Susan said, “Most of the Tet traveling has ended, and everyone is home by now.”
“I’m not. You’re not.” I looked around and said, “I was here once to catch a military flight to An Khe. The flight was full, and I couldn’t get on. The aircraft took off and hit a helicopter rising at the end of the runway. Killed everyone. Makes you wonder.”
Susan didn’t respond.
I looked around and saw armed uniformed guys walking in pairs, and they wore the same kind of uniform that Pushy had worn at Tan Son Nhat. Must be border patrol types. Two of them stopped a Westerner and asked for tickets and identification.
I said to Susan, “Okay, we’ve been here long enough. You and I will take separate taxis to the Century Riverside Hotel. I’ll go first and check in. You follow and try to get a room. If you can’t, just wait in the lobby, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Make it the lounge. I need a drink.”
“Me, too. Where’s the pistol?”
“On my person.”
“Why don’t you go to the ladies’ room, transfer it to your tote, and I’ll take the tote?”
“Why don’t you go catch a taxi?”
“Susan—”
“It’s my gun. If I get stopped and searched, I’ll tell them it’s a cigarette lighter. See you later.”
We stood there a moment, and I said, “Keep low when you pass that police jeep at the gate.”
“I know.”
I didn’t kiss her, I just turned and left the terminal. Outside, there were a few taxis, and I got into one, carrying my luggage, and said to the driver, “Hue. Century Riverside Hotel. Biet?”
He nodded and off we went. As we approached the police jeep, I bent down and tied my shoelace.
It was about ten kilometers to Hue, and we passed through the town of Phu Bai on the way, which I vaguely remembered. In the distance, I could see pagodas and the tombs of the emperors scattered through the low, rolling landscape.
We crossed a stream, and Highway One became Hung Vuong Street. I didn’t know Hue, but I knew of Hue, and I knew that we were in the New City on the east bank of the Perfume River. The old Imperial City was on the opposite bank.
The New City was a pleasant and prosperous-looking place, small in size, but bigger than the last time I’d seen it, which was from a helicopter in 1968, when it was basically a mound of rubble.
Within a few minutes, the taxi pulled into a circular driveway in front of the Century Riverside, which was set back from the street in its own gardens, and was indeed on the river. It was a fairly large, modern structure, five stories high, beautifully landscaped out front with a pond and a fountain. A big gold sign hung over the front doors that read Chuc Mung Nam Moi — Happy New Year.
I deserved this place.
I paid the taxi driver, and a bellboy appeared, who took my suitcase and gave me a receipt. I kept my overnight bag.
A doorman opened the front door and said, “Welcome to the hotel, sir.”
I walked into the big, expansive lobby, which was done in a tasteful modern style. Kumquat trees sat in urns on the floors, and branches of Tet blossoms were in vases.
The long check-in counter was to the left, and I picked the prettiest girl behind the counter and went over to her.
I said, “Checking in. Bond. James Bond.”
I gave her my voucher, and she looked at it, then at me. “You are…?”
“Brenner. Paul Brenner. It’s on the voucher.”
“Oh… sorry.”
She played with her keyboard and looked at her computer screen. I imagined a message in big red letters that said WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE — CALL THE POLICE.
But the pretty lady, whose nametag said Dep, which means pretty, was smiling as she read her screen. She said, “Ah, yes. Mr. Paul Brenner. Welcome to the Century Riverside, Mr. Brenner.”
“Thank you.”
I had the feeling I was a little underdressed, and probably I smelled, and I needed a shave and some toothpaste, but Dep didn’t seem to notice. She asked me, “Did you have a pleasant journey?”
“I had an interesting journey.”
“Yes? Where are you arriving from?”
“Nha Trang.”
“Ah. How is the weather there?”
“Very nice.”
“It’s very cloudy here, I’m afraid. But you might enjoy the cooler weather.”
“I’m sure I will.”
She got all the computer stuff in order and said to me, “We have a very nice suite for you, Mr. Brenner, with a terrace overlooking the river and the Old City.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you been to Hue before?”
“Close. Quang Tri. ’68.”
She looked up at me and said, “Ah.”
“Precisely.”
She asked, “May I see your passport and your visa?”
“You may, but I need them back.”
“Yes, of course. But I need to make a photocopy. Meanwhile, please fill in this registration card.”
I filled in the registration card while Dep turned around and made copies of my visa and passport. She came back to the desk and gave me my documents, and I gave her the registration card.
She said, “You will be staying with us three nights, correct?”
“Correct.” Do I get a refund if I’m arrested before then? I asked her, “By the way, do you have any rooms available?”
She played with her computer and said, “A few. We’re very busy for the holiday.” She found my key and said to me, “If there is anything we can help you with, the concierge is at your service.”
“Thank you. Are there any messages for me?”
“Let me see.”
She turned around and went through a file box. She extracted a big envelope and said, “I believe this is for you.”
I took the envelope and signed for it.
“Your luggage will be up shortly. Suite Six is on the fifth floor. The elevators are right behind you. Have a pleasant stay.”
“Thank you. You’re very pretty. Chuc Mung Nam Moi.”
She smiled, bowed her head and said, “Thank you. And Happy New Year.”
I went to the elevators and pushed UP. I’ve noticed that hotel people, in good hotels, all speak the same language, all over the world. They must be trained in someplace like Switzerland, perfect little androids with clockworks in their heads. And then they’re wound up and released on the world.
The elevator came, and I went up to the fifth floor and found my suite.
It had a large sitting room, and an equally large bedroom, a big bathroom, and sure enough, a terrace that looked out over the river to the Old City on the opposite bank.
The modern furniture looked comfortable, but my standards had dropped so low that I had lost any judgment.
There was a large alcove with a desk, and I sat behind the desk and opened the envelope.
It was a fax, addressed to me. It was from Karl, and it didn’t say Happy New Year.
I glanced at the message and noticed that the words weren’t couched in business jargon, where double entendres are easier to write and to understand. Karl had to use a friendly format because I wasn’t supposed to be here on business; I was a returning vet, a tourist, and Karl knew this fax would be in the hands of the police long before I saw it. Karl had also changed his sex, and was now Kay.
I read: Dear Paul, I hope this finds you well, and that your trip is everything you hoped it would be. Regarding that lady we discussed, I’ve heard that she may be married to another American, so you should be careful of pillow talk, and a jealous husband. As your friend, I advise you to end this relationship. No good will come of it. On a happier note, your Hue itinerary looks good. Hope you are having fun. Let me hear from you. It was signed: Love, Kay.