Part 41 (1/2)

Frederick had taught Flak that one cough equaled one tap; two coughs equaled two taps; clearing the throat was three taps; a cough and a spit four taps; clearing the throat and spitting was five taps. A hock-tooey and a cough was a V. Hegdahl transmitted the news.

GUARINO IN STOCCS AT ZOO BEARING UP.

STRATTON SEZ BACCUS.

NEW GUYS SAY US GIRLS WEAR VERY SHORT.

SCIRTS CALLED MINI.

Flak didn't know who Stratton was or what BACCUS meant. He knew Guarino was a tough SRO. When Hegdahl pa.s.sed from sight and sound, Flak got down from his observation post. He lay on the slab and dozed until some hours later he heard the ”shave-and-a-haircut” tap from Frederick's wall. He answered with two taps-”two bits.”

HOW U, Frederick tapped.

GREAT. U HAD A V IN UR ROOM WHO TRIED TO TAP ME UP. The POWs referred to the Vietnamese as the V.

I WAS AT QUIZ. THEY WANT PEACE LETTER.

U DOING ALL RIGHT.

COPING.

WHO IS STRATTON AND WHAT IS BACCUS, Flak asked.

STRATTON IS NAVY GUY SRO. BACCUS IS STOCDALE POLICY. B NO BOW IN.

PUBLIC WITHOUT FORCE. A STAY OFF AIR NO RADIO NO TAPES. C CRIMES DONT.

ADMIT TO BEING CRIMINAL. C IS CISS DONT CISS ENEMY FOR FAVORS.

WHAT CISS, Flak interrupted.

CISS, CISS. U KNOW. U CISS A GIRL ON THE LIPS.

OCAY, LICE CISS MY a.s.s. Flak finally remembered the letter C could stand for a K.

YEAH. US IS UNITY OVER SELF. SRO MUST a.s.sUME COMMAND WHEN NEEDED EVEN.

IF TORTURED. THAT IS BACCUS.

I C SOME OF OUR GUYS IN BLUE AND WHITE PJS. WHO THEY.

EARLY SHOOTDOWNS. MAROON AND GRAY PJ NOT GIVEN OUT TIL 6 7.

WHAT U WEAR, Flak asked.

BLUE.

WHY CALL AREA WHERE ROOM EIGHTEEN N NINETEEN LOCATED HEARTBREAC HOTEL.

BECAUSE NEW GUYS PUT THERE THEN BEAT UP TO SEE WHETHER PROGRESSIVE OR.

NOT.

WHAT U MEAN PROGRESSIVE.

I MEAN BELIEVE THE COMMIE HORSEs.h.i.+T.

HOW THEY ACT DETERMINES WHERE THEY GO FROM HERE. ALL THE HEAVIES R IN.

SOLITARY.

WHAT HEAVIES.

THE SROS.

WHY YOU HERE, TED.

I THINE I LEAVE SOON. THEY BEAT ON ME MUCHLY.

YOU MEAN ESCAPE. EVER THINC ESCAPE.

ALL THE TIME. GOT ANY IDEAS.

NOT YET. WILL WORC ON IT. YOU WANTA BUST OUT OF HERE OR WHAT.

I WANT TO BUST OUT.

GOOD. THERE MUST BE A WAY. GN GBU.

THERES ALWAYS A WAY. GN GBU. Flak lay on his back and studied the glow of the dim bulb. There's always a way, always.

The glow seemed to dim and brighten as Flak stared at the bulb. It dangled from two wires. Flak stood on the slab to get a better look.

The wooden-slat ceiling was one foot above his head. The wires were old and covered by crumbling black insulation. One bare wire was wound around the threads, the other was soldered to the base connection. It occurred to him that the bulbs he had seen in the torture rooms were hanging in the same fas.h.i.+on. The French must have really cleaned this place out when they left in '54, he thought to himself. Even ripped fixtures from the jail.

He looked at the round hole in the wooden slats the two wires came from.

It was about four inches in diameter. Flak could see the tiny holes where the original fixture had been screwed to the slats. He stuck his fingers in and felt around, careful to keep away from the 220-volt wires. He felt a small pellet and pulled it out. It was a rolled-up piece of toilet paper. He sat down and smoothed it out, and read the words written in pencil: Hey GI, why you look up here? This numbah ten place.

32 days stocks but hanging on. The V taking me elsewhere soon. GBU.

Tuna, USN.

Tears sprang to Flak's eyes. He knew Tuna was the code name for Navy Captain Jim Tunner. What a guy, humor and hanging on. He'd heard that Jim Tunner was taking heavy torture for his attempt at organizing the Las Vegas area. He was now rumored to be out by some power plant as a human s.h.i.+eld against possible bombing. If Tunner could hang on, so could he. Flak rolled the pellet, climbed up, and tucked it off to one side of the hole, then started testing the strength and fit of the slats. He tugged slightly at the concave edge of one and felt that it would come loose easily.

He stopped and listened carefully for sounds of the guards in the halls.

When he heard nothing, he tugged harder at the slat and found he could slide it loose from its tongue-andgroove track. It was about four inches wide and three feet long, he estimated. The segment next to it came out easily, as did the next. Careful to avoid the bare wires, he bent the light bulb up and looked up into the rectangular opening a foot above his head. His heart jumped. He could see a crawl s.p.a.ce up there that was at least four feet high up to the apex of the tin roof, room enough to explore and hide if need be.

The closest ceiling joist was a st.u.r.dy 2-by-8 board that looked dry and hard as iron. Probably the French used teak when they built this place, he thought. He could pull himself up into the s.p.a.ce, maybe even cross to other rooms, look down the light bulb hole, make contact. Oh my G.o.d.