Hardly a step in the right direction, I told myself angrily on the way home. All I’d achieved with that stupid confrontation had been to antagonise Eric further and make an enemy out of Vo Khanh.
But I had not a clue what to do next. The last thing I wanted was to go to the police. That would only mean dragging Eric into trouble, and that was precisely what I wanted to avoid.
I decided to go and see Mr Bach. That was my next mistake.
In fairness it didn’t seem like a bad move at the time. It was on the Wednesday morning, three days before Hao was due to leave, and I hadn’t yet heard from Quang. I didn’t want to leave any stone unturned in my attempt to rescue Eric before she left. What I’d overlooked was that some stones are better not turned.
I rang him first thing the next morning. The White Tiger company was listed in the phone book. He wasn’t keen to see me at first, but I pushed, saying that if he didn’t I’d have no alternative but to go to the police. Whether that did the trick, he agreed to see me that morning. I went there at once, taking time off from work.
Mr Bach received me politely. His office was on the third floor of the building at the back of the carpark. It was little more than a cubicle, at the end of a long room which seemed to serve as a kind of clearing office, but Asian businessmen don’t always flaunt their wealth. Three young people were working there, all Vietnamese, two girls and a hard-looking man with a pock-marked face, answering the phones which kept ringing.
The young man led me to Bach. He was an elderly, dignified gentleman, short and a little stout, with steel-grey hair carefully brushed back and knobby cheekbones like little apples. He looked like a well-dressed garden gnome. He offered me a seat and a cup of green tea and asked me what the problem was. He had a dry, nasal voice and spoke good English, with an accent.
‘It’s about Eric Tran,’ I started. ‘A young man you helped get a job in Mr Vo Khanh’s restaurant.’ I gave him the story of Eric’s life, up to the time of his arrival in Australia. Mr Bach listened calmly, nodding from time to time.
‘As a result of these personal tragedies Eric has become a little unsettled. He’s come to Australia in search of his father’s memory, and he blames the communists for the death of both his parents. He is a highly personable and intelligent young man, but I think he is also impressionable and emotionally vulnerable.’
‘What has now happened is that Eric has fallen in with a group of young Vietnamese who are strongly anti-communist.’
I told him what I knew of the Mad Buffaloes, and Vo Khanh’s involvement. I tried to do it in such a way as to minimise what Eric had told me.
‘My concern is that Eric is coming increasingly under their influence. I’m afraid that if he stays with them he may be drawn into activities which are against the law in this country.’
‘My reason for coming to see you is simply this: you know Eric personally, and you recommended him to Mr Vo Khanh. From this I assume you are well acquainted with Mr Khanh and that he regards you with respect. I have come to ask you to use what influence you have over Mr Khanh, and over Eric, to ensure that Eric is not drawn into those activities and severs his relations with that group.’
I felt like a lawyer trying to defend his client in a hostile court. There was something of the judge about Mr Bach, an icy detachment. His eyes were upon me, unblinking, and although he didn’t comment while I spoke I was sure he’d absorbed every word.
‘What you have told me is very interesting, Mr Quinn,’ he said at last. ‘I did not know all these details about the young man. All I knew was that he had a Vietnamese mother, and seemed very interested in Vietnam. May I ask what your interest is in all this, Mr Quinn? Are you a friend of Eric’s?’
I explained my involvement, and gave him something of my own background.
‘It’s not his fight, Mr Bach. Whatever Mr Khanh and his group have against the present government in Vietnam, Eric should not be drawn into it. That’s why I’m here. I like him, I think there is a lot of potential in him, I’m very happy to see that he’s interested in both Vietnam and Australia, but I do not believe that his present associates are doing him any good. That is why I have come to you. His aunt is about to go back to Britain, and both she and I would like to see this question settled before then.’
Once again he paused before answering, as if judiciously weighing up the options.
‘Unfortunately the problem isn’t so simple, Mr Quinn,’ he said. ‘Eric Tran is a free person, he is I believe over nineteen, which makes him a legal adult. And so of course is Mr Vo Khanh. Personally I am not involved in Mr Khanh’s activities, but I understand his feelings, and those of his friends. They suffered enormously from the communists, Mr Quinn, and while I do not approve of violence, I cannot blame them for wanting to express their feelings against the present government there. I regret that I do not think I can help you. I will speak to Mr Khanh of course, and tell him of our discussion. I will also try to speak to Eric. But I’ve talked with Mr Khanh, and from what he tells me you yourself have no influence over Eric. If anything your own behaviour last night has destroyed any standing you might have had with him. I will speak with them both, but I cannot guarantee the outcome. And my advice to you, Mr Quinn, is to stay out of Vietnamese affairs. Vietnam has already suffered far too much from foreign intervention in the past, starting with the French, and Vietnamese should be left to sort out their problems among themselves. It is very arrogant of others to want to do it for them.’
There was no doubt that much of what he said was correct, but the icy tone in which he said it, and the note of contempt for anyone who wasn’t Vietnamese, including myself, made me angry. If he was so concerned with being Vietnamese, what was he doing here in Australia?
‘Eric is only half Vietnamese,’ I pointed out. ‘He is also half Australian. And he belongs to a new generation. He shouldn’t be drawn into the conflicts of the past.’
‘That is for him to decide, ultimately. We are all children of our past, Mr Quinn, whether we like it or not. As I said, I will speak with him. But I cannot go beyond that, Mr Quinn. And I suggest that you yourself should refrain from trying to make him do something he clearly does not want.’
That made me even angrier. Who the hell was he to take the high moral tone? He still looked outwardly the dignified elderly gentleman, the Asian wise man, but there was something a little devious about him which I didn’t like. I doubted that he would do anything very effective, and knew that my mission had failed.