At 6 P.M., we packed it up.
Back in the hotel, we got our stuff from the desk clerk, and we arranged to meet on the veranda at seven.
I went to my room, showered in cold water and orange soap, and took a little siesta in the raw. I woke myself up at quarter to seven, got dressed, and went down to the veranda. Susan wasn’t there, but Lucy was, and she got me a cold beer.
Susan appeared a few minutes later, dressed in one of her new silk blouses, a pink one, with a little black skirt. I stood and said, “The blouse looks good on you.”
She sat and said, “Well, thank you, sir. You look all tanned and rested.”
“I’m on R&R.”
“I’m glad this is the R&R part of your visit.” She added, “I’m going to worry about you.”
I didn’t reply.
“I was thinking… I need to take a business trip to Hanoi. Maybe I can meet you there. Metropole. Saturday after next. Right?”
“How did you know that?”
“I snooped through your papers while you were snooping through my passport.”
“You should forget what you saw.”
“I will, except the Metropole, Saturday after next.”
“I’ll only be there one night.”
“That’s okay. I just want to be there when you arrive.”
This woman knew all the right words, and she was starting to get to me. I said, “Metropole, Hanoi, Saturday after next.”
“I’ll be there.”
We had a few beers until it got dark, then took cyclos into town.
We found a restaurant with a garden out back; a pretty hostess in an ao dai showed us to a table.
The air was fragrant with blossoms, and the cigarette smoke was carried away by a nice breeze.
We ordered fish because it was the only thing on the menu, and we talked about this and that. Susan brought up the subject of Colonel Mang, and I mentioned that I had reminded him that this was a new era of Vietnamese-American relations, and that he should get with the program.
Susan looked thoughtful, then said, “The last time we had an embassy in this country, it was in Saigon, and it was April 30, 1975. The U.S. Ambassador was on the roof of the embassy, carrying the American flag home, and General Minh was in the palace, waiting to surrender South Vietnam to the Communists. Now we have a new ambassador, this time in Hanoi, and we have some consulate staff in Saigon, including economic development people, looking for a nice building to set up shop when Hanoi gives us the go-ahead. This will be an important country for us again, and no one wants to see this new relationship screwed up. I’m talking billions of dollars in investments, oil, and raw materials. So, I don’t know why you’re here, or who actually sent you, but please tread lightly.”
I looked at Susan Weber. She had a better grasp of geopolitics than she’d led me to believe. I said to her, “Well, I know who sent me, though I’m not sure why. But believe me when I say that it’s not important enough, and I’m not important enough, to affect anything that’s already been accomplished.”
She replied, “Don’t be so sure of that. There are lots of people in Hanoi and in Washington who don’t want the two countries to have normal relations. Some of these are men of your generation, the veterans and the politicians on both sides, who will neither forgive nor forget. And many of these people are now in positions of power.”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
She looked at me and said, “No, but I sense something… we have a history here, and we’ve learned nothing from that history.”
“I think we have. But that’s not to say we’re not going to make new mistakes.”
She dropped the subject, and I didn’t press it. It seemed to me that her concerns were those of a businessperson. But there was more to this than business; if it was just business, and an unsolved murder, then our new ambassador in Hanoi would now be talking to the Vietnamese government asking their help in finding the witness to an American homicide case. So, this was about something else, and whatever it was, Washington wasn’t telling Hanoi; they weren’t even telling me.
After dinner, we took a stroll down to the beach and walked the beach back to the hotel. The subject of Vietnam did not come up again.
Upstairs, I walked Susan to her room and went in. There were no messages left on the floor, and no clear signals to me from Ms. Weber. I said, “I had a nice day.”
“Me, too. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
We arranged to meet again for breakfast at 8 A.M.
She said, “Don’t forget boric acid and the hot water heater.”
Back in my room, I sprinkled the boric acid around my bed and my luggage. A really first-rate hotel would do that for you.
The sun and sea had knocked me out, and I was half asleep as soon as I hit the bed.
My last thought was that I didn’t recall seeing the snow globe on Susan’s night table.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I got to the veranda before Susan, found a table, and ordered a pot of coffee.
It was another perfect day in Nha Trang.
Susan appeared, dressed in yet another pair of cotton pants, green, this time, with a white boat-neck pullover. That backpack must have been bigger than it looked.
I stood, pulled out her chair, and said, “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” She poured herself some coffee and said, “Last night I dreamt of you.”
I didn’t reply.
“We were in the Metropole in Hanoi. I’ve stayed there, so I could visualize it. It was very real.” She laughed at me. “We had cocktails, dinner, and danced in the hotel lounge.”
I said, “Let’s try to do that.”
The waiter came by, and we ordered Breakfast Number One, pho.
She said, “I could turn this place into at least a two-star hotel for American servicemen who stayed here. The R&R Grand. Hooker Night in the Full Metal Jacket lounge. I’ll make Lucy the hostess. What do you think?”
I didn’t reply.
She said, “That was a little insensitive. Whatever you did to get here wasn’t funny. I do apologize.”
“Forget it.” In fact, it wasn’t funny, and I couldn’t forget it. I said, “Battle of the A Shau Valley, May ’68. You should look it up someday.”
“I will. But I’d rather you tell me about it.”
Again, I didn’t reply.
The pho came, and I sipped it with my coffee spoon. I asked Susan, “What exactly is in this?”
She was sipping out of her bowl, and replied, “Well, it’s the national dish. It’s basically noodles, veggies, and broth seasoned with ginger and pepper. You can add a little uncooked chicken, or pork if you’re rich. The hot broth cooks the meat and veggies.” She added, “When in doubt about the sanitation, order pho because they have to get the water hot enough to cook the meat, so you know the water is sterilized.”
“Good tip.”
She said, “Hey, I make a mean pho. I’d love to cook it for you someday.”
I said, “That would be nice. I make chili.”
“Love chili. I miss chili.”
We had another cup of coffee. I said to Susan, “I didn’t see the snow globe on your night table.”
She thought a moment, then said, “I didn’t notice… I’ll check when I get back to the room.”
“You didn’t move it?”
“No… the maids are usually trustworthy, if you put a few dong on the bed for them.”
“Right. So, what’s the plan for today?”
She said, “Well, I had the desk guy book us a boat, and we’re going to explore the islands. I thought it would be nice for our last day together. Bring a bathing suit.”
I paid for breakfast. Still two bucks.