“No.”
“Okay. So, a day later, he writes this letter from the cellar of the Buddhist high school that we saw on the way in, and that letter made its way to his brother in the A Shau Valley.”
“What did he see?”
“What he saw was why I’m here. The question is, Did Tran Van Vinh survive this battle, or the battles of the next seven years, and if so, is he still alive today, and can I find him, and if I do, what can he tell me?” I left out the part about me killing Tran Van Vinh, and then maybe me being terminated.
We continued walking, and Susan finally said to me, “And that’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“What he saw is important?”
“Apparently, or I wouldn’t be here spending government money.”
“What did he say in the letter?”
“He said he saw an American army captain murder an American army lieutenant in cold blood, right here in a damaged building of the Citadel, as he, Tran Van Vinh, lay wounded on the floor above.”
She thought a moment and said, “So… this is a murder investigation.”
“Apparently.”
She stayed quiet awhile, then said, “But…”
“But.”
She stopped walking and looked out over the empty field. “Right here?”
“Somewhere. I couldn’t tell you where any of the buildings were, but it’s always good to return to the scene of the crime, even if it’s nearly three decades later, and the scene has been pulverized by bombs and artillery. Cops are as superstitious and mystical as combat soldiers, and there’s this feeling that the dead — the ghost — will speak to you, or at least inspire you to find their killer. I don’t actually believe that, but I don’t dismiss it either.” I smiled and asked, “Should we try a séance?”
She smiled in return and said, “I can see how you could be inspired by being where the murder took place.” She looked at me. “But you think there’s more to this than a murder?”
“What do you think?”
“I have no idea.”
I asked her, “Why did they tell you it had to do with Cam Ranh Bay?”
“I don’t know.”
“What could that have to do with a murder during the war?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why is the intelligence community involved with an army Criminal Investigation Division murder case?”
“I have no idea. Do you?”
“I have too many ideas. Some of them fit some of the facts, but none of them fit all the facts. What I need is more facts. You got any?”
“No… except… by the way Bill and Colonel Goodman were getting hyperventilated, it sounds like more than an old murder case.”
I nodded. “You’re very bright. So take a guess.”
She thought a moment, then said, “The murderer, this captain, or the witness, Tran Van Vinh, was then, or is now, a very important man.”
“That’s a very astute answer.”
She forced a smile and said, “I’m getting messages from the beyond.”
We stood there awhile in this place that had witnessed at least two great battles, but was now deathly quiet. Beneath this earth were bones at rest, and perhaps bombs that I hoped remained at rest and had not been waiting for my return.
Susan asked me, “Do you think this man Tran Van Vinh is alive?”
I replied, “Here’s another irony, or coincidence… we were ordered to come down from the hills two days after the North Vietnamese captured the city, and we were ordered to set up a blocking force to interdict the North Vietnamese soldiers fleeing the city… and we did kill a number of them… so, in effect, I or my company may have killed my star witness.”
“That would be ironic, not to mention eerie…”
I nodded and said, “Yet, I feel that Tran Van Vinh is alive.”
Susan asked, “And he lives in the village of Tam Ki?”
“Well, no. That was sort of a cover name. My guy in Hue gave me the actual name of the village.”
“What is the name of the village?”
“I can’t tell you right now. Maybe later.”
“Where is it?
“Way up north.” I added, “Near Dien Bien Phu. You know where that is?”
“Sort of. It’s a hike. And that’s where you’re going tomorrow?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Good. Dien Bien Phu is on my list of places to see. How are we getting there?”
“Don’t know how I’m getting there. I thought I’d take a train up the coast as far north as I can get, then travel cross-country by four-wheel drive.”
“Good idea. The trains start running again Friday. Does that present a problem?”
“I guess it does. How would you get there?”
“Well, if you buy me dinner tonight, I’ll tell you.”
I looked at her and asked, “Do you really have an idea?”
“I didn’t spend all day yesterday shopping.”
“Tell me.”
“No.” She said, “You have no need to know, until you need to know.”
She took my arm, and we turned toward the bridge.
The first thing I noticed was that all the kids on the other side of the moat were gone.
The second thing I noticed was somebody standing in the middle of the Citadel field, watching us. It was Colonel Mang.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Colonel Mang and I stared at each other across a hundred meters of open field.
Susan asked me, “Who is that?”
“Take a guess.”
“Oh… what’s he doing here?”
“Well, for starters, he wants me to walk to him, which I’m not going to do.”
Susan said, “Paul, I know these people. If you make him lose face, he’ll go nuts.”
“You know, Susan, I’m really fucking tired of Westerners worrying about East Asians losing face. Fuck him.”
“I’ll go talk to him.”
“You stay right here.”
She didn’t reply or move.
I noticed two other men a hundred meters behind Colonel Mang, standing on the moat bridge. They were in uniform and were carrying rifles. In fact, even from this distance, I could pick out my chubby friend Pushy from Tan Son Nhat.
Colonel Mang, I noticed, was dressed in a dark green dress jacket, shirt, and tie, which was more appropriate for this cooler climate. He also wore a peaked hat and a holster and pistol.
A wind had picked up, and the sun was dropping below the trees. Long gray shadows stretched across the acres of the former Citadel, and soon it would be dark. I was prepared to stand there until dawn.
Susan said, “Paul, let’s walk about a third of the way. He’ll do the same.”
“Fuck him. I didn’t invite him here.”
“He doesn’t need an invitation. Trust me on this. Come on.” She took a step.
I hesitated, then started walking. Susan walked beside me. I stopped after about thirty paces.
Colonel Mang got the idea and took exactly thirty paces toward us. This was all very silly, of course, but men will be boys when balls are involved.
I took a tentative step toward Colonel Mang, he did the same, and we began walking toward each other. We closed the distance to about ten meters, and the little shit stopped. I stopped.
We looked at each other. He didn’t seem happy, so that made at least two of us.
Susan said, “Come on, Paul. Point made. Let’s go see what he wants.”
“Fuck him.”
Colonel Mang must have not heard me correctly because he said, “Good evening, Mr. Brenner.”