c“Yes, that was him. I never forget a face. Hm! But perhaps he went by a different name. Hm! The Foreign Correspondents Club wouldn’t be the Foreign Correspondents Club without intrigue.”
“Again, are you sure it was he?”
“Yes. Again, I never forget a face. He was sitting where you’re sitting, and I was as close to him as I am to you.”
“Are you positive?”
“I’m positive.”
“It’s important. The photo isn’t a very good one.”
“Yes, but it’s the same guy. I’m sure of it. He’d been here before, but he’s not a regular or a member. I’m sure of it. An American, an American sailor. How do I know he was a sailor? He told me. And I can spot American without him or her saying a word. Anything else you want to know?”
No, you’ve been a great help.”
“Hm! Spies spying on spies. Spies and journalist. I love the dance.”
“I said nothing about spying.”
The Foreign Correspondents Club in Hong Kong, next to and in the same building as the Hong Kong Fringe Club sat on Ice House Street and had a striped façade. You couldn’t miss it. Yes, Sam Ives had gone in there more than once.
Chuck Burner, San Francisco newspaperman and spy, was a member of the Foreign Correspondents Club and a close friend of reporter Michael Herr. Sam never crossed paths with Herr; however he did with Burner. They first met each other quite by accident in San Francisco and in much the same way as Sam met Tom. Burner recruited Sam, after they discovered that they shared an interest in the South Seas.
The club was not a closed world. The Main Bar, one of the world’s great watering holes, was something of a Hong Kong institution. Burner picked it because he knew that they could meet there without attracting attention. Finding a table at that hour proved difficult, so Sam sat at the bar and ordered a scotch.
For a moment after handing him the drink, the bartender continued to look at Sam with a somewhat puzzled expression.
“Is there anything wrong,” Sam asked.
“Oh, no. It’s nothing…nothing at all. It’s that I never forget a face.”
“Well, how about that.”
Instead of acting alarmed, Sam acted nonchalantly, something he practiced. His poise was evident, as he smiled and chatted with the barkeeper. But- he kept half an eye on the door for Burner – they both would have to feel safe before they’d speak to each other. Americans came to the Main Bar to swap stories, gossip and ride out storms and such. Sam first heard about the Foreign Correspondents Club back in America: it was really the place to go to get the latest news from abroad and hear the back-story of the latest scoop. It wasn’t surprising journalist found a home there, a home away from home, and besides the food wasn’t bad. Here Sam waited for Burner, not knowing whether when he arrived he and his friend would greet each other.
Sam wrote Tom about the Foreign Correspondents Club and fostered in him an interest in the place before it became a popular setting for novelists and moviemakers, he also wrote about the colony of Macao. Macao (China), like Goa (India), and Malaca (Malaysia) were colonized by Portugal, and Sam had been in and out of all three places. But he was seasoned enough not to get too excited about them. He liked to say (a quote from Pope) “Blessed is the man, who expects nothing, for he shall never be disappointed.” If Burner stood him up, Sam would know something was terribly wrong.
Randy Ford
