Up Country (60 page)

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?”

He turned to Susan, who said something to him in Vietnamese. He nodded and looked back at me. “Interesting expression. But I am not a dog.”

I resisted a reply.

He said, “I had the impression from Mr. Stanley’s faxes to Miss Weber at the Grand Hotel that your affair was not so clandestine.”

I replied, “Which is why we’re trying to avoid Mr. Stanley.”

“Yes? Is the CIA station chief so stupid that you think you can avoid him by staying in a mini-motel for one night, then checking into a hotel that almost all Westerners use?” He added, “I may have believed you were trying to avoid Mr. Stanley if you had stayed for your entire time in Hue at the mini-motel where they do not ask for passports or visas.”

“Right. We should have done that. Anything else?”

“Yes. How does your lady friend, Kay, know of your involvement with Miss Weber? And why is this lady friend warning you against this involvement?”

“Why don’t you stop reading my mail?”

“It is my job to read your mail, Mr. Brenner. Answer my question.”

This was an easy one, and despite my anger at Colonel Mang’s snooping, I replied, “I faxed her from Nha Trang about my new romance, and I believe she’s jealous. I assume you know something about women, Colonel, so you understand. Also, your question is another example of your barking up the wrong tree.”

“Is it? Then let me ask you a question about your fax response to Kay.
You said, ‘If you sleep with the enemy, you know where they are at night.’” He looked at Susan, then me, and asked, “So, is this lady here the enemy you referred to?”

I glanced at Susan, then looked back at Mang and replied, “It’s an idiomatic expression. You should not take all the English you hear or read literally.”

“Yes? Well, I thank you, Mr. Brenner, for that lesson.”

“You’re quite welcome. And stop reading my mail.”

“I find it interesting. You also said in your response to Kay . . . let me try to recall . . .” He recited the last paragraph verbatim, “‘The long shadows of the past do indeed still stretch from here to there, but the shadows in my mind and in my heart are fading, so if you don’t hear from me for a long time, know that I have found what I was looking for, and that I have no personal regrets about this journey. My love to C.’”

I didn’t look at Susan, but kept staring at Colonel Mang. I didn’t mind too much that he was trying to stick me with a capital offense, but he was making my love life more difficult than it already was.

Colonel Mang asked, “Why would Kay not hear from you for a long time? And what is it that you found here that you were looking for?”

I took a deep breath and replied, “I have found inner peace and happiness.”

“Yes? Where? At Khe Sanh? The A Shau Valley? Hue? Here?”

“You’re upsetting my karma, Colonel. Change the subject.”

“You do not like any of my subjects.”

“Try again.”

“Perhaps I should try at police headquarters in Hanoi.”

“Fine. Let’s go.”

He didn’t understand bluffing very well, and he seemed surprised. He cleared his throat and said, “In due time, Mr. Brenner.”

I looked at my watch.

He said, “Am I keeping you from an appointment?”

“You’re keeping me from my dinner.”

He ignored that and asked Susan, “Are you married to another American?”

She replied, “Why don’t you check my work visa application?”

“I did. You stated you were unmarried.”

“Then there’s your answer.”

He added, “And there seems to be no evidence of a husband in your apartment.” He smiled.

Susan stared at him. I mean, this is the lady who had a little fit when she realized someone had been in her hotel room in Nha Trang. Now she finds out that Colonel Mang has been through her apartment. She took a deep breath and said something to him in Vietnamese. It was a short sentence, in a soft voice, but whatever she said, Colonel Mang’s face tightened like someone was sticking something up his ass. I had requested that the conversation be in English, but sometimes you need to use the native language to say, “Fuck you, asshole.”

I looked at Colonel Mang, who was undoubtedly thinking ahead to a time when he could speak to us separately with the help of electric shocks to the genitals and breasts.

I was waiting for him to ask me about New Year’s Eve at the Phams’, or Sunday, New Year’s Day, with Mr. Anh, but he wasn’t asking, which worried me more than if he had. It occurred to me that if Colonel Mang were
very
clever, he’d be purposely giving me the impression he was barking up the wrong tree regarding the FULRO. In fact, he may know something about my real purpose here, though there was no way he could know—except if he’d arrested Mr. Anh.

I actually wanted him to ask me about Saturday and Sunday, but instead, he brought up a much worse subject. He looked directly at me and played his trump card. He said, “Eventually we will discover how you traveled from Nha Trang to Hue. We will also discover if you have any knowledge of an automobile accident that occurred on Highway One outside Nha Trang, in which two police officers were killed.”

I looked him right in the eye and said, “Colonel, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. But you’ve accused me of everything from itinerary violations to sexual misdeeds, spying, being in contact with the FULRO, and now something about an automobile accident. This is outrageous. I won’t stand here one more second and listen to this.”

I took Susan’s arm and walked away.

Colonel Mang shouted, “Stop! Do not take one more step.”

I let go of Susan’s arm and walked directly up to Colonel Mang, very close.

We looked into each other’s eyes, and he said to me in a quiet voice, “I could shoot both of you right here and now, and throw your bodies into that moat for the dogs to eat.”

“You could try. But you’d better be very fast with your gun if you’re going to stand this close to me.”

Colonel Mang took a step back, and I took a step toward him. He reached for his gun, and Susan shouted, “No!” She yelled something in Vietnamese, rushed toward us, and grabbed my arm, trying to pull me away from Mang.

I looked over Colonel Mang’s shoulder and saw the two goons running across the field.

Colonel Mang took another step back, heard the sounds of running footsteps behind him, and motioned for the two men to stop, which they did.

He took another step back and said to both of us, “You have threatened an officer of the Socialist Republic, and for that I could arrest you and have you imprisoned for ten years.” He looked at Susan, “Correct?”

Susan replied, “You don’t need an excuse or a charge, and you know it.”

He looked at her and said, “You have been in this country for far too long, Miss Weber. It may be time for you to leave.”

My sentiments exactly.

But Susan replied, “I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave.”

“You will leave when I have you expelled.”

“Go ahead and try it.”

He glared at her and said, “In fact, Miss Weber, it may be time for your whole company to leave.”

She sort of smirked and said, “My company, Colonel, has more influence in Hanoi than you do.”

Colonel Mang did not like this. I could almost see him pining for the days when a pistol shot in the head resolved annoying problems. But there was a new reality out there, and neither Colonel Mang nor I completely understood it.

Colonel Mang took a deep breath and said to Susan, “Hanoi is a long distance from Ho Chi Minh City. If you stay, Miss Weber, your pleasant life in your expensive apartment with your servants, and your illegal motorcycle, and your evenings at the Q-Bar will no longer be as pleasant or peaceful.” He smiled and added, “In fact, I think you should stay in Vietnam.”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

We had really pissed this guy off, and I knew he had some parting words for me, which I hoped were, “Mr. Brenner, your visa is canceled. Go home.” Okay.

He turned to me, smiled wickedly, and said, “Have a pleasant and safe journey to Hanoi. I may see you there. But perhaps not.”

“I plan to be there.”

He looked again at Susan and said to her, “Remove the film from your camera and give it to me.”

“I will not.”

He motioned to the two men behind him, and they came forward. Pushy and I made eye contact, and he smiled.

I said to Susan, “Give him the film.”

She hesitated, took the camera from her tote bag, and instead of taking out the film, she snapped a picture of Colonel Mang. This was not a Kodak moment.

He shouted, “The film! Now!”

She opened the camera, ripped the partially exposed film out, and threw it on the ground.

Pushy retrieved it, and he looked up at Susan with an expression of surprise, bordering on awe, as if to say, “You don’t fuck with a colonel in the MPS, lady. You nuts?”

Colonel Mang decided to break off the confrontation while he was ahead on points. He looked at me and said, “You and I, Mr. Brenner, survived many brutal battles here. It would be very ironic if you did not survive your vacation.”

My thoughts exactly.

He turned and walked away across the desolate field with his two henchmen. Pushy turned his head toward us as he walked and made a cutting motion across his throat.