And off we went. I glanced at the note that Colonel Mang had given me. It was a long sentence in Vietnamese, except for the words Paul Brenner. I also recognized the word My—American. Colonel Mang had signed the note with his full name, which was Nguyen Qui Mang, followed by his rank, dai-ta. These Nguyens got around. Anyway, the stamp on the note was a red star with a few words, including phong quan ly nguoi nuoc ngoai. I put the paper in my pocket, pretty pissed off about having to carry around a note from the fuzz.
It was a few minutes after nine, and within ten minutes, I was back at the Rex.
I walked into the lobby, and there was Susan Weber, sitting in a chair facing the door, wearing navy blue slacks, walking shoes, and a tan cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She saw me, stood, and moved quickly toward me, as though we were lovers meeting for a tryst.
Neither of us wanted to be overdramatic, so we just took each other’s hand without any hugging or smooching. She said, “How did it go?”
“Fine. I’m free to roam. How’d you do with the ticket?”
“I’ve got you booked on the train to Nha Trang.”
“Great. You’re terrific.”
“But the ticket isn’t here yet, and it’s a 10:15 departure.”
“How far is the station?”
“About twenty minutes, this time of day. So, what did Colonel Mang say?”
“I’m re-educated.”
She smiled. “Did you keep your smart mouth shut?”
“I tried. He said the prostitutes, the drugs, the karaoke bars, and you would soon be history.” I added, “Not you by name, of course.”
“You know, it doesn’t have to be one or the other.”
“It does, if you’re Colonel Mang. He’s got a serious double-think problem going in his head, and I’m afraid he may have a nervous breakdown. Meanwhile, when is my ticket going to arrive?”
“Any moment. And thank you for that snow globe. Is that for me?”
“Yes. It’s not much, but you don’t need much.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
“Precisely.” I said, “I’ve got to settle my bill here—”
“It’s done.”
“That wasn’t necessary.”
“It could have been, and now you have time to tell me about the twenty-dollar massage charge.” She smiled.
“I overtipped.” We let that one go, and I said, “Colonel Mang wants your travel agent to call him tout de suite and report in.” I added, “Sorry if that causes a problem. He insisted.”
“That’s okay. Vidotour reports everything, but the private travel agents don’t, unless they’re specifically told to. I’ll call her.”
“Does Bill use the same travel agent?”
“Sometimes. Why?”
“Because he was the one who called the travel agent on my behalf. I didn’t want to use your name.”
“Oh… well… it doesn’t matter. I’ll call him and straighten it out.”
“Tell him I thank him for getting me out of Saigon. That will make him happy.”
She didn’t respond to that and said, “Did Colonel Mang give you any sort of note, or anything in writing?”
I showed her my note from Colonel Mang and asked, “What’s it say?”
She looked at it and gave it back to me. “It says, ‘Register the address of Paul Brenner, American, and his arrival and departure, and means of transportation to and from your location.’ ”
I nodded. What the note didn’t say was, “Report this to the Security Police,” but that was understood.
Susan said, “It used to be common for Westerners to register with the Immigration Police. You used to need a travel permit in addition to your passport and visa. Travel has become less restrictive in the last few years.”
“Not for me.”
“Apparently not. Let me make a few calls.” She added, “Maybe someone can get a fix on Colonel Nguyen Qui Mang.”
She walked off toward the door where the signal would be better and made a few calls. I hate to leave other people holding the bag for me, and I never do that in my private life, but when I’m on an assignment, Rule Number One is the mission comes first, and Paul Brenner comes second, and everyone else is last. That didn’t include Susan, of course, and probably shouldn’t have included Bill Stanley. It was no big deal, anyway, though I noticed that Susan seemed a little concerned or maybe annoyed.
Susan returned from her cell phone calls and said, “It’s all straightened out.”
“And Bill was pleased that I gave his name to Colonel Mang?”
She said, “You could have used my name.”
“No, I couldn’t have. I don’t want Colonel Mang questioning you and finding inconsistencies in my conversation with him.”
“I thought you were being chivalrous.”
“Spell that.”
I noticed a kid of about twelve coming through the door. Susan walked over to him and said something. He gave her an envelope, she gave him a tip, then said something to my friend Lan, and motioned me toward the door.
Things started to move fast now, and Susan and I were out on the sidewalk. She said, “That’s my taxi, and your bags are in the trunk. Let’s move.”
We got into the taxi, and Susan spoke to the driver, and off we went.
I said to her, “You don’t have to come to the station—”
“It will go much faster if I’m with you, unless you’ve learned to read and speak Vietnamese in the last few hours.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll take the ticket.”
“I’ll hold it. I need to show it at the station. You don’t actually have a seat, but I got you a car number. It’s a second-class coach and will be filled with Viets, any one of whom will give up his seat for five bucks, and stand. You can’t do that in First Class because they’re mostly Westerners, and they’ll tell you to fuck off. Okay?”
I said to Susan, “When you get back to your office, I need you to fax or e-mail my firm and tell them I’m off to Nha Trang. Tell them Colonel Mang wants me to report to the Immigration Police there, but I don’t believe the mission is compromised, though I may be under surveillance. Okay?”
She stayed quiet a moment, then said, “I thought they’d be on pins and needles waiting to hear the outcome of your meeting, so I called the consulate when I made those other calls. I kept it short, in case the call was monitored. I got hold of the guy there who knows about this. I think he’s the resident CIA guy. I just said, ‘He’s free to travel. Wire his firm.’ Okay?”
I thought about this and said, “Okay. But you e-mail or fax them with a full report when you get to the office.”
“Will do.”
The train station was north of the center, and within fifteen minutes we pulled up near the entrance amid dozens of taxis, buses, and swarms of people.
Susan gave the driver a five, and we got out as he popped the trunk. I pulled my bags out of the trunk and noticed a big yellow backpack in the trunk. Susan pulled it out and slammed the trunk closed, then put on the backpack. She said, “Okay, let’s move.”
“Uh… hold on.”
“Come on, Paul. We’ll miss the train.”
We? I followed her into the station, pulling my suitcase through the big central terminal. Susan looked at the display board and said, “Track 5. That’s this way. Let’s move.”
We hurried across the open area crowded with travelers, and I said, “We can say good-bye here.”
She replied, “I hate good-byes.”
“Susan—”
“I feel responsible for getting you to Nha Trang. Then you’re on your own. Okay?”
I didn’t reply.
We got to the track, and Susan showed the woman at the gate two tickets. They exchanged some words, Susan gave her a dollar, and the woman waved us through.