“It has come to the attention of the Vietnamese people that certain American soldiers are alive in this country. They were located after exhaustive searches, in remote provinces. They were being detained by primitive tribes who did not know of our nation’s victory and believed that we were still at war with America. It is the desire of the Vietnamese people that these men be free to return home, or go where they choose. The Vietnamese people are now making arrangements for this to happen. The Vietnamese people are a peace-loving nation. This we wish to demonstrate to the world community. We are not at odds with history. We wish to work with the peace-loving American people, through the MIA Committee, for the timely return of these men. Their exact number is not known. Negotiations will begin soon. We ask of America only one pre-condition to negotiation: to end all support for terrorist groups operating on Vietnamese soil. We can no longer tolerate American-supported violence in this sovereign state. As always, the Socialist Republic of Vietnam will struggle for a world of free peoples everywhere. We will welcome negotiators from the MIA Committee, and a minimum number of American Government representatives, in Hanoi. Our nation wishes to continue its role as a leader of peace and freedom throughout the world.”
President Truong stared into the camera, then vanished, replaced by an excited Jennings and a tearful, smiling Lucia Parsons.
“Oh, Ed! She’s done it.”
“Goddamn, I knew she would!”
Bennett looked up at Chuck.
Frye shook his head and grinned. He hugged his mom. He felt happy, but more: a feeling of freedom and release, the lifting from his shoulders of a weight he never knew was there.
Jennings’s voice reasserted itself: “Negotiations pending... just how many not stated... what condition these men are in... what steps if any did the United States Government take to facilitate this... unprecedented cooperation... unsure what President Truong is referring to, so far as American-sponsored ‘terrorism’ is concerned... much depends on Lucia Parsons’s ability to deal with Hanoi... a day of celebration and joy... the healing of a nation’s heart... upcoming comments from the president... back with Lucia Parsons in a moment... now this...”
Hyla stood up. “This calls for champagne! Mauro!”
They drank the bubbly and watched the follow-up in silence. Frye wondered at Lucia’s composure, her easy grace in front of millions. Jennings asked her about the so-called “terrorism” that Truong had mentioned.
“Peter, I believe there are groups, some of them centered in Orange County, California, whose unstated purpose is to overthrow the government of Vietnam. I’m not an expert in this, but I’ve heard talk of these people. It’s time for them to stop any kind of activity that could even be construed as ‘terrorist,’ so we can bring our men home. We can only implore them to desist.”
Bennett swung out of the room.
“Benny?” asked Hyla. “More champagne?”
Frye followed him from the house, down the sloping green of the huge back yard, to the dock. Bennett started up Edison’s Boston Whaler, choking the engine up high while he worked the lines from the dock cleats.
“Where to, Benny?”
“Get in.”
Chapter 23
They took the whaler from Edison’s dock, chugging across the dark water of the harbor. Mullet jumped and splashed around them, pale comets in the black. The air was warm, and Frye smelled Mexico in it. No stars. Rain any second, he thought. Hose us all down. He worked the engine and Bennett sat fore, facing him. Halfway between Newport Island and his father’s, Frye cut the power.
Bennett fixed his gaze on Frye. “There are some things I want you to know, and to do. These aren’t easy to talk about, Chuck. I’m not too good at that sometimes. First of all, I’m sorry for keeping you in the dark. I didn’t want you involved in... this. In me. But things don’t always work out the way you want.”
“No.”
“Chuck, when Li got taken, it was just like losing my legs. I felt this part of me going away and never coming back again. If she doesn’t make it back, I’m not so sure I want to stay here.”
“Move away, you mean?”
Bennett pulled. “Not exactly.”
Frye caught his brother’s expression in the dim moonlight, the shine to his eyes, the anxious lines on his forehead, the heavy downward pull of his mouth. “Don’t do that, Benny.”
Bennett worked out a cigarette and lit it. The smoke hovered, then vanished in a puff of breeze. “I wouldn’t leave any messes, Chuck. No loose ends. If for some reason I don’t make it out of all this, I want you to do what you can for Li. She’s capable, but she needs direction. She’s cut in on the Paradiso with me, but Pop might just gobble her right up.”
“Okay. Sure.” Frye sat back and gazed at a fisherman on a far dock, elbows tight to his body, hat drooping, pole bent to the water. “Is there some reason to think you’re not going to make it?”
Bennett exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Things are very... questionable right now. DeCord is CIA. We’ve been getting clandestine money from the agency for three years. Six months ago DeCord cut us off. He said the administration had a change of heart. I didn’t believe that.”
“Then why?”
“You just heard it on TV. Hanoi’s ready to deal on the MIAs. DeCord said there were high-level talks going on, and all their support was going to end. He didn’t say talks with who, and he didn’t say how high-level. Now I know. And he was adamant. He didn’t just want me to find other funding, he wanted me to shut the whole thing down. Hanoi’s got us by the balls again, and our government is following them right into the corral.”
“What did you tell him?”
“To take a flying fuck at the moon.”
“So you recorded the last few payments to Nguyen in case DeCord tried to hang you for the whole thing. So you could prove the government was involved.”
“Damn straight. That’s why he wants that tape back so bad. That’s why he took his pictures to Minh — to get the cops to do the dirty work, if it comes to that. Minh is just a simple cop, and he’s honest, but they can use him. And that’s why the guy called Lawrence arranged the break-in at your place. It’s clear to me that Lawrence is just another spook running around Little Saigon, trying to cover for the government.”
“A spook with General Dien in his pocket. It makes sense now.”
“Chuck, that tape was my protection. The plan was to copy it, put both tapes in a safe deposit box ready to go out to the networks if anything happened to me. But everything came down so fast. I kept thinking: I’ll do it tomorrow, I’ll do it tomorrow. Well, tomorrow came, Li got ripped off, and the best thing I could do was shuffle off that tape to an innocent party — you. If Lawrence got the tape to DeCord, my parachute’s got a big hole in it.”
“If the government wanted the pipeline stopped — would they have taken out Li?”
Bennett shook his head. “They’d have taken out both of us. DeCord is protecting the agency, he’s just doing his job. But they would never have taken Li like that. There are much simpler ways.”
“Is Li a bit player, or the star?”
Bennett hunkered inside his coat, lighting a smoke. “DeCord paid us money here for basic operational expenses, but the bulk of it was wired straight to Switzerland. Li made the pickups in Zurich to pay off our people at that end. Those tapes she always took? They had songs and news and propaganda on them, but also code. Meeting places, drop locations, contacts inside Vietnam, times, dates, places. Plans to coordinate military strikes with terrorist moves were coded into the programs themselves — the order of the songs, the first letter of the titles — things like that. We set it all up ahead. Li didn’t know what exactly was happening until she got there and played the tapes. That way, if they caught her, the whole operation wouldn’t be gutted. Li wasn’t just another part of the resistance — operationally, she was the key.”