The following is a brief excerpt beginning on Page 68 from THE BLOOD ROSE DOSSIER.......

................After the meal they piled back into the vans. The pleasant effect of the cognac and hot sauce was quickly overshadowed by the petrol fumes and pot holes. Sixty teeth-jarring, gas-gagging miles and three hours later, they reached the outskirts of Hanoi.

The capital city reflected the bygone charm of a French colonial township. Traffic moved in an endless whisper of bicycles and pedicabs bobbing along tree-shaded boulevards. Large parks, lakes, and ochre-colored villas, with their roof tops buried beneath thick bougainvillea vines dotted by brilliant purple and red floral bracts, exuded serenity.

They passed a glass-dome mausoleum where tourists filed past the embalmed body of Ho Chi Minh. A few minutes later they stopped to watch a group of American veterans photographing a strange collage of military hardware outside the Hanoi War Museum.

An enormous scrap heap of French guns and armored vehicles taken at Dien Bien Phu, and American tanks and airplane parts, including the switch blade wings and fuselage of a downed F-111, covered the lawn and was all crowned by a soviet MIG-21 fighter.

The APC led the vans into a more industrialized section of the city. They pulled to a halt in front of an aging two-story house. The ochre-colored paint had long since peeled away and the bougainvillea hung as a tangle of dead vines from the roof to the ground.

General Trung barked several commands to the men in the APC and the luggage was transferred to the sagging front porch of the house.

Charlie arched his long back to its maximum range in an effort to loosen the muscles stiffened by the worn shocks of the VW. He wanted a shower and a change of clothes to rid himself of the body aches and the odor of petroleum. The dilapidated house didn’t impress him as much of an improvement over the van.

"Hardly the Hilton, General," Charlie said bluntly.

Trung watched as his men moved the luggage and the rest of the group slowly climbed out of the vans. "I doubt very much if I could find a single hotel room in Hanoi, much less, one hotel that could house all of you. American companies . . . Pepsico, Radix Group International, Alca International . . . and others are all here to exhibit their wares at an international trade show. They booked every room in the city weeks ago and reserved them through the next several months."

Trung waited until everyone was out of the VWs and then waved them toward the porch. "You will be sleeping here tonight. There are beds and fresh linens throughout the rooms."

Rhodes’ stomach growled and the growl worked its way up to his mouth. "Hey, General, what about food and something to drink?" he asked through a yawn.

"In the back room you will find food and bottled water," Trung responded.

"You said we will be sleeping here," said Charlie, "where will you be?"

"I must complete the arrangements for the boat. Early tomorrow morning we will begin our journey up the Song Hong river to the village of Phu Tho. From there we will follow a smaller tributary north toward the Chinese border. Somewhere along our route the Montagnards will signal us from the shoreline and we will walk in to Singh’s stronghold. If you have any more questions, ask them of Comrade Khanh. These instructions were relayed through her. As for me, I will return in the morning with the supplies, clothing, and weapons we will need."

"Weapons?" asked Rhodes.

"Yes," replied the General, "according to Singh’s instructions my soldiers will be unable to travel with us beyond this point. Not all of the Montagnard tribes are friendly to strangers and there are small groups of bandits known to operate in the highland areas. My government wants this mission to be successful. I think this is proof of that desire."

With that General Trung mounted the turret on the APC and rumbled away in the proverbial cloud of dust.

Charlie laid claim to a small room next to what they loosely called the kitchen. He overcame Rhodes’ objections and insistence that they should share a room for the purpose of security by convincing the big man to take the room directly across the hall from his. Charlie needed a solid night’s sleep and knew that the sights of the day would undoubtedly invite the dream into his tired mind’s eye.

Rhodes’ room was too small for more than one person so he would also sleep alone. Khanh, Tseng, and Liang elected to occupy what at one time must have been a large sitting room. That left Bostock, Chirac, and Walters with the upstairs floor where they found a wide hallway with two rooms on either side. Walters took one of the rooms nearest the stairway. Bostock and Chirac picked the rooms toward the far end.

Charlie was trying to figure out the small round cook stove when Khanh and Liang came into the kitchen. Khanh whispered some instructions to Liang and he showed Charlie how the stove operated. Khanh started cutting up some vegetables and dried fish while Charlie watched Liang fire up the tiny stove.

A few moments later several pans were simmering with fresh vegetables, fish, and rice. Khanh was rubbing dried leaves and seeds to powder and sprinkling it into the different pans. A wonderful aroma drifted through the house and soon had every member of the mission standing in the small kitchen.

There was bottled water and a generous supply of rice wine in small clay casks sitting where Khanh had found the plates, cups, and utensils. They spread out a blanket on the large, somewhat rickety, back porch and set out the food and drinks. Everyone selected a place to sit as they filled their plates and cups.

The sun was beginning to turn the evening sky to a shimmering violet hue. Charlie relaxed as they ate and talked. The conversation was random and about nothing in particular, but everyone joined in. Rhodes even talked to Walters without snarling.

Charlie was surprised at his own hunger and how great the food tasted. He found it strange that Cao Thi Khanh would know her way around a recipe. The lady was a delicate weave of fine silk and industrial strength nylon. When he finished eating, Charlie settled back against a porch railing that groaned under his weight. He rolled a golf ball around the palm of his left hand and sipped at a cup of rice wine in his right.

They had at least two more days before they reached the stronghold. Charlie’s eyes wandered from face to face. Two days was not a long time, but it might be long enough for this odd assortment of souls to come together. Their chances of surviving an encounter with Singh would be far greater if they faced him as a unified team.

The golf ball rolled out to the tips of his fingers. It went straight up and came straight down.

*****

Three kilometers from the house where he had left the others General Trung ordered the APC driver to stop and let him off in front of a large building. He instructed the driver to take the other men to a nearby military compound and return for him in eight hours with the truck that waited at the compound already loaded with supplies.

Trung used a key to unlock and enter a small office building attached to the larger building. Ten minutes later he emerged in khaki trousers, a brown shirt and straw hat. He walked the outside length of the long building and used a second key to enter the main door.

Corporal Lee and his men scattered for cover as Trung moved quickly through the door into the warehouse. They relaxed a moment later when Trung called out the prearranged password. " Blood Rose."

*****

The food was gone, the casks of wine empty. They said their good nights and began to wander off to their respective bunks.

Khanh and Charlie were eventually left alone on the porch.

The last rays of sunlight had faded some time ago. Charlie couldn’t see much beyond the large open area behind the house. A tall fence bordered the back of the yard and beyond that there were rows of identical warehouses.

"Tell me, what does it feel like to be back?" she asked.

Charlie gazed toward the place in the sky where the sun had disappeared. "Most of the people I knew here never really left. I don’t mean like Singh. I mean the men and women who fought here and then went home. A lot of them left here in body bags. They lost their lives. The rest of us just lost our minds in varying degrees. But none of us really went home in a true sense. We all left a part of our life here. Call it soul, or spirit, or whatever you like . . . no one who fought here went home in one piece."

"Is that really why you came back?" asked Khanh. "Are you looking for your missing pieces, Mr. White?"

Charlie stared hard into her dark eyes. "No, lady! I’m just looking for Singh!"

She returned his hard look, ounce for ounce, and stepped toward the doorway. She stopped just for a second, softening her stare. "I hope you find what you are looking for." With that she disappeared into the darkened house.

Charlie stood alone on the old porch. He finished the wine in his cup and slipped into his room. He put the blue tote bag under a folded blanket and set it at the head of his bed. It made for a passable pillow. The food and the wine in his belly let sleep come easily. He drifted off with the thought that he wouldn’t mind dreaming about Cao Thi Khanh.

*

*

Bostock was awakened from a rice wine haze by the sound of a scuffle in the hallway outside his door. When he opened the door his blood chilled. His nostrils were burnt by potent fumes. Two metals drums of gasoline had been knocked over and were spilling their lethal contents in widening ripples along both baseboards of the hallway.

The Frenchman Chirac had a struggling oriental trapped in a choke hold under one massive arm. He was flexing and locking the muscles of his legs, pinning a second man into the wall. A third dark clothed stranger lay crumpled in an odd angled heap near Chirac’s feet.

Walters was choking the life from the struggling body of a fourth man near the head of the stairs. A short handled knife protruded from Walters’ bleeding left side, just above his hip.

The man that Chirac was slowly crushing into the groaning wallboard was slashing and stabbing at the Frenchman’s broad back with a similar blade. Blood mixed with the ripples of flowing gasoline and turned it pink.

Bostock started into the hallway to help Chirac. The small man plunging the knife into the Frenchman’s back watched Bostock approach. The Squadron Leader saw it in the eyes first. They said the youthful face knew the battle was lost. Then Bostock saw the igniter in the defeated man’s other hand.

The hallway exploded into a firestorm. Bostock dove for the open door to his room. Walters was knocked down the steps by the force of the blast. The entire second floor was engulfed in fire in a matter of seconds. Flames shot out the second story windows and roared into the darkness. The front porch had been soaked with gas before the assassins climbed to the second floor. The flames found the fuel and the porch erupted into long fingers of orange rage.

Walters kicked open the door to the sitting room. Khanh was already on her feet. The ceiling was smoldering and tiny tongues of fire flicked in and out through several small openings.

Liang and Tseng were moving behind Khanh when a section of ceiling collapsed on top of them. Khanh helped Liang to his feet and Walters pulled an unconscious Tseng over his shoulder. The attaché case dangled from its chain on the unconscious man’s wrist. It was caught on the burning debris. Khanh kicked it free and they made their way out of the room.

Liang was able to stand on his own when Khanh leaned him against the wall near Rhodes’ door. She screamed at Walters to take Tseng out through the kitchen. She pounded on the door but got no response. She stepped back and delivered a sidekick to the edge of the door. The ancient wood frame buckled and the door crashed inward.

Rhodes’ room was full of smoke. Before lying down, he had opened a window to catch what breeze he could and the open window acted as a magnet to the surging smoke. Khanh shook the huge man until the fumes that filled his mind and his lungs cleared enough for consciousness to return.

They struggled into the hallway together. The smoke was thick and the heat was growing in intensity. The inferno around them would soon claim this last pocket of life. They had only seconds to reach Charlie and escape.

*

He was surrounded by smoke and the acid odor of death. Some one was crying . . . no weeping . . . no . . . . . . . . . . .

Rhodes screamed and literally shattered the door to Charlie’s room into a thousand splinters. Charlie was on his hands and knees, gasping for air. Rhodes jerked him up from the floor as though he were a hollow doll and weighed nothing at all. He turned toward the door.

Charlie choked out the words, "The bag, get the bag."

"No time, man!" shouted Rhodes.

Charlie could not abandon what the bag held to the mercy of the flames. "The transmitter! We have to have the transmitter," he gasped.

Rhodes hesitated then pushed through the smoke toward the bed. Charlie reached out and grabbed the blue tote. With Charlie slumped over his shoulder Rhodes charged into the hallway and through the kitchen. He burst out onto the back porch. The tired wood gave way under the combined weight of both men and Rhodes crashed down through the planking. Charlie was sent sprawling across the porch and tumbling down the steps.

Halfway down the steps he came to rest against the bodies of Tseng and Walters. Both men stared upward with open dead eyes. A small hole oozed blood in the center of each man’s forehead. The attaché case was missing from Tseng’s wrist. It took Charlie a second to realize that Tseng’s entire wrist was missing. His severed hand lay in the dirt next to a bloody hatchet. The case was gone.

Rhodes roared like a caged beast and thrashed at the wooden shards that held him fast. Charlie followed Rhodes eyes to the source of the big man’s rage. Six meters in front of him a slender male figure stood in the yard with a pistol in one hand pointed at Charlie’s forehead and the missing attaché case clutched in his other hand.

Rhodes’ voice shattered the night. "Over here you bastard! Your fight’s over here . . . with me."

For what seemed like an eternity the man stood with the gun pointed at Charlie. Then a single shot rang out above the cracking noise of the fire and the angry screams of a defiant Cornell Rhodes ceased.