previously:

Karen leans close and quietly says, “I’ve been thinking about that story you told me just before we brought Whizz into the group. I’m glad you found your way to teach us.”

I look at her and wonder if she means that she understands. She looks at me and her eyes say, ‘Welcome to the club.’ I start crying again. Not a lot, but enough that tears roll down my face. I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/19 - 6:58pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 24 is revised and reposted on Sat, 2009/12/26 - 12:29 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

Neanderthals apply here:

 

Chapter 24

 

I and my ‘luggage’ arrive in California and manage to find our way to the embarkation location where we are awaiting transport to Vietnam courtesy of the Air Force. They are a little upset with my ‘luggage’ but my orders specify it is to accompany me on the flight. They are further disturbed by the specification in the orders that the cases may not be opened for any reason by anyone but myself and only after reaching my final destination. The strange orders have caused a ‘bump’ up the command chain in an effort to find someone who will countermand them.

A Colonel finally shows up and his date of rank exceeds mine so he tries to have me open them. I quietly point out that mine is not the rank he must exceed but that of the two-star who signed the orders. He reads them, glances at my cases and at me, then tells them, “load her things and get her out of here and onto the aircraft.”

I thank him politely and turn back to find a very unhappy loads master recalculating his fuel and load requirements. My things won’t make that much difference since they are roughly equivalent to two or three personnel and their gear. As my items are only slightly larger than the duffle bags they will lend themselves to easier placement than the few pallets of materials which are making their way on board even as we speak.

“What do you have in there, Ma’am? Money? It’s too light for gold.”

I just look at him like I have no idea what he’s talking about. His face takes on a pained expression for a moment, his head nods in sudden misunderstanding and he starts yelling orders to the others around him. I return to the location where everyone is waiting for their opportunity to board. So far, the past day and a half has been an extreme let down from the activity of the previous two weeks. I’m still wearing my Pendleton crest but have my ID safely in my purse.

No one recognizes the crest, of course, but all are guessing it may be some special unit and they are afraid to ask. I learn that there are only two passengers on this flight that outrank me and they are both Colonels with a few more weeks in grade than myself. New Colonels returning to Vietnam for their compulsory 12 months or more which is the requirement for their earning the rank. Just like myself, well, almost.

We fly and I sleep, still bored out of my mind. I have a terrible dream of the entire intelligence apparatus in Vietnam having been decimated and my little unit being given the monumental task of filling the gap until new people are brought in and make it up to speed. Karen is pulling her hair out, sleeping when she gets a chance, and the staff has been rearranged to allow for three shifts, the MPs filling in for missing personnel. I awake in a sweat. I finally realize that condition is attributable to the heat in the aircraft and not to my dream, which may also be attributable to the heat. I seem to recall from previous trips that it was much cooler during the flight. I think they are trying to acclimatize us to the heat of Vietnam. I don’t know how they are going to simulate the humidity. Rain in the cabin?

After a change of aircraft in Thailand, we finally put down at Tan Son Nhut where we are to be given our orientation and introduction to Vietnam. Those of us who have been here before make for other locations. I position myself where I may watch the unloading. Two hours later I have most of my cases and have exchanged two hundred and fifty dollars for scrip. Forty minutes after that the other two cases show up, having made a grand attempt to continue on to some destination further to the North, but the Air Force discovered the stowaways and returned them to me.

My orders place me into a hotel where I arrive with two additional Fiat taxis, filled with my cases, in tow. Finally in my room, I change to soft feminine things fit for summer weather. It isn’t summer, it just feels like it. Summer is much warmer. By that time I will be accustomed to it again.

The next day my ‘husband’ shows up and he wastes no time in consummating our ‘marriage.’ He’s nice and Mom was right, it is enjoyable. I still have some reservations as I have yet to see a marriage license. Or a priest for that matter. He decides once wasn’t enough and we are at it again. My legs are rubbery as I make my way to the bathroom to clean up. After I exit the bathroom and then dress, he has my luggage taken downstairs, then we are off driving to our house.

He tells me we have been invited to a dinner party this evening and it is formal. I begin to unpack and undress as he seizes the opportunity to once more avail himself of my charms. I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with him.

Three times in two hours? Once more now for good measure? Four?

I explain I need at least two hours to unpack and get ready. He looks at the clock and is at me again. There is something wrong with him. My legs don’t want to work. I feel like I’m sprung. Slowly I recover and find the bathroom. I clean up and peek out to be certain he’s gone so I may get dressed. Selecting my dark blue gown and the sapphires for tonight’s excursion, I then go out finding him in a study of sorts where I ask about a safe for my things. He laughs and says, “No one would dare touch anything left in this house. You could leave your jewelry out on the bed and it would be there four weeks from now.”

I don’t believe I will test that theory. I place my jewelry and the empty boxes which were holding my sapphires into one of the chests which I lock pending my return.

We go out and are arriving at our destination about the same time as five or six other couples. Upon entering I discover nearly five dozen guests already present.

During the next hour or so we round out to somewhere around 100 to 120 guests.

He vanishes into the crowd within a few minutes of our arrival and I don’t make contact with him again for nearly three hours. I work my way around the floor and listen to various conversations much as I did when I accompanied Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie. I think I spot my ‘husband’ but by the time I get to that part of the room there’s no sign of him, nor of the Vietnamese officer he was speaking with.

I happily engage myself in conversation with other wives who have been similarly abandoned and continue to watch and listen to those moving around us. I notice the Vietnamese officer is once again in the room so my search begins anew for my ‘husband.’ By the time we find each other I have heard a lot of good Intel which I’ll prepare for Uncle Phillip. We make our excuses and depart. Once in our home, I ask about ‘bugs’ and he begins to tell me about the insect varieties. I tell him that I mean the electronic types and he looks at me like I don’t know what I’m talking about.

“You know, surveillance and spy devices? Things that let people know what we are saying?”

He laughs and says, “Who cares? They can’t do anything to stop the project so let them listen.”

I quietly tell him about the conversations I overheard and ask how we send a report to command. He looks at me like I’m from Venus.

“That’s not why I’m here. And you’re here to make me feel good and for no other reason. If you want to make a report then go ahead, prepare your petty report and turn it in. I have bigger fish to fry. Come on.”

He leads me to our bedroom and almost rips the gown from me. I manage to get him to wait and carefully take off my gown and some other garments setting them aside before he’s into me again. There’s something very wrong with this man.

The next morning I awaken to find him gone. I’m sore from all the ‘exercise’ and go clean up before dressing to go out and explore the house. So far, I’ve had little time to see much of it except the entry, the bedroom and the bathroom. My exploration yields fruit of sorts, a cook and a houseboy. They’re babbling away in Vietnamese as I enter the kitchen. He asks in passable English if I would like breakfast and what I might like. I tell him and he translates into Vietnamese for the cook. I note he has changed my request a little but say nothing.

For some reason I think it best if they don’t know I understand Vietnamese/ French. I manage to convey in English that I would like paper and pencils so he shows me the study where I find a couple of tablets and two pencils. I take one of each and return to the dining room to await breakfast. Immediately following my breakfast I return to the bedroom to prepare my report, tucking my completed three pages into my purse.

The phone rings and a minute later the houseboy tells me it is a lady for me.

Going to the phone we engage in a short conversation which has been carefully arranged to hide the true intent of the call. We make a date to meet in town in an hour and I ask for a taxi to come pick me up so I may go meet my friend. The houseboy is not happy, but has been told that I might be going out frequently, so the taxi arrives with only a little bit of fuss.

At the meeting, we discuss my first assignment, and I get the surprise of my life when I learn how I’ll be dressed and where I’m going. Tomorrow will prove to be interesting as shall the remainder of this week and the next.

-o~O~o-

Twelve days later I’ve completed my assignment and received a ride back from Phu Bai with a ‘ghost rider’ who seemed to be appropriately named, and was headed this way. I leave the airport, returning to mission control, where I turn in my ‘uniform’ and prepare a report. Then I turn in the silenced automatic I was carrying during the assignment. The whole thing wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, but the experience was a bit nerve wracking.

Getting the coöperation of other service personnel was a little difficult, even when I presented orders requiring assistance. I think that it may have been because they’re not accustomed to providing help to a lone female who isn’t dressed in the garb normally associated with US personnel in SEA.

I understand why they needed a female for these mission now, but the acceptance by the enemy of an unescorted female passing through their territory was a bit of a surprise to me. Even more strange was the fact that many of them offered me food and water as I passed by.

I reached my destination in only a day, since rides were freely offered, as well as protection on my journey. My instructors had told me, “You can safely accept a ride, but should appear to do so with great reluctance, since female timidity and modesty is a cultural norm, and you don’t want to give a wrong impression. The people offering it will very likely try to convince you to accept, so you shouldn’t miss out on very many.”

If they’d known I was an American, I probably would have been drawn and quartered.

One good result of all this is that my Vietnamese is improving. I have to use French as well, surprisingly frequently, and once my Russian was very convenient, although I had to be careful not to know too much, managing to appropriately mangle a few words here and there, enough that I left the Russian laughing, but congratulating me on my effort. He probably wouldn’t have laughed so much if he’d known what I’d accomplished only an hour previously.

-o~O~o-

Finally, I got back to Saigon and then to the house, there learning that Jeremy is out again but we have another function to attend two days hence. This one’s during the day, though, so I can wear a nice dress instead of a gown.

-o~O~o-

A couple of months in, things are becoming more difficult as my actions are being monitored more closely by both Jeremy and the houseboy. I have long since come to the conclusion that things are not all as they appear and have filed a number of reports to that effect. Jeremy seems to have some sort of secret agenda that he and three others are following but I haven’t been able to discover exactly what they’re doing.

My reports have been sufficient to bring other resources to bear on them, so their actions are coming under greater scrutiny. Whatever it is, could be compromising my missions, which wouldn’t go over well with me, what with all that I’ve had to go through in order to accomplish them. I have a third mission coming up in about a week, and it might last as long as three weeks. It will carry me a considerable distance away, deep into enemy territory. It’s exciting, but it’s also terribly frightening.

-o~O~o-

I want to go into town for some shopping therapy, and possibly to pass another message through my handlers, but with Jeremy out and the houseboy watching me like a hawk, I don’t know if I’ll get the chance. I hunt for the houseboy and request a ride to town. He wants to know why. I tell him I want to go look at some of the local markets to see if anything nice is available. He begins extolling the virtues of the market places recommending certain ones. I recognize one as the place Aunt Julie visits each day about noon and ask about it. Oh he’s overjoyed and would like to show it to me. I tell him that I’ll find it on my own and return by cab but he says, “Not safe, not safe.”

I finally allow him to accompany me. He takes us to a marketplace, which I recognize to be different from the one I’d wanted to shop at, but in keeping with my supposed inability to understand Vietnamese, I say nothing. He leads me around like a dog on a leash, showing me various things and bantering with the shopkeepers. I look at a few things and ask the price of a couple. He asks the shopkeeper who offers a price roughly equal to $10 in scrip, which is about three times too high, but when the translation is given to me the price has somehow nearly doubled. This happens several times before I purchase something, just to keep up appearances, and I note that the shopkeeper receives his price in scrip, and the houseboy surreptitiously pockets the difference. I knew that would happen, since he’d basically told the shopkeeper that he’d convince me to pay twice whatever he’d asked. Some day I’d like to surprise the living daylights out of him and tell him in Vietnamese that he’s a thief if not worse.

After nearly an hour and a half we return to the house. He allows me to practice Vietnamese as we travel and I place as poor an accent upon it as I may, intentionally selecting pronunciations that totally change the meaning of that which I’m saying. He tells me I’m learning very well with big smiles. I’m certain that he’s either my ‘husband’s’ spy or he works for the enemy, or both.

We arrive back from the shopping trip and I find Jeremy in our bedroom waiting for me. He destroys my panties by ripping them off and my skirt is up around my shoulders as he begins his ritual. You’d think he’d been celibate for a decade.

This is nothing like what I envisioned in the coupling of a man and a woman.

Somehow I don’t believe Mom would have stayed with Dad if he had been like this. So far he hasn’t really hurt me so maybe he just needs it a lot more than most.

Finally, he’s lying back.

I’m about to roll out of bed and go to the bathroom to clean myself when he grabs me from behind and drags me back as he stands next to the bed and pulls my derriere up against him while he begins again. This man is sick. This is the third month, and when he and I are both at ‘home’ he continues to do it, what? Four times? Five, in one day?

He’s still working at me as the houseboy comes into the bedroom and snickers, calling out in Vietnamese that some general is on the phone. Jeremy tells him, “I’ll be right there,” and continues his recreation, treating me with no more respect than he’d give a prostitute, until he’s throbbing within me again.

He withdraws and allows me to drop to the bed as he pulls on his pants and goes to pick up the phone. He begins speaking in Vietnamese as I listen to the conversation. It sounds like he’s talking about drugs. I’m beginning to get up and he reaches out to grab my wrist indicating he wants me to remain where I am. I can’t believe him. He ends his conversation with an angry tirade half in Vietnamese and half in Chinese. I’m beginning to suspect that he’s talking to the enemy and he’s fully aware of it. As soon as he hangs up, I see the anger still on his face. He drops his pants and he’s at me again. This isn’t a man, it’s a machine. It has no feelings except hate.

This time the session is a bit more violent but it seems to serve to calm him down a bit.

I manage to push back my feelings of humiliation and anger as I ask him, “Who was on the phone, Jeremy?”

“No one you know. One of our informers here in town.”

Now I know that he’s lying, since I understood his side of the conversation.

Somehow Jeremy has not been told I understand Vietnamese and, to a limited degree, Chinese.

“Stay there a minute.” He says, then gets up and goes to his dresser, returning with a thin red baby doll pyjama and a matching panty, which has a slit for obvious reasons.

“Put those on for a minute.”

I change out of my clothes, laying them carefully across a chair and put on the ugly pyjamas. The bottoms have elastic bands around my thighs that itch and are too tight, and the slit in the crotch is just one more humiliation, since the garment has obviously been designed for prostitutes to flaunt their ‘wares.’ He watches me the entire time like a hungry tiger. He comes over and begins to gently caress my body through the baby doll and up onto my breasts with one hand as his other slowly rubs me further and further down into my groin.

Suddenly I’m flying through the air to land on the bed and he’s on top of me. It begins again. I can’t believe this.

He finishes in me again and pulls on his pants, abruptly leaving the room.

I’m exhausted.

Slowly, I get up and manage to find my way into the bathroom to clean up. I throw the disgusting ‘baby dolls’ in the corner for the houseboy to pick up. I never want to see or touch them again. Pulling new panties out of my dresser, I dress myself decently again, going out to the front room only to learn that my ‘husband’ has left without a word. The houseboy doesn’t know where he went nor when he’ll be back. He leers after me as I walk toward the door. Intercepting me, he asks where I’m going.

“Out. I’ll be back later.”

“The mister say you not go.”

“The mister is not my master. I’ll go when and where I wish.”

“You not go.” He grabs my hand in a move designed to force a helpless woman to do what he wants them to. His mistake.

He’s picking himself up from the heap next to the wall as I launch him on another flight into and through a doorway. He’s again picking himself up as I re-engage.

I bounce him around the room a few more times before he gets the message.

“You go. You go.”

I’m looking at him like I’m still considering playing jai lai with him but decide to allow him to salvage whatever honor he may have. He moves to get up and I take a step toward him. He slumps back down in a heap.

“You will tell Jeremy that I will be back.”

“When you be back?”

“When I feel like it.” I storm out.

In the street beyond the wall surrounding the house, I hail a taxi. It is nothing like what most in the States would consider a taxi to be, more like a rickshaw attached to the front of a motorcycle. The passenger rides on the ‘cushioned’ seat between the two forward wheels while the driver who straddles the motorcycle part is riding behind the passenger. I suppose this increases the risk to the passenger, should there be a crash, and I know there are accidents, but in all the tours I’ve taken here I haven’t seen any truly serious mishap. I think that many of the ‘accidents’ are staged in order to obtain more scrip from the passengers, especially from Americans.

In Saigon, the passenger is considered to be responsible for any accident, since the driver wouldn’t have been at the location of the accident, nor present at the time of its occurrence, if the passenger hadn’t ordered him to go somewhere. Therefore the accident is clearly the passenger’s fault.

I understand that paying your taxi driver well, and sticking with the same driver day after day, will lead to him arguing on your behalf should anything unforseen occur. It may also encourage him to provide you with a safe alternate route should he know or suspect that there might be trouble on the usual path.

In this case my driver is a more elderly man who looks like he has not had a good meal in a decade. We barter for the cost of the ride and then I tell him that I’ll pay him twice that for a safe path. My Vietnamese is fluent and he understands.

With a big smile on his face, we’re off. He’s likely to receive a quarter of his days earnings from this one fare. The ride is interesting and he, as usual here, yells at those who intrude upon the space he considers to be his own. Less than fifteen minutes later, we’ve reached the home of Aunt Julie and Uncle Phillip.

I thank him for his courtesy and pay him. Then I barter for the cost for him to wait for me and to take me back again. He’ll take me safely back for the same amount I spent coming here and will wait for a quarter of that. I ask him if he waits for only a quarter of the amount then how will he feed his wife and children? He must take the full amount for the wait also.

He’s all smiles. I pay him half of the waiting fee now and promise the other half when I come out. He promises that he’ll be here unless a patrol chases him away. If they do, he’ll return to check until I finally come out. I smile and clasp my hands before me, giving him a little bow. He returns it to me and settles down to wait.

“Aunt Julie?” I knock on the door again. “Aunt Julie?”

The houseboy comes and answers the door. I ask to see Aunt Julie and he admits me. Aunt Julie can’t recognize me at first, not having seen me for some months, and my facial surgeries have changed my appearance to the point that I’d hardly recognized myself when they first took off the bandages, so I can hardly blame her. Even my voice is changed from what she’d last heard. I’m glad she’s still here, as I’d heard that they’re likely to be leaving for another assignment soon. I explain who I am and that some surgery was performed on my face to give it a more feminine appearance. I offer a few reminders of our embassy event, and of our days together, and she finally recognises me beneath my changes. We talk for about an hour, during which time I confide in her about the continuing strange behavior of my ‘husband’ toward me. I also give her my reports for Uncle Phillip regarding the recent function I attended, as well as the new papers I’d prepared detailing my new suspicions of possible drug running, the strange behavior of the North Vietnamese houseboy, and his contacts with people I assumed to be on the other side.

I’ve included a transcription, from memory, of the side of the conversation with the ‘general’ I’d heard, who I suspect is either Chinese or North Vietnamese. This agent of ‘ours’ seems to be up to something which is not in the best interests of the USA. I’ve also revealed that they don’t yet suspect that I understand Vietnamese and some Chinese, although my stupid use of a ‘taxi’ driver who speaks only Vietnamese may change all that some time soon now. (In retrospect, I’d realized that I’d acted… hastily. Bouncing the houseboy around probably wasn’t a good idea either, however much it had done to restore my self-respect at the time.)

I also tell Uncle Phillip the names of the officers involved in the TacPzlSolGp, and the appropriation of that group by another General at the conclusion of the experiment. If he can persuade two star George to disclose the name of that other general, then he might be able to continue using the group if necessary.

Aunt Julie and I hug one another and I’m on my way out to my taxi, arriving just in time to rescue him from an American patrol. He receives the remainder of his fee for waiting for me and we are motoring back to the point where he picked me up. We arrive and I pay him his fee then hand him some more for his wife. He refuses it and tells me she is no longer living so she does not need it. I ask about his children and he says two of them live.

“Then perhaps, Grandfather, you should save this to be used in the future for your grandchildren.”

He smiles and accepts the scrip… for his grandchildren.

I return to the house to find that Jeremy has not returned and the houseboy is much more careful around me. I ask about Jeremy, but the houseboy knows nothing that he’s willing to share. Day passes into night and night into day and Jeremy has not returned. I make plans to go out again, and not long after breakfast exit the house to find Grandfather sitting on his taxi waiting. He jumps up when he sees me and smiles, then offers his taxi. I give him my destination and we’re off again. When we arrive there’s no mention of fees but I pay him a little more since we have gone a greater distance.

“Grandfather, if you wait all day for me you will lose money. I do not go out every day.”

“It is, perhaps, you will offer me work to drive you when it is you need. Then I do not lose money and you will always have a driver.” His sentences are a mix of French and Vietnamese but his meaning is clear.

His logic is well worked out and, as I smile, he knows I will take him up on it.

“I will work for little, perhaps? It is same you pay yesterday for each day, perhaps more if much more to travel.”

We haggle a little and settle on a price which is about one and a half times that which I paid for him yesterday, and which I will pay each day.

“Grandfather, on the days I’m not going out, I will pay you for the day and tell you, so you are free to go find extra passengers and perhaps earn a little to save for your grandchildren.”

“It is good. It is good.”

He’s a very likeable old man. I will need to have Uncle Phillip check to see if he’s a North Vietnamese sympathizer.

-o~O~o-

Our agreement works well and we are just past the first week of our arrangement with both of us happy in the agreement. He has a moderately secure income and I have a driver and transportation nearby at a moments notice. Uncle Phillip has pronounced the old man clear of any attachments which might prove difficult.

Jeremy returned from his second trip after vanishing once again for ten days and is just as strange as he was before he left. Sometimes as many as six times in a day.

This is a very weird relationship. I will NOT be continuing it after the assignment is over. Jeremy acts as if my sole purpose in existence is to provide him with sexual release.

Over the next two weeks, my husband and I wind up at two more of those formal events. They seem to be coming along at a rate of one every week or two.

That seems like a lot to me but, perhaps there are more of them right now for some reason, and then we’ll go long periods without any. In the meantime we also have gone out together to a number of locations around the Saigon area.

One of these brings me nearly face to face with one of the three men who were in the meeting which started all this for me. He doesn’t recognize me, probably because he never saw me as a female nor with the full decrease in weight and changes to my face (among other things). Jeremy and he have a meeting somewhere in the building as I ‘cool my heels’ wandering around the lobby watching people come and go. I’ve heard five different languages in use, three of which I know.

The most telling of these is such an exciting bit of news…, the sale of combine (farming) equipment from a Japanese firm to a Vietnamese firm for harvesting rice. Hoo-rah. I take it from the general nature of the conversations that this is some sort of trade consulate. This trip has been about the twelfth or fourteenth of our small day trips since I arrived. BORING. At least I have another assignment coming up in less than a week. This one promises to go as long as fifteen or sixteen days.

When Jeramy returns from his meeting, he tells me we have been invited to yet another formal affair. I’m wondering exactly how he means the word ‘affair.’ We now go to one of the outlying market places where we wander and look at the various goods these proprietors are offering their fellow citizens. I find it interesting that the moment they realize that it’s an American asking, the prices tend to triple.

I’m about to say something about it but barely realize in time that it might be more prudent to continue to try to hide my understanding of French and Vietnamese. I’m getting too complacent, and am repeating the mistakes I made at that first embassy affair with Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie. I’ve always been a little impulsive.

That evening we attend the ‘affair’ and once again there are French present. Even though they ‘left the country,’ they certainly seem to have a large presence, and they seem to be into everything, at least from what I’ve had the chance to see.

During the next two weeks, I attend two more formal functions, one with him and one without. I also suffer assorted small injuries from him. He’s usually careful to ensure that all my bruises can be covered by my clothing. His favorite area to attack is in the region of my kidneys and abdomen. Then when we do have sex he attempts to press in so far that it hurts.

When I tell him it hurts, he just does it more. He’s a lot like the one creepy brother that the police officer killed back home. My nipples are sore from the hard pinches and slightly milder bites. I’m black and blue from the rough handling. He usually leaves my face alone however. I’ve told Aunt Julie about my injuries, and shown her the marks and bruises, asking what I may do. She’s talking with Uncle Phillip, but as yet I have had no answer.

We are just into the nineteenth week now and Jeremy tells me he’ll be going ‘up country’ for a week to ten days and won’t return until at least next Thursday.

I tell him that I’ll “be gone for a ‘while’ as well, but hope to be back around the same time.” Whichever day I return I will be back by four or five that afternoon.

My reports to General Pendleton have continued on an erratic but nearly bi-daily basis except for the periods during which I’m on one of my little ‘excursions’ and I continue to detail Jeremy’s many strange actions and conversations in my reports. By this time, I’m beginning to think that a major part of my presence here is to spy on him, rather than the enemy, although I have discovered a group of possible enemy agents in one of the market areas. Seems like a strange place to me, but I suppose it’s a good cover. Many people can come and go freely, under the guise of shopping, and information could easily be passed right under our noses.

I’ve reported a number of conversations I’ve overheard at the marketplace, as well as many of Jeremy’s interactions when he thinks I can’t understand the language he’s using. His grasp of the four languages, which includes English, are dismal, to be generous, and he sounds more like a pimp or drug dealer than someone I would have thought that the Agency would employ.

Perhaps there’s an entire group over here who are simply masquerading as Agency and are actually ‘free’ agents with their own agendas. Jeremy, at least, doesn’t seem to be providing any intelligence to further our efforts over here, nor does he seem to care about anything except himself and his mysterious ‘project.’ Very strange. It’s like he believes the world is here for him to plunder at his whim without ever being held accountable for his actions.

He often reminds me of the creepy brothers. He’s a vicious bully just like they were, and I begin to appreciate the situation that Janet had been stuck in, with her husband’s ‘best friend’ a spoiled brat who hurt her whenever he felt like it. Like her, I had almost no one to turn to, except for Aunt Julie, and even she hadn’t been able to do anything to help me yet, just like Mom hadn’t been able to help Janet.

At any rate, I’ve had several moderately peaceful days while he’s gone.

Grandfather (that’s what I call him all the time now — he seems to enjoy the sign of respect) has taken me around time after time and the MPs have begun to associate his presence to my being around somewhere nearby.

This would be a wonderful cover for him if he were a sympathizer or spy. Uncle Phillip has him vetted every few weeks just in case. He always comes out with a clean bill of health…. He’s just a nice old man.

By now, if I go shopping, he tags along and angrily barters with the Vietnamese shop keepers if he feels they are trying to take advantage of me. I wind up spending the same amount anyway as I give him tips for helping me. At first he took the money as that justly due him, then he took it with a little reluctance and embarrassment, now he simply accepts it as a sign of my appreciation. He has even begun to call me ‘granddaughter’ occasionally, most especially when he’s arguing with the shopkeepers.

Being a daughter or granddaughter is not such a good thing over here. Sons are more important, because they can aid a family in the work, and daughters are less capable of the physical work and will go off to another family when they marry.

He seems to mean it as some form of respect, though, and frequently argues strongly on my behalf. Many of the shopkeepers are now somewhat reluctant to see me coming by. Prices are not artificially raised by more than half for me and many plead with ‘grandfather’ not to upset the small offset they are charging. He’ll scowl and grimace but give in to the small increases and I pay them. The shopkeepers have to make a living too….

One day Jeremy tells me that we’ll be going to yet another function, and it will be somewhere around the fifteenth or so so he want me do buy something for it today. I remind him that this is Thursday and I’m going out with other wives for the morning.

“That’s fine. While you’re out, buy something sexy.”

I look at him, “Something sexy?”

“Sure, you know the sort of thing…. All you whores know how to dress sexy.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me.”

“Jeremy, I’m hardly a whore. If I were a whore, you’d be the last person I’d allow near me.”

“How’s that again? Look, baby,” he walks over to me and grabs my face tightly in his hand. It hurts. “Every woman is a whore. You are no exception. Your sole purpose in this masquerade is to provide me with sexual diversion, and don’t you forget it.” He throws me backward with all his strength and I fall, striking my head on the floor. He grabs my wrist and yanks me to my feet again.

“Undress.”

“NO,” I scream.

He hits me and I go flying, only to be dragged to my feet again.

“Undress, or I’ll tear the clothes off you.”

“Go to hell, you pervert.”

He hits me once on the face, then rethinks his strategy and pummels my stomach and then my breasts. It’s the first time he’s done that, and I discover that it’s just about as bad as being kicked in the groin, back when I was a man, and I double up in pain, my hands belatedly trying to protect my breasts from further agony.

“Undress.”

He’s about to hit me again when I manage throw him across the the room and he winds up on the floor. That enrages him.

He comes at me with murder in his eyes and lands several very hard blows before I’m able to fend him off. He’s right back at me, pounding his fists into my other side. I hear a rib crack and feel the pain just before he does it again, another ‘crack’ audible, as well as the sensation of feeling the bone grind into something inside me.

I give him one to the nose but he twists his head and my blow lands on the side of his head on bone. He doesn’t go down, but is momentarily stunned. I back away trying to breathe. He pulls out a knife, and I have an instant déjà vu memory of a gutted Happy on the floor and my sliced nightdress. Why do all the Neanderthals instinctively go to a knife rather than some other form of weapon? The knife slices my clothes and barely cuts into me as I back away. Twice more he tries it before I manage to knock it out of his grip then he lands two good blows into my kidneys. I’m not certain what I did at that point but he goes flying again and lands in a heap. I’m beginning to come out of it as I see him getting up. He comes at me again and I try my best to kill him before he kills me, but I hurt so badly that I can’t do a lot.

He’s finally down, but I’m not certain for how long. The houseboy comes in and checks him, then charges at me screaming in Chinese. I sidestep and drop him, but without a lot of effect, I hurt too much to play with him. He realizes that I’m in a lot of pain and picks up a broom to use as a weapon. He comes at me and I break it into kindling, if you can call it kindling…. The brooms over here are a bit different than those in the States, all splayed out. They look something like the fans they always have slaves wave around in the old movies about sheikhs in Araby, but they break just as easily. He looks at that, and he’s about to back away when I drop him for keeps. I should have done that the first day.

I suppose the cook was another agent, because she boogies out before the MPs arrive. Someone must have called the cops, perhaps a neighbor, because I wasn’t in any shape to do much of anything. The local police arrive moments later. I manage to give the MPs my military ID and ask them to call General Pendleton.

“Tell him, ‘the hills are brown, but the fields are worse.’ Hurry. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”

During the next ten minutes, something like two full squads of MPs and soldiers arrive, with Uncle Phillip less than five minutes behind them. My coded call to him for help for an agent down is so seldom experienced that the reaction was swift and intensive.

“Who did this? We need to get after them now or they may get away.”

“I did it. Jeremy tried to kill me.”

He takes that with some concern and starts the clean up and transport of Jeremy to the hospital. As I’m standing and talking, he doesn’t think to ask how I’m doing, but Jeremy wakes up and mouths a vile threat to me with hate-filled eyes, and pantomimes slicing my throat with a slight gesture of his thumb as he’s carted out the door. No one seems to notice.

“Uncle Phillip, may I stay with you and Aunt Julie for a few days? I don’t think it will be safe for me here.”

He thinks for a moment and then nods his acceptance. I limp off to pack a few things as he turns back to direct the activities of the military and civilian police buzzing around in front of him.

Why is it that I seem to attract these types? Do I have a sign on my back or something? ‘Neanderthals apply here….’ Surely there can’t be that many out there.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.