Up Country (80 page)

Colonel Mang seemed to notice, and he said to Susan, “You are no better than the prostitutes on the streets of Saigon.”

She replied, “I don’t charge.”

“You would be more honest if you did.”

So, having put Susan in her place, he turned his attention back to me and said, “Tran Van Vinh describes an argument between you and Miss Weber. He said she left his house without you, then you left some minutes later. Correct?”

“That’s correct.”

“Why?”

“We disagreed on many things during the journey, and finally disagreed on how best to get to Hanoi.”

He thought about that, then said, “And you both decided to take the train from Lao Cai.”

“I guess so, if we arrived together at Long Bien Station.”

“I knew where you were, and I knew you were going to Hanoi. You were not listed as an airline passenger, so I had the Long Bien Station watched as well as the bus terminal, and of course the Metropole Hotel and the American embassy in the event you took a car or your motorcycle to Hanoi.”

“How did you know we were on the tour bus?”

“Ah. The policeman who boarded the bus observed that the tour guide seemed nervous, but he did not want to cause a problem in front of your compatriots, so we waited.” Colonel Mang informed us, “You may meet the tour guide later in another part of this building.” He smiled and said, “I told you we would meet again in Hanoi.”

“What if we had gone to Ho Chi Minh City instead?”

He seemed happy to answer questions about how good he was at his job, and he replied, “If we were not sitting here, we would be in the same ministry in Ho Chi Minh City. Very little escapes our attention, Mr. Brenner.”

I should have left that alone, but I said, “You have no idea what escapes your attention.”

He smiled again. “You and Miss Weber did not escape my attention. Here you are.”

“You make a point.” I said to him, “The Immigration Police in this country are very relentless, Colonel. We could use such Immigration Police in America.”

He smiled again and replied, “Itinerary violations, illegal means of travel, and visa irregularities are serious matters, Mr. Brenner.”

“They must be to mount a nationwide manhunt for me and Ms. Weber.”

“Are we finished playing games?”

“I hope so. Are you Section A or B?”

He replied, “Section A. The equivalent of your Central Intelligence Agency.”

“Well, next time I come to Vietnam, I’ll apply for my visa earlier.”

He smiled yet again and said, “There will not be a next time.”

“Are we finished?”

“No. And do not ask again.”

I would have looked at my watch, but I remembered where it was.

So, we all sat while Susan, Mang, and the two goons smoked, and I inhaled secondhand smoke, and there wasn’t even a window to open. As if this place wasn’t unhealthy enough, there were old bloodstains on the floor, and the interrogator in the room behind me seemed to enjoy bouncing his guest off the wall, which made the light bulb sway.

Colonel Mang let us listen to the Vietnamese squash game next door for a while, then turned to Susan and asked her, “Why did you send a telex to Mr. Tin at the Century Hotel in Hue?”

Susan replied, “Mr. Brenner loaned his guidebook to a tour guide and
asked that it be returned by Tuesday morning. It wasn’t, and I sent a telex asking if it had arrived. I’m sure you read the telex.”

He didn’t indicate that he had and asked Susan, “And what would you have done if the book was returned to the hotel? Drive back to Hue?”

“Of course not. I would have asked Mr. Tin to send it to us at the Metropole.”

He looked at me and asked, “And who was this guide you gave the book to?”

I think I’d run out of Nguyens, so I said, “I think his name was Mr. Han. A student.”

“Why would you give him your guidebook?”

“He asked to borrow it. Did I break another law?”

Even Colonel Mang saw the humor in that and smiled. Usually, though, when he smiled, it wasn’t a good sign. He said to me, “I have a confession to make.”

“Good, because I don’t.”

He continued, “I had you followed in Hue.”

I didn’t reply, and we all sat there awhile listening to someone being dragged screaming down the hallway. It could have been the tour guide.

Finally Colonel Mang said, “My colleagues lost sight of you, but they did report that your movements were those of a man who thought he was being followed.”

“What did you expect them to say? That I was sitting on a park bench, and they lost sight of me?”

He didn’t like that and turned to Susan. “And the same for you, Miss Weber. You moved in a suspicious manner.”

“I was shopping.”

“Ah, yes. For your disguises.”

“For suitable attire to travel to Dien Bien Phu.” She added, “I can tell you about my shopping in great detail if you’d like to hear about it.”

Neither Colonel Mang nor I warmed to that subject. Also, Mang may have thought he was barking up too many trees. In fact, he wasn’t, but I felt fairly sure that Mr. Anh was safe. But with Colonel Mang, you never knew what surprises he had in store.

He turned to me and asked, “Where is the motorcycle that you bought in Hue?”

“I sold it to an Australian in Lao Cai.”

“What was the name of this man?”

“Woman. Sheila something. Blond, blue-eyed, nice smile.”

Colonel Mang suspected I was jerking him around, but he played the game. He asked, “How much did you pay for it in Hue, and how much did you sell it for?”

“I paid three thousand American, but I could only get five hundred from the Aussie lady in Lao Cai.” I added, “She knew we had to catch a train, and she drove a hard bargain.”

“I see. And did you exchange any paperwork with this lady, or the person in Hue?”

“Colonel, I haven’t seen a sales receipt in this country since I’ve been here.”

He let that go and looked at Susan. “I have found your motorcycle keys in your apartment, but we can’t find your motorcycle. Can you help us?”

“It was stolen.”

“I think it is hidden.”

Susan asked him, “Doesn’t Section A have anything better to do than look for motorcycles?”

“In fact, Miss Weber, we do, which is why you are here.”

“I have no idea why I’m here.”

“You do.”

Susan told him, “I don’t think
you
know, Colonel.”

He informed her, “What I do not know, I always discover from the suspect.” He reminded both of us, “This is only a preliminary interrogation. The next interrogation is what you see and hear in these rooms. The final interrogation is in the basement. At that time, we will return to the subjects of the two policemen who were killed, and the soldiers who were killed, and other subjects, such as motorcycles, which need further explanation.”

I informed Colonel Mang, “Torture is the last resort of a stupid and lazy interrogator. And the confessions are useless.”

He looked at me as if he’d never heard this before, which he probably hadn’t. He asked me, “What do you know about interrogation?”

“I watch a lot of police shows on television.”

“Actually, I have been trying to find out more about you through my embassy in Washington.”

“I don’t know anyone there.”

“I do not like your sarcasm.”

“No one does.”

He returned to the subject of my past life and said, “We discovered that you retired from the American army last September, and that you held the rank of chief warrant officer.”

“I told you that at Tan Son Nhat.”

“But you were not clear about your job.”

“No one in the army is clear about their job.”

“Apparently not, considering your past performance here.”

“We did fine here, Colonel, and you know it. Ask any of your high school classmates.”

Colonel Mang totally lost it and started screaming in Vietnamese, pounded the desk and stood. I actually saw spittle at the corners of his mouth. I had the feeling I shouldn’t have mentioned the war.

He ran around the desk and came at me. I stood, but before I could re-act, both goons had me in an armlock. Colonel Mang slapped me across the face, and I spun out of the grasp of the two goons, who weren’t very strong, and one of them went down. The other came at me again, and Susan stood and kicked my stool in front of his legs. He fell face down on the floor, and Mang and I squared off.

Before I could take him apart, the two goons scampered across the floor toward a wall, pulled their pistols, and began shouting.

Colonel Mang said something to them, then unexpectedly left the room. I guess he had to take a piss or something.

Susan said to me, “Paul, the fucking reception.”

One of the goons spoke sharply to Susan in Vietnamese, and she said to me, “He says sit and shut up. If we move, or talk, he’ll shoot us.”

So, we sat with the two goons behind us, holding their pistols pointed at us. If they were closer, I’d have both pistols in five seconds, but they kept their distance.

The banging around in this room hadn’t attracted any particular attention because of the banging around in the other rooms. Colonel Mang hadn’t closed the door when he left, and I heard a lot of slapping going on down the hall.

We sat for about five minutes before Colonel Mang returned. He had two more armed goons with him, who also stood behind us. As Mang passed by, I smelled alcohol.

He sat behind the desk and lit a cigarette. He tried to appear as though nothing had happened and said to us, “Let me return to the subject of the murders of two policemen and two soldiers. Whether you confess to these murders or do not confess, there are witnesses to these murders, who will identify both of you as the murderers. So, you should consider yourselves charged with murder.”

I thought about playing my ace, but that ace was starting to look like the deuce of clubs.

Colonel Mang let us think about the murder charge, then said, “I am willing to dismiss these murder charges in exchange for a written statement from both of you admitting that you are agents of the American government, and explaining in detail what is your mission here.”

“Then we all go to the Metropole for a drink?”

“No. You stay in prison until you are expelled.”

“And my government apologizes and writes a check.”

“I hope they do not apologize. And you can keep your money.”

“What would you like me to confess to?”

“I want you both to confess what you have done—making contact with armed insurgents, aiding the FULRO, espionage, and being in contact with enemies of the state.”

“I’ve only been here two weeks.”

He wasn’t catching all of my sarcasm, and he nodded. He looked at me and tried to be reasonable. He said, “Surely you see the advantage of confessing to political crimes rather than being charged with common murder. Political crimes can be negotiated between our governments. Murder is murder.” He reminded me, “I have witnesses to four murders. I also have witnesses to the political crimes. The choice is yours.”

The justice system worked a little differently here than at home. I think I mentioned that to Karl.

Colonel Mang said, “I need a decision from you, Mr. Brenner.”

Susan said, “You’re ignoring me again.”

He looked at her. “I do not need anything from you, except for you to shut your mouth.”

Before Susan could tell him to go to hell again, I said, “I’ll let you make the decision, Colonel. My voluntary cooperation has come to an end, as you may have noticed.”

Colonel Mang said something to the goons, and I thought we were
headed for the nether regions, but one of the goons took our backpacks and put them on the desk.

Another goon motioned for us to remove our coats. We took them off, and he threw them on the desk.

Colonel Mang emptied my backpack on the desktop. He didn’t remark specifically about my lack of underwear, but did say, “Where are all your clothes?”

“In the luggage that was stolen, obviously.”

He ignored that, looked at my camera, film, Montagnard bracelet, and my last clean shirt. He took apart my toilet kit and squeezed my toothpaste and squirted shaving cream on the desk. As he played with my personal items, he spoke to me and asked, “So, what was your profession in the army?”

“I told you.”

“You told me you were a cook. Then you admitted to being a combat soldier.”

“I was. Then I became a cook.”

“I think, actually, you are an army intelligence officer.”

Close, but no cigar.

He tired of my paltry possessions and emptied Susan’s backpack on the desk. He went out of his way to ignore her bra and panties, and rummaged through her stuff, including the Montagnard scarf given to her by Chief John, some brass Montagnard jewelry, and other odds and ends.

He set her camera next to mine along with all our exposed film.

Eventually, he focused on the items given to us by Tran Van Vinh. He examined the watch, the dog tags, the wedding ring, the logbook, the wallet, and the items in the wallet, and finally the canvas pouch with the letters and the MACV roster. The roster held his interest for only a few seconds, then he riffled through the letters. Finally, he looked at Susan and asked, “These are all the items given to you by Tran Van Vinh?”

She nodded.

“Why do you have them and not Mr. Brenner?”

“What difference does it make?”

“What do you have on your person?”

“Nothing.”

“We will see about that shortly.”

She said to him, “If you touch me, I’ll kill you. If not today, then someday.”

He replied, “Why would a slut care if a man touched her?”

“Fuck you.”

I said to Susan, “Take it easy.” I said to Mang, “If you touch her, Colonel, and she doesn’t kill you, I will. If not today, then someday.” I added, “You know I can do that.”

He looked up from his poking around and said to me, “Ah, so you like this lady. And you would kill for her.”

“I’d kill you just for fun.”

“And I would kill
you
just for fun. In fact, you no longer have the choice of confessing to political crimes. I certainly do not want anyone as dangerous as you and Miss Weber being set free someday. You might kill me.”