Up Country by Nelson DeMille Read Free Book Online Page A

pre-Vietnam leave, I worked on poor Peggy day and night.
    Bottom line here, my infantry training had taught me how to storm a fortified hill, but storming the defenses of Peggy Walsh’s virginity was more difficult.
    In a stupid moment of honesty, I told her about Jenny. Peggy was really pissed, but it also got her hormones going, so instead of giving me the heave-ho, she gave me absolution, along with a punch in the face.
    She informed me that she understood that men couldn’t control their animal urges, and acknowledged the fact that I was about to ship out for Vietnam, and there was the possibility that I’d never return, or might get my dick shot off, or something.
    And so the last seven days of my leave were spent in intimate hours with Peggy in her bedroom while her parents were at work. I was surprised—shocked, actually—to discover that Peggy Walsh was about ten times hotter than Jenny, whose last name I never knew. Better yet, I didn’t have to pick lint out of Peggy’s hair.
     

     
    B ack to the present, I noticed my cabdriver looking at me in the rearview mirror. He asked me, “What airline?”
    I looked out the window and saw we were at Dulles. I replied, “Asiana.”
    “Where you heading?”
    “Vietnam.”
    “Yeah? Thought you were heading for someplace nice. Saw you smiling.”
    “I just came back from someplace nice.”
     

     
    A s per my e-mail instructions from Herr Hellmann, I went directly to the Asiana Airlines lounge, known as the Morning Calm Club.
    I was buzzed in, and as instructed, showed my passport to the pretty East Asian lady behind the desk, whose nametag said Rita Chang. Normally, you need to be a club member, or need to show First or Business Class tickets to use an airline lounge, but Ms. Chang looked at my passport and said, “Ah, yes, Mr. Brenner. Conference Room B.”
    I went into the cloak room and left my suitcase there, then checked myself out in a full-length mirror and combed my hair. I was wearing khaki trousers, a blue button-down shirt with no tie, a blue blazer, and loafers; suitable travel attire for Business Class, and for the check-in at the Rex Hotel in Saigon, according to Karl.
    I took my overnight bag, went into the lounge, and got myself a coffee. There was a breakfast buffet that included rice, octopus, seaweed, and salted fish, but no chili. I took three bags of salted peanuts and put them in my pocket.
    I went to Conference Room B, which was a small, paneled room with a round table and chairs. The room was empty.
    I put down my overnight bag, sat, and sipped my black coffee. I opened a bag of nuts and popped a few in my mouth, waiting for whomever.
    I’d obviously come up in life since my last departure to Vietnam, but what I was feeling in my gut wasn’t much different.
    I thought again of Peggy Walsh.
     

     
    S he had insisted that we go to confession before I left for Vietnam. Well, I’d rather get a punch in the jaw from Peggy Walsh than face Father Bennett’s wrath when he listened to me telling him I’d been screwing his second favorite virgin.
    But what the hell—I needed absolution, so I went with Peggy to Saturday confession at St. Brigid’s. Thank God Father Bennett wasn’t one of the priests hearing confession that day. Peggy went to one confessional booth, and I went to another. I can’t remember the priest’s name, and I didn’t know him, but he sounded young behind the black screen. Anyway, I started off easy, with stuff like lying and swearing, then got down to the big one. He didn’t totally freak out, but he wasn’t real happy with me. He asked me who the young lady was, and I told him it was Sheila O’Connor, who I always wanted to screw, but never did. Sheila had a wild reputation anyway, so I didn’t feel too bad about substituting her for Peggy. I’m a real gentleman.
    This priest was probably going to hand me about a million Hail Marys and Our Fathers, but I said to him, “Father, I’m leaving for Vietnam in two