“Also, paranoid. And there’s a possibility I’m being watched, so don’t be completely surprised if you’re questioned later.”
Again, she shrugged. “I don’t know a thing.”
I informed her, “I’m a veteran, and I’m here to reminisce, and to see some of the places where I served.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“And that’s all you know. Your business date didn’t show up, and you’re about to leave.”
She nodded.
I asked her, “Aside from the newspaper, is there anything else you’re supposed to give me?”
“No. Like what?”
“Like a cell phone.”
“No. But you can have mine. It doesn’t work well between cities. But it’s good for Saigon. You want it?”
“Not if it can be traced to you.”
“It’s up to you. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“What were you told you could do?”
“Take and deliver a message.”
“What’s the deal on me faxing a message out of here?”
“You mean in the hotel? You just fax it.”
“Do they look at it? Make a copy?”
She thought a moment, then replied, “They do. They won’t give your sheet back until they’ve made a copy. But I can send a secure fax or e-mail from my office.” She added, “That’s what I did last night.”
“Are you also supposed to fax someone regarding this meeting?”
She nodded. “A 703 area code. Virginia.”
“Right. Okay, along with your rendezvous report, say that I was stopped at the airport, and they took my passport, but I think it was a random stop, and I’ll be leaving Saigon on time, if I have my passport. Okay?”
She looked at me, then repeated the message, and said, “I’m not supposed to ask you any questions, but—”
“Don’t ask any questions. And if you get a reply to the fax, memorize it. Do not carry it with you to this hotel. Contact me and we’ll meet somewhere. Okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem. So, they stopped you at the airport? That’s why you were late.”
“Right.”
“I’m not surprised. You look shifty.” She laughed and asked, “Did they want an arrival tax?”
“Twenty bucks.”
“Did you give it to them?”
“I did.”
“You shouldn’t have. They understand no if you’re firm about it.”
“I made this little security guy carry my luggage to the cab.”
She laughed. “That’s great. I love it.” She added, “You know, the passport guy and everyone split the loot. That’s the scam.”
I asked her, “So, you think it was just a random shakedown?”
“Sure… except they hardly ever take a passport.” She thought a moment, then said, “You’ll hear from them again.”
“I hope so. They have my passport.”
She lit another cigarette, and I had the impression she wasn’t in a hurry to leave. I said, “Offer me the newspaper, and then you can take off for your next appointment. I need your business card and Bill’s.”
She looked at me, and we held eye contact awhile, then she put out her cigarette and said, “My business card is in the newspaper. I’m not sure you’re supposed to know anything about Bill. Call me, and I’ll let you know about that.”
“Okay.”
She stood and picked up her attaché case from the chair. She said, “Thank you for the drinks.”
I stood. “My pleasure.”
She said, “I have an English language newspaper I’m finished with. Do you want it?”
“Sure. I can use something to read.”
She took her International Herald Tribune from her attaché case and put it on the table. “It’s a day old, but it’s the weekend edition. You won’t see another one until Monday night.”
“Thanks.”
She put out her hand and we shook. She said, “Good luck.”
I replied, “Chuc Mung Nam Moi.”
She smiled and said, “Chuc Mung Nam Moi.” She turned and left.
I sat down and left the newspaper where it was, waiting for something unpleasant to happen as I sipped my beer.
I waited a full minute, nothing happened, and I picked up the newspaper and unfolded it. I palmed her business card and slipped it in my jacket pocket as I extracted my handkerchief and wiped my forehead. I sat sideways to the table and read the front page by the light of the table candle.
Well, so far, so good. I’ve never worked a case in a hostile country, though to be truthful I’ve worked cases in friendly countries that I’ve made hostile. In any case, I thought my spy craft was pretty good, considering I was just a cop. Mr. Conway was right — it’s in the blood of my generation. Too many spy novels and movies. What would James Bond do now?
Well, James wouldn’t have let Ms. Weber get away, for starters. But when you’re working for the CID or the FBI, as I’d done a few times, you keep your cork in your shorts. And then, of course, there was Cynthia. And Bill, whoever he was. Plus, Ms. Weber didn’t need any more trouble than she might already be in.
I looked up and noticed that Susan Weber had returned to the table. She sat down. She said, “Mr. Ellis has canceled our appointment. Also, I was supposed to tell you not to hesitate to call me if you need anything and to let me know when you’re about to leave Saigon on Monday morning. But the phones in most foreign business offices are presumed to be tapped — not necessarily for security reasons, but in hopes they can hear something that will give them a business advantage. Still, you have to be careful what you say on the landline phones. My cell number is on my card, but you’ll need a cell phone to call me, if you don’t want the conversation monitored. If you call me from a landline, and you need to say something important, I can meet you. I’ve been asked to stay in Saigon all weekend. Okay?”
“You forgot all that?”
“Well, I said you could call me, if you need anything. I’m just elaborating.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“It’s Saturday night and I don’t have a date.”
“Where’s Bill?”
“I told him I might be busy, depending on what happened tonight.”
“Am I missing something?”
“I wanted to see if you were interesting or not.”
“Well, then, I guess this is good-bye.”
She smiled. “Come on. Don’t give me a hard time.”
“Look… Susan… my instructions were—”
“I have new instructions. They want me to brief you about the country so you don’t get totally lost and confused after you leave Saigon.”
“Is that true?”
“Would I lie to someone from my home state?”
“Well…”
“I’m not used to no.”
“I don’t imagine you are. Will you join me for dinner?”
“I’d be delighted. How nice of you to ask.”
I signaled a waiter and asked for menus. I said to my new friend, “How’s the food here?”
“Actually, not bad. They have Japanese, French, Chinese, and, of course, Vietnamese. This is the Tet holidays, so there’ll be a lot of specialty holiday foods offered.”
The menus came, and I asked her, “What’s the word for dog meat?”
“Thit cho.” She smiled and picked up her menu. “What do you want? Chinese, Vietnamese, or French?”
“I want a cheeseburger and fries.”
“I’ll order for us from the holiday menu.”
The maître d’ appeared, and they had a conversation about the menu, punctuated by some laughs and glances toward me. I said, “No thit cho.”
The maître d’ laughed again and said something to Susan. To show I understood the language, I told him in Vietnamese to put his hands up.
The guy left and Susan said, “I ordered a lot of little things so you could taste everything and eat what you like.” She asked me, “Why did you tell him to put his hands up?”