“I understand that.”
“I explain it to show you why I am moving very cautiously so far as Li and Xuan are concerned. We are confronted now with a terrible dilemma. If one believes that overseas agents are creating terror here, and says so, those words can be explosive as bombs. If one believes that Li’s kidnapping was done by elements wanting to... divert attention to the Communists, then words of skepticism can get one killed. So, you will find a difference here between what people believe and what they say.”
“What do you believe?”
“Am I being quoted for your paper?”
“No.”
Dien sipped his tea and tapped out his cigarette. “I believe that Hanoi has done this. I believe that they have organized their terror to break our spirit. I believe that Colonel Thach is behind what happened.”
Frye considered. “But that’s not what you’ve said on TV, or in the papers.”
Dien nodded. “I would never say that. For one thing, it is too incendiary. It creates more fear. Second, it is not something I can prove. Third, if the true kidnappers are using Thach’s... methods, to make it appear as if he is behind it, then I would be falling directly into their plan.”
“But what if you don’t say anything, and Thach is behind it?”
Dien lit another cigarette. “To my people here, I must remain moderate. I try to... mollify, to comfort, to prevent passion from boiling over. At the same time, Mr. Frye, I have my resources. I have twelve men very loyal to me — trained men, intelligent men. With the exception of the two at my home, and the two standing by that curtain, they are on the streets all day, every day, looking for Li. They are asking questions, interviewing. They report everything to me.”
“What have you gotten?”
The general looked at Frye in irritation. He pointed at Frye with his cigarette. “I cannot tell if you are offensive, or simply tactless.”
“Just tactless. And impatient. Have you gotten anything solid on Li, or Thach?”
Dien sat back and nodded. “Solid, but... distant. My people in Hanoi tell me that Colonel Thach has been especially busy and secretive lately. Trips at odd hours. Many days in his apartment, with only a few assistants around him. These are the marks of a man running an operation.”
“Have you gone to the FBI?”
“And received their insults for thanks. The FBI has no jurisdiction in Asia, and no expertise. And one cannot help a fool like Albert Wiggins — he only resents it. But the fact that the FBI will not consider Thach is actually beneficial, for the moment. In their own way, they are doing what is best. It would be an act of folly to inflame Little Saigon. I only wish that they would bring in more men here, work harder in California. With enough people looking, it is only a matter of time until we find Li. Wiggins and four others, plus a couple of field officers talking with the local police? It is simply not enough. Not against Thach’s men.”
Frye looked at the two guards, still as statues, beside the curtain. Dien poured more tea. “And your brother? Has he made progress?”
“Some. He doesn’t have much more than you do.”
Dien looked toward the curtain, then back to Frye. “I deeply regret your brother’s disrespect for me.”
“He has his blind spots.”
Dien sighed. “For years I financed the resistance in Vietnam. From my own pocket, mostly. Three years ago, my tiny band of freedom fighters over there was slaughtered by Colonel Thach. One of the boys was my son-in-law. Thach put their heads on stakes. He sent photographs back here to Little Saigon. It was then I decided my war was really over, Mr. Frye.”
The general sighed. He seemed to diminish still further into his shirt. “I left Vietnam in great bitterness and with little hope. Here, in this country, my people gathered around me. They said to me, ‘Give Vietnam back to us.’ They asked me to fight. They asked me to be their savior. For a moment, put yourself in my position, Mr. Frye, and imagine what your answer would be. I can truly say I tried. I can truly say that I love Vietnam with all my heart. But you cannot fight forever. At some point, if you live, you simply accept exile and, once you have done that, you must begin again. For the last three years I have tried to strengthen my people from within. To Bennett and Li Frye, I am perhaps a coward. But in my heart, I have fought well and long and now I fade into peace. America is our future. I am trying to sink new roots here. I am not defeated, merely tired. Your brother’s arrogance toward me is a thing of pain.”
“We haven’t discussed it.”
Dien waved his hand. “I am too old to let the opinions of young men arouse me. I help my people as I can. I am at peace with myself. War is for the young. And truly, Mr. Frye, there can be no victory in Vietnam. The resistance is too small. There is no support. Hanoi is far too strong. We have lost. Now, we have the life that goes on around us. Do we participate, or live for days that will never come? I choose to help here, where I am needed.”
Frye saw that the old man was trembling.
“I talk too much. Another affliction of the old. Now, you have my theories on this embattled city. You mentioned something more specific I could help you with? You need only ask.”
Frye looked at the weathered face in front of him, the sad, wet eyes. The feeling he had now was of being poised at the top of that wave at Rockpile, looking down from a gut-softening height. You’re committed. You’re scared. You wish you could close your eyes. But you go for it. “There was a man, an American, hanging around Little Saigon on Monday, the day after the kidnapping. Dark, curly hair. Mustache. Good-looking. Did you notice him?”
Dien smiled wanly. “I don’t know everything that happens here, Mr. Frye, despite what you may imagine. Please, go on. What did this man do?”
“He went to Pho Dinh in the afternoon and found Han Loc and the Dark Men. He asked to talk. He told Loc that his brother, Duc, was in some trouble. He told Loc that he could make sure Duc stayed... healthy... so long as Loc did him a small favor. Loc was frightened. He agreed. The favor was to steal a box out of my house. Loc stole it and delivered it, but Duc never got out of the trouble he was in. In fact, I wonder if he’s still alive. Does any of this make sense, General?”
“I can hardly judge that, Mr. Frye. I know only what you tell me. But go on, it is interesting.”
“It gets even more interesting. Now Loc has the box from my house, and he takes it to Westminster Park to hold up his end of the deal. He’s supposed to leave it in the bathroom for the man to pick up. Oh, General, I remember his name now — it’s Lawrence. Lawrence. Does that sound familiar to you?”
Dien’s face showed no expression. Frye locked eyes with him.
“I know many men named Lawrence. What is his last—”
“I don’t know yet. He never told Loc. Can you guess what happened next?”