13

Ahn Yong Kyu was sitting at a dark corner table. It was too early for the band to be playing, and jazz was flowing from a record player behind the bar. A profusion of orchids and other broad-leafed greenery had been placed between the tables, and a couple of potted banana trees stood in the center of the room. To the rear were two more rows of tables and out of sight through an arched corridor, a number of private rooms seemed to offer seclusion to customers in search of it. Near the entrance was a long bar, where the two bartenders in white dress shirts and bowties were making cocktails.

It was ten thirty in the morning. The only other patrons were two people sitting facing each other on the opposite side of the room. Yong Kyu had just been to the office to report to the captain on yesterday’s duty. But the report had been doctored at Toi’s recommendation to omit a few parts. He had made no mention of Oh Hae Jong, the navy PX employee who had been fired for possession of narcotics.

“Soon we’ll be able to pinpoint identities. We already have very reliable information that it’s a certain Vietnamese officer working in the provincial administration.”

“How does the Korean woman fit in? She was a key in yesterday’s report, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, sir. But we have confirmation that the woman we want is Vietnamese. It appears the Korean just happened to be in the same vehicle.”

“All right. We won’t be able to arrest or interrogate the Vietnamese officer. But since we have orders from the boss, investigate in detail and we’ll send a report up to him.”

Immediately Yong Kyu regretted what he had done. Now the case had become his responsibility. From then on, all he did would have to be based on his own judgment. Suddenly, he felt Toi was to blame for his predicament. The bastard, he’s the one who got me knee-deep in this shit, Yong Kyu said to himself.

Upon leaving the office he telephoned Toi, and the latter asked him to come to the Sports Club in Da Nang. Yong Kyu had been there with Kang a few times. The Sports Club was, in fact, an ideal location for black marketeers to conduct secret meetings. There was absolutely no way of discovering what went on in the secluded rooms hidden deep in the back of that place. There was probably a separate exit out back, too.

“Sorry, I’m running a little late.” Toi, still wearing his sunglasses in the dark, plopped down in front of Yong Kyu.

“I left out the part about Miss Oh in my report to Pointer because of you,” grumbled Yong Kyu.

“Good. You can always fill him in on the details later, can’t you? I found out who her boyfriend is.”

“That was fast.”

“Well, it was easy enough. It was no secret among the girls she worked with at the PX. They said the Dai Han woman—you know the Vietnamese call Koreans “Dai Han”—rented a room in the house of a Vietnamese girl named Chin. Lots of Americans frequented the place, but only one Vietnamese, a Major Pham, was a regular caller.”

“Who’s he?”

“Pham Quyen, the chief aide-de-camp to the top regional commander, General Liam. In other words, he’s the chief secretary to the military governor of Quang Nam Province.”

“Let’s summon him to CID right away.”

Toi laughed out loud, as if he could not believe what he was hearing.

“Don’t even think of that. You see, all the foreign forces in Quang Nam are under his command, at least in effect, even though a US Marine division commander has actual say in operations decisions. But General Liam’s approval is necessary for everything. It’s just a formality, of course, but even so, you want to try and call in his chief aide to be interrogated about a couple of cartons of C-rations? You tell Krapensky about Pham, and that’ll be the end of this case for sure. Understand?”

“Then we’d be through with this case, too.”

Toi shook his head violently.

“We’ve got hold of a line into the most lucrative dealings in Da Nang.”

“I don’t make deals.”

“Listen, even if you don’t jump into it yourself, deals are being made everyday, everywhere, by someone or other. The same goes for Krapensky. If you’re not involved yourself in the market, you get no valuable information about the black marketeers. Plunge in first, then you can come up with information much more valuable than your own involvement. By that information, and only by that, your work performance will be evaluated.”

“I get it. As for the captain . . .”

“I’ll leave that to you. Dealing and intelligence are like body and shadow.”

“Okay, where do we start?”

“You can’t fall on Major Pham directly, but pull that Dai Han woman and the major’ll come dangling along like a potato on the end of a string, you’ll see.”

Toi explained what he had in mind, and Yong Kyu asked, “What do we do after that?”

“You and Pham will shake hands. He probably knows nothing about the Liberation Front. If we dig deep enough, we’ll also be able to catch the goings on related to that.”

“By that time I’ll be headed home.”

“The war’s alive and moving, like an elephant. Anything alive eats, sleeps, and breathes. Even if you yourself end up going home, as long as Dai Hans are going to stay here you should understand that. You and I, Ahn, we’re both gooks, slopeheads.”

“In the eyes of the Americans, I suppose so.”

“In our own eyes, too. It’s nothing to feel bad about. I have to agree with them. I’m Vietnamese. In times like these, if you’re Vietnamese you go reeling around dizzy to the brink of madness. Your position is bound to be complicated whether you’re on the side of the government or of the NLF.”

“And how about you?”

“You’re my friend, so I’ll tell you. I’ll be honest. Ask me what I think of Ho Chi Minh, that’ll be the fastest way.”

“All right, what do you think of him?”

“Honestly,” Toi said, pressing his fingers to his temples. “I think he has mediocre ideas.” Then Toi pounded on his chest and added, “But he has excellent qualities as a man.”

Yong Kyu got what he meant, but still could not figure Toi out.

“I understand that; it’s you I don’t understand.”

“I know. Probably half the population of South Vietnam is made up of people like me. It’s a condition of life we owe to the French colonial regime, to Ngo Dinh Diem, and to the United States.”

“Then how can you hold a gun?”

“I’m already discharged. I’m a disabled veteran missing one eye. I never got my disability compensation; it was gobbled up by corrupt bureaucrats. I live like this because Da Nang is my home. That’s why I was drafted. Now I’m living here, caring for my family. That’s all there is.”

“This is important. You’re a contract employee of our office.”

“Right. That’s my job. I’m paid thirty dollars a month for it. And they don’t send me on militia duty to guard the outskirts of the city. All I want is to survive this war with my family.”

The waiter approached and they stopped talking.

“What are you having?” Yong Kyu asked.

“Let’s see . . . I haven’t eaten yet.”

“Me neither. Toast and coffee?”

Yong Kyu ordered. The waiter was about to turn and leave when Toi called him back and asked something in Vietnamese. The waiter responded in Vietnamese.

“What was that?”

“I told him I wanted to see the woman who owns this place. He said she should be here around noon. Madame Lin is Chinese. Her husband is a Brit born in Hong Kong. Madame Lin may know the Dai Han woman; I’ve heard she comes here often.”

They ate. When they finished breakfast it was still a half hour until twelve.

Toi cautioned Yong Kyu, “Pretend you don’t understand English. And don’t act like a soldier.”

“Can I ask you about something we discussed earlier?”

“What?”

“If the war goes on long after I’ve returned home, will you still keep this job to make a living?”

“I don’t know. There are millions of people in South Vietnam . . . ARVN soldiers, government officials, police, the militia. Anyway, when they reach a certain age, everybody gets enlistment orders. And anybody who pays a thousand dollars to the police can evade service, and for a lousy three hundred you can get assigned to the navy or air force or other less dangerous duty. That’s the way life is lived here. The only thing certain is that I won’t move a single step from here. I live in Vietnam. My children live here. When you go home, remember me as that kind of man.”

Yong Kyu did not want Toi to say any more. But as he sat there in silence, Toi spoke again.

“I voted in the last election. Because the military government had to end. But the cities, not to mention the hamlets, were in utter chaos. In Da Nang, the army soldiers openly snatched the ballot boxes and substituted others they’d stuffed. When the Buddhists rioted, people like me took their side. We’ve lost our chance. Time passes by faster and faster. This is Vietnam’s destiny.”

Yong Kyu cut in.

“Well, let’s get back to our duty.”

“Right. From Madame Lin we’ll find out where she lives, then we can bring her in.”

“Where to? To our office?”

“No. To Da Nang QC headquarters. I used to work there, so I’ll borrow a friend’s office for an hour.”

The glass door at the front of the club opened and a woman walked in. She was tall and slender, wearing a black Chinese dress. Her hair was up in braids and she wore no flashy trinkets on her arms, only a black coral bracelet. As the bartender said something to her, she glanced over at the two of them and then went into the back. The waiter came over and spoke to Toi in Vietnamese.

“She wants us to come to her office.”

Toi walked ahead with Yong Kyu following. Past the arched passageway, each room was screened with beads in designs of dragons, butterflies, or peonies. The lights inside the rooms were off. At the very end of the corridor there was a door. The waiter knocked and from inside a woman’s voice said, “Come in.” They entered. A woman was sitting with her back to a huge window at a table that had nothing on it but an ashtray and a telephone. There were chairs upholstered with leather and a wall hanging in a Middle Eastern style. Through the open curtains they could see the spacious back lawn of the club, with white benches and a cast iron barbecue grill. The woman wore a look of disdain as she spoke to them.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

She seemed to be in her early forties. Her eye makeup was heavy and a pearl necklace hung around the collar of her Chinese dress. She appeared long accustomed to living a European lifestyle. There was something about her attitude that resembled that of Krapensky when he addressed Yong Kyu or Toi. She had an overbearing air, as if dealing with small children, yet there was a hint of authentic curiosity in her eyes. Toi opened his mouth, speaking Vietnamese, and Madame Lin frowned a little.

“Speak in English, if you please. Who are you?”

Toi glanced back at Yong Kyu, then said, “We’re intelligence officers with the Vietnamese army.”

“So?”

Only then did the woman gesture to offer them seats. They sat down.

“Do you know a woman by the name of Mimi?”

“She’s a customer here. She comes here every now and then. Why, has she caused any trouble?”

“Madame,” Toi calmly said, “I’d like to remind you that you’re running a business subject to the national laws of Vietnam.”

Madame Lin grinned brightly. She had cultivated a particular genius at flashing such smiles, it seemed.

“Oh, I’m well aware of that. But you said you’re with the military, not the national police, did you not? What do you soldiers have to do with our club?”

“We have reliable reports that the Sports Club is running prostitution and gambling rackets on the side . . . but we’re not here about that. We just want some information about this Mimi character.”

“I’ll disregard the first part of what you said, for that’s not in your jurisdiction. If you don’t agree, feel free to contact Colonel Cao, the chief of police. The colonel is my husband’s closest friend, and General Liam is his golf partner.”

“Madame, where does Mimi live? That’s all we’re interested in.” Toi went straight to the point.

In a low voice, the Chinese woman asked back, “What’s this all about?”

“Black market.”

“But she quit the PX.”

“It doesn’t concern the PX.”

For the first time, Madame Lin cast a sharp look at Yong Kyu.

“I don’t know, but I can find out. If I ask the bartender, we’ll find out right away. You both have been in our club before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, a few times with friends.”

“Vietnamese aren’t allowed here.”

Yong Kyu was about to pipe up, but Toi stopped him with a poke. “This friend of mine is Korean. He doesn’t understand what we’re saying.”

“So, you’re turning Mimi over to him,” Madame Lin said, clicking her tongue.

Toi laughed. “Since you failed as a matchmaker, I had to step in. My friend here has fallen head over heels in love with her. Can’t sleep at night, you know.”

The woman cackled loudly. Then she picked up the telephone on the table and punched a few buttons. “Bring me Mimi’s address.”

A few minutes later the waiter brought in a piece of paper. As Toi reached for it, the woman raised her fingers and waved them back and forth.

“Not yet. First, I want you to write down your duty station, your ranks, and your names.”

“To report us to the general?”

“No, but if anything happens to Mimi, I’ll be losing a good customer.”

“All right.”

Toi quickly scribbled on the paper and Yong Kyu did the same. The woman read aloud from her piece of paper.

“Hotel Thanh Thanh, Room 306. Satisfied?”

“Thank you.”

The woman called out to their backs as they left.

“Come again with Mimi.”

They left the club.

“What a strange woman,” Yong Kyu said as they got in the Land Rover.

“An old fox.”

“She comes all the way from Hong Kong to a battle zone and runs a club like that, we’re definitely no match for her. Way over our heads.”

“Why is she protecting Miss Oh?”

“That’s obvious. I saw her picture. She’s the type white men go for. Madame Lin would never pass by a foreign girl or a white dancer staying at the Thanh Thanh. She probably brokers side jobs for Mimi.”

“And puts her on display at all the club parties.”

They drove straight over to Doc Lap Boulevard. The multicolored awning over the entrance to the Hotel Thanh Thanh was visible from a distance. On both sides of the door stood jagged-leafed cycad plants.

“It’ll be the first time in a long while for me to speak to a woman in my own language,” Yong Kyu said.

“And the first time for me to hear your language in a woman’s voice,” Toi said, adding, “Korean sounds harsh and stiff to me.”

“And Vietnamese sounds like a parrot choking.”

As they pushed open the glass door with its wire-mesh embedded inside, they could see a brightly lit restaurant just past the narrow counter that served as a front desk. An old man in a clean shirt was sitting there.

“Welcome. Would you like a room?”

“No, thanks.”

Toi presented his ID card before Yong Kyu could and said something in Vietnamese, at which the old man pointed an arm to the stairs. They ran upstairs. When they reached the door, Toi said, “I’m going to speak Vietnamese.”

Yong Kyu nodded.

“Mo kye hotoi . . .” said Toi, pounding on the door.

He kept knocking. Then he put an ear to the door and shouted as he pounded again. A sound like a moan came from within, followed by the sound of a glass door sliding, then footsteps approaching.

“Who is it?” asked a woman’s sleepy voice.

“Siloi ko,” Toi said, glancing back at Yong Kyu.

As the woman unthinkingly turned the knob of the door, Toi and Yong Kyu pushed it open with full force and crashed into the room. The woman stood petrified, pinned beside the door. Yong Kyu flashed his ID with its red slash right in front of her eyes.

“What the hell is this about?”

The woman immediately saw that Yong Kyu was another Korean. Arching her eyebrows, she wrapped her wrinkled robe more tightly about her. Although just roused from sleep, she was still a captivating sight. As the shutters were swung open, the sunlight streamed in and the woman’s white neck glistened. She grimaced and covered her head, from embarrassment at her unmade-up face as much as from the glare in her eyes.

“You’re asking for big trouble, do you know that?” the woman said.

“Why, shall I call Major Pham Quyen for you? “ asked Yong Kyu, picking up the telephone.

“What do I have to do with soldiers?”

Yong Kyu signaled to Toi with his eyes. Toi hurried into the bedroom. The woman started to follow, but Yong Kyu grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her down in a chair. He felt a tingling sensation as his fingers touched her skin. The lower folds of her robe were coming apart, revealing her tantalizing white thighs. As her eyes met Yong Kyu’s, she pulled the sides of the robe together to cover her legs.

“Sons of bitches,” the woman muttered, shading her eyes with one hand. “Wasn’t firing me enough? Why do you keep harassing me?”

“Shall I close the shutters?”

The woman nodded in reply to Yong Kyu’s offer. He closed the shutters and the room grew dark. The woman lowered her hand and looked up at Yong Kyu.

“Do you have a cigarette?”

Yong Kyu handed her a pack of Pall Malls and she nervously pulled one out. Her fingernails were unpainted. He lit her cigarette with his Zippo.

“Let’s be reasonable. Why are you doing this?”

Toi came back into the room holding something he had found. It was a plastic bag and two pipes.

“Look at this. Opium,” Toi said.

“Why don’t you go search your own mother? I bet you’ll find some in her dresser drawer,” the woman said in English to Toi. Then she turned and faced Yong Kyu again.

“Too bad if that’s why you’re here. It’s not mine.”

“Miss Oh Hae Jong, do you have a passport?”

“If I didn’t, could I be here?”

“Let me see your passport.”

She just drew on the cigarette. Yong Kyu sat down in front of her.

“I asked you to show me your passport.”

“I turned it in . . . to the consulate, to have it renewed.”

“You’re lying,” Yong Kyu said. “We know you’re stateless. Two months ago your name was deleted from the list of local civilian workers. That means your passport was automatically cancelled when you failed to return home as ordered.”

The woman defiantly looked Yong Kyu straight in the eye and spat out, “My nationality is Vietnamese. You knew it when you came here, didn’t you? Besides, my nationality is no concern of yours. Get me the Vietnamese police.”

Toi took two pieces of paper out from his inner pocket and handed them over to Yong Kyu. He unfolded the first piece and placed it in front of the woman.

“Now, this is a copy of your personnel record, and the date of your dismissal, right here. And this is a copy of the fake requisition document you submitted to MAC 36. You sold C-rations in the campside village near the navy hospital, didn’t you?”

“So?”

“So, first I have to deal with the offense of selling military supplies. Then, while you’re in our custody, we’ll get your deportation papers from the Vietnamese police and ship you home. Now . . . is this all clear to you?”

“The C-rations weren’t mine.”

“Were they Major Pham’s?”

“I don’t know. I just rode along.”

“You mean, you just rode along with the C-rations and rode back with the money, is that it?”

The woman leapt up and tried to pick up the phone, but Toi quickly put his hand over the receiver.

“Look, Miss, you may be sent down to Saigon as a convicted narcotics offender before you’re deported,” Yong Kyu said as he got up.

The woman turned up her nose as if scoffing. But the quake in her fingers as she extinguished her cigarette revealed how nervous she was.

“Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“To our investigation headquarters.”

“I need to make a phone call.”

“Make it from there.”

“I’ll go and change,” the woman said, heading toward the bedroom.

“We’ll wait out here.”

She went into the bedroom. As she started to close the door, Toi stuck his foot in the way.

“This is rude and ridiculous,” she said in an irritated tone.

“Don’t worry, we won’t peek. Just get changed quickly and don’t even think of trying anything cute.”

She soon came back out fully dressed, removed a lipstick from her purse and put some on. She was wearing a light blue knit dress, an outfit certain to cause a minor riot if she were to pass by a soldiers’ barracks. The two men’s eyes widened as they exchanged glances. Under the thin wool the curves of her body were readily visible, and with the sun at her back you could make out her thighs through the fabric.

Once they were in the car, the woman said, “I hope you know what you’re doing. You’re not going to get away with this, I’ll see to that.”

Yong Kyu did not reply. Toi drove straight across the street and in a second they were pulling into the QC headquarters compound. In the parking lot stood an unbroken line of Vietnamese MP patrol Jeeps. At the sight of Oh Hae Jong, the QC staff milling around started whistling and making catcalls.

“Take us to the room,” Yong Kyu said to Toi.

As they walked into the building, Toi popped into an office and shortly reappeared and took the lead. As soon as they entered the room, Toi said something to the corporal and administrative officer inside and the two men left.

“Care for some coffee?” Toi asked the woman.

“Yes, thank you.”

In an effort to exhibit her composure, she then turned to Yong Kyu, saying, “You could offer me some lunch, too.”

“I’ll see to that once your custody is decided.”

Yong Kyu started the interrogation with questions about the delivery of the C-rations. She answered, and then gave a statement detailing where, how often, and what quantities she had delivered. Then he questioned her about the opium.

“I don’t know anything about that. The stuff isn’t mine,” she said.

“That was also your testimony when you were asked by the chief security officer at the PX, wasn’t it? I’ll get the record of that interrogation and add it to this report, and then my job will be done. They’ll make the decision.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The Vietnamese Narcotics Enforcement Team.”

“Hmmph, go ahead and call them if there is such a team. More than half the population of Da Nang, every household, would have to be arrested. The stuff belongs to Major Pham Quyen from the provincial governor’s staff. Ask him.”

Yong Kyu kept scrawling notes in his notebook.

“Fine. So you have no passport, right?”

Toi brought a tray in with three cups of coffee. The woman sipped it slowly, savoring each mouthful. In the bright sunlight her bare legs gleamed beneath the pale blue dress. She seemed much calmer. Her legs were bouncing up and down ever so slightly. Yong Kyu finished his English-language report and handed it over to Toi.

“Type this and bring it back.”

“All right.”

Toi took the papers and left. Now the two of them, Yong Kyu and the woman, were alone in the room.

“Look, what’s your name, anyway?”

Yong Kyu took out a cigarette for himself and offered her one. They lit them together.

“I asked what your name is.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“That’s not fair. You know about me through and through and I don’t even know your name.”

“Ahn Yong Kyu.”

“Rank?”

“You want to try and make trouble for me?”

“Are you a ‘lifer’? Isn’t that what you soldiers say?”

Yong Kyu relaxed a little. He wondered why had he been so hard on her at first. Maybe it was because she was, in her robe, rather sensuous, and he knew she was in the habit of sleeping with foreigners. No, I’m no lifer, he said to himself. In a strange room, so far away from home, this woman was asking him if he was a lifer.

“Why didn’t you go home?”

The woman said nothing. They just went on smoking. She looked up at the clock.

“I need to make a call. If it gets any later, these people will take their siesta. I can’t wait another two hours in a place like this.”

“Don’t worry.”

Yong Kyu also glanced at the clock. He paused, then casually asked her, “Do you know Madame Lin well?”

She responded indifferently. “A little. I worked there a while after I was fired.”

“As a bar girl?”

“Is it a crime?” she retorted angrily. “I can’t go home empty-handed. I’m no different than the rest of you. And I’m not a whore.”

Her outburst made Yong Kyu uncomfortable. He hung his head a little. “Why not go to America?”

“What do you care?” the woman asked, fixing her eyes on his. “Stay out of my business. What difference does it make to you if I stay in Vietnam or go to America?”

Her voice was growing shrill, so Yong Kyu raised his head. For a moment he thought her eyes were getting moist, then immediately tears started streaming down her face. He had touched a wound. He quietly stood up and gave her space. She quickly pulled herself together, taking a handkerchief from her purse and cleaning her face.

“This is why I hate running into you people here. Who do you think you are, anyway? You’re no brother of mine. Once I found a Korean girl, a dancer, dead drunk and crying her eyes out. Some bastard, one of our recruits, had thrown a bottle at her on stage for taking her clothes off in front of American GIs. Crazy bastards. Who do they think they are—they themselves are licking asses for a lousy few US dollars a month? Don’t make me laugh!”

There was an element of truth in what the woman said.

“I’m sorry,” Yong Kyu mumbled under his breath, “I didn’t mean to insult you.” Then, in spite of himself, he blurted out, “Seeing you come out of that dark room, awakened from sleep . . . I felt sorry for you somehow . . . We’re in a war zone.”

The woman softened a bit and then replied in a lighter tone, “Well, I appreciate the compassion.”

Toi came back in, holding the typed report out to Yong Kyu. He checked it for errors and then said to the woman, “Read this, and if it’s all true, sign it.”

She read through the report, then carefully signed it and tossed down the ballpoint pen.

“Are you done with me?”

“Yes, you can go now.”

Yong Kyu also put his signature at the bottom. Then with a smile he said, “Sorry for the trouble. The exit is over there. You know the way, don’t you? It’s not far. It will take you just a few minutes to walk back to the Thanh Thanh from here.”

The woman looked uneasily at the report Yong Kyu was putting away.

“Mr. Ahn Yong Kyu, what are you planning to do?”

Yong Kyu was startled, as though it was the first time he ever heard a woman call his name.

“Don’t worry,” he said.

He looked over at Toi. Unable to understand anything of what they had been saying, Toi had a vacant look on his face.

“We’ll probably consult with Major Pham Quyen. He’ll be able to come up with a satisfactory solution,” said Yong Kyu.

The woman rose and walked toward the door, then stopped. She turned back and said to Yong Kyu, “Your concern, I really do appreciate it.”