Up Country

by Nelson DeMille

  I said, “This conversation will be conducted in English.”

  Susan said to me, “He asked me if American women make a habit of sleeping with men they’ve just met. I told him it was an insulting question.”

  I said to Colonel Mang, “Do Vietnamese officers make a habit of insulting women?”

  He said to me, but not to Susan, “I am trying to determine the true nature of your relationship.”

  “Why? It’s not your business.”

  “I think it is. You are aware, of course, that your friend here has been sleeping with the CIA station chief in Ho Chi Minh City.”

  I took a deep breath and replied, “I am aware she had a boyfriend.”

  “Yes? And you know this boyfriend. You told me so yourself. Mr. Bill Stanley. The CIA station chief for all of the south of Vietnam.”

  Of all the names for me to pick when I was telling Mang who booked my train reservations to Nha Trang, I pick the fucking CIA guy. But that’s what happens when the bozos in Washington decide you have no need to know something you need to know.

  “Mr. Brenner? Why are you sleeping with your friend’s girlfriend?”

  I said, “I only know Bill Stanley as an employee of the Bank of America.”

  “Yes? So, you did not know your friend was the CIA station chief ?”

  “You say he is, and he’s not my friend.”

  “But you said you went to university together. Princeton.”

  I glanced at Susan, who looked confused. Someday, my flip remarks were going to get me into trouble; in fact, the day had arrived. I said to Colonel Mang, “How could we have been classmates when he’s at least ten years younger than me?”

  “That’s what I wondered, Mr. Brenner.”

  “Well, I was making a joke.”

  “What is the joke?”

  “It’s hard to explain. Colonel, I don’t know Bill Stanley, and he’s not my friend.”

  “But he is a CIA agent. It is perfectly all right. The CIA knows who our intelligence man is in our embassy in Washington. One cannot hide these things. In fact, Mr. Stanley has nothing to do with the Bank of America and is a consulate officer in the Economic Development section. That is not his real job, of course, but it provides him with the diplomatic immunity he needs to carry out his other work. And yet you, Mr. Brenner, his friend, did not know this. Amazing.”

  Truly amazing. And Colonel Mang was a little sharper, and more sarcastic and ironic than I’d thought.

  “What am I to believe, Mr. Brenner?”

  I glanced at Susan, who looked a little anxious. She could have been pissed off at me for using Bill Stanley’s name, but she was probably more pissed off about how this whole thing had been handled.

  “Mr. Brenner? What am I to believe?”

  I replied, “I don’t know Bill Stanley.”

  “But you told me you did know him.”

  “I lied.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I’ll tell you why. It was Ms. Weber who arranged the train tickets to Nha Trang, but I didn’t want to use her name, so I used her boyfriend’s name. Biet?”

  “No, I do not understand. Why would you do that?”

  “Look, Colonel, if I knew that Bill Stanley was a CIA agent, why would I use his name in a conversation with you?”

  “That is what I am trying to determine, Mr. Brenner.”

  “Right. Well, the answer is, I don’t know Bill Stanley, or who he works for, and I don’t know anyone in Saigon, but I remembered his name and place of employment from something Ms. Weber said, so I gave you his name instead of hers.”

  He asked, “But why? You have not answered that question.”

  “You answer it for me.”

  “How can I answer it for you? You should answer it.”

  “Okay . . . I didn’t want Ms. Weber’s name to come to the attention of the police in any way, no matter how innocent the context. She lives here, and I didn’t want to compromise her business activities. You understand that.”

  “Perhaps. But I do not understand your connection to Mr. Stanley.”

  “There is no connection.” Asshole.

  “Ah, but there is. You are sleeping with his girlfriend.” He smiled.

  I hated to admit it, but this guy was almost as good and as sarcastic as I was on the job. I said to him, “Answer my question. If I knew or believed that Bill Stanley was a CIA agent, why would I use his name? I’ll answer for you, Colonel. I didn’t know, and I still don’t know. And why should I believe you that he is a CIA agent?”

  He nodded. “Why, indeed?” He looked at Susan and asked her, “Do you know that the man you were sleeping with was a CIA agent?”

  She replied, “Why would he tell me?”

  “This is a very annoying habit of the Americans to answer a question with a question.”

  Susan asked, “Why is it annoying?”

  Colonel Mang was losing his patience with Susan, who truly could be irritating. He took a step toward her, and I took a step toward him. We all stopped taking steps and stood motionless, but ready.

  Finally, Colonel Mang turned back toward me, lit another cigarette without offering one to the lady, and said to me, “So, you do not know Mr. Stanley.”

  “I do not.”

  “But you spoke to him in front of the Catholic cathedral in Ho Chi Minh City.”

  “Was that Bill Stanley?”

  “You know it was, Mr. Brenner. Do not play games with me.”

  “I was introduced to Bill Stanley for the first time in front of the cathedral, we spoke for about three minutes, as you know, and we have not seen each other or spoken since.”

  “So you say. Why should I believe you? You lied to me about your duties during the war, you met a CIA agent on your second day in Ho Chi Minh City, you show too much interest in the hill people, you are vague about your itinerary, and you told me you were going alone to Nha Trang, but in fact you were not. You went with the girlfriend of a CIA agent. So how many other lies have you told me?”

  “Two or three.”

  “Yes? What lies have you told me?”

  “I think I told you how well run and prosperous Vietnam looks. In fact, it is neither. The people are miserable, and everyone I’ve met in the south hates Hanoi. There are more prostitutes and pimps in Saigon than when I was here, and you’ve treated the former soldiers of the Republic of Vietnam very badly, and I know you’ve desecrated their graves and reduced the survivors to near slavery, and as a former soldier, I find this dishonorable and offensive, and so should you. The Hanoi government has no legitimacy, and is not supported by the will of the people. Now, Colonel, you have the real truth, not what you say or believe is the truth.”

  Colonel Mang did not look at me. He looked off into the distance while he hyperventilated. He really had a strange look on his face, and his shoulders were heaving. I didn’t know if he was going to faint, cry, pull his gun, ask me for asylum in America, or what. I was going to suggest the lotus position, but he seemed to be getting himself under control without it.

  He took a deep breath and snapped out of his trance, or whatever. He cleared his throat and continued, as though he hadn’t been on the verge of a psychotic episode. He asked me, in a matter-of-fact tone, “Mr. Brenner, the Immigration Police in Hue inform me that you took a bus from Nha Trang to Hue. Is that correct?”

  Another question I didn’t want to hear. I replied, “That’s correct.”

  He mulled that over a moment, then said, “And you left Nha Trang in the early afternoon and arrived in Hue that evening, before midnight. Correct?”

  “That’s about right.”

  “I see.” He pretended to be digesting this information, and a look of perplexity, almost worry, passed across his face, as if something was bothering him. I knew that look because most interrogators use it. Colonel Mang said, “The officer at the Hue Immigration police station said you told him you traveled alone. Is that correct?”

  I realized that if these questions h
ad been asked of Susan and me separately, we might have different answers. I replied, “I never said I traveled alone. In fact, he didn’t ask me. But probably you asked him, and so like subordinates everywhere, he fabricated an answer for you.”

  He thought about that, then said, “I suppose, then, I must ask him again.” He said to me, “So you and Miss Weber traveled together.”

  “Correct.”

  “By bus.”

  “Correct.”

  “And where did you stay when you arrived in Hue?”

  “A mini-motel.”

  “Ah, yes. That was what I was told.” He smiled and said to me, “The police officer was under the impression you spent the night with a prostitute.” He looked at Susan, then back at me and said, “But he must have mistaken your description of your traveling companion.”

  I said, “The policeman in Hue, like Mr. Loc, needs to understand English better if they’re going to question or eavesdrop on English-speaking people. Don’t you agree?”

  He probably did, but he said to me, “My English, I hope, is to your satisfaction. I understand English quite well, but I do not understand your answers.”

  “I understand them.”

  Colonel Mang smiled and said, “Let me ask you a simple question— what was the name of the mini-motel where you and Miss Weber spent the night?”

  “I don’t know. Do they have names?”

  “They are usually named by their street address. Does that help you?”

  “No.”

  He looked at Susan. “Can you recall the name of this motel?”

  “No.”

  He kept looking at her and said, “I am rather surprised, Miss Weber, that you, who have been in Vietnam for three years, would go to such a place.”

  She replied, “Colonel, when you’re tired, you sleep anywhere.”

  “Is that so?” He turned back to me and asked, “And did you go to the Century Riverside when you arrived in Hue to see if there was a room available for you?”

  “No.”

  “And why not? You would have discovered, as I did, that there were rooms available.”

  I replied, “I’m on a budget. The mini-motel was very cheap.”

  He wasn’t buying that at all, and I don’t blame him. He said, “Mr. Brenner, you say you arrived in Hue Friday evening, and you never bothered to see if your hotel, or any other Western hotel, or even a guest house, had a room available for you and your traveling companion. Instead, you say you went from Hue bus station to a mini-motel frequented almost exclusively by prostitutes and their men, and you took a room there, but you do not remember the hotel. Then at 12:35 P.M. the next day, you register at the Century Riverside Hotel, alone, then approximately twenty minutes later, Miss Weber arrives and requests a room. Then, at some point, you meet in the lounge, and after a while, you retire to your rooms—or Mr. Brenner’s room. Am I understanding this correctly?”

  I replied, “You are.”

  “And yet, none of it makes any sense to me. Perhaps you can explain to me your actions.”

  This was clearly not going well, and it wasn’t going to get any better. I said to Colonel Mang, “Colonel, Ms. Weber and I are having a clandestine affair. Do you understand?”

  He kept staring at me.

  I continued, “We’re trying to avoid any possible confrontation with Mr. Stanley, which explains all of our actions.”

  Colonel Mang didn’t think so. He said, “I am no less confused, Mr. Brenner, but let me continue.” He looked at Susan and me again, then said, “You are a handsome couple. The sort of people who would not be easily forgotten. And so, I had the police in Nha Trang question the two bus drivers who drove the noon and one P.M. buses. And neither of these drivers remembers a middle-aged Western couple of any description on their bus. In fact, aside from a few Western backpackers, both buses were filled only with Vietnamese.” He paused. “It seemed odd to me that you would travel by bus.”

  I replied, “There was no other transportation available, and you know that. I was on the one P.M. bus from Nha Trang to Hue, and again, Colonel, someone has given you incorrect information.”

  “Yes? So much incorrect information. From different people.” He looked at Susan and asked her, “And you, too, were on that bus?”

  “That’s right.”

  He thought awhile, or pretended to, then said, “Unfortunately, I believed this incorrect information from the bus drivers, that you were not on these buses, so I made further inquiries. I first inquired of Vidotour if either of you hired a car and driver, and they informed me that you had not. They keep very careful records, and so, of course, that is correct information. Then I began making inquiries of private tour operators.” He looked at me and asked, “And do you know what I discovered?”

  I didn’t reply to the rhetorical question. In fact, I doubted if Mang had been able to contact any of those people during this holiday period.

  Colonel Mang kept staring at me, and neither of us played a card. Finally, he said, “Nothing. But we are still making inquiries in Nha Trang.”

  I said nothing.

  He added, “I think, Mr. Brenner, that you and Miss Weber came to Hue via a private mini-bus, or more likely a private car and driver. I believe my instructions to you, Mr. Brenner, were clear. You were not to travel by private transportation.”

  I needed to respond to this and said, “Colonel, I think I’ve had enough of your questions, your suspicions, and your sarcasm. I don’t know what the purpose of this is, but I’m going from Hue directly to Hanoi, and I’m making a formal complaint to my embassy, then I’m leaving the country. And when I return to Washington, I’m making a complaint directly to the State Department. Your behavior is unacceptable and unwarranted.”

  He didn’t seem concerned about any of this; by now, he was certain he had something on me, and he seemed more confident. He said to me, “I think I will discover that you hired a car and driver to take you to Hue, and that you stopped some place for the night, and perhaps deviated from your direct route to Hue. And when I find that driver, I will question him about what you did, and who you saw or met with on your journey. Unless, of course, you would like to tell me now.”

  I didn’t want to tell him I killed two policemen on the way, so I replied, “I have nothing further to say to you.”

  “Well, I have more things to say to you.” He lit another cigarette and said, “The policeman you spoke to in Hue informed me that you were very uncooperative.”

  I didn’t reply.

  “He said you attempted to leave his office without permission.”

  I couldn’t resist replying, “Not only did I attempt to leave his office, I did, and he didn’t stop me.”

  Colonel Mang seemed a bit surprised. Clearly, his subordinates told the boss what they wanted to tell him. Oddly, I think he believed me and not them, which maybe wasn’t so odd; in a police state, everyone is terrified of the truth.

  He said to me, “I believe if you put yourself in my situation, you would see that my questions and suspicions are indeed warranted. There is a great deal of what you call circumstantial evidence to suggest that your purpose here is not tourism. And then we have the lies you told me, and which you now attempt to correct.”

  I replied, “I think, Colonel, other people have lied to you, or misled you, or made false assumptions. If I were a policeman, I’d go back and question everyone again, and I’d see if I was barking up the wrong tree. Biet?”

  He turned to Susan, who said something to him in Vietnamese. He nodded and looked back at me. “Interesting expression. But I am not a dog.”

  I resisted a reply.

  He said, “I had the impression from Mr. Stanley’s faxes to Miss Weber at the Grand Hotel that your affair was not so clandestine.”

  I replied, “Which is why we’re trying to avoid Mr. Stanley.”

  “Yes? Is the CIA station chief so stupid that you think you can avoid him by staying in a mini-motel for one night, then checking into a ho
tel that almost all Westerners use?” He added, “I may have believed you were trying to avoid Mr. Stanley if you had stayed for your entire time in Hue at the mini-motel where they do not ask for passports or visas.”

  “Right. We should have done that. Anything else?”

  “Yes. How does your lady friend, Kay, know of your involvement with Miss Weber? And why is this lady friend warning you against this involvement?”

  “Why don’t you stop reading my mail?”

  “It is my job to read your mail, Mr. Brenner. Answer my question.”

  This was an easy one, and despite my anger at Colonel Mang’s snooping, I replied, “I faxed her from Nha Trang about my new romance, and I believe she’s jealous. I assume you know something about women, Colonel, so you understand. Also, your question is another example of your barking up the wrong tree.”

  “Is it? Then let me ask you a question about your fax response to Kay. You said, ‘If you sleep with the enemy, you know where they are at night.’” He looked at Susan, then me, and asked, “So, is this lady here the enemy you referred to?”

  I glanced at Susan, then looked back at Mang and replied, “It’s an idiomatic expression. You should not take all the English you hear or read literally.”

  “Yes? Well, I thank you, Mr. Brenner, for that lesson.”

  “You’re quite welcome. And stop reading my mail.”

  “I find it interesting. You also said in your response to Kay . . . let me try to recall . . .” He recited the last paragraph verbatim, “‘The long shadows of the past do indeed still stretch from here to there, but the shadows in my mind and in my heart are fading, so if you don’t hear from me for a long time, know that I have found what I was looking for, and that I have no personal regrets about this journey. My love to C.’”

  I didn’t look at Susan, but kept staring at Colonel Mang. I didn’t mind too much that he was trying to stick me with a capital offense, but he was making my love life more difficult than it already was.

  Colonel Mang asked, “Why would Kay not hear from you for a long time? And what is it that you found here that you were looking for?”

  I took a deep breath and replied, “I have found inner peace and happiness.”

  “Yes? Where? At Khe Sanh? The A Shau Valley? Hue? Here?”