ETIENNE GERVAIS AND MICHELLE RAWLINSON, SETTHATHIRAT ROAD, VIENTIANE, LAOS, 1800 HOURS (T-18 HOURS)<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://webvkal.com/vkal/UpDownLoad/Upload/VTV/VN/image093.jpg)</div>Compared to its colonial heyday, Vientiane was a sorry sight.<br/><br/>Etienne limped very slightly as he made his way down the crowded stretch of Setthathirat Road, all too aware of the changes which had occurred within only the last decade. A few beautifully carven traditional temples languished among their new neighbors: bistros and cafes; 'restaurants' that happened to also be steam baths, massage parlors and whorehouses; and a few shamelessly undisguised opium dens. Worst of all was the traffic. Bustling would be one way to describe it. Bicycles and<em>samloys</em>-- as well as stake-bed trucks and buses filled with Royal Laotian Army soldiers -- competed for space with a nearly wall-to-wall crowd of refugees from the ongoing opium wars in the northwest and the<em>Vietminh</em>invasion of the northeast.<br/><br/>And among the refugees, of course, were those who preyed upon them. The street had a tension that the Canadian did not remember ever feeling before in this city, and the guards at the RLA checkpoints with their neatly-pressed uniforms and polished boots were not the tension's cause, but simply a side-effect.<br/><br/>In this neighborhood near the embassies, the Canadian's height, foreign appearance, and suit didn't stand out, and the slow-moving mob only provided more distraction. Nevertheless, his expression was dominated by a frown of thoughtful concern, broken only by quick, reflexive smiles as he returned the occasional bowing<em>nop</em>greeting of another pedestrian. Etienne made his way against the flow of refugee traffic until he saw the red-painted windmill sign. The small, fenced-in court fronting the<em>Moulin Rouge</em>provided a modicum of distance from the seething crowd, and fortunately, most of the drinkers and diners at the establishment were choosing to take their meals inside rather than in the cooling dusk.<br/><br/>Michelle Rawlinson sat at a table watching the passing throng with interest and a little concern. Even since she had arrived a few short hours ago the tension on the streets had grown in its tangible undercurrent of barely-contained fear and the volume of traffic had increased with it. She saw a grey-green suited man of indeterminate age push towards the worn stone pave outside the café. He wore spectacles that gave him the air of a professor. The Australian woman noted a slight limp, one, she thought, that spoke of an old wound long healed but which had left a weakness the walker was now long-accustomed to. Michelle sat up and lifted her glass though the greeting was unnecessary, her companion had already seen her; she had the impression he had done so from within the crowd before she had seen him.<br/><br/>"<em>Bonsoir</em>and<em>sabaidee</em>. Mademoiselle Rawlinson?<em>Enchanté</em>. I am Etienne Gervais and I must tell you that nothing I say here will be anything but my own thoughts. I do not and cannot set policy. Nor, I believe, can you." He did not offer his hand, but rather a curt bow, then took a seat next to her rather than across from her, which permitted them both to have a view of the milling crowd.<br/><br/>"Good evening, Monsieur. Yes, I'm Michelle Rawlinson. I'm rather pleased to meet you. This place is a lot more... what's the word…? Different to Saigon." Michelle was a little surprised at the lack of a formal greeting but did not let it show. Out here, on the fringes – to her – of the far reach of western politics she assumed people acted with more circumspection out of necessary habit. "I was told you were French but I detect a hint of<em>Québécois</em>in your accent. If you're a Canadian then we are closer allies than I'd hoped."<br/><br/>Etienne flagged down a harried looking waiter in a white apron and ordered coffee. "Indeed I am Mademoiselle, although I serve France now. You will pardon my abruptness and informality, but I believe that we all have very little time. I do not know whether you are here formally or informally, but you must understand what you are getting into, and then I should advise you to get out of it as quickly as you possibly can. I have yet to present my findings to my Ambassador, but I feel obligated to tell you..." He scowled, "And hopefully through you, others with some degree of authority, that Laotian neutrality is about to end, and with it, I believe, Laos."<br/><br/>Michelle did not answer but nodded and sipped her drink. The guy's panicking, surely? It can't be that bad.<br/><br/>"You are familiar with the ultimatum papers, yes? Their..." He paused, frowning. "The updates? To be utterly blunt, I do not believe anyone truly understands what they are. Everyone wishes to believe that they are a trick of some known enemy. The Russians and Vietnamese would like to believe that it is the Americans, and the Americans, of course, believe it is the Russians. As of this morning, I have become quite convinced that we have not met the people who wrote them."<br/><br/>"And I am convinced, Monsieur Gervais, from what I have seen, that neither the Americans, the Soviets, or the Chinese are responsible~" Michelle was about to suggest her theory when her companion continued. He had an air about him of some urgency even though his voice and mannerisms did not project as much. Yet there was, in his continued monologue, that air of 'don't interrupt. This is more important than you know.'<br/><br/>Etienne gestured indirectly at the crowd as his coffee arrived. "On any other day, I would be concerned about meeting a woman such as yourself in a place like this. One can be assured that there is French-Corsican money here, and they are thugs, Mademoiselle. But today they have other concerns. Most of these people," He nodded again at the crowd, "...Are fleeing Veng Pao in the Northwest, or General Ouane's men in the North."<br/><br/>"No-one at the Palace will say anything about it yet, but Ouane has gone quite off his leash. He has blocked Moung Mounge with his troops and taken over the majority of the opium trade from the Burmese and the Corsicans. Razed many villages doing it, and the survivors are here, or on their way. Many of the others here are fleeing the<em>Vietminh</em>, of course." Etienne studied the crowd a moment. "Hardly any of these people have what one could call verifiable identification. Many have nothing more than the clothing on their backs. No doubt there are<em>Pathet Lao</em>and<em>Vietminh</em>,<em>agents provocateurs</em>and<em>saboteurs</em>among them, but I truly could care less if they overhear what I have to say. I shall be quite surprised if, by this time tomorrow, they aren't all fleeing from here, and from someone even newer to this theatre."<br/><br/>Michelle took another sip of her drink.<em>For someone with important things to say, you sure beats about the bush. Does anyone care anymore about Laos' internal problems? They won't by this time tomorrow.</em><br/><br/>"I am about to place my reputation as a reliable observer in a great deal of jeopardy, Mademoiselle. An enemy force has recently been scouting Laos...And I do mean Laos. As best I can tell, all of it. They have been paying special attention in the last month to bridges, road junctions, river crossings, tunnels...Not a few of them, not 'here and there', nor on a specified front bordering another nation, but<em>all</em>of them. As I would judge from personal experience, this is the type of scouting one does just before one invades a country. But they are not scouting a single beach-head, there is no focus. Tying in rather unpleasantly with the ultimatum, I believe that Laos<em>is</em>the beachhead. And I am aware of no armed force or combination of armed forces in this theatre, at this time, capable of hitting all those places at once. I do not believe the American forces could do it with their current assets, not if they had the<em>Vietminh</em>, the Chinese, and the<em>Pathet Lao</em>all helping them at once."<br/><br/>"<em>Naturellement</em>, you are wondering exactly what my superiors will be wondering when I present them with this information. 'Are you mad, Monsieur Gervais? Who do you seriously believe could possibly do such an outrageous thing? From where is this ridiculously massive invasion coming?'"<br/><br/><em>Oh. No.</em>Michelle thought.<em>No, I don't think I'll think that. Quite the opposite.</em><br/><br/>"I'm going to show you something, and then I must suggest in the strongest terms that you leave and do not attend the Foreign Minister's party this evening." The Canadian chewed his lip and scowled again. "It's about sixty kilometers from here to Udorn Airbase in Thailand. The Americans are operating out of there. I'd strongly advise you to get a flight out tonight with them if you can't manage one through your own service. Then I would get away from any airbases, and if at all possible, away from Indochina."<br/><br/>Etienne took a photograph from the lapel-pocket of his pale grey-green coat, started to slide it across the table, then hesitated. "Because, understand me, Mademoiselle, I do not know who these...These people...Are. But I can tell you three important things about them."<br/><br/>He turned the photograph over. The image was in colour, but taken at night and washed out under the light of a full moon. Clearly taken from long range, it showed a tiny clearing with an immense, blocky vehicle that looked more like an armored personnel carrier than an aircraft -- but which must be an aircraft, because the massive trees surrounding it would be impenetrable even to a tank. As to the crew or passengers who had disembarked from the aircraft...<br/><br/>"I would ask you to note, Mademoiselle, for both my sanity and quite possibly for the sake of our nations and even our race...<br/><br/>"They are not little...<br/><br/>"They are not green...<br/><br/>"And," He tapped lightly at the photograph in several places, "They cannot possibly be men."<br/><br/>Etienne's fingertip rested next to one figure which quite clearly had six limbs.<br/><br/>Michelle lifted the photograph and studied it more closely. There was the possibility it had been manipulated and she at once thought that a half-credible Hollywood backstage could easily produce both the vehicle and the rubber costumes, yet from what she had learned of her companion's credentials from the consular staff's communications with Sydney and from thence to London and MI5, she was pretty sure this French-Canadian agent would not countenance being taken in by a plywood mock-up tractor and a few rubber monster suits, regardless of the poor quality of the image. The simple gravity of his words convinced her, to think otherwise would include him in whatever cover-up or smokescreen whoever it was, was putting down to cover something else.<br/><br/>While the man had merely spoken words and shown one dubious photograph, Michelle forced out of her mind the word 'hoax'. Too many high level people were struggling to see through a smokescreen of their own political blinkers. Both sides understandably, were suspecting the other; west and east, democracies and communists, free and politically enslaved. Michelle, over the last few hours, had come to her own conclusion and while the phrase 'little green men' had indeed more than once entered her head, as had the recollection of Orson Welles' infamous dramatised radio broadcast of H.G.Wells' "War of the Worlds" which paralysed huge areas of the eastern United States in mindless panic some years ago, she had been wondering, Why Laos? and Why now?<br/><br/>"Thank you for being so frank with me, Monsieur Gervais. I have an Australian army flight back to Saigon arranged through our consulate here tomorrow morning. I shall be away well before this deadline expires though I am a little surprised at your concern. If I were not wearing a skirt I am not so sure you would say the same thing and I need to be blunt in turn and ask you not to patronize me because of my gender." Michele paused to give a careful nod as though phrasing it as a polite request rather than a demand. It would not do to start off working with this person on the wrong foot and acting defensive, but on the other hand it was important that he be aware she was no dumb blonde.<br/><br/>"Let me assure you that I am quite capable of looking after myself and our consulate is but a wireless link away from considerable military force, both in-theatre and in the Northern Territories. I don't fear for my own safety in the least. Besides, who said your 'not little, not green and not men' were in any way hostile? There have been no incidents of violence reported yet."<br/><br/>Putting her drink aside and briefly casting her eyes about to check if anyone around them was trying to eavesdrop and being satisfied that none were, Michelle slid the photograph back to Gervais and from her handbag withdrew the manila folder of papers she had perused on the flight from Saigon.<br/><br/>"My turn," she said with a small smile. "It's interesting that you say the whole of Laos is being scouted but what would you say if I said the whole planet is being observed? It is, I am quite sure, since here… here… and, uh… here-" She pulled flimsies from her file and handed them across one at a time, securing each one back before presenting a fresh document and making each in turn disappear back into her bag. "-you can see intelligence reports of military contact with unknown aircraft or airships – like your armoured personnel carrier in the jungle perhaps – in the Aleutian Islands, in the Greenland Gap and over the Guyuan Highlands, two hundred miles north of Peking. We have been collecting a mass of data, the most surprising thing is that some of it has come from behind the Iron Curtain and from Peking – not official of course, no, but someone high up over there has deliberately leaked these reports which alone speaks more than anything of how urgent they are. At Guyuan a military radar installation did not detect the flying craft even though it was visible to a pair of MiG jet fighters scrambled to intercept. So, radar-invisible it seems. I doubt Moscow has that technology, nor NASA."<br/><br/>"China, Finland, the North Atlantic, the North Pacific, Indochina. It's global, Monsieur Gervais, but the main focus is here. Laos." Michelle tapped the table. "The question I am asking is 'why'? Why Laos? I have a theory and its because of the political tensions and mistrust between east and west that are focused on Indochina right now. If you wanted to invade an enemy country and you needed to go in with scouts undercover, where would you go? Somewhere that is politically stable, quiet and peaceful? No, in such a place you'd be seen easily. I'd go in at a place where there was a good deal of political unrest, perhaps hostility towards a neighbouring state. Because that way you get extra cover. Your movements, even if some are identified, will be difficult to identify as enemy since the nation you are scouting would suspect it's more obvious opponents. So… If you are from outer space and you want to scout out a whole planet, where do you land first? In a place where both sides – or several sides are in opposition, where the fighting is confused and uncertain and where there is good concealing terrain. If I was a space alien, Monsieur Gervais, Laos would be a damn good place to land because the response from the locals will be limited, confused or misdirected onto their own enemies…"<br/><br/>Michelle had just finished making her point when her words were drowned out by the roar of an aircraft. Low overhead, its undercarriage tucking up beneath it from take-off, a huge four-engined transport plane bearing Laotian airforce markings clawed its way up into the sky.<br/><br/>Etienne tucked the photograph away carefully, then flicked through the proferred papers with a thorough eye, sometimes going back a page or two to assure himself of his reading in relation to previous data. He passed the final paper back with a lingering glance, and nodded slowly. "I agree with your assessment Mademoiselle. It is a nation in a great deal of confusion, and while many forces are arrayed here, none trust each other and all are weakened. But I will counsel you with your own words. 'No incidents of violence have been reported yet.' Nor, I think, would they be. In this war, entire units of troops vanish. In this nation, men vanish. If their neighbors do not know their whereabouts, the jungle simply eats them, and even bones do not last long in its clutches. Here in this very city, men and women vanish without trace. If I were to present a general with the list of locations that have been scouted in Laos, I am convinced he would see it as<em>reconnaissance </em>imminently preceding an invasion. It is not a few sightings, Mademoiselle. It is hundreds. At every strategic point that can be used to interdict ground-based transport." He shakes his head. "If one were to scout a potentially hostile nation in peacetime, one would not be doing these<em>reconnoitres</em>all at once. The air of urgency suggests last-minute verification and validation...Not unhurried intelligence gathering; not crossing off check boxes at leisure." He finishes his coffee with a frown.<br/><br/>"No. I believe the ultimatum is exactly what it says it is, but I do not believe compliance with it will save Laos."<br/><br/>ETIENNE GERVAIS AND MICHELLE RAWLINSON, LAOTIAN FOREIGN MINISTRY, VIENTIANE, LAOS, 2005 HOURS (T-16 HOURS)<br/><br/>They ended their discussion and drinks, and just before eight took the short walk across the crowded avenue to the Foreign Ministry. Greeted with copious polite smiles and bows, the two waited in an outer office for fifteen minutes. In the corridors outside they had seen and heard intense bustling activity. Michelle thought of the Nazis burning all their military papers in Berlin in May 1945 as the Red Army attacked; the place was in utter panic. One could feel it; smell it. Eventually a short bald round man in a worn suit who was sweating heavily and who introduced himself as Thongloun Sisoul entered and, wringing his hands nervously, smiled and conducted the two diplomats to another room where dinner was laid out. A number of other western diplomats were present and the meal was tolerably good, although marred by the obvious unease of the host. Sisoul was the Assistant Under Minister for Foreign Affairs, which placed him three or four rungs from the top – a minor post, someone at about Michelle's level. After several polite and gradually less polite pressed questions from the westerners around the table, Sisoul grinned helplessly and admitted that the Foreign Minister, the Prime Minister and indeed all of the senior government officials had departed Vientiane over an hour earlier in a transport plane.<br/><br/>Michelle looked coolly at Monsieur Gervais. "That explains the panic then. The rats are leaving the sinking ship."<br/><br/>As the dinner grew longer Etienne had begun to look more and more dour, occasionally deflecting other diplomats' questions about his own experience in Indochina as a representative of France, but at Michelle's comment he only slightly shook his head. "Abandonment is an all-too-common issue in this land. It is too rapidly becoming a shameful tradition. I will say, Mademoiselle...I would find it difficult to be any<em>less</em>surprised at<em>this</em>event."