“I see.” He pretended to be digesting this information, and a look of perplexity, almost worry, passed across his face, as if something was bothering him. I knew that look because most interrogators use it. Colonel Mang said, “The officer at the Hue Immigration police station said you told him you traveled alone. Is that correct?”
I realized that if these questions had been asked of Susan and me separately, we might have different answers. I replied, “I never said I traveled alone. In fact, he didn’t ask me. But probably you asked him, and so like subordinates everywhere, he fabricated an answer for you.”
He thought about that, then said, “I suppose, then, I must ask him again.” He said to me, “So you and Miss Weber traveled together.”
“Correct.”
“By bus.”
“Correct.”
“And where did you stay when you arrived in Hue?”
“A mini-motel.”
“Ah, yes. That was what I was told.” He smiled and said to me, “The police officer was under the impression you spent the night with a prostitute.” He looked at Susan, then back at me and said, “But he must have mistaken your description of your traveling companion.”
I said, “The policeman in Hue, like Mr. Loc, needs to understand English better if they’re going to question or eavesdrop on English-speaking people. Don’t you agree?”
He probably did, but he said to me, “My English, I hope, is to your satisfaction. I understand English quite well, but I do not understand your answers.”
“I understand them.”
Colonel Mang smiled and said, “Let me ask you a simple question— what was the name of the mini-motel where you and Miss Weber spent the night?”
“I don’t know. Do they have names?”
“They are usually named by their street address. Does that help you?”
“No.”
He looked at Susan. “Can you recall the name of this motel?”
“No.”
He kept looking at her and said, “I am rather surprised, Miss Weber, that you, who have been in Vietnam for three years, would go to such a place.”
She replied, “Colonel, when you’re tired, you sleep anywhere.”
“Is that so?” He turned back to me and asked, “And did you go to the Century Riverside when you arrived in Hue to see if there was a room available for you?”
“No.”
“And why not? You would have discovered, as I did, that there were rooms available.”
I replied, “I’m on a budget. The mini-motel was very cheap.”
He wasn’t buying that at all, and I don’t blame him. He said, “Mr. Brenner, you say you arrived in Hue Friday evening, and you never bothered to see if your hotel, or any other Western hotel, or even a guest house, had a room available for you and your traveling companion. Instead, you say you went from Hue bus station to a mini-motel frequented almost exclusively by prostitutes and their men, and you took a room there, but you do not remember the hotel. Then at 12:35 P.M. the next day, you register at the Century Riverside Hotel, alone, then approximately twenty minutes later, Miss Weber arrives and requests a room. Then, at some point, you meet in the lounge, and after a while, you retire to your rooms — or Mr. Brenner’s room. Am I understanding this correctly?”
I replied, “You are.”
“And yet, none of it makes any sense to me. Perhaps you can explain to me your actions.”
This was clearly not going well, and it wasn’t going to get any better. I said to Colonel Mang, “Colonel, Ms. Weber and I are having a clandestine affair. Do you understand?”
He kept staring at me.
I continued, “We’re trying to avoid any possible confrontation with Mr. Stanley, which explains all of our actions.”
Colonel Mang didn’t think so. He said, “I am no less confused, Mr. Brenner, but let me continue.” He looked at Susan and me again, then said, “You are a handsome couple. The sort of people who would not be easily forgotten. And so, I had the police in Nha Trang question the two bus drivers who drove the noon and one P.M. buses. And neither of these drivers remembers a middle-aged Western couple of any description on their bus. In fact, aside from a few Western backpackers, both buses were filled only with Vietnamese.” He paused. “It seemed odd to me that you would travel by bus.”
I replied, “There was no other transportation available, and you know that. I was on the one P.M. bus from Nha Trang to Hue, and again, Colonel, someone has given you incorrect information.”
“Yes? So much incorrect information. From different people.” He looked at Susan and asked her, “And you, too, were on that bus?”
“That’s right.”
He thought awhile, or pretended to, then said, “Unfortunately, I believed this incorrect information from the bus drivers, that you were not on these buses, so I made further inquiries. I first inquired of Vidotour if either of you hired a car and driver, and they informed me that you had not. They keep very careful records, and so, of course, that is correct information. Then I began making inquiries of private tour operators.” He looked at me and asked, “And do you know what I discovered?”
I didn’t reply to the rhetorical question. In fact, I doubted if Mang had been able to contact any of those people during this holiday period.
Colonel Mang kept staring at me, and neither of us played a card. Finally, he said, “Nothing. But we are still making inquiries in Nha Trang.”
I said nothing.
He added, “I think, Mr. Brenner, that you and Miss Weber came to Hue via a private mini-bus, or more likely a private car and driver. I believe my instructions to you, Mr. Brenner, were clear. You were not to travel by private transportation.”
I needed to respond to this and said, “Colonel, I think I’ve had enough of your questions, your suspicions, and your sarcasm. I don’t know what the purpose of this is, but I’m going from Hue directly to Hanoi, and I’m making a formal complaint to my embassy, then I’m leaving the country. And when I return to Washington, I’m making a complaint directly to the State Department. Your behavior is unacceptable and unwarranted.”
He didn’t seem concerned about any of this; by now, he was certain he had something on me, and he seemed more confident. He said to me, “I think I will discover that you hired a car and driver to take you to Hue, and that you stopped some place for the night, and perhaps deviated from your direct route to Hue. And when I find that driver, I will question him about what you did, and who you saw or met with on your journey. Unless, of course, you would like to tell me now.”
I didn’t want to tell him I killed two policemen on the way, so I replied, “I have nothing further to say to you.”
“Well, I have more things to say to you.” He lit another cigarette and said, “The policeman you spoke to in Hue informed me that you were very uncooperative.”
I didn’t reply.
“He said you attempted to leave his office without permission.”
I couldn’t resist replying, “Not only did I attempt to leave his office, I did, and he didn’t stop me.”
Colonel Mang seemed a bit surprised. Clearly, his subordinates told the boss what they wanted to tell him. Oddly, I think he believed me and not them, which maybe wasn’t so odd; in a police state, everyone is terrified of the truth.
He said to me, “I believe if you put yourself in my situation, you would see that my questions and suspicions are indeed warranted. There is a great deal of what you call circumstantial evidence to suggest that your purpose here is not tourism. And then we have the lies you told me, and which you now attempt to correct.”
I replied, “I think, Colonel, other people have lied to you, or misled you, or made false assumptions. If I were a policeman, I’d go back and question everyone again, and I’d see if I was barking up the wrong tree. Biet?”