Special Ops - By W.E.B. Griffin Page 0,131

French. “Whose Swahili, while good, is not as easy for him as French.”

“Yes, of course,” Jack said in French.

And I have just fucked up again with Dannelly. I blasphemed, with a bottle of beer in my hand.

“It’s good to see you, Doctor.”

“How are you, Portet?” Dannelly said, giving Jack his hand. His grip was firm, but anything but cordial.

Fuck it.

“This is my friend Major George Washington Lunsford,” Jack said.

Mobutu and Dannelly looked at Father, but neither offered his hand, smiled, or said anything.

“Would you like a beer, Joseph, or something stronger?”

“I would like something stronger, but it’s early in the day,” Mobutu said, and walked to the cooler and helped himself to a beer.

Jack glanced at the house. Nimbi was standing there, looking terrified.

“Can I offer you a Coke, Doctor? Or perhaps orange juice?”

Jack got a dirty look from Father.

What the hell is that for? Oh, shit! Finton told you, you damned fool, that Mormons don’t drink anything with caffeine in it. Like Coke.

Where the hell is my father?

“Orange juice would be nice,” Dannelly said.

Jack ordered a pitcher of orange juice in Swahili.

“And you will stay for lunch, of course,” Jack said, switching back to French. “My father will be here any minute.”

“That’s very kind,” Mobutu said.

Jack waved them into the chairs by the table.

“Dr. Dannelly hoped to see a friend of yours, a Mr. Finton?”

“He went into town, Doctor, to see if he could find you,” Jack said. “He should be here any minute, too.”

Mobutu took a healthy swig from the neck of the beer bottle. “So how do you like being a soldier?” Mobutu asked.

“Except when people are shooting at me, I like it,” Jack said.

Mobutu laughed delightedly.

“But the most important thing that’s happened to me since we last saw one another, Joseph, is that I have married.”

“You’re not old enough to be married,” Mobutu said.

“That’s what our parents thought,” Jack said.

Mobutu laughed again, but then his smile suddenly vanished.

Jack followed his gaze.

Mr. Finton, who was wearing a suit, was on the patio by the house. One of Mobutu’s paratroopers had his FN rifle leveled at his chest to make the point that he was to go no farther.

“And that is?” Mobutu asked rather coldly.

“That’s Mr. Finton, Joseph,” Jack said.

Mobutu called out, in Swahili, orders to let Finton pass.

“I would like to speak to him privately, Joseph,” Dr. Dannelly said.

Dannelly got up from the table and walked across the lawn toward the patio.

“Tell Nimbi to take you to my father’s study, Dr. Dannelly,” Jack called after him.

Dannelly nodded.

Mobutu watched until Dannelly and Finton had shaken hands and gone inside the house. Then he took another pull at his beer and turned to Lunsford.

“Did I understand Jacques to say that you are an American officer? ” Mobutu asked in French.

“Yes, sir,” Father said.

“You speak pretty good French for an American,” Mobutu said.

“I like to think so, General,” Father said.

“How is that?” Mobutu asked.

“Well, the Army sent me to our language school at the Presidio in California,” Father said. “And then to postgraduate study in Vietnam.”

Mobutu thought that over for a moment, then smiled. “Major—Jacques did say you were a major, didn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. I’m a very junior major.”

“Major, why do I suspect that you did more in the former French Indochina than study the French language?”

“Because you are a parachutist, sir, and airborne officers are known to be highly intelligent and very astute.”

Mobutu laughed.

“You wouldn’t, by chance, be a parachutist yourself?” Mobutu asked.

“I have that distinct honor, sir,” Father said.

Mobutu laughed again.

They’re really getting along, Jack thought. Bringing Father along was a very good idea.

“Languages are very important,” Mobutu said. “It’s a pity your ambassador does not speak it well enough to understand our president when he speaks it,” Mobutu said.

Oh, shit, here it comes!

“Sir?” Father asked.

“President Kasavubu hoped to make it quite plain to him that he did not want any American soldiers—even a distinguished officer, a fellow parachutist officer, such as yourself—in the Congo,” Mobutu said. “I can only presume you are here unofficially, as guests of my old friends the Portets, in which case, of course, you are more than welcome.”

He turned to Jacques.

“I’m afraid the major and your friend Finton have made a long trip in vain, Jacques,” he said. “Dr. Dannelly is speaking to him only because there was a telephone call from someone in his church, in the United States, asking him to. Dr. Dannelly suspects that your friend is going to ask him to ask me to ask the President to change

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