The Shadow of Arms (64 page)

“We made it. From here, we'll head straight to our base. Good-bye. Long live Vietnamese Liberation!”

With the break of the new day, a state of emergency was declared for the entire city of Da Nang and its environs. The questioning at checkpoints became more intense and barricades were set up at every corner in the city. American soldiers were not allowed to leave their bases unless they were armed. The American headquarters belatedly realized that the enemy had commenced its usual rainy season offensive. The attack on the air base had destroyed two Phantom jets and burned up the conex box. The operation had been a major success. Pham Minh purposely went in to his air force unit the next morning and took part in the repair work on the runway. Later, when he returned to the office, Nguyen Thach told him to take a few days off and get some rest at home. Thach was clearing off his desk before heading out to make a detailed report to the district committee.

“How are you?” said a familiar voice.

Thach saw a pair of silver mirrored sunglasses as Toi stepped in through the door. Outside it was still raining. Toi removed his glasses, put them in the case hanging on his belt, and plopped down on the couch across from Thach's desk. Wearing a look of displeasure, Thach gazed at him.

“What business brought you here?”

“Ah, I was just passing by and stopped in to see how your business is going.”

Thach frowned. “As you can see, my brother is getting so prosperous that I'm washing my hands of my old business,” said Thach, looking around his own office as if it were a strange place. “What can I do for you? I was about to leave.”

Toi glared back at him, squinting his one good eye.

“I've come to talk something over with you. Because I can't make up my mind.”

Nguyen Thach looked over at Toi with a blank expression.

“I've come across certain information recently.” Toi continued. “That young man, Major Pham's younger brother, has he already gone home?”

“Get to the point.”

“All right. I discovered that you and he are the ones in charge of NLF supplies in Da Nang.”

“Is that all? I suppose you'll want a list of all the merchants dealing with the NLF? I advise you to go out into the market and ask around. Everybody will cooperate with you, I'm sure.”

Toi sneered. “You won't get away with such a predictable answer. They're just merchants, but you two are NLF cell members. I know you're constantly siphoning war supplies intended for the militias. What are you up to at the
nuoc mam
factory down in the fish market? What do you have inside those urns?”

Thach raised his hand to cut Toi off. “That's enough. What is it you're after?”

“Fifty thousand dollars. In mainland cash.”

“You don't expect me to have that kind of money here now? Besides, that work is my brother's. I had no choice but to help him. He's been a member of the revolutionary party from way back.”

“Really? Even better. He can easily cough up ten truckloads of cinnamon. And I suppose Major Pham is his partner for these deals?”

“I can have the money ready by this time tomorrow, what do you say?”

Toi snickered. “You think you can fool me with such childish gibberish? Then you could clean up all the evidence overnight. Don't worry, I know very well. I can't arrest you yet. Why not write me a promissory note? Then I'll give you until tomorrow.”

Nguyen Thach stared at him for a long while and then reached to open a drawer in the desk.

“Don't do anything rash.”

In a flash Toi pulled out his .38 and leveled it at him. Calmly, Thach took out a paper and wrote on it. Then he signed and even sealed the note before handing it over to Toi.

“Will this do?”

Toi scrutinized the note and then stepped backward.

“If you fail to pay, I'll use this to open an investigation on you. The Vietnamese secret police can make even a stone spill its guts.”

Nguyen Thach remained seated at his desk even after he heard Toi's Jeep pull away. He lit a cigarette and smoked it all the way down to the filter. Then he picked up the telephone. On the other end was Pham Minh.

“Minh? It's me, Nguyen Thach. We've had a mishap. Yes, rather serious. Keep out of sight today. No time for that. Don't hang around the fish market, and report back to me by phone later. I'm sure we'll solve the problem soon. If not, your duty can continue under someone else. Anyway, nothing to be too alarmed about. I'll contact you soon.”

Suddenly his motions became very swift. He dumped everything out of his desk, and sorted out the papers from the small memos to the receipts. Then he checked the time. It was seven. On a clear day it would have been twilight, but outside it was already dark.

Toi arrived at his home, located off Le Loi Boulevard near the new market, around nine o'clock. He'd had a few drinks at the Bamboo Club and was in an exuberant mood. The lights were all out except in the living room. There was no answer when he rang the doorbell. Had everyone gone to sleep? Grumbling, he gave a light kick to the wooden gate on the side of the house. It swung open without a sound. Still grumbling, he unlatched the door and went into the house. The moment he entered, he found the muzzle of a gun pressed right against his forehead.

“So, in the habit of coming home drunk? Nice leisurely life you have
here.”

Meeting these jeers, Toi quickly peered about. A man was sitting in the chair right in front of him, another stood in the doorway to the interior, and the third was holding the gun on him. All three were armed.

“Who are you people?”

“Shut up! Get down on your knees!”

The man next to Toi forced him to kneel in front of the seated figure.

“My family . . .” Toi stammered.

“Don't worry. They're all in the back room. Who do you suppose we are?”

“NLF.”

“Not bad. And what do you do for a living? You're a traitor. We're here to hold a summary court-martial. First, after finishing your military duty as a conscript, you volunteered to work for enemy intelligence headquarters. Worse, that enemy is a foreign power. Second, ignoring the struggle of all the people of Vietnam today, you've been spying on and disrupting the historical mission of the NLF. Finally, you used the fruits of your treachery to try to extort money from a patriot and you threatened his life. Therefore, in the name of the People of Vietnam, the Quang Nam District Committee of the National Liberation Front hereby sentences you to death.”

Having spoken thus, the man turned and looked in turn at the two others. Both repeated the word “death,” as if to underscore it. Toi had no time even to attempt any excuses. The man in front of him spoke again.

“We shall make no compromises with a shameless scoundrel like you. Because ours is the righteous path.”

The man standing beside Toi swung his arm, and Toi's mouth fell all the way open. Then he looked down at his own belly and fell sideways. A sharpened bamboo stick was jammed deep into his stomach. They had followed the method of execution used by the guerrillas out in the villages. After searching Toi's fallen body and retrieving the note, they quickly fled from the house. Across the street, a van turned on its headlights and they got inside. Nguyen Thach drove away. One of the men handed him the piece of paper.

“Tear it up,” said Thach.

“What next, sir?”

“I guess it's time to go underground,” Nguyen Thach answered brightly.

It was nine forty-five when the Korean investigation office received a call from the police. The recently arrived new chief sergeant took the call and then shouted, “I think they're looking for you, sir.”

“All right, I'll take it in my office,” the captain replied.

A few moments later the captain came back out, searching for Ahn Yong Kyu.

“Get dressed and get your weapon. And you, Sergeant, better come with us.”

“Sir? What about the boys . . . ?”

“The three of us will do. Toi's been murdered.”

“What?!”

“That was the police, calling from the scene.”

Yong Kyu picked up a semi-automatic carbine with a folding aluminum stock that had belonged to the old chief sergeant. He also grabbed two clips, each holding thirty rounds.

“Where?”

“His house.”

There were three Vietnamese police cars parked in front of Toi's house. When they rushed inside, a familiar police chief saluted the captain. Toi's wife, his children and his old mother were all huddled together crying. Yong Kyu stayed in the hall, looking down at Toi's corpse. It was the first time he saw Toi's face up close without those mirrored mercury sunglasses. His mouth was gaping widely as though he were howling with laughter. His blind eye stared into space. The bamboo spear had been pulled from his body and lay beside him, drenched in blood like some living thing.

“It was guerrillas, sir. According to the wife, they broke into the house at around 2000, vaulting the fences from three sides. Then, she said, they held a summary court-martial. The crime they charged him with was helping you people. They also said the victim had tried to blackmail them.”

After listening to the report, Yong Kyu said to the captain, “I know who killed him. Let's go and get him.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

In a fury, Yong Kyu pointed out through the gate with his carbine and shouted
,
“I say we go and get those VC!”

As Yong Kyu ran outside, the police chief asked the captain, “What's that all about?”

“He told me he knows where the guerrillas are who did this.”

The chief gave orders to two of his policemen and they then hurried
outside
followed by four others. Yong Kyu got in the Jeep, and sat there
without
a
word.

“Where are we headed?” the captain asked Yong Kyu.

“To the fish market, down by the pier.”

The Vietnamese police followed right behind them. When they reached the customs house, Yong Kyu turned and parked the Jeep at the square before the fish market. Empty wooden crates were stacked up everywhere, but there was no sign of people in the rainy streets.

“See
that vacant lot down that alley?” Yong Kyu asked. “By that white
wall
?
They're two entrances, a big door out front and a side door from
that
vacant lot.”

As the captain repeated Yong Kyu's words to the Vietnamese police chief, Yong Kyu dashed ahead into the alley, calling back, “Cover me, Sergeant!”

Yong Kyu crept up next to the door of the factory with the sergeant close behind him. The door opened a little. One at a time they ran inside. Then two policemen followed them in, jumped over some baskets of salt and crates of fish, heading for the middle of the building. Another policeman hit the lights. Two lamps hanging from the ceiling came on. Yong Kyu kicked the door on the side leading to the storeroom. The lamps were pouring light that way, but nothing could be seen except a row of
nuoc mam
urns. From the other side of the storeroom, a policeman opened the door and entered. The captain was looking on from behind them.

“Nobody around?”

“We're too late. Toi and I knew about this place.”

Yong Kyu cracked one of the urns with the butt of his gun. The
nuoc mam
poured out, revealing gun stocks inside. The police chief and his men started breaking the other pots.

“All of them have guns inside,” said Yong Kyu as he walked outside.

“Why hadn't you reported this yet?” asked the captain.

“We were conducting a secret investigation, sir. Call in some reinforcement, please.”

“Call the Americans?”

“Never mind. I'll speak to him.” Yong Kyu went over to talk to the police chief who was enthusiastically smashing a row of urns.

“There's another houseful of guerrillas across from Bai Bang. Call in some reinforcement.”

“Right. We'll go together.”

They went back out to the parked vehicles. The police chief radioed to his headquarters. A short while later, two trucks arrived with backup police power.

“Divide up the forces and send some to Nguyen Cuong Company in old Le Loi market,” said Yong Kyu. “Have them also search the car repair shop behind the store. Now, follow us with the rest of your men.”

After crossing the smokestack bridge, they sped toward Bai Bang. The rain was pouring down on the windshields.

“You should have filled me in before you went off duty,” said the captain to Yong Kyu, looking straight ahead.

His hands locked on the steering wheel, Yong Kyu was peering at the shafts of rain frozen in mid-air by the Jeep's headlights.

“I didn't want to take the responsibility . . .”

“But now, have you changed your mind?”

“Toi was my partner, sir.”

What Yong Kyu was feeling then was entirely different from what he had felt at Stapley's death. He had no way to identify with Stapley's behavior. There had been no choice for him. Toi's death, however, was a disgrace, like the ends of Korean soldiers whose limbs had been lopped off, or whose remains were carried off as heaps of ashes. Yong Kyu seemed angry with himself for feeling self-pity. Something hot was running down his face. I'm exhausted, Yong Kyu murmured to himself. His throat was throbbing.

Yong Kyu had only been to that alley once, but he remembered it well. He parked the car on the edge of the market on a street lined by small shops. As he got out the Jeep, the police chief came up to him.

“Their base is in the Banh Hao store.”

“Where is it?”

“In the middle of these shops. In back of the store there's a warehouse and a residence.”

They crept up stealthily. The police chief led his men around to the house in the rear, and Yong Kyu and the captain, with a few policemen, gathered out front by the shuttered windows of the store. There was a wooden door in front, reinforced with tin sheets. Realizing there was no other way inside, they began to crack the shutters with their boots and rifle butts. The wood splintered noisily and the glass behind the shutters broke into pieces.