“I went to the central market. They have everything.”
We gathered her quilted jacket and my leather jacket, plus the two hats, two pairs of leather gloves, and a bunch of Montagnard scarves, and stuffed them in the plastic bag so no one downstairs could see and remember them. I put my camera in a plastic laundry bag along with my exposed and unexposed film and shoved it in a side pouch of my backpack. This reminded me too much of 1968.
Susan said to me, “I’ve got my camera, so we can ditch one to save space.”
I knew I’d have to photograph Tran Van Vinh’s souvenirs if he wouldn’t sell them to me, and I’d definitely have to photograph Mr. Vinh himself, or his grave. Also, I needed to photograph his house and locale, so if he wasn’t dead, someone could come by later, find him, and kill him. I said to Susan, “I need a camera for this job, so we’ll take two to play it safe.”
“Okay.”
I asked her, “Is all your exposed film accounted for, including the roll Colonel Mang confiscated?”
She nodded. “I never had the film out of my sight.”
“Good.” I asked her, “You have that snow globe?”
She didn’t reply for a second, then said, “No. It’s missing again.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference does it make?” She forced a smile and said, “I can pick it up at the Metropole in Hanoi.”
I replied, “You can be sure that we’re not going to the Metropole when we get to Hanoi.”
She informed me, “It’s impossible to find a no-questions-asked place to stay in Hanoi. They report every guest to the police. It’s not South Vietnam.”
“We’ll deal with that when we get there. Ready?”
“Ready.”
We carried everything down to the lobby and walked to the front desk. We checked out, and I noticed on my bill a hundred-dollar charge for the Vidotour car and driver, which wouldn’t have been unreasonable, except that the driver was a secret policeman, who’d left us stranded in the next province. But I didn’t want to quibble over this with the clerk.
Susan asked the clerk, a young man named Mr. Tin, “Can you check to see if we have any messages?”
I said to him, “I’m also expecting a small parcel, a book, which someone was to deliver this morning.”
“Let me look.” He went to the key box and took out a few notes, then went into the back room.
Susan asked, “What book?”
“My Lonely Planet Guide.” I explained it to her and she didn’t comment.
Mr. Tin returned with a fax message, and a manila envelope that was not thick enough to be a book. He said to me, “Here is a fax for you, Mr. Brenner, and this envelope is for the lady.”
I asked, “And no book?”
“Sorry, sir.”
I moved away from the desk and looked at my watch. It was only 5:35 and still dark outside the lobby doors. I asked Susan, “What’s the latest we can leave here?”
“Now.”
I thought a moment. I had no way of knowing if Mr. Anh had been picked up by the police after our rendezvous. Therefore, I had no idea if Colonel Mang had already applied electric shocks to Mr. Anh and learned of my destination.
Susan said, “Sorry about the early departure, but I had no choice. Let’s be optimistic that the book would have been here in a few hours.”
“Yeah… okay. We’ll try to call here later.” I opened my fax envelope and read the short message: Dear Paul, Just a quick note to say have a good journey to Hanoi. Heard from friends in Saigon that all went well in Hue. C is looking forward to seeing you in Honolulu. God bless. Love, Kay. P.S. Please reply.
I handed the fax to Susan, who read it and handed it back without comment. I said, “It would seem that my contact here in Hue did contact Saigon, and said the rendezvous came off okay. But I still don’t know if this man got picked up later.”
I went to the desk, got a fax form, and wrote: Karl, replying to your fax— meeting in Hue was successful, as you know. Went to A Shau, Khe Sanh, and Quang Tri City Monday. Very moving. You need to come back, Colonel. Leaving now by private transportation to find T-V–V. Ms. W will accompany me. She has been an invaluable asset, translator, guide, and companion. Remember that, whatever happens. Ran into Colonel M in Quang Tri. He seems to suspect I’m here to start a Montagnard insurrection. Look up FULRO, if you don’t know about it. Mang to meet me in Hanoi, or sooner, so Metropole is out. I’ll try to contact Mr. E in USEmb in Hanoi on my arrival. I’m still visualizing success. My love to C. I hesitated, then wrote: For a variety of reasons, not the least of which is my possible extended stay here, do not have C make journey to Hawaii. I’ll see her in the States. See you wherever and whenever. I added: I gave this my best shot, Karl, but I feel somewhat used. Biet? I signed it Paul Brenner, Chief Warrant Officer, retired.
I gave Mr. Tin two dollars and said, “Let’s fax this now.”
“Sorry, sir, the fax machine—”
“It’s six o’clock in the morning, pal. The fax machine is not busy.” I came around the counter and helped Mr. Tin into the back room where the fax machine was. I also helped him dial and within a few seconds, the fax was sent. I borrowed matches from Mr. Tin, emptied a trash can on the floor, and burned the fax in the can. I looked at Mr. Tin, who didn’t seem happy with me in his space. I said to him, “Mr. Tin, I’m going to call you later. I want to know if that book arrived for me. Biet?”
He nodded.
I patted him hard on the shoulder, and he stumbled sideways. “Don’t disappear.”
I left the back room, came around the counter, and walked over to where Susan was sitting on a couch. She had her envelope open, and I could see photographs on the coffee table and on her lap.
I sat next to her and said, “Okay, I got the fax off, and I told Mr. Tin I’d call later about…” I looked at the photographs lying on the coffee table. I picked one up. It was a color photograph of a beach, taken from a high elevation on the land side of the beach. It took me a second to recognize the beach at Pyramide Island, and the photo had been taken from the pyramid rocks where the bird’s nest collectors had been climbing.
I picked up the photograph that had first caught my eye and saw it was a grainy image of Susan walking out of the water, obviously taken with a telephoto lens. It was a full frontal nude and there I was in the background, still in the water.
I looked at a few other photos — Susan and me embracing in the water, Susan talking to the Swedish couple, and me lying facedown in the sand while Susan sat on my butt. I put the pictures down and looked at her. She had a faraway look on her face, staring out at nothing.
I said, “I’m going to kill that son of a bitch.”
She didn’t reply or move.
“Susan? Look at me.”
She took a deep breath, then another, and said, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“All right…” I gathered up the photos and put them in the envelope. I stood. “Ready to go?”
She nodded, but didn’t stand. She said softly, “That bastard.”
“He’s an asshole,” I agreed. “A sneaky, perverted, sadistic, sick little shit.”
She didn’t reply.
“Okay, let’s go.” I took her arm and lifted her up. She stood motionless for a second then said, “That bastard… why did he do that?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She looked at me and said, “He could mail those pictures to Bill.”
Actually, the pictures were already on the way, and not just to Bill.
Susan said, “And my office…”
“Let’s go.” I took her arm, but she wasn’t moving.
She said, “And… my friends here… my family… the police have my home address in Lenox… my office in New York…”