Hae Jong thought of her first night with Jerry, the American master sergeant back home. The filthy pink curtains, the cheap wallpaper, the 60-watt bulb, the fly shit, the neon light blinking all night through the dirt-smudged window, the odor of Jerry’s chest like that of a rain-soaked dog — she had laid her cheek on that pillow smeared with hair oil facing the wall and tears had streamed down over her face. Jerry stuck his dollars on Hae Jong’s pillow the same way he put paper in his typewriter at the office. The sound of his boots as he trudged away, the long honk of the car, the pop song by Mun Ju-Ran, the aroma of a salty croaker roasted on the fire, the Korean men in pajamas with toothbrushes in their mouths — through the narrow window up by the ceiling, Hae Jong had gazed over the fence of the American army base. The morning sunlight shone through the chain-link fence, casting shadows in ever-repeating shapes. Dollars — greenbacks with an image of ivy vines in a blue rainbow pattern, drawn as though powerfully and insidiously alive — that crisp, lofty paper money used to stare up imposingly at Hae Jong’s naked figure from that filthy satin pillow.
“Why are they changing it?”
“What do you mean why?” the captain echoed her question.
“It’ll only bring great confusion. And that won’t be good for the American army, either.”
“The problem is embezzlement. We’ve been losing five hundred million dollars annually, and that’s only the official figure. Just recently in Saigon we lost an entire container holding several tons of military currency with a face value in the tens of millions of dollars. The truth is, civilian businessmen and US soldiers are dumping the currency and then claiming theft to make arbitrary adjustments in freight receipts and invoices and to evade tax. We have intelligence suggesting that the amount of military currency circulating in the black market is close to a billion dollars. Now the war is reaching a new phase.”
“Then, the war will be ending?”
“I guess. . when negotiations are concluded we may pull out of here.”
“That means packing up and leaving!”
“I can understand you, Mimi,” Mike said. “But you’d better not think about settling down in Vietnam. It’s unfortunate for your major, though.”
“I can always go to a third country.”
“With the major? Do you love him?”
“Shut up.”
Hae Jong stubbed out her cigarette and got up.
“Madame Lin said she’s got something for the three of us to discuss.”
“Us?”
“That’s right. You, me, and Madame Lin.”
Lin already had taken off her gown and changed into silk pants and a T-shirt. She had prepared a table for drinking.
“Care for some cognac?”
“Not for me. I barely managed to sober up.” Mike hesitantly took a seat.
“The Viet Cong won’t be back,” said Lin. “Without a drink, you’ll be awake all night.”
“What the hell.”
The three clinked their glasses together.
“To our business,” said Madame Lin.
“What business?”
“Don’t be coy,” said Hae Jong. “You’re a finance officer, right? We’ll gather up the old military currency and you can exchange it for us.”
“There’s no rush,” added Madame Lin. “There’s still plenty of time before daybreak.”
34
A crane was lifting crashed and burned vehicles and loading them onto a huge trailer. Even the unburned cars that had escaped direct grenade hits had broken glass and were perforated with holes from bullets and shrapnel. The whole parking lot had become a junkyard. All the windows of the Grand Hotel, not to mention the front doors, had been completely smashed, and the anti-tank mine had collapsed a great portion of the wall, leaving iron reinforcing bars protruding from hunks of cement like bones jutting from the carcass of a dead animal. The portions of the structure in danger of collapse had been propped up with iron pipes, but the hotel was clearly in need of full-scale repairs. The American administrative agents had been forced to vacate the building, each section moving to its own unit facilities elsewhere in the city.
The joint investigation headquarters decided to relocate for the time being at the MAC compound across from the White Elephant. This involved the inconvenience of having to cross the river draining into Da Nang Bay in a navy ferry, or taking a lengthy detour over the smokestack bridge. The new makeshift HQ was a set of aluminum Quonsets, but at least they were all air-conditioned and much safer since inside a military compound. The American soldiers grumbled about having to eat at the military mess instead of enjoying the buffet-style meals served at the Grand Hotel. They expected some disruption and disorganization in their duties for a while, as it seemed likely the repairs at the hotel would not be done for at least a month.
The American officers also planned to rent a safe house near the investigation office on Puohung Street, so that the staff on external assignment would have a place to stay downtown. The Korean detachment decided to find a place to downtown as well. The chief sergeant, off-duty as was usual for someone with only about ten days left before shipping back home, went out to look for a house and called the hotel to report he had found a suitable place. Ahn Yong Kyu instructed the other soldiers to pack for the move and then went out to the Dragon Palace Restaurant. The sergeant was alone in one of the inner rooms drinking beer.
“The captain said he’d be coming?”
“Yes, I just reported to him.”
“You’re lucky to have found a house.”
“Hey, who do you think you’re talking to? But this close to going home — how come I have to go out and do the legwork, searching for a place?”
The sergeant cast Yong Kyu a dirty look. “Knock it off, I know you’ve been out on a leisurely tour of the PXs. Where’s the house, anyway?”
“I’m sure you know the place. It’s where the lieutenant colonel and his family used to live. .”
“Huh, I thought that was a special case. That haunted-looking house where the Hong Kong boys used to live, is that where you mean?”
“Heh, heh, it’s the only place available where we can move in right away, and Pointer keeps on growling at me. Even a house like that is not easy to find around downtown. And the rent is cheap, too.”
“Have those bastards left Da Nang?”
“They’re probably itching to grind you and the captain up and eat you. I heard they moved down to Saigon.”
The captain, wearing his uniform, stuck his head into the room. Standing astride the threshold, he said, “Why don’t you come on out? Too much trouble to take off these boots. No customers outside here, anyway.”
The three men moved to a table by a window overlooking the street.
“So you’ve found a house?” the captain asked.
“He said it’s the place where the Hong Kong gang used to live,” Yong Kyu said.
“But it’s cheap, sir,” the sergeant quickly added. “Monthly rent is only two hundred dollars. How many of us all together? Six team members counting this kid and then you, Chief, and me, so eight total. Two big rooms and two small rooms, it’s what we need, at least.”
“Hey, I know what’s on your mind. Want to get ready to head home, don’t you? Well, that house has a big enough storage space, so go ahead and fill it up.”
“You’re killing me. You pounced on me when I just tried to sell a little beer. How much can I make by taking back a few lousy appliances and a couple of cartons of cigarettes, sir?”
“Enough of your whining. I’m glad you found a place. Last time I saw Lieutenant Colonel Pak, he and I drank a toast to peace and to send him off.”