“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.”
I said to him, “If not me, then someone else.”
He glanced at me, and I could see that he understood that I was revealing that I wasn’t alone. This is what he suspected and was happy to have it confirmed, but not too happy about being put on a hit list.
He chose to ignore my statement and turned his attention to the coats, which held nothing of interest for him. He asked Susan, “Where are the photographs I sent you?”
She said something to him in Vietnamese, which is not usually something he wants to hear.
He replied sharply in Vietnamese, and I reminded everyone, “Speak English.”
Colonel Mang said to me in good colloquial English, “Shut your fucking mouth.”
The situation called for diplomacy, so in French, the international language of diplomacy, I said to him, “Mangez merde.”
It took him a second to realize I’d told him to eat shit. He said to me, “You may as well have your fun now, Mr. Brenner, and take this opportunity to act bravely in front of your lady. Later, neither of you will be so brave.”