Forged in Honor (1995) (51 page)

"I'm Jeff Ness from the Boston Globe. You should have a reservation for me."

The desk clerk smiled as he looked up at the bearded man.

"Ah yes, Mr. Ness, we've been expecting you. Your paper let us know a few days ago that Mr. Momery wouldn't be coming and that you were taking his place. Is Mr. Momery feeling better?"

"Yes, much better, thank you."

The clerk pulled a large brown envelope from a cardboard box and passed it across the counter. "You are nearly the last one to get here, Mr. Ness. All of the foreign media representatives are staying with us. This packet from our Information Ministry explains the schedule and includes your press pass.

There is a meeting this evening in the lounge, and don't miss the buses tomorrow at 8 A. M. There will be no other way to enter the Defense Ministry compound. Here is your room key. I'll have a porter help with your bags."

Josh collected the packet and key with an inner smile.

Josh stood at the bar among a virtual who's who from the news and broadcasting world. Like the others, he was waiting for the scheduled meeting in the bar. Josh glanced around at the people, all of whom were wearing plastic-covered badges.

At the top of each was a colored flag denoting their country, followed by the newspaper, magazine, radio, or television organization they worked for, and finally their name. The crowd quieted when a small, well-dressed Burmese man stepped up to a microphone on the band stage. He tilted his head to the audience and stood erect with a big, plastic grin.

"On behalf of Prime Minister Ren Swei, I welcome you to Myanmar. I am aware most of you call our country 'Burma,' but we prefer to use our language-pronunciation for our country. I am the prime minister's media and press relations officer, U Oo. I hope you have found your accommodations adequate, and I thank you for your attendance this evening.

In your packets there is an advance copy of the prime minister's speech outlining his plan for our country's three-year rebuilding program and his plan for economic recovery. As your organizations requested, the prime minister will hold a question-and-answer period immediately after his televised speech. The general has allocated ten minutes for this session. In the interest of fairness, I have placed all of your names in this box. My assistant will now draw five names.

These five reporters will be called on in the order selected to ask questions about the general's programs." Oo motioned to a small, dark-haired woman who walked up the steps holding a wooden box.

Josh coughed to hide his surprise. The names would be drawn by his pretty escort of that afternoon.

She shook the box and opened the top. Reaching in, she took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the media officer. "The first question will come from a representative from the Boston Globe-Mr. Jeff Ness. The second will come ..."

Josh headed for the bar and ordered a beer. Xu Kang's silent army had done its part-now it was his turn.

"It tastes like piss, don't it?"

Josh turned to face a big, blond man wearing a wrinkled khaki safari jacket. He read the name off the badge and put out his hand. "Yeah, Robert, but it's cold. I'm Jeff Ness."

The red-faced man shook Josh's hand. "Robert Fletcher, L. A. Times. You're a lucky sonofabitch. I'll give you five hundred for the spot."

Josh shook his head. "Sorry. My editor would kill me."

Fletcher frowned, bellied up to the bar, and called for a beer. He studied Josh's profile for a moment, then pursed his lips. "Haven't seen you before. You're a newbie, right?

Newbies get all the fuckin' breaks. Well, you sure picked a helluva place to start. This fucking country is a dump."

Josh shrugged. "I haven't been here long enough to form an opinion."

Fletcher scowled. "I've been here for two days. Believe me, it's like stepping back into the 1950s. It's backward with a capital B. Aw, for cryin' out loud. Look who just came through the door. You're gonna love Freddie. He's a party animal. Hey, Freddie! Over here!"

Josh turned and froze. Shit! He'd been had.

Freddie, wearing a photographer's vest, approached with a confident strut. Grinning, he pounded the Times correspondent's back. "Well, I'll be damned. How the hell are ya, Robert? Haven't seen your ugly face since ... Shit, I can't even remember!"

Fletcher elbowed Josh in the ribs. "Jeff Ness, meet Freddie Sloan, freelancer for anybody who will keep him in harm's way. Right, Freddie?"

Still grinning, Buck McCoy stuck his hand out toward Josh. "Right you are. Hi, Jeff. Any friend of Robert's is a friend of mine. What are you boys drinkin'?"

Josh shook McCoy's hand and tried very hard to break the agent's fingers. "Welcome to Burma, 'Freddie.' "

Stephen stood on Singuttara Hill's wooden platform and looked over the lights of Rangoon far below. Behind him was the city's most prominent landmark and one of Asia's greatest Buddhist shrines-the Shwe Dagon pagoda, a 2,500-yearold, 320-foot-tall, gilded Buddhist stupa.

The evening was still and quiet; the only sounds were the soft tinkling of the bells at the pagoda's pinnacle and the shuffling of the barefoot pilgrims who had made the long trek up the stone steps to pay homage. A light breeze carried the smell of incense to him from the hundreds of burning joss sticks by the idol. Stephen watched the silent people who had come to soothe their minds. He knew each would paste yet another thin gold leaf to the stupa in offering for prayers they hoped would be granted.

Seated on the step, Xu Kang looked up at his son. "They pray for what only mortal men can give them."

Stephen sat down by his father and said softly, "The radio relay team is in position behind the base of the pagoda platform. Our leaders report our mortal men are in position and ready for tomorrow."

The old man didn't seem to hear. He waved his hand toward the distant lake that lay glistening in the moonlight at the foot of the hill. "I still have that picture of you and Mya there on Royal Lake when you went sailing with Joshua and his wife."

Stephen looked up at the sky with a reflective gaze. "It seems like a lifetime ago. We believed things would get better. How were we to know it would turn out like this?"

Xu Kang patted his son's leg. "You will have your memories forever. There will be more with Jacob as you watch him grow."

Stephen broke his stare away from the countless stars and stood. Turning, he extended his hand to his father. "It's time for us to join our men. They are waiting."

Xu Kang took his son's hand and stood. Looking over his shoulder at the pilgrims, he smiled. "Tomorrow, you and I will answer their prayers."

Josh quickly grew tired of watching Fletcher and McCoy try to pick up a pair of long-legged blond German reporters.

He leaned over McCoy's shoulder and whispered, "Room forty-four-five minutes."

McCoy shrugged noncommittally and scooted his chair closer to the attractive reporter who had been giving him all the right signs.

Prime Minister Swei stepped into the empty press conference room with his information minister and General Tan. The small information minister motioned to the flower lined stage with pride. "The flower arrangements create an image of freshness and hope. We want the press and invited guests to see, hear, smell, and feel our new beginning. Your words, U Swei, will not be for the press. They will be for our people and the people of the world. They will see a gentle man, a phoenix, lifting himself and his people from the ashes of ruin. They will see a quiet, selfless man offering hope and a new future."

Swei's eyes sparkled as he straightened his back, lifted his chin, and strode up the steps to the podium. He looked out over the empty seats and could see his life's dream coming true. "My beloved countrymen, it is time for change. We have been living too long in the darkness bound by the chains of our past. Today, those chains are broken-forever.

Together we will ..."

"Yes, yes," the mesmerized information minister whispered.

Tan sat in a chair and smiled. Tomorrow would truly be a new beginning. The storm they had created was over.

When Josh heard the light tap at his door, he looked at his watch and cursed. McCoy was fifteen minutes late. He opened the door and was shocked to see McCoy, Fletcher, and the two German women, all loaded down with bottles of beer and yelling, "Surprise!"

"Party time!" Fletcher called out, brushing past Josh.

The women giggled as they entered with their arms around McCoy's waist.

Josh shut the door and turned around to grab McCoy. To his surprise, he saw that his visitors' festive smiles had disappeared, and they had begun inspecting the room for bugs.

McCoy motioned Josh closer, then whispered, "Cool it a sec while we check, then we'll talk." He inspected the radio, then tuned it to a local station playing Burmese music. He looked at the others, who shook their heads.

"Why are you in Rangoon?" Josh hissed.

McCoy motioned to the three people who were now sitting on the bed. "We came for the party. Hawk, meet the gang.

Don't ask who they are-all that matters is that they're on our side. Now, tell us what's going on."

Josh shifted his eyes to the others before looking back at McCoy with a deadpan expression. "What are you talking about? I told you all about the plan."

Frowning, McCoy put his arm around Josh's shoulder.

"Come on, Hawk. What's good for the good ole U S of A is what this is all about. We couldn't let you run this op on your own. You know it doesn't happen that way. Tomorrow we'll be there to make sure your end goes smoothly. Relax. The director is comfortable with your plan, so-"

"The director?" Josh snapped. "You told him?"

"Of course. His job is to make sure the president and the State Department aren't surprised. I didn't give him any specifics, but he knows it's going down. He has a few questions and concerns that I'm sure you'll be able to answer."

Josh's stomach turned to lead and dropped into his testicles; he knew what was coming.

"The first question is, What's Xu Kang's plan?" McCoy said. "And don't give me the same shit you fed me five days ago. We need to know exactly what the Sawbaw is going to do. Our ambassador is going to be at the press conference along with the ambassadors of some countries we happen to consider allies. Spill it, or you aren't going."

"You're threatening me?" Josh asked with a warning glare.

"Naw. Well, maybe a little. You see, we really don't need you anymore. Fletcher here could do your part. Talk to us, Hawk. We need to know."

Josh's jaw muscles twitched, and he put on a look of distress for show. He knew McCoy was bluffing, or the agent would have hit him with a needle or drugged him already.

Josh forced his body to relax and nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you what I know. They're hitting the government's radio and television stations, all the army bases, and the military airfields simultaneously. Then they plan to hit the Defense Ministry and take out Swei."

"Bullshit. There's no way they can pull that off," McCoy exclaimed.

"Believe it. They're going to do it," Josh countered.

After exchanging glances with Fletcher, McCoy pinned Josh with his eyes. "When?"

"As soon as Swei finishes the conference. The assault on the Defense Ministry will come after a mortar attack, so if you want to protect the ambassador, make sure he stays in the conference room."

"Shit! Goddamn you, Hawkins. They're going to kill innocent people with a frontal assault."

Josh lifted an eyebrow. "They have people inside. The takedown will be very quick. There should be no civilian damage as long as they all stay inside that room."

Again McCoy looked at Fletcher, who sighed and shook his head. "The director is not gonna like this."

"He's not going to like it?" the taller of the German reporters said. "What about us? We're all going to be in there while a war goes on outside the doom. I say abort. This is out of hand."

"Greta, we don't have a choice on this," McCoy said harshly. He looked back at Josh. "What else?"

"That's it."

"You don't have a part in this, do you?"

"Nope. I just do my thing at the conference and let them do their thing outside."

McCoy's eyes narrowed. "You better be telling the truth.

We're going to a lot of trouble to keep you covered on this. I've got an entire crew here, not just the people in this room. The dye job on your hair and a week-old beard is not going to keep you from being ID'ed. The director wants you to understand that if this is pulled off you don't go on the `Tonight' show to talk about Company business. You are not talking after this thing, ya understand? And, watch my lips, you are not going to be involved in an armed rebellion. No tricks, no games, just do your part at the press conference.

You got it?"

Josh nodded. McCoy raised his hand, extending a finger.

"One more question. The director wants assurances this op is gonna stay nonpolitical, so the old man better not do anything stupid like try to take power himself, or appoint one of his buddies. He isn't that dumb, is he?"

Josh shrugged. "All I know is that he plans to take out Swei. The future was not discussed. That's an honest answer, so don't waste your time coming at me from another direction on it."