“Republic of Vietnam.”
“Vietnam abstains.”
Deborah O’Day shot to her feet in absolute shock. “What!” she shouted. “You’re abstaining? Why?”
The chairman was pounding his gavel over the sudden flurry of excited voices. “Ambassador O’Day, your outbursts will not be tolerated! You are ordered to leave. I will have order in this chamber…”
“I want an explanation!” O’Day shouted. Security guards were quickly rushing to her side. “Don’t you understand? You’re handing over the keys to your cities to the Chinese if you don’t stop them now!”
O’Day was still shouting as she was unceremoniously pulled to her feet and half-dragged, half-escorted to the rear of the conference room and outside. Her aide was deposited beside her a few moments later.
“I don’t believe this,” O’Day told her aide as they made their way to the entrance. “What the hell is going on? Vietnam should certainly be opposed to Chinese aggression.
… Something is very odd…”
“We’ve got to notify Washington about this immediately,” her aide said as they made their way to the limousine. “We’ll have to brief the President…”
The Marine Corps driver from the embassy staff, in full dress blues — spotless white gloves, white belt with .45-caliber sidearm, spit-shined boots, and round hat with the brim pulled down so low it almost obscured his racing-style sunglasses — quickly stepped around from the driver’s side to the curbside rear door, opened it, and stood at attention as O’Day and her aide entered the car. “How’s the traffic on Bukit Timah Road, Corporal?” she asked her driver distractedly. He grunted a perfunctory, “Poor, ma’am,” in reply and quickly closed the door.
“Go ahead and take the central avenue to Government House, then,” O’Day’s aide said as the driver re-entered the limousine. “Call ahead and ask Communications to get a line open for us.” The driver pulled out into the traffic and, with usual Marine flair and urgency, roared down the wide central city avenue toward Singapore’s Embassy Row.
“China’s just been given the green light to occupy the Philippines and make a grab for the rest of the Pacific,” O’Day’s aide said. “The President won’t have any choice but to respond militarily.”
“But he won’t like it,” O’Day said. “He wants the endorsement of some Pacific Rim government or organization before he commits troops, and he just lost the most important one. God, is he going to be pissed.”
“This will be one phone call I don’t envy you,” her aide said. He turned to the Marine Corps driver. “Corporal, you didn’t call the embassy communications office like the ambassador asked. Now please do it.”
His order was answered with a clunk! as the locks on all the doors engaged.
O’Day immediately scanned all the windows, looking for pursuing cars or any sign of a threat; there were none. Her aide immediately reached down below the seat to the hidden compartment where a Uzi submachine gun was stored. “Corporal, why’d you lock the doors?” O’Day asked. “What’s going on?”
“The Uzi’s gone,” her aide said. He fingered the door unlock buttons and power window switches — none were operable. “What the hell is going on?” He reached for the cellular phone in the backseat, but the “Ready” lights were all out — the phone too was dead.
A .45-caliber Colt semiautomatic pistol appeared in the hand of the driver; he showed it to O’Day and her aide but then immediately lowered it, out of view. “Please sit still and do not try anything foolish,” the driver said. “You will not be harmed unless you try to resist.”
It was not until O’Day looked at the man through the rearview mirror that she realized he was wearing sunglasses — their Marine driver had not been wearing them before because of the early hour and overcast skies. “Where’s our driver?”
“Safely asleep in the trunk, Ambassador O’Day,” the man replied. “He put up quite a struggle before we could subdue him. He will awaken in a few minutes.” The driver eased off the main avenue toward a hotel parking lot where the car could be partially obscured, but not appear too conspicuously isolated. He parked the car and immediately began removing the uniform.
“What are you going to do with us?”
“Nothing,” the driver said. Underneath the blue uniform, he wore a T-shirt with palm trees on it, khaki shorts, and white tennis socks; he replaced the spit-shined shoes with tennis shoes. He looked like a tourist from any number of Asian or European countries. Gripping the .45 in his right hand, he glanced nervously at his watch, leaned through the dividing window between the compartments, and said, “I know your embassy tracks all its vehicles by microtransmitter, so I will not stay any longer. I have a message from Second Vice President General Samar…”
“Samar!” O’Day exclaimed. “Is he still alive? Is he in hiding…?” Samar had disappeared the day Mikaso had been killed. It had been assumed Samar was dead, too.
“Silence,” the man said; then, realizing he might have sounded too demanding, added, “Please.” Then, “General Samar requests help from your government to relieve Davao on the island of Mindanao. He is resisting the Chinese invaders but cannot hold on for much longer — Puerto Princesa and Zamboanga have fallen, and Cotabato and Davao will be next…”
“If Samar wants help,” O’Day told the man, “he had better stop playing hide-and-seek and take control of the government. The non-Communist citizens will follow him, but everyone thinks he’s dead…”
“He may be dead if you do not help,” the agent said. “We need more than just…”
“Silence. I have stayed too long already. Listen carefully. General Samar says that the Ranger carrier battle group will be attacked by Chinese air forces from Zamboanga if they attempt to enter the Celebes Sea.”
“What? How in hell do you know that…?”
“General Samar is on Mindanao, organizing his people and his resistance forces. He is carefully monitoring the Chinese military’s movements and communications, and he concludes that on the first of October — Revolution Day — Admiral Yin Po L’un’s forces will attack any foreign military forces that attempt to pass near Mindanao.”
“But that’s crazy,” O’Day’s aide said. “The Chinese wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack an American carrier…
“I will not debate you. The General has risked his life to bring this information to you — in exchange, he officially requests military and humanitarian aid from the United States. Please help. Contact him at this number immediately. Do not alert your embassy by radio or telephone; there are spies everywhere.” The man reached down and hit the button to unlock the trunk. “Your guard will awaken in ten to fifteen minutes; he will release you then. Do not attempt to follow me. Please help my people.”
The man raised the dividing glass screen, stepped out of the car, and ran as fast as he could away from the hotel; they saw him throw the gun into a ditch before he ran out of sight.
8
They had kept the landing lights off until seconds before touchdown. The only lights on around the entire base were the runway-end identifier lights and blue taxiway lights — all “ball park” lights on the parking ramps, exterior fights, and streetlights near the runway were out. Looking from the cockpit, the entire northern part of the island of Guam appeared as dark and as deserted as the thousands of miles of ocean they had just crossed.