“Bring us five bowls of noodles, steamed fish, and liquor. And pass the word that the cargo from Long Long has arrived.”
“Excuse me, . but who do you want me to tell?”
The waiter’s tone was respectful. The agent spoke again.
“We’re looking for Uncle Nguyen Thach.”
“I see. Just a minute, please.”
They were all either drinking tea or smoking cigarettes. Looking out through the screened window, Pham Minh was taking in the familiar sights of old Le Loi market spread out across the street from the restaurant. The aroma of fried fish and nuoc mam reminded him of the sweat of peasants. The strong salty smell of boiling boar’s intestines mixed with hot pepper wafted by. In the kitchen, sleek black sun-dried sausages were glossily shining and the fried bananas were deep yellow. Cooked rice with hot curry was evenly spread on a cutting board, and nearby side dishes of pepper, pork, cabbage and onions were being ladled around a whole duck that was bright red after being boiled and spiced.
There was not a single foreigner in the motley crowds bustling in the market. White people were nowhere to be seen, and in fact the distinctive sharp smells of the old market were deeply repulsive to almost anyone but the Vietnamese themselves. But the city carved up by many barricades and off-limits zones was coming to seem like a set of gigantic cages for animals and fowl. The young waiter who had gone out returned and stood there blocking Pham Minh’s line of sight. He came up to their table with a tray full of food.
“I’ve notified Uncle. He said he’ll be here shortly.”
The guide nodded.
“Now, let’s have dinner. I’m afraid this will be the last time we eat together.”
For the first time a humane look could be detected on the agent’s face. The team members asked no questions, nor did they chatter unnecessarily. They were heeding the unwritten rule that one never, regardless of time or place, seeks to discover anything about missions in progress. Nobody asked: Where am I being sent? Who’s my superior? Where are my comrades? What is the role of the owner of this restaurant? Are you heading back to Long Long? Is your assignment to help us with infiltration?
Such questions not only made no practical contribution to the mission, they only increased the risks and burdens as more people had more sensitive information. Another thing was, after once meeting a certain person and exchanging a few words, the next time you met somewhere you were to reveal no sign at all of the prior contact. Connections were to be formed only on the basis of what was needed for the current task. Once the common cause of the mission no longer existed, they should erase one another from memory.
It was their first hot soup since leaving Atwat. They also shared a kettle of hot liquor and a boiled fish garnished with ginger and nuoc mam. It was getting dark outside and a cooler wind was blowing caresses through the marketplace. Every so often they turned their eyes to the hall to check new customers entering the place. The guide kept checking his watch. Then a low voice came from the behind.
“Were you looking for me?”
A gentle-looking man in his thirties, clad in a jacket and black Vietnamese pants, was looking down at them. Pham Minh remembered distinctly that he was the same man who a few months before had received him here and put him in touch with the NLF. Though they were already acquainted, Pham Minh gave him only a blank look. Two other members of the team had joined in Da Nang at the same time and they, too, no doubt already knew the face of the operative known as Uncle Nguyen Thach.
It seemed likely that all fifteen of them who were slipping back into Da Nang in three separate teams would have their missions coordinated through this man. If someone were caught or turned traitor, the lead agent would be changed and the whole group would disintegrate and be reconstructed anew. Even members of the same team did not know the real names, former occupations, or hometowns of the others. All they knew of each other was the expressionless faces they now were peering at.
“I’ve come from Long Long. The goods are onions, cabbages, bananas, papayas, and some more. The tenants of our farm came with me.”
Nguyen Thach and the guide shook hands. The former sat down at the table across from the guide and examined them all one by one. Then he said, “I’ll buy the whole consignment.”
“Thank you, but time is short for me, so. .”
The guide took out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Would you sign this receipt here, please?”
Nguyen Thach wrote his name on the document for transfer of the recruits and the guide took it back, folded it and put it away for his report to superiors back at Atwat. Then he rose from his seat. Without even looking at the team members, he gave a nod to Nguyen Thach and quietly walked down the hall and out through the door.
“Finished with your meal? Well, then, it’s time to get to work,” Nguyen Thach said.
He led them through the kitchen of the pub, where the women cooking stood aside to let them pass. They emerged from the pub through the back door. Thach walked over to the lot where they had parked the truck and stopped at the heap of baskets and bushels full of fruit and vegetables they had unloaded.
“What are you waiting for?” he said. “You’ve been paid, so start working. Hurry and get these stored inside. Don’t dawdle.”
For an instant the team members were puzzled, but as ordered, they picked up the baskets on long bamboo poles and followed Thach. He led them not to his own place, the car service shop, but to the office of his elder brother, Cuong. He went around to the rear of the brick building where the office was and unlocked a door. The office door was on the left, and on the right was another wooden door with an aluminum-grated window set in it. Before opening the door Thach turned a switch. Inside was a storage room of about one hundred fifty square yards. There were two thirty-watt light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. All sorts of boxes, sacks, and bags were piled up. Standing at the door, in a low voice he ordered them to hurry in.
The team members carried the baskets into the warehouse. As the last of them came inside, Thach closed the outer iron gate and relocked it. They gathered around and stood there awkwardly in the warehouse. Thach removed a few papers from his pocket and took them to a small desk and sat down.
“Over there. . grab one of those boxes and have a seat. Come to me as I call your name.”
He held up some documents and read for a while before calling out a name. The person summoned would approach the desk and answer the questions posed by Thach. At the end of the interview he returned to his seat and Thach went on to the next piece of paper. Pham Minh was the last of the five to be called.
He walked up to Thach’s desk.
“Pham Minh. . so you were a medical student at Hue University?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Born in Da Nang and. . just a minute, is Major Pham Quyen of the provincial command Comrade’s elder brother?”
“Yes.”
“The chief adjutant of General Liam at the provincial government office, that Major Pham, correct?”
“Right, sir.”
Nguyen Thach frowned slightly, rubbing the tip of his nose as if absorbed in thought.
“Your brother, he must know you joined the Front. Doesn’t he?”
“Probably. . I expect he does.”