“But what about you, Jack?”
“Oh, they don’t want me. It’s you two got the information they want to keep from getting out. I don’t know what you know, and I don’t want to. They don’t know I’ve crossed into the big ‘C.’”
Biff looked at Chuba. Unashamed tears filled the native boy’s eyes. Biff choked up. “Don’t worry, Chuba, we’ll meet again,” he said, and meant it.
Muscles ruffled Chuba’s dark hair and said, “Chum, next year you and I go Stateside, and we’ll visit this character.” Muscles gave Biff an affectionate punch on the chin. “See you soon,” he said, as he and Chuba left the plane.
They made Hong Kong safely. Biff and his uncle found a U.S. military policeman, who took them to the consulate. There they reported their discovery to an amazed official.
“You have performed a great service for your country,” the embassy official said solemnly, and added with a faint smile, “although you should have your passports taken away for such a foolhardy venture.”
“I know you’re right, sir,” Charles Keene said, “but I would like to ask a favor of you. Can you get us out of Hong Kong?”
“So fast it will make your head swim. Diplomatically speaking, we don’t want you around here. There’s a jet bomber taking off for Honolulu in an hour. You’ll be on it. From there, you’re on your own.”
Two hours later, Biff and his uncle were winging over the blue Pacific, homeward bound—and sound asleep.