I didn’t reply.
He opened his attaché case and took out a stack of photographs. He studied a few of them, then threw about six toward us and a few landed on the floor face up. They were, of course, the photographs from Pyramide Island. Colonel Mang said to Susan, “Perhaps I am confused about the issue of Western modesty. You put me in a difficult situation in regard to searching you.”
Susan said, “Don’t touch me.”
Mang looked at me. “Mr. Brenner? Can you help me?”
I said, “You should get a female to do the search in another room.”
“Why can we not all pretend we are on the beach?”
I said, “Why don’t you stop being an asshole?” I stood and felt something cold on my neck.
Colonel Mang said, “Sit.”
The gun at the back of my neck was mine if I wanted it, but I wasn’t sure if the other three guns were drawn and aimed. I sat.
It was time to play the ace. I said to Mang, “Colonel, the American Ambassador, Patrick Quinn, has invited me and Ms. Weber to a reception at his residence at 8 P.M. The reception is in honor of the Vice President of the United States, Edward Blake, who, as you know, is in Hanoi. We need to be at that reception, which has already started.”
Colonel Mang looked at me, then at Susan. He said, “And what will you wear to the Ambassador’s reception? I see no suitable attire on your person or in these bags.”
Susan said, “Mrs. Quinn has appropriate attire for me. You shouldn’t worry about that.”
Colonel Mang looked at me. “And you, Mr. Brenner?”
“I’m just playing the guitar. And I’m late.”
He ignored that and asked, “Why would either of you be invited to such an affair?”
Susan replied, “I’m a friend of Mrs. Quinn.”
“Are you?” He looked at me. “And you, Mr. Brenner?”
“Pat Quinn and I went to school together.”
“Ah. So many famous people from that class. So, then I am keeping you both from dinner with your compatriots.”
Susan informed him, “Your Foreign Minister, Mr. Thuang, will also be there, and so will the Interior Minister, Mr. Huong, who I believe is your superior. I may or may not mention this matter to them.”
I’m not usually impressed with name dropping, but I made an exception in this case. Of course, Colonel Mang may now have a good reason not to let us out of here alive. I looked at Colonel Mang, but he was being inscrutable, and I couldn’t tell which way he was going to tip.
I said to him, “I sent a telex from Lao Cai to the embassy informing them we’d be arriving by train, checking into the Metropole, and would be at the reception at eight.”
“The post office is not open at the time the Lao Cai train leaves for Hanoi.”
Whoops. I said, “I gave the message to the Australian lady who promised to send it. The lady who bought my motorcycle.” I’m really glad I was born Irish.
Colonel Mang lit another cigarette and thought this over. Finally, he asked me, “Will this man Blake be your next president?”
“Probably.” I added, “We have elections.”
He thought a moment, then said, “I do not like this man.”
Well, finally, we had something in common.
Mang said, “He was a soldier here during the war.”
“Yes, I know.”
“He makes too many visits here.”
I replied, “He’s a friend of Vietnam.”
“So he says.” He added, “I have heard rumors that he wishes to place American military on Vietnamese soil again.”
Neither Susan nor I responded. Colonel Mang had a lot to consider here, and I didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts with threats, or with promises to put in a good word for him at the reception.
He looked at us and said, “I am still not satisfied with any of your answers. It is my duty to protect my country.”
He didn’t sound real sure of himself, and he knew it. He glanced at his watch, which was a good sign. Yet, he still couldn’t make a decision.
He looked at me and said, “I am going to ask you some questions, Mr. Brenner, and if you answer me truthfully, I may consider releasing you and Miss Weber.”
I didn’t reply.
He asked me, “Are you here to investigate the murder of this Lieutenant Hines by an American captain in Quang Tri City in February 1968?”
“I told you I was.”
“But you indicated you were conducting this investigation on behalf of the family.”
“That’s right.”
“Are you also conducting this investigation on behalf of your government?”
“I am.”
He seemed surprised at the truthful answer. So was I, and so was Susan. I saw a way out of this building, and the way out had to do with Edward Blake, who in a way got me here in the first place.
Colonel Mang asked me, “And Miss Weber is your professional colleague?”
I wasn’t sure about that, and I replied, “She has volunteered to assist me with the language and the travel.”
He looked at Susan, “What connection do you have to your government?”
“I slept with Bill Stanley.”
“And what else?”
“I’m a citizen and a taxpayer.”
He wasn’t bonding with Susan at all, so he turned his attention back to me and asked, “And what is your connection to your government?”
I’d once slept with a female FBI agent on a case, but I didn’t think he wanted to know about that now. I said, “I’m a retired criminal investigator for the United States Army.” I was also allowed to give him my service number, but I can’t always remember it.
He thought awhile, probably wondering what an army CID guy did. He asked me, “What is your present connection to your government?”
“A civilian employee.”
“Do you work for the Central Intelligence Agency?”
Probably, but I replied, “No, I do not. This is a criminal matter. I’m investigating a murder, not committing one.”
He missed the Beltway humor and continued, “When you spoke to Tran Van Vinh, did you discover the identity of this murderer?”
“Perhaps.”
“Why is this important after so many years?”
“Justice is important.”
“To whom? The family? The authorities?”
“To everyone.”
He drew thoughtfully on his cigarette. The man was not stupid, and neither am I, so I kept quiet. He needed to arrive at the end of this by himself.
He said to me, “So, you have returned to Vietnam after nearly thirty years to find the truth about this murder.”
“That’s right.”
“For justice.”
“For justice.”
“This murdered Lieutenant Hines must come from a wealthy and powerful family for your government to go through all this trouble.”
“It wouldn’t matter if he was rich or poor. Murder is murder. Justice is justice.”
He looked at Susan and asked her, “Where are the photographs you showed to Mr. Vinh?”
“I got rid of them.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t need them anymore.”
He said to her, “Mr. Vinh said you had two sets of photographs. One of Lieutenant Hines, the other of a captain that you suspected was the murderer.”
Susan nodded.
“Mr. Vinh was able to provide you with this photograph of Lieutenant Hines from his wallet, and these items confirm he was the man who was murdered.”
“That’s right.”
“But Mr. Vinh was not able to identify the photographs of the captain as the man he saw murder this lieutenant in Quang Tri City. Correct?”
“That’s correct.”
He asked Susan, “What is the name of this captain?”
“I don’t know.”
“How could that be? You had his photographs.”