Prelude

  March 14th, 1975

  Xuan Loc, South Vietnam, 40 miles northeast of Saigon

  The western sky was ablaze with captivating orange and red hues as the sun was close to setting on the western hills surrounding the small Southeast Asian city of Xuan Loc. The oppressive daytime temperatures had subsided, leading to a warm and humid evening that was much more tolerable for Peter Jensen, who absolutely hated the insufferable heat. It just made his difficult situation even more arduous. He could say nothing, and no one would ever know, but his moral compass had returned north and convinced him to change his course. As he lay in bed, he finally decided that the madness had to stop. It was destroying him emotionally and physically. Tears ran from the corners of his eyes and down onto his neck until they were finally soaked up by his pillow. He had fallen into a rabbit hole with seemingly no way out, and when he looked into the mirror, all he could see was the Mad Hatter staring back at him.

  Peter was not immersed in self-pity, only self-loathing. He detested himself for being a coward. He longed for a woman's touch and was beguiled by her beauty from the moment he first met her. But it was all an illusion. Peter had deceived himself into thinking that what he was doing wasn't wrong. Yet, in his heart, he knew all along that it was. Now tonight, just like Toto in The Wizard of Oz, the curtain had been pulled back and completely shattered that illusion into a thousand pieces. Peter had witnessed something evil in her, and there was no way he could live with himself. He was playing a dangerous game; a game that could ultimately end his life.

  Peter was now standing on the banks of the river called retribution, and once he started to cross, there would be no turning back. Peter finally found the courage to get up and walked over to the old wooden secretary's desk in the corner of the next room. Peter opened the top right-hand drawer, pulled out two sheets of white paper, and started his letter. With the first few words he put down on paper, the weeks of self-loathing disappeared, and a wave of total peace fell over him. It was as if a great millstone had been removed from his shoulders.

  Compiling the letter was painstakingly slow, but it had to be done this way. He wanted to get the letter off before he was ordered back to Saigon in a few days. He could then get the evidence to the station chief, and it would be over except for his punishment. A punishment that he knew he deserved and would gladly accept.

  An hour slipped by quickly, and he was almost done when he heard it. Instantly, he knew his lack of eye contact with the killer that evening had betrayed him. It was a slight sound coming from the back door of his small quarters. He quickly glanced at the laminated clock on the desktop. It was nearly two A.M. He turned to look at the door and froze with fear. The doorknob was slowly turning, first one way, then the other. He could see the door being pushed slightly inward at the same time. His greatest fear had come to pass. At that moment, he wished he was back on the farm in Minnesota, but unfortunately, there was no magic carpet or ruby slippers that could take him there. He only had a few seconds or a couple of minutes at most before the inevitable would happen.

  Peter didn't panic, but he needed to hide his letter quickly. His hands started to shake as he placed the two pages into a manila envelope used for CIA correspondence. Peter then spun the red string around the button below the flap. Without realizing it, he had dropped one of the pages, which had fallen to the floor. Thankfully, Peter spotted it. Realizing he would soon be out of time, he picked up the sheet, grabbed a stapler, fastened it to the outside of the envelope, and hid it in the only place he could think of. He knew he didn't have time to hide it in the box. It would take too long to open it. Just as he had finished this, he turned and looked at the door that was now slowly being opened. Peter started to tremble as he watched his worst nightmare walk into the room.

  Part I

  The Vietnam War

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  Chapter 1

  April 7th, 1975

  There was a slight breeze in the air as Sergeant Jesse Taylor drove his battle-scarred Army Jeep through the streets of Xuan Loc and up to the gates of the Governor's mansion. He double-pumped the brakes at the security checkpoint and was barely able to stop. He spoke briefly with the guard on duty, then drove around to the back of the two-story French Colonial building that had seen better days. After years of war, the Governor's home had lost most of its luster and desperately needed paint and masonry work. The beautiful gardens that once graced the grounds were overgrown, and to anyone who had seen their former beauty, they were hardly recognizable. As Jesse passed the front entrance, he noticed an enclosed army supply truck with the Governor's staff swarming around it like a pack of busy bees packing it with the Governor's household belongings.

  Jesse smiled and said out loud to no one in particular, "Fucking Rats deserting the sinking ship… can't say I blame the bastards."

  As he approached the back of the mansion, he saw two ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) guards sitting in a Jeep by the back entry. They stirred as he approached their vehicle and then relaxed when they recognized the familiar face. He double-pumped the brakes again and tried to pull up next to the two guards but overshot them by several feet. He backed up until he was face to face with the two bored men.

  "Good evening gentlemen. Is her Royal Highness at home?" Jesse asked with a bright smile.

  Both guards just nodded and hardly moved a muscle.

  "You stay all night again?" One of the guards said in not-so-perfect English.

  "Really…I’m assuming that was a rhetorical question?" He quickly replied.

  The guards looked at each other with confused looks on their faces. Jesse could see he wasn't getting through to them. The two spoke in tiéng vi?t for a few moments. Jesse couldn't speak the language, although he did pick up one word, "Asshole." Then, without any further banter, they waved him on. Jesse shoved the Jeep into first gear and pulled it beside another Jeep parked by the mansion's back porch. He hit the brakes again; however, this time, the back porch stopped the one-ton vehicle, not the brakes.

  Jesse jumped out, walked past the guards, and said. "I can't wait to get rid of that piece of shit!" then took the porch steps two at a time. He walked up to a door used in the past to house the Governor's household staff and knocked lightly.

  Jesse was a solidly built man with broad shoulders and a lean, hard body that required little maintenance to stay fit. He was a naturally gifted athlete who wasn't tall by NBA standards; however, he was taller than most men at just over six feet tall. Not many women would say that he was cute. But he was ruggedly handsome. He had piercing big blue eyes, short sandy blond hair, and a perfect olive complexion. He possessed a playful personality that would light up any room he entered, with an amazing smile and an upbeat nature. These qualities also attracted the attention of almost every woman he met, including the woman on the other side of the door.

  Sydney's heart started to race just a bit when she heard the soft knock. She hadn't been with Jesse for several days and was excited as a schoolgirl on a first date. Sgt. Jesse Taylor was one of the few things she enjoyed in this god-forsaken country, a country and a people that she came to loathe.

  "Who is it"? Sydney's voice was very soft and sensual, knowing full well who was on the other side of the door.

  "It's the big bad wolf, Ma'am."

  "Are you alone, Mr. Wolf?"

  "No one out here but me and a few ants…oh, and, of course, your ever-alert bodyguards."

  Sydney laughed slightly and asked, "Have you come to ravage me, Mr. Wolf?"

  "I think maybe the other way around would be more like it," Jesse said in a shallow voice, thinking she wouldn't hear him.

  "I heard that, mister," she said, pretending to be offended.

  The door opened a crack, and a long, slender arm reached out and pulled him inside. Sydney Perotti looked stunning in her white terrycloth bathrobe despite her short, dark, auburn hair still wet from her recent shower. Her robe was intentionally left open far enough to show off her perfectly formed breasts to pique Jesse's interest, not that he needed any encouragement. Sydney was a thoroughbred. She had the face and body of a supermodel. At five-nine, she was almost as tall as Jesse. Sydney had a beautifully sculptured face, full sensual lips, and large hazel eyes that, when closed, were covered by long, thick natural eyelashes and flawless skin. And when she smiled, her perfect white teeth sparkled.

  "Che Bella Donna," Jesse said when he gazed at her beautiful face and body.

  "You flatter me, Mr. Wolf. And you speak Italia, I'm impressed. I also see that you cleaned the road grime off yourself."

  "Well, when in Rome."

  “Then, let me show you a little Rome. Mr. Wolf.”

  Sydney stepped back and opened her robe, fully revealing her near-perfect body. As Jesse’s eyes grew larger, so did his smile. He removed his shirt and let it drop to the floor then he stepped forward and slipped his hands inside her robe, and very slowly moved his hands over her exquisite body. She arched her head back and felt a surge of excitement as his hands touched areas of her body that made her tingle with delight.

  “You smell absolutely wonderful,” he said softly as he buried his face in her damp hair.

  Jesse gently ran one hand over her face, then moved his lips over hers until she pulled him closer into a deep, passionate kiss. They separated for just a moment and looked into each other’s eyes. Then Sydney moved into him, and their lips met again; however, it was much longer this time. Sydney pulled back long enough to whisper, “Carry me to my bed, Mr. Wolf.”

  Being the good soldier that he was, Jesse obeyed her orders obediently. He very gently lifted her off the floor and carried her to her bed while she continued to kiss him. As he made his way the short distance to her bedroom, he could smell the jasmine in her hair and thought how lucky he was to be feasting at a five-star restaurant while his brother-in-arms was sampling the local fare at a nearby brothel.