Dragon's Jaw (Vietnam Ground Zero Military Thrillers Book 16) by Eric Helm

Author:Eric Helm [Helm, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sapere Books
Published: 2021-04-22T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

HANOI, NORTH VIETNAM

There was a tapping at her door that wasn’t loud enough to fully wake her. It became louder, and Carla Phillips awoke, hot, confused and, for a moment, afraid. Then the realization of where she was washed over her and she lay back, staring up at the ceiling and the slowly spinning fan.

The knock came again and then a voice asked, “Miss Phillips, are you awake?”

“Yes, I’m awake.”

“We have a number of tours scheduled for today, and breakfast is arranged, if you’d care to join us in twenty minutes in the lobby.”

“That will be fine.”

“Thank you.”

She threw the sheet off, wondering what time it was. There didn’t seem to be any sunlight, and she glanced over at the window where the thick curtain was pulled closed. She got up, walked over and opened the curtain, gasping at the brightness. The sun beat down into her room.

When her eyes had adjusted to the glare, she looked out on the city, which was modern, but with only a few cars and trucks. Off in the distance was a pile of rubble that looked like the remains of a bombed-out building.

The city streets were paved with brick, and she could see a canal, twelve, fifteen feet wide, with brown water in it. Two cars were parked downstairs, both of them black with flags on their hoods. She didn’t recognize the make, but thought they were French.

Bicycles and pedicabs were the rule rather than cars and, along with the pedestrians, they filled the streets. Off to one side, away from the canal, on the wide sidewalk, was a long row of holes two to three feet in diameter. She’d never seen anything like them and had no idea what use they had.

Finally she opened the window. There was a slight breeze that smelled of ocean and sewer. Salt and fish and human waste. It wasn’t a refreshing, cooling breeze, but a hot, wet one. Along with the breeze, the noise of the city swelled around her — voices and the buzz of small engines. A loudspeaker yelled at the people, but Phillips couldn’t understand the words.

She turned and moved to the bathroom, where she spent a few minutes. Returning to the bedroom, she put on clothes that she felt projected the right image — a light-colored blouse, dark pants and boots, and a blazer. Then she walked back into the bathroom, studied herself in the mirror and decided she had the effect she wanted.

When she left the room, she noticed that she hadn’t been given a key. But that didn’t matter, since there was no way to lock the door.

Downstairs she stood in the lobby for a moment until Nguyen came up to her, smiling broadly. “Come, we’ve assembled in the meeting room.”

Phillips followed him across the lobby and down a long, dim hallway into another room. As they entered, Nguyen closed the door, and she realized that the room was air-conditioned. A long conference table in the middle of the floor had been set up for dining.

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