The Shadow of Arms (47 page)

“We haven't yet reached any agreement, have we?” Kiem said, with great composure.

“I am Major Pham's brother. Presently I'm in charge of all the traffic in goods at the Nguyen Cuong Company, one of the business contacts of the provincial office. Just like my brother, I have a full grasp of the content of the dealings being made by the office. You have no idea whether the outgoing goods are reaching the actual hamlet sites or are being siphoned away en route. That is no business of yours, but if you knew about it in advance, you'd know all the vital parts of the general's and the aide-de-camp's operations. Of course, it'll only be possible if you cooperate with me. That is one of the main reasons why you and I need to cooperate.

“What's more, you can have some independence in supervising the affairs of establishing the militias. You can make safer deals by doing business with the same dealers your superiors are already dealing with. But it'll be bad if your superiors also have a grasp of your dealings. I'm confident I can cut off Nguyen Cuong. In a way, you and I are in the same kind of positions here in Da Nang, don't you think? That's another important reason. And as for the third important reason, I'll tell you that when you've decided to be my partner.”

Pham Minh refilled both of their glasses. Then he held his up to eye level. “What do you say? To our partnership!”

Kiem raised his glass as well. “Fine. To our partnership!”

They clinked their glasses together and simultaneously drained them in a single gulp. Kiem spoke. “To set up the militias, they will be supplied with training allowances, rice, salaries, and an large amount of military equipment. But I'll have to get the cooperation of Colonel Cao, the police superintendent, and the training corps liaison officer.”

“We only need to get a monopoly on certain items and distribute the rest.”

“Which items? What do you mean?”

“Weapons and ammunition,” Pham Minh said.

“Why, then . . .
”
Lieutenant Kiem looked behind him to see if anyone could overhear them, then he leaned over the table and said in a whisper, “Isn't that stuff traded with the NLF?”

“So? What's wrong with that?” Pham Minh didn't let the lieutenant answer and continued. “Do you mean to tell me you thought those construction materials, that rice and the rest of the supplies would go straight to the hamlets under strict control of Saigon? From the beginning of this war, the materiel brought in from France and America has been used by the North as well as the South. Those who profited from the trade are long gone from this hell. Even if you and I don't do this, someone else will. Within two or three years, you and my brother will be transferred to another post. If you don't boost your strength now, you'll end up as a platoon commander in some small village or as a chief of militia back in the jungle somewhere, eating rations of fish and rice and eking out each day wondering when you'll be struck down from behind. Or, perhaps you'll dig out a channel and slip down to Saigon or escape to another foreign country. If we can drum up a ghost population of about two thousand, the things supplied to those souls—weapons, salaries, training allowances, death payments, rice, ammunition, and so on—will keep us fully supplied for our business dealings. And that's not all. Nothing changes as drastically as military manpower. Nobody will bother to travel to those remote hamlets to do head counts to confirm the requisition quantities you record.”

It seemed unlikely Kiem would be surprised again. He busied himself for a while calculating in his mind the level of padding of manpower rosters he could get away with. “We'll discuss this further as we go along,” he said.

“I thought you'd see it my way.”

They looked at one another and laughed.

“What are the terms of the partnership?” Kiem asked.

“Half the profits are yours. And we divide up the profits at the close of each deal. What do you say?”

“No argument.”

“I've already clarified the two necessary and sufficient reasons for you and I to cooperate, haven't I?”

“Yes. If I'm not mistaken, the first was, when you and I cooperate, each
with detailed information on the dealings of the provincial office, I'll have a good grip on my superiors' vitals. The second was that I, as Major Pham's man, and you as his brother, are in identical key positions in Da Nang and
so are natural allies. As for the third, you said you'd tell me only after I
agreed to be your partner. So, tell me now, what is it?”

“I have connections . . . with the NLF.” Pham Minh spoke in a barely audible whisper.

Kiem calmly asked, “Have you joined the NLF?”

“No
...
I'm a deserter from that side. And as for this side, I bought my way out of duty. In a sense, I've been separated from both the Saigon and Hanoi sides. But I still have connections with the NLF in Da Nang. So, you can safely turn your goods into cash through this partner. That's the third reason that makes our partnership most desirable.”

“I see that now.”

The waiter came up and said gravely, “Here's the check. Sorry, but it's closing time.”

“Ah, we should leave.”

Pham Minh paid the bill and said to the waiter, “Give us five more minutes, will you?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Minh took a sealed envelope out of his back pocket and placed it on the table.

“Here's a hundred thousand piasters,” Minh said, pushing the envelope toward Lieutenant Kiem. “You can consider it as an advance against profits from our coming deals. I just wanted you to have it as a token to seal our partnership.”

“Well, it makes me a little uncomfortable—”

Pham Minh didn't let Kiem finish. “If you insist . . . we can set the prices for various items and commence our deals from next week.”

“On what basis will we decide the prices?”

“Naturally, we'll observe the going rates in Saigon.”

“Good.”

Minh did not remove his eyes from Kiem as the latter picked up the envelope and stuck it in the upper pocket of his uniform, then got up from his seat. When they parted at the front door of Guangzhou Restaurant, Pham Minh held out his hand and said, “I'm counting on you.”

“Glad to have met you.”

The lieutenant drove away in a Jeep with official license plates. Minh stood for a while in front of the Chinese restaurant. Nguyen Thach approached him from behind.

“Looks like you worked it out. Well done.”

“Can we trust him?”

“He took the money, didn't he?”

“Yes. He was quite calm about it.”

“A hundred thousand is his salary for a whole year, even if such a sum means nothing to the American soldiers.”

“Mentioning the NLF was the moment of truth,” Pham Minh said.

“He's already cast his lot. Now, let's get back to Le Loi Boulevard”

Starting the engine, Thach added, “If Kiem had refused the money, I would've had no choice but to shoot him.”

On the outskirts of the city, with the fall of night, as always, came the sound of gunfire and heavy artillery. Formations of helicopters flitted through the sky. Along Doc Lap Boulevard, Puohung Street, and White Ivory Street, lined with government offices and large buildings, there were a few vehicles but no trace of pedestrians. Even so, the small tearooms and bars exclusively for the local Vietnamese population were sometimes packed until late with young men and women who had nowhere else to go. For a few months after the Tet Offensive, there had been a lull in attacks in the city, apart from the usual assaults mounted by the guerrillas native to the environs.

The American side could not mount any major offensives, either. The general impression that the war was under the control of the US military and the ARVN had been completely shattered since the previous spring. Now, the US presidential election was set for November, and Johnson had just announced that he would not be seeking re-election. It seemed that for the time being the US forces preferred to maintain the status quo and preferred not to mount any vigorous new initiatives.

The entertainment districts of Da Nang began to blossom like the old days. The newspapers even began to talk optimistically about the biggest boom since the beginning of the war.

Lei was sitting at Café Hoitim. The entire place—interior, curtains, and tablecloths—was done up in a violet color scheme, perhaps reflecting the café's name. It was a drinking establishment where all refreshments, from American canned beer to Vietnamese flower wine, were sold by the glass. Coffee, tea, and lemonade were also available, of course. The patrons, high school seniors, students from the technical college, young teachers, office workers, and a smattering of soldiers, were thronging in small scattered groups, talking loudly and laughing. The unwritten code of the place was that anyone who brought up the subject of the war or politics could, at the request of any other customer, be asked to make a graceful exit.

Sitting across from Lei were Chan Te Shoan and Tran Van Phuoc. Lei and Phuoc were drinking coffee, but Shoan was already having her third glass of flower wine over ice.

“Shoan, what if you get drunk?” Lei asked, concerned.

“She'll be all right,” Phuoc said. “I might have some myself. If it gets too late, you two can sleep at my house. It's only a block away.”

“No, I couldn't. My family would worry.”

“I'll call and explain it to them for you later.”

Lei and Phuoc ceased their exchange when they noticed that Shoan was quietly crying, her head leaning against the wall.

“Shoan . . .”

“What's wrong, Shoan?”

Shoan took a handkerchief from her bag and quickly wiped her cheeks. “Why ask what you already know?”

Phuoc whispered in Lei's ear, “We're seniors. After graduation exams, we'll be through with school. Those qualified for college will go to Hue or Saigon, but I wonder how many of us will go? Technical colleges and commercial schools are only for boys. In Da Nang most families arrange for daughters to be engaged when they are seniors, and marriage comes as soon as you graduate.”

Lei asked Shoan, “Sister, is your family pressuring you to get engaged?”

“No, not really,” Shoan replied, smiling bitterly.

“Yes, really,” Phuoc said. “I'm so sick and tired of it. I've already had to see men found by a matchmaker. I was embarrassed to death. I'm pestering my father to let me slip away to Hue.”

“Is Minh at home?” Shoan asked Lei.

She nodded feebly. “Yes, but he's changed.”

Phuoc snorted. “Phew, that coward!”

“Are you done?” Outraged, Lei pushed her chair back and got up to leave. Phuoc grabbed her hand.

“Dear, dear, sit down please. My mistake. I'm sorry.”

“Sit down, Lei.”

At Shoan's entreaty Lei sat back down, her lips in a pout.

“I apologize,” Phuoc went on. “But remember how proud you were when you told us that Mr. Pham Minh had gone off into the jungle? I mean, our seniors in high school . . . have you thought about them? Boys who left to fight for the Liberation Front, and those girls . . . I was only saying what I honestly felt.”

“I understand how you feel, Sister, I do.” Lei suppressed an urge to burst into tears and instead blew her nose fiercely.

“Stop it, you two. Let's go to my house. I'll call your families.”

Phuoc urged Lei and Shoan to get moving. The three of them left the cafe and walked toward the beach. From a club somewhere they could hear the roar of American soldiers yelling and singing. Phuoc led the way, followed by Lei and Shoan, whose gait was a bit unsteady from the drinks.

“Are you all right?” Lei asked, supporting Shoan.

“Yes, the cool breeze makes me feel much better.”

They
were walking along the tree-lined road heading toward the
customs house.

“Sister, would you like to see my brother?”

“I don't know . . .” Shoan turned to face the dark ocean, as if she was afraid she might cry again.

“He showed no sign of it, but I think he's hoping that you'll come first to see him.”

“The truth is . . . I may get engaged to someone else.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“My father does keep pushing me,” Shoan said, with her head down. “Mother
knows how I feel, but Father is different.”

“But it's something that happens to everyone in the graduating class.”

“I've already refused many times, but this time my father is very firm.”

Lei held Shoan's hand tightly. “Sister, let me talk to my brother. I think he feels so ashamed for having left the NLF. That's why he avoids talking to anyone in the family.”

The three girls reached Phuoc's house. The German shepherd barked loudly. Phuoc pushed open the iron gate, muttering, “All that stupid dog does is bark, day and night. Gene, it's me, me! Stop barking!”

A light came on in the front hall and Phuoc's younger brother stuck his head through the open door.

“Is that you, Sister?”

“Yeah, and Shoan and Lei are with me.”

They traded hellos and entered the house, where Mrs. Hue greeted them. “Come on in, we have a guest.”

Under the gaze of the girls, a foreigner with a dark complexion stood up and bowed.

“Nice to meet you.”

Phuoc recognized him to be the Korean soldier who had been visiting her family now and then, and the corners of her eyes grew taught.

“Why is that man coming to our house so often?”

“Don't say that, dear. He's Huan's friend and has been very nice to your little brother. I invited him to dinner. His own family is back home in his country, so I figured it'd be nice for him to know something about Vietnamese families, don't you think?”

“They're beasts who kill children.”