE, CONGO OBSERVED A FOUR TRUCK CONVOY ON ROUTE NATIONAL 39 SUSPECTED OF TRANSPORTING CUBAN FORCES INTENDED TO REINFORCE CONGOLESE INSURGENTS IN THE LULUABOURG AREA.2. THIS INTEL WAS FURNISHED TO A CONGOLESE REACTION FORCE AT KAMINA, ADVISED BY SFC ALFRED JENSEN, AND TO A RECONNAISSANCE PATROL IN THE AREA ADVISED BY MSGT WILLIAM THOMAS.3. AT APPROXIMATELY 1330 ZULU 16 MAY 1965 THE CONVOY WAS HALTED BY THE CONGOLESE REACTION FORCE APPROXIMATELY 35 MILES EAST OF SURINO. MSGT THOMAS AND SFC JENSEN WERE LATER SEPARATELY INFORMED BY CONGOLESE OFFICERS THAT EIGHTY-TWO (82) ARMED INDIVIDUALS BELIEVED TO BE CUBAN NATIONALS WERE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY, TOGETHER WITH A LARGE QUANTITY OF SMALL ARMS AND OTHER MILITARY MATeRIEL.4. THERE WAS COMPLETE SURPRISE AND THE ALLEGED CUBANS WERE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY WITHOUT THE EXCHANGE OF GUNFIRE. CONGOLESE AUTHORITIES BELIEVE THAT THE STOPPING OF THE CONVOY WAS CONDUCTED WITHOUT GIVING THE ALLEGED CUBANS TIME TO INFORM INSURGENT FORCES IN THE LULUABOURG AREA THAT THEY WERE BEING STOPPED. ALTHOUGH NEITHER WAS PRESENT AT THE ACTUAL STOPPING OF THE TRUCKS AND SUBSEQUENT ARREST OF THE ALLEGED CUBAN NATIONALS MSGT THOMAS AND SFC JENSEN CONCUR.5. CONGOLESE AUTHORITIES HAVE INFORMED THE UNDERSIGNED THAT IF INVESTIGATION REVEALS THE ALLEGED CUBANS ARE IN FACT ARMED FOREIGN NATIONALS IN THE CONGO WITH THE INTENT OF OVERTHROWING THE GOVERNMENT BY FORCE, THEY WILL BE DEALT WITH UNDER INTERNATIONAL AND CONGOLESE MILITARY LAW, WITH APPROPRIATE REPORTS TO BE MADE TO THE INTERNATIONAL COURT OF JUSTICE AT THE TERMINATION OF THE CURRENT STATE OF NATIONAL EMERGENCY.HELPER SIXSECRET.

[ FIVE ].

404 Avenue Leopold Leopoldville, Republic of the Congo 1205 20 May 1965 Nimbi, the houseboy, led Miss Cecilia Taylor to what he referred to as "Les Madames," who were sitting in their bathing suits at one of the umbrellaed tables by the swimming pool.

Mary Magdalene, the enormous black woman Cecilia had seen before, was sitting at the shallow end of the pool, her feet in the water, her flowered dress hiked nearly to her waist, playing with the Craigs' baby.

Madame Ursula Craig and Madame Marjorie Portet smiled at her-and then at each other-when they saw her.

"Good morning, Cecilia," Ursula said. "You look like you could use a glass of orange juice."

"I could, thank you very much," Cecilia said.

"We all need orange juice, Nimbi," Marjorie ordered. "And Miss Taylor will be staying for lunch."

"That's very kind of you, and I accept. But the reason I'm here is because Major Lunsford asked me to meet him."

"He'll be here soon," Marjorie said. "He's at the airport with my Jack, deciding which of the redundant-shipments goes where," Marjorie said.

"Excuse me?"

"The Air Force, to everyone's surprise, finally delivered a planeload of redundants early this morning," Marjorie said.

"Redundants?"

"The way I understand it, the Air Force insisted they could support Operation Earnest. Felter didn't believe them, of course, but gave them the shopping list, meanwhile making sure my father-in-law actually delivered what we needed with the Intercontinental Air Cargo 707. . . ."

She paused and, smiling naughtily, asked, "I thought they called Father last night about it? Didn't he tell you?"

"Major Lunsford was at my apartment, on some business, when he had a call," Cecilia said. "I suppose that's what it was."

"When the plane landed, the pilot wouldn't turn the stuff over to anyone but Father, Cecilia," Marjorie said. "So when the attache called here, I gave him your number."

"I feel like I'm explaining to my mother why I was out all night," Cecilia said.

"Apropos of nothing whatever," Marjorie said, "I think I can say without fear of contradiction that Special Forces Detachment 17 is very happy to see their beloved commander happy, and grateful to whoever, or whatever, is making him happy."

"My God, you mean everyone knows?" Cecilia asked.

"All of us know," Marjorie said, "and not one of us would say a word outside the clan."

"How did you know George was at my apartment?" Cecilia asked.

"I'm the unofficial adjutant, I guess," Marjorie said. "I'm the one people come to find Father, so he tells me where he's going to be. So I knew where to find him when the attache called."

"At half past three in the morning," Cecilia said.

"Oh, was it that late? I never looked at the clock," Marjorie said.

"The hell you didn't," Cecilia said, and added: "I never thought I would behave like this-was capable capable of behaving like this." of behaving like this."

"None of us did," Marjorie said. "I think they call it 'lust,' as in 'unbridled lust.' It sneaks up from behind, and quite literally sets you on your behind."

"Marjorie!" Ursula said reprovingly, but with a smile.