Bouvier had already sent a release to L' Humanite, describing the circumstances surrounding the death of Major Dao. He had been careful to phrase his words so he would not sound accusatory.
Now, after the uproar from the North Vietnamese government and military officials, Bouvier was certain that the attack had been a rogue ambush. This was the type of incident that could provide great prestige for the timid correspondent. To expose the unlawful attack, Bouvier needed positive proof of the origin of the aircraft. Had the F-4 been an air-force plane or a navy aircraft?
Bouvier had his assistant print a larger picture of the trespassing Phantom. Using the enlarged magnifying glass, he was able to read the serial number and side number painted on the fuselage of the treacherous offender. He was surprised to see the name of an American aircraft carrier displayed on the side of the aft fuselage. The bold NAVY was partially obscured by the wing, but there was no question. The fighter was a navy F-4 Phantom.
Awakened by turbulence, Brad shifted in his seat and looked at his watch. Two hours and ten minutes to arrival time in San Francisco. He reset his watch to Pacific Coast time, then closed his eyes. Immediately, images of the war surfaced. He opened his eyes and stared at the seat in front of him, forcing himself to think back to Hawaii and Leigh Ann. His mind kept returning to the war. What was happening to Bull and Russ?
Catching a glimpse of the approaching flight attendant, Brad looked up and smiled.
"You must have been very tired," she teased. "You slept through our two meal services."
"I apologize. I'm sure they were very good."
"I will be happy to warm a meal for you," she offered shyly. "You must be hungry."
Although not interested in eating, Brad did not want to appear ungrateful. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thanks."
After he had consumed a respectable amount of his Kobe beef, rice, and salad, he slid the tray to the table opened over the middle seat and watched the clouds until the airplane began the descent toward San Francisco International Airport.
Leigh Ann stepped out of the taxi under the canopied entrance to the elegant hotel. Two bellhops eagerly gathered her luggage while she paid her cab fare.
Following the two red-jacketed men, Leigh Ann was fascinated by the marble columns in the richly appointed lobby.
"Miss Ladasau checking in," one of the bellmen said as they approached the desk.
"Yes, Miss Ladasau, we have your reservation right here," responded the portly gentleman behind the desk.
"Do you have any messages for me?" Leigh Ann asked, hoping that there had been no delays in Brad's travel itinerary. "No, Miss Ladasau, no messages."
"Thank you," Leigh Ann replied as she placed her credit card on the marble counter.
The gentleman looked confused, then said in a very discreet voice, "Miss Ladasau, your room has been arranged in advance."
"Oh… thank you," Leigh Ann responded, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. She wondered if the elderly gentleman would approve of a young woman traveling alone to San Francisco to meet a man.
"Here is your room key, Miss Ladasau," the gentleman said, flashing a knowing smile. "The bellman will take you to your room. I hope your stay with us will be an enjoyable one."
After tipping the young bellman, Leigh Ann went directly to the window overlooking the bay. The view was exhilarating. She could see the Golden Gate Bridge, resplendent in its coat of red paint. She scanned the windswept bay dotted with sailboats, yachts, and ferryboats.
Turning to unpack her suitcase, Leigh Ann was startled by a knock at the door. She walked to the entrance and opened the wide door.
"Miss Ladasau?" the beaming Asian asked.
"Yes," she replied, glancing at the room-service cart in the middle of the hallway.
"Compliments of Captain Austin," he announced, stepping to the rear of the serving table.
Moving aside, Leigh Ann felt like Cinderella with a fairy godmother as she watched the man wheel in the cart, place a tray on the coffee table, followed by a champagne bucket, a bottle of white wine, and two stemmed glasses. Awed, Leigh Ann offered the waiter a gratuity, which he declined.
"Thank you," he replied, "but Captain Austin took care of everything."
When the man had gone, Leigh Ann stared in disbelief at the bountiful arrangement of hors d'oeuvres. The spread of assorted cheeses was surrounded by a variety of crackers, English tea biscuits, canapes, and cold fresh fruits. All thoughts of her father's disapproval vanished.
Forgetting about unpacking for the moment, Leigh Ann placed a selection of cheese, crackers, and melon on a plate. Turning to the wine, she was relieved to see that the bottle had already been opened. She carefully poured a glass of wine and pulled a chair and end table closer to the window.
Sitting down, Leigh Ann placed her plate on the end table and sampled the sauvignon blanc. The white wine had a distinct, deliciously crisp taste.
Leigh Ann smiled and gazed across the picturesque bay. She thought about Brad Austin, and realized that she had never been more excited in her life.
Jean-Paul Bouvier had carefully drafted a release for his newspaper, detailing the facts surrounding the American attack at Phuc Yen. He had included a picture of the navy Phantom jet, along with photographs of the crashed MiG-21 and the MiG-17 on the taxiway.
After sending the evidence to L' Humanite, he had visited with his close friend and colleague, Marc Chauveron. After explaining the situation in detail, Bouvier asked Chauveron for his advice. The senior journalist for the prestigious Agence France Presse, Chauveron had a close rapport with the British consul general. Chauveron convinced Bouvier that they should enlist the support of the British consul general, and present the evidence of an American violation to the North Vietnamese.
The dignified Englishman had been uncomfortable about the accusation aimed at the Americans, but had agreed to accompany the journalists to the Communist party headquarters.
Bouvier had shown copies of the incriminating photographs to a senior officer on the staff of President Ho Chi Minh. The aide-de-camp had rushed off, leaving the three civilians sitting alone for more than an hour.
When the officer returned, he had a statement to be issued through the international press corps. He had also insisted that Bouvier sign his name as a witness to the breach of rules by the Americans.
The general account of the unlawful incident, including a formal protest and letter of condemnation aimed at the United States government, would be distributed internationally in twenty-four hours. The photograph of Brad Austin's F-4 Phantom would be flashed around the globe.
Chapter 30
Brad handed the bellboy a generous tip. "You can leave everything on the bed."
"Yes, sir."
When he knocked on Leigh Ann's door, Brad could feel his heart racing. Would they share the same emotions and passion they had felt in Hawaii?
Opening the door, Leigh Ann flashed her radiant smile, then threw her arms around Brad. He held her tightly, brushing her cheek with a kiss. They stood in the open door and embraced before either spoke.
"Brad," Leigh Ann said enthusiastically, "I thought you would never get here."
Brad held her at arm's length. "Well, I'm here, and we are going to enjoy San Francisco. May I come in?"
"Yes, of course," Leigh Ann replied as Brad stepped inside her room and she closed the door.
"Brad, you look great. Forgive me for staring, but I am so happy to see you." The vision of him that she had kept in her mind had not faded. He was as handsome as she had remembered. "Where is your room?"
"Next door," he answered, gesturing to the door that connected the two adjoining rooms.
Leigh Ann looked at the door, then smiled and gave Brad a suspicious look. "How convenient… "