Free Up Country by Nelson DeMille Page A

soldier. They don’t like that, as I found out the hard way. Okay?”
    “Got it.”
    Conway continued, “When you get to your hotel, do not contact us. The hotels sometimes keep copies of faxes that you send, and the local police sometimes look at these faxes. Same with phone calls. All dialed numbers are recorded for billing purposes, like anywhere else in the world, but they’re also available to the police. Plus, the phones may be tapped.”
    I already knew all of this, but Conway had a mental checklist he needed to go through.
    He informed me, “Regarding your arrival, your contact in Saigon will verify that you checked in at the Rex. It won’t arouse any suspicion if the
call comes in locally. The contact will then notify us via a secure fax or e-mail from an American-owned business. So, if somehow you don’t check in at the Rex, we’ll know.”
    “And do what?”
    “Make inquiries.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Okay, in this plastic bag is a twenty-one-day supply of anti-malarial pills. You were supposed to start taking them four days ago, but not to worry—you’ll be in Saigon for three days, where there aren’t many malaria mosquitoes. Take a pill now. There’s also an antibiotic, which I hope you don’t need. Basically, don’t drink the water and be careful of uncooked food. You could pick up hepatitis A, but by the time you experience symptoms, you’ll be back home. If we knew sooner that you were leaving, we’d have gotten you a hepatitis vaccine—”
    “You knew some time ago that I was leaving—I’m the one who didn’t know.”
    “Whatever. Read your Lonely Planet Guide on the flight. There’s also a copy of the translated letter in this bag. Read it, but get rid of it on your layover in Seoul.”
    “Oh . . . I planned to have it on me at Tan Son Nhat.”
    Mr. Conway said to me, “I’m sorry if at any time in this briefing I’ve insulted your intelligence or professional ability, Mr. Brenner. I’m just following orders.” He looked at me and said, “Karl said I might not like you, but I do like you. So, here’s some friendly advice—the chances are that you’re going to find out more than you need to know. How you deal with these discoveries will determine how you are dealt with.”
    Mr. Doug Conway and I stared at each other for a really long time. A sane man would have left right then and there. But Mr. Conway had calculated, correctly, that Paul Brenner was not frightened by that threat; Mr. Paul Brenner was more curious than ever, and highly motivated to find out what this was all about. Paul Brenner is an idiot.
    Mr. Conway cleared his throat and said, “Okay, you have a long layover in Seoul. Spend it in the Asiana lounge. There may be a person or a message there for you, with more information. And if this turns out to be a no-go, this is where you will be turned around. Understood?”
    “Understood.”
    Mr. Conway asked me, “Is there anything I can do for you at this time?
Any last-minute messages, instructions, personal matters that I can help you with?”
    “Actually, yes.” I took an envelope out of my pocket and said, “I need an airline ticket from Bangkok to Honolulu, and a hotel reservation in Honolulu for a few days, then Maui. Here’s the itinerary, and my American Express number.”
    Mr. Conway took the envelope, but said, “I think they’ll want you back in Washington.”
    “I don’t care what they want. I want two weeks in paradise. We’ll debrief in Bangkok.”
    “All right.” He put the envelope in his pocket. “Anything else?”
    “Nope.”
    “All right, then, good luck and be careful.”
    I didn’t reply.
    “You know . . . believe me when I tell you that, aside from your mission, this trip will do you more good than harm.”
    “Hey, my first two trips there would have been great except for the war.”
    Mr. Conway did not smile. “I hope I’ve done a good job of briefing you. That always concerns me.”
    “You’ve done an excellent