She put her hands around my throat and playfully squeezed. Then she wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder. I noticed her arms weren't very tight around my chest, and I knew we needed to get some food.

We pa.s.sed through Lang Chanh and continued on. The road rose more steeply here, but the BMW was an incredible machine, and it ate up the mud as we climbed into the high hills.

Susan said in my ear, "This is actually nice. Almost fun. I like this."

It was was actually fun, in the middle of nowhere, on the way to the end of nowhere. actually fun, in the middle of nowhere, on the way to the end of nowhere.

I had no way of telling how high we were, but the map had shown benchmark elevations of 1,500 to 2,000 meters, over a mile high on the mountain peaks, so we were about half that elevation on this road. It was cold, but there was no wind, and the drizzle had stopped, though the cloud layer had not one break in it.

Now and then I saw huge stands of mountain bamboo surrounded by taller pine trees, and I was reminded of corn fields in Virginia, surrounded by towering forests of white pines. I recalled from last time I was here that when things that don't look anything like home start to look like things from home, then it's time to go home.

I glanced at my odometer and saw we'd come forty kilometers from Lang Chanh, so right ahead should be the village of Thuoc. The last forty klicks on Route 15 had taken an hour, but I felt confident I could make up some time when I reached Route 6, which was designated on the map as an improved road, though that's a relative term.

The road swung sharply to the left and a few minutes later, I slowed down for Thuoc, which looked like Lang Chanh, except there were fewer chickens here.

As we pa.s.sed through the village, a few people followed us with their eyes. I was fairly sure that they saw dirt bikes now and then, and I was also sure they couldn't tell what or who we were. I could tell what they they were, however, ethnic Vietnamese, so we weren't yet in hill tribe territory and, in fact, I hadn't seen any longhouses. were, however, ethnic Vietnamese, so we weren't yet in hill tribe territory and, in fact, I hadn't seen any longhouses.

We continued on for another twenty or thirty kilometers, and the hills got higher. The road followed a mountain stream, and up ahead I could see towering peaks. I have a good sense of direction, and though the sun wasn't visible, I knew we were going the wrong way.

I pulled over, stopped, and looked at the map. I studied it awhile, then scanned the terrain, trying to figure out which way I was heading. I'm a good terrain map reader, but the map wasn't that good, and there was not one single road marker. "Moss grows on what side of the tree?"

"Are we lost?"

"No, we are, as they say in the army, temporarily disoriented."

"We're lost."

"Whatever."

We both got off the bike, put our heads together, and looked at the map. I said, "I think we were supposed to turn someplace near Thuoc in order to stay on Route 15, but I didn't see a sign or a road."

Susan put her finger on the map and said, "When 15 swung west on that curve before Thuoc, the road continued on as Route 214, which is where we are. We needed to turn hard right to stay north on 15."

I said, "The Laotian border is just ahead."

"And that means border guards and soldiers."

"Right. Let's get out of here."

I started to wheel the bike around and noticed on a ridgeline ahead, smoke curling into the air, and the silhouettes of longhouses against the gray sky. I said, "We're in Montagnard territory."

She looked around at the hills and asked, "Are there FULRO here?"

"I don't know. I'm new at this FULRO stuff, despite what Mang thinks." As I was swinging the bike around, I heard something and looked down the road in the direction we'd come from. Coming toward us was an open dark green army jeep with two men in the front. "Jump on."

We both jumped on, and I started the engine. The bike was pointed perpendicular to the narrow road, and I had my choice of going toward the jeep and pa.s.sing them, or heading west toward the Laotian border, where they were going; neither of these were my first choice.

The jeep was less than a hundred meters from me now, and the driver spotted us. He purposely put the jeep in the center of the narrow road so I couldn't squeeze past him, thereby limiting my choices to one.

I cut the wheel to the right, kicked it into gear, and accelerated toward the Laotian border.

Susan called out, "Paul, we could stop and try to talk our way out of this. We haven't done anything wrong."

"We're dressed as Montagnards, and we're not Montagnards. We're Americans, as our pa.s.sports say, and I don't want to have to explain what we're doing here."

I looked in my rearview mirror, and I saw that the jeep was keeping up with me. I was doing seventy KPH and the bike was handling well, but I had trouble staying in the saddle, and Susan was holding on for dear life.

To make matters worse, I was heading toward the border post where I'd be stopped, or where I could charge right through, ducking AK-47 automatic rifle fire from the Viets, and probably from the Laotian border guards on the other side, who were also Commies and sort of friendly to the Viets now and then. So, this was like hammer and anvil; the guys in the jeep were the hammer, the border post was the anvil, and we were hamburger meat.

I glanced in my rearview mirror again and saw that the jeep was a little farther back; he was just going to follow me until I got to the border, which must be very close now, then we'd have a chat. I looked for a place to try to put the bike in the hills to my left or right, but it didn't seem possible, and the soldiers behind me knew that.

Susan said, "Paul, if you don't stop or slow down, they're going to a.s.sume we're running from them. Please, stop. I can't hold on. I'm going to fall. Slow down and pull over and see if they just want to pa.s.s us. Paul, I'm going to fall off. Please."

I slowed down and moved the motorcycle to the right and the jeep started to gain on us. I said to Susan, "Okay... we'll just take it easy here and see what they want." We pulled off our scarves and leather hats.

I had the strong feeling this was the end of the road.

The jeep was right behind us now, and the soldier in the pa.s.senger seat was standing, holding an AK-47 rifle. The jeep drew abreast of us, and the guy with the rifle looked us over. He shouted, "Dung lai! Dung lai!" which used to be my line back in '68. He motioned with his rifle for me to pull over and stop.

As I started to slow down, I saw a strange expression on the guy's face, then a loud explosion right beside my head, and the soldier with the rifle did sort of a backflip. The rifle went flying, and he fell in the rear of the open seat. Another gunshot rang out, and the driver's head exploded. The jeep bucked to a halt and stalled, then rolled slowly backward down the slope until its rear wheels went into the ditch.

I stopped the motorcycle.

I sat there staring straight ahead. I could smell the gunpowder. Without turning, I said to Susan, "You swore you left the gun in Hue."

She didn't reply, but dismounted and walked over to the jeep, the Colt.45 still smoking from the barrel.

She paid no attention to the driver, who had half his skull missing, but very expertly she examined the other soldier, who was sprawled half in the back of the jeep. She said, "They're both dead." She stuck the.45 under her quilted jacket. "Thank you for slowing down."

I didn't reply.

We looked at each other for a few seconds. Finally, she said, "I couldn't let them stop us."

I didn't reply.

She took out a cigarette and lit it. Her hand was steady as a rock. I knew I was in the presence of someone who was no stranger to guns.

She took a few drags, then threw the cigarette in the water and watched it flow downstream. She asked, "What do you think we should do with this mess?"

I said, "Leave it. They'll think it was the FULRO. But we have to take the rifles to make it look like it was them."

She nodded and went over to the jeep and collected two AK-47s and a Chicom pistol from the holster of the driver.

I went to the jeep and took the extra magazines and threw them into the woods, then took their wallets, cigarettes, and watches and stuffed everything in my pockets.

I looked at the two dead men covered with blood and gore, but I didn't get any flashbacks; that was then, this was here and now, and one had nothing to do with the other. Well, maybe a little.

Susan rummaged around the open jeep for a few seconds and found a cellophane bag of dried fruit. She opened the bag and offered it to me.

I shook my head.

She grabbed a handful of the dried fruit, put it in her mouth, chewed and swallowed, then put another handful in her mouth and stuck the bag in her side pocket.

We walked back to the motorcycle, each carrying an AK-47 slung over our shoulders.

I turned the bike around, we mounted up, and started downhill on the muddy road, back toward Thuoc, where I'd missed my turn.

Before we got to Thuoc, I stopped, and we tossed the rifles, the pistol, and the personal effects of the dead men into a thicket of bamboo.

We continued on and reached Thuoc. I saw the turn now, and got back on Route 15.

We rode in silence. We crossed a wooden bridge over a mountain stream, and drove through the village of Quan Hoa. After another twenty kilometers, we intersected with Route 6, and I turned left, west toward Dien Bien Phu.

It was a decent road, two narrow lanes, but wide enough for two trucks to pa.s.s in opposite directions if they squeezed hard to their right. The road surface was a sort of oiled gravel, which now and then turned to thin asphalt. I got the BMW up to eighty KPH.

Most of the spa.r.s.e traffic consisted of logging trucks, a few four-wheel drives, and now and then a motorcycle. I saw no motor scooters or ox carts, and no bicycles or pedestrians; this was, indeed, the road to and from nowhere.

To the left rose the hills and mountains that ran along the Laotian border, and to the right were more hills, and beyond them were the towering peaks of what was called the Tonkinese Alps.

All in all, it was a spectacular road, though now and then the surface deteriorated without warning, and I had to slow down.

The general direction of the road was northwest and uphill. As we got farther west, the few signs of habitation disappeared, except for the smoke from hill tribe settlements, rising out of the forest and into the misty air, the smoke sometimes indistinguishable from the mountain fog.

I drove for two hours, and neither Susan nor I spoke a word. Finally, she said, "Are you going to speak to me?"

I didn't reply.

"I need to make a pit stop."

Up ahead, I could see a flat area off to the side where pine trees had been cleared. There was a small culvert in the stream, and I drove over it and stopped among the pine stumps. I shut off the engine.

I sat there for a minute, then dismounted. Susan, too, dismounted, but did not use the facilities. She stretched, lit a cigarette, and put her foot up on a tree stump. She turned to me and said, "Say something, Paul."

"I have nothing to say."

"Tell me I did a good job."

"You did a good job."

"Thank you." She said, "I couldn't let them stop us."

"So you said."

"Well... if you hadn't taken a wrong turn, none of that would have happened."

"Sorry. s.h.i.t happens."

She watched the smoke curl from her cigarette. After a while, she said, "The part that's true is that I'm madly in love with you."

"Is that the good news or the bad news?"

She ignored that and said, "And that's the part they don't like... if they believe it."

I said, "I think that's the part I wouldn't like either, if I believed it."

"Please don't say that."

"Do you need to go behind a bush?"

"No. We need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"We do." She glanced at me and said, "Okay, I do do work for the CIA, but I'm also a real civilian employee of American-Asian, so neither of us has any direct government involvement, and they could let us hang if they wanted to. And, no, they really didn't want you to dump me, they wanted you to trust me, so they told you to dump me. And, yes, I'm supposed to keep an eye on you..." She smiled and said, "I'm your guardian angel." She continued, "And yes, I was involved with Bill, and yes, he really is the CIA station chief, and they'll go ballistic if they find out I told you, and no, they didn't tell me to sleep with you-that was my idea. Made the job easier, but yes, I did fall in love with you... and yes, they really are suspicious of me now because they know or suspect that we're s.e.xually and romantically involved, and I don't care." work for the CIA, but I'm also a real civilian employee of American-Asian, so neither of us has any direct government involvement, and they could let us hang if they wanted to. And, no, they really didn't want you to dump me, they wanted you to trust me, so they told you to dump me. And, yes, I'm supposed to keep an eye on you..." She smiled and said, "I'm your guardian angel." She continued, "And yes, I was involved with Bill, and yes, he really is the CIA station chief, and they'll go ballistic if they find out I told you, and no, they didn't tell me to sleep with you-that was my idea. Made the job easier, but yes, I did fall in love with you... and yes, they really are suspicious of me now because they know or suspect that we're s.e.xually and romantically involved, and I don't care."

She looked at me, then continued, "And no, I don't know what Tran Van Vinh knows or saw, but yes, I know all about this mission, except for the name of the village, which they didn't want me carrying around in my head, and at 4 P.M. P.M. on Sunday, after you met Mr. Anh, I met with him, and he briefed me about everything I didn't know except the name of the village, which he could give only to you." She added, "He says he likes you and trusts you to do the job." She looked at me and asked, "Did I miss anything?" on Sunday, after you met Mr. Anh, I met with him, and he briefed me about everything I didn't know except the name of the village, which he could give only to you." She added, "He says he likes you and trusts you to do the job." She looked at me and asked, "Did I miss anything?"

"The Pham family."

She nodded. "Right. That was an arranged meeting in front of the cathedral. This motorcycle was already bought, and you pa.s.sed your motorcycle driving test on the way to Cu Chi." She added, "I met Pham Quan Uyen last time I was in Hue. He can be trusted."

"That's more than I can say about you."

She looked upset. "Okay... don't trust me. But ask me anything you'd like, and I swear I'll tell you the truth."

"You swore you were telling me the whole truth back in Saigon, Nha Trang, and Hue. You also swore you didn't have the gun."

"I needed needed the gun. the gun. We We needed the gun in case something like what happened, happened." needed the gun in case something like what happened, happened."

I said to her, "And you need the gun to blow Tran Van Vinh's brains out. Correct?"

She didn't reply.

I asked her, "Why does he need to be killed?"

She replied, "I swear I don't know. We're about to find out, though." She added, "I believe he's alive."

"So, you've agreed to kill a man without knowing why."

"You killed people without knowing why."

"They were trying to kill me me."

She looked at me and said, "How many of them were actually trying to kill you?"

"All of them. Don't try to turn this back on me, Susan. I may have been a combat soldier, but I was never an a.s.sa.s.sin."

"Never?"