“Yes, sir. I do this all the time.”
“Good.”
The door opened, and everyone stood, but it was only my little friend Scott Romney. He looked around, gave me what was supposed to be a tough look, then left.
A few seconds later, Vice President Edward Blake walked in the Ambassador’s office. He was about my height and build, but not as good-looking as I am. He wore suit pants, a white dress shirt without the tie, and a silly silk kimono.
Edward Blake did not look annoyed, impatient, or puzzled, and certainly not personally worried, only officially concerned, like some crisis might be developing. He said, “Good evening. Problem?”
Colonel Goodman cleared his throat and said, “No, sir… nothing like that. May I introduce everyone?”
Goodman had given some thought to the intros, and introduced Susan Weber first as a Saigon resident and a friend of the Quinns’. Goodman then introduced Bill Stanley and Karl Hellmann, explaining, “Bill is here from Saigon and is a friend of Susan’s and also a colleague of John’s, whom you know. Colonel Hellmann is army, just in from D.C.” He saved the best for last and said, “This is Paul Brenner, also a friend of Ms. Weber’s, and a colleague of Colonel Hellmann’s.”
I shook the future president’s hand, and he said to me, “Ah, I know who you are. My wife spoke to you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You cost me a ten-dollar bet.”
More than that, Ed. “Yes, sir. She told me.”
The Veep explained this in a good-humored way, and everyone laughed politely. Edward Blake said to Susan, “And you’re his traveling companion.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any friend of Pat and Anne’s is a friend of mine.”
The guy was slick, but also charismatic, a man’s man, a lady’s dream, and maybe a nation’s nightmare.
Edward Blake looked around and said, “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you all.”
Not so fast, Ed.
Colonel Goodman said to the Veep, “Sir, this is not purely social… could we impose on you to give us a few minutes of your time? A serious matter has come up that should be brought to your attention.”
I studied Edward Blake’s face. The question that had been on my mind since Washington was, Did he know about this? In a way, it didn’t matter, except as it related to his participation, if any, in the cover-up of a crime. My hunch was that he hadn’t yet been told that the past had returned. You do the investigation first, then you tell the boss that you’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is that we know what you did; the good news is that we can help.
Goodman motioned the Veep to Karl’s vacated chair, and he sat back, crossed his legs, and motioned for us to sit. We all sat, except me, who parked my ass on the edge of the desk.
Colonel Goodman said to Edward Blake, “Sir, this has to do with the reason that Mr. Brenner is in Vietnam, and why Colonel Hellmann is here…”
Blake looked at both of us, but said nothing.
Goodman continued, “I can assure you, sir, that everything that has been discussed in this room, and whatever will be discussed is limited to a handful of people, most of whom are here… and that anything that is discussed now will be considered confidential and privileged…”
Blake said, “Okay, you’ve assured me and you’ve aroused my curiosity. Can we get to the point?”
“Yes, sir. Perhaps Mr. Brenner would like to speak. It was his idea that we ask you to join us.”
Blake said to me, “You’re on, Paul.”
“Yes, sir. It’s my duty to inform you that Colonel Hellmann and I are with the army Criminal Investigation Division.”
This didn’t seem to get any reaction out of him, and maybe it didn’t sink in.
There are two opening questions you always ask in a homicide investigation, and I asked the first one. “Do you know a man named William Hines?”
This caught him completely off guard, and his expression went through a remarkable change, and I swear the color drained from his face. Everyone there saw it, and everyone had to come to the same conclusion.
“Sir?”
“Uh… don’t… what was that name?”
“William Hines. Lieutenant William Hines.”
“Oh… yes… I served with him. In Vietnam.”
“Yes, sir.” I asked the second question. “When was the last time you saw him alive?”
“Uh… alive? Oh, yes, he was killed in action. That’s right.”
“When was the last time you saw him alive, sir?”
“Uh… let me see… the Tet Offensive had started in late January… I guess I saw him a few days after… he went missing… our Headquarters was overrun… so… I’m not really sure, but about February 4 or 5… 1968.” He did what they all do and asked me, “Why do you ask?”
I usually say, “I’ll ask the questions, you give the answers.” But even I’m not that ballsy. I said, “Sir, it’s come to the attention of the army Criminal Investigation Division that Lieutenant William Hines was murdered in the Treasury Building within the Citadel at Quang Tri City, on or about 7 February 1968. We have good reason to believe that his assailant was a United States Army captain. We have some evidence and an eyewitness, and what we’re trying to do now is learn the identity of that assailant.”
He was starting to compose himself, and he looked shocked. “My God… are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. We’re sure he was murdered by an army captain.”
“Good Lord…” He wasn’t looking at anyone in the room and wasn’t really looking at me. He said, “That was a terrible time… I was with the MACV group then, and we were surrounded in the Citadel and fighting for our lives. I think there were only about twenty American officers and NCOs—”
“Eight officers and nine NCOs, according to the unit roster.”
He looked at me. “Is that right? Anyway, I think only seven of us survived…” He thought it might be a good idea to change the subject and said to me, “Pat Quinn tells me you saw combat in ’Nam.”
“Yes, sir. First Cav, like you, 1968, like you. I was a rifleman with Delta Company, First Battalion, Eighth Cavalry, First Air Cav, outside Quang Tri City about that time.”
“Really?” He forced a smile and said, “What were you guys doing outside the city? We needed you inside.”
I smiled in return. “Looked too dangerous in there.”
He laughed and said, “Well, if I can think of anything that might help you, Paul… and Karl… in this matter, I’ll contact you.” He stood, and everyone stood.
I said to him, “Sir, would you like to speak to me in private?”
He replied, “About what?”
“About the incident in question.”
“I know nothing about it. But I’ll think about it.” He moved toward the door.
At this point, I sometimes inform the witness that he’s a suspect, but then I have to read him his rights, and I usually can’t find the little card in my wallet. I said to Edward Blake, “As I mentioned, sir, there was a witness to this murder, and I’ve questioned him.” I didn’t bother to mention that the witness was an enemy soldier, and I let Blake conclude that it was an American GI. I said, “He was lying wounded on the second floor of the Treasury Building, and through a hole in the floor, he saw this army captain murder not only Lieutenant Hines, but three Vietnamese nationals. The murderer then proceeded to loot a vault in the treasury.”
I could see the color drain out of his face again. Not in a million years did he ever think he’d hear an eyewitness account of this story; he thought he’d killed all the witnesses. I could actually see his knees wobbling and he put his hand on the doorknob, which shook audibly. He said to me, “There have been many instances of witnesses coming forward years after the fact, who are suffering from one psychological disorder or another, or who are just plain liars. I’m sure you’re familiar with that.”