4

Cazalet was aware of an unbelievable hollow feeling. He swallowed. 'Your husband?'

'Yes. Captain jean de Brissac of a foreign legion. He was in the Katum area with a United Nations fact-finding mission three months ago. There were twenty of them.'

What a strange sensation. Sorrow, sympathy...was that almost relief? 'I remember hearing that,' he said slowly.

'Weren’t they all . . . ?'

‘ Yes,' she said quietly. ‘ Caught in an attack. The Viet Cong used hand grenades. The bodies were not recognizable, but I found my husband blood stain field jacket, and his papers. There’s no doubt.'

'So why are you here?'

'A pilgrimage, if you like. And I had to be sure.'

'I’m suprised they let you come.'

She gave a small smile. 'Oh, my family has a great deal of political influence. My husband was Comte de Brissac, a very old military family. Lots of connections in Washington. Lot of connections everywhere.'

'So you’re a countess?'

'I’m afraid so.'

He smiled. 'Well, I don’t mind if you don’t.'

She was about to say something when they hears voices near by, shouting at each other, and Cazalet called out in Vietnamese.

She was alarmed. 'Why did you do that?'

'They’re beating through the reeds. I told them there was no sign of us over here.'

'Very clever.'

'Don’t thank me, thank my dad for a year at the embassy in Saigon.'

'There too?' She said, smiling despite herself.

'Yes, there too.'

She shook her head. 'You are a most unusual man, Lieutenant Cazalet.' She paused. 'I suppose, if we get out of this, that I owe you something. Would you have dinner with me?'

Jake grinned. 'Countess, it would be my pleasure.'

There was the distant thud of rotors rapidly approaching and several Huey Cobra gunships came in, line astern. Cazalet took two regocnition flares from his pocket, a red and green, and fired them up into the sky. The sound of the Viet Cong voices faded as they retreated and Cazalet took her hand.

'The cavalry arriving in the nick of time, just like the movies. You’ll be ok now.'

Her hand tightened in his as they waded into the paddy field and one of the gunships landed.

The Excelsior in Saigon was French Colonial from the old days and the restaurant on the first floor was a delight, a haven from war, white tablecloths, linen napkins, silverware, candles on the tables. Cazalet had waited in the bar, a striking figure in his tropical uniform, the medal ribbons a brave splash of colour. He was excited in a way he hadn’t been for years. There had been women in his life, but never anyone who had moved him enough to contemplate a serious relationship.

When she entered the bar, his heart turned over. She wore a very simple beaded white shirt, her hair tied back with a velvet bow, not much makeup, a couple of gold bracelets, a diamond ring next to her wedding ring. Everything was elegant and understatement and the Vietnamese head waiter descended on her at once, speaking fluent French.

'A great pleasure, Countess.' He kisses her hand.

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