Bleeding in Black and White

by Colin Cotterill

  “Point taken.”

  “Can you arrange me a passport?”

  There was something in Palmer’s expression, something about the way he hesitated and looked down at his cup that told Bodge all was not well.

  “I’m…not officially connected to the Embassy.”

  “But you’re the head of CIA operations in Vietnam. Surely you could call on a few favors.”

  “I…”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m no longer connected to the CIA either. The Ambassador here was just doing a favor for a friend of mine when he let me go to Ban Methuot. I can’t tell the embassy who I actually am.”

  “Why on earth…? Wait. They’ve got you too, haven’t they.”

  “They scheduled a hearing to discuss my background. I skipped the country before it could happen. I’ve been suspended indefinitely. That’s why you were forgotten for so long at the safe house.”

  “What have they got on you?”

  “A witness: an old lover.”

  “The bastards. Where do they find these guys? I mean, how much money would it take to get a man to stand up in court and announce he’s a faggot?”

  Palmer looked into Bodge’s eyes and smiled sadly. “In this case, I don’t believe money was the issue.”

  “Why else would he…?” Bodge suddenly felt stupid. Palmer had already answered that question. “Oh!”

  “Forgive me, Bodge.”

  Bodge took a few seconds to look up at the reservoir of answers. When he looked back at Palmer Bodge was shaking his head. “I’m not certain it’s something you should be asking forgiveness for. It hasn’t had any effect on me. But…”

  “What, Bodge?”

  “Why are you telling me? Surely, the fewer people who know about this, the better.”

  “I’ve had to make some important decisions since I left the States. I tried the obvious one. I had the whisky and the loaded revolver. I decided it was best to put myself out of everybody’s misery. It turns out I wasn’t as good a shot as I thought I was. Put a darned big hole through a hotel ceiling. After that failed, I only had one course left open to me. Bodge, I’ve been lying about this all my life. Holding in a lie for so long makes it infectious. It starts to spread, starts to take over your whole life. I’m going to cut it out before I become the lie.”

  “Admit to it?”

  “Yes.”

  “They wouldn’t let you stay on at the Agency.”

  “I’ve done my bit. I have money. I don’t have to work. And I believe people will eventually come around to accepting us as humans. There are more people like you out there.”

  “Like me?”

  “Ramos told me how you took the news that Lou might be gay. You were enough of a man not to judge him for it.”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure I didn’t. I do have problems with it.”

  “Which is to be expected. Having doubts and having prejudice are entirely different. People like Jensen would have no doubts whatsoever. It’s a hanging offence to him.”

  “Okay, I need some time to work out exactly how I do feel about this. But, if it makes any difference, I’m glad you decided not to top yourself.”

  “That’s very sweet of you. Listen. I don’t have anyone here who can fix you a legal passport. But I do have people in Hong Kong. I can get you there on a naval vessel without having to worry about papers. That should solve one of your problems.”

  “Well, I…”

  “Bodge, you’re a wanted man. They’ll have your details at the embassy and the airport. You can’t just get yourself a passport and fly out as if nothing had happened.”

  He sighed. “I know.”

  “There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

  “Von Hong.”

  “The consort?”

  “She’s decided to defect. She chose me as her courier, I mean, long before she found out I was persona non grata. She’s set everything up already to protect her family.”

  “Bodge, no.”

  “Sorry. It isn’t negotiable.”

  “Are you insane, boy? You can only survive this by keeping a low profile. I would hardly call smuggling the Emperor’s minor wife into America ‘low profile’. It’s madness.”

  “I have no choice.”

  “Tell her no. Run off without her.” Palmer studied Bodge’s face. “This isn’t just an act of political kindness, is it?”

  “I love her.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Palmer shook his head and began to laugh. Bodge laughed along with him except his own sounded more manic. “Robert Leon, we are talking ‘International Incident’ here. The United States could be seen as kidnapping a member of Vietnam’s royal family.”

  “Or rescuing one from the dangers of war. Heads of state are whisked away from armed conflict all the time.”

  Palmer laughed again and stood. He mussed Bodge’s hair like an affectionate uncle. “Does she have travel papers?”

  “A US passport in the name of Mrs. Rogers, and a marriage certificate from our embassy.”

  “Very resourceful. Are you sure she isn’t just using you?”

  “She was, in the beginning. Or, at least, she tried to. Right now I think there’s an even chance she respects me.”

  “Who could resist you? Okay, if she can get herself to Hong Kong, I’ll see what I can do about getting you both into the US. But you’ll have to leave first.”

  “Why?”

  “The cruiser to Hong Kong sets sail at eight in the morning. You have to be on it.”

  60.

  When Bodge got back to the silent man hotel, Hong was in the room trying on her disguise. It amounted to a henna hair rinse and a pair of dark-rimmed eyeglasses. He agreed she did look different. He believed the old Clark Kent Myopia might just be enough to fool the busy Immigration worker at the airport. A lot of Vietnamese women were leaving the country as French wives. It was inevitable the Americans would take over that export trade when the French had gone home.

  There was a moment of panic in her eyes when Bodge told her he had to leave the following morning. She decided to attempt to leave on the Air France flight around mid-day. Money still carried a lot of weight at the airline desk and if there were enough of it she thought she could arrange for someone to be bumped. She had enough. All the money for the extension to the royal lodge was in her pack. If she missed that flight, she could bribe in advance for the following day. Whatever happened, she and Bodge would be together in Hong Kong by the end of the week. That seemed to Bodge like an awfully long wait.

  They sat together propped up on pillows against the orange palm trees that night before the great escape. For some unfathomable reason, she suddenly had the urge to tell him about her life. He said she could tell him any time but she insisted now was the moment. She whispered it through a background of car horns and cyclo bells from the street below.

  “I worked hard when I was young,” she began. “My father started a small ice-cream shop and my sisters and I watched how much life he put into his work. Our mother had died giving birth to my youngest sister. Father was determined that all three of us should have the opportunity to study. He got us into the best French lycee. We wanted to repay him, so, when we came home from school we would all work alongside him. It made us very close.

  “At school we were all excellent students, but I had something else. Some wicked turn of fate had sculpted my sisters plain and me with some finesse. With the escalation of the war, my father’s business took a downturn. Money became scarce. My sisters urged me to enter a local competition. It was the type which would ignore a girl’s social and mental inadequacies and give a prize for the shape of her chest and the allure of her smile. My tits and teeth gave us a reprieve from starvation.

  “That competition led to others to the point that my body became the main bread-winner for my family. It almost paid for me to enter University the following year, until, on one fateful day, the Emperor sent his talent scouts to the top competition in the De
lta. I won the day and lost the life. There was enough money in royal whoring for my father’s business to be resurrected and my sisters to go to college. I was the sacrifice.

  “It may be true that the Emperor loved me. It isn’t important. Some years before, I’d put my first experience of love to one side, reserved for someone who was truly remarkable. It was commandeered by a man who believed he was remarkable, and therefore couldn’t have been. I needed desperately to get away from that life — to find my true self. But I had to be sure my father and sisters were safe. I erected a lie that I hope will give my father a chance of survival if the Viet Minh ever wish to purge those families with connections to the royalists. Then I used another deceit to get my sisters out of the country.

  “Your predecessors, the Cornfelts were lazy missionaries. They made rare trips to the hilltribe villages and staged a lot of photographs. These they sent back to their mission headquarters claiming incredible feats of humanitarianism in helping the poor and downtrodden. I knew that these were false claims and I threatened to tell their donors exactly what they were using this aid money for. You’ve seen the furnishings at both houses. One chest of drawers from the Ban Methuot house could have fed a village for a year. So I didn’t feel bad about blackmailing them. All they had to do was sponsor my sisters for study in North America. I think they got off lightly actually. They left last month so the stage was clear for my own departure.”

  “And how long had I been in your escape plan?”

  “You were integral from the moment I learned there were spies on their way to my country. That’s why I was waiting for you to arrive. That’s why I was looking after you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The bomb in Saigon.”

  “That was your man — the old guy?”

  “I wanted to be sure you could make it to Ban Methuot.”

  “Did you have a hand in my ride on the royal airplane?”

  “A little. Originally I’d intended to blackmail the two of you with my knowledge of your backgrounds. I was sure your organization would assist me for my silence. My emperor has a terrible habit of leaving top secret documents beside the bed and falling asleep. But I liked your colleague and I appreciated the fact that she was willing to fight for the rights of her servant girl. I knew it was a terrible risk considering you were both supposed to remain incognito — not make any waves. But you were my passport to leaving Vietnam and that became my priority. I have come to like you too so it pleases me greatly that you aren’t offended by my subterfuge. I really don’t wish to hurt you. I wish I could have known you under different circumstances.”

  It was a wonderful speech but something about it made Bodge feel uncomfortable. There were elements of a eulogy about it. He’d always been expecting his luck to run out, so he was hearing what he believed was inevitable. But the way she looked at him before curling up on her uncomfortable nest beneath the palms drove that thought from his mind. He had no doubt on that last night in Saigon, that Hong truly loved him as much as he loved her — that their futures were inexorably connected. Yet still he’d said nothing of his feelings. He spent his remaining two hours lying on his bed watching the faint rise and fall of her breaths.

  At seven, he kissed her sleeping cheek and took a cyclo to the navy docks. He arrived at Quay Four to find Palmer standing in front of the gate. He had a suitcase and two large brown paper parcels at his feet.

  “Morning, Bodge.”

  “Sir. Are you going somewhere?”

  “As a matter of fact I’m on my way to Korea, so I’m going with you. Now you’re accounted for there really isn’t much point in sticking around in Saigon.”

  “You came here just for me?”

  “Pretty much. You were one of the loose ends I felt bad about leaving dangling.” He picked up the suitcase and pointed his chin to the parcels. “Those are yours. No offence, but I prefer my shipmates to have a decent change of clothes.”

  The US Navy guard at the gate saluted and didn’t ask to see paperwork. USS Charleston was moored beside the quay taking on supplies in unmarked crates. They walked up the gangway and a second seaman saluted when they stepped onto the deck. They all seemed to recognize Palmer. The skipper was supervising the loading. He spotted the new arrivals and came over at the double to take Palmer’s hand.

  “Ant, you old stowaway. Who let you on board?”

  “Off with you. You’re delighted to have me. Captain Eckhart, this is Bodge.”

  They shook hands. “Howdy, Bodge. Welcome aboard. I’ve saved you girls the honeymoon suite down aft. You remember where it is?”

  “How could I ever forget? Thanks, Jim.”

  “My pleasure as always.”

  Once Bodge and Palmer where settled into the storage area behind the subsidiary engine and had slung their hammocks from the hot pipes they were already desperate for air. They walked to the fantail and watched the crew prepare to set sail. Bodge modeled his new slacks and shirt for their buyer. They fitted him perfectly.

  By the time the cruiser sailed into Hong Kong Harbor, Bodge had a clear idea of what needed to be done in the US and a list of allies to help him do it. For the first time, he thought he might have a chance. Once they’d docked, Palmer walked him to the top of the gangway.

  “Are you sure you won’t come ashore for a few hours and join me in some food that doesn’t come out of cans?” Bodge asked.

  “Thank you, but no. We’ll be shoving off early in the morning. Besides, I don’t want to spend the evening watching you and your lady friend making goo goo eyes at each other. So…”

  Bodge shook his hand and held on to it. “Boss, I told you in Saigon I’d need time to think about those things you told me in your office. Well, I guess I’ve thought and I have to say I admire you, really. I can’t think of anyone who’d have the balls to do what you’ve decided to do, to stand up to those hypocrites, stick to your principles. In fact, I think that makes you something of a hero to me. I’d be honored to get together with you when this is all sorted out and have a few drinks to talk over the odd old days.”

  Palmer’s lips quivered slightly then turned up into a smile of gratitude. “Thank you, son,” he said. “I would like that very much. In fact, you’ll need me around when you get older. No one’s going to believe a word of these stories you’ll be telling the old-timers in the bar. I know they’re all true and I still don’t believe ‘em.”

  They hugged and Bodge bounded smiling down the gangplank onto the dock.

  There was a fifty-fifty chance Bodge would find Hong at the Ritz waiting for him. But, if she hadn’t made it onto Tuesday’s flight or Wednesday’s, she wouldn’t be there till later today. So, he didn’t want to get too excited. He knew from experience how erratic airplane bookings could be. He walked to the front desk and smiled at the pretty girl. She wore a neat blazer with the hotel logo on the pocket, and a hairnet. If he hadn’t been so anxious about Hong, he would have asked her why.

  “Hello,” he said. “My name’s Rogers. I was wondering whether my wife had checked in yet.”

  “Ah, Mr. Rogers,” she smiled. “We’ve been expecting you.” He felt an overwhelming relief. They’d agreed on this hotel but hadn’t made a reservation. It appeared the most difficult part of the journey was over. The girl was leafing through the large ledger on the desk. He assumed she was looking up their room number, but he was wrong. She stopped at an empty page where a brown envelope was wedged into the fold.

  “Mr. R. Rogers, is it?” she asked, and held out the letter. He didn’t want to take it. He looked at his name in Hong’s neat handwriting and knew. The curse had kicked into reverse. Whatever was inside that letter would kill him.

  “Someone from yesterday’s flight dropped it off.”

  He carried the envelope out into the street and walked till he found a small bench at the edge of a littered park. For an hour he sat there with the envelope unopened beside him on the seat. People passing by looked at it. Ants crawled on it. A br
eeze attempted to lift and run off with it. But it remained unopened until Bodge could stand it no more.

  ‘Cher Bodge,’ it began.

  ‘I’m sorry to do this by letter. On top of all my other faults, I’m a coward. Over the past few days, since we left Dalat, I’ve come to understand that I can’t desert my people in their hour of most need. It would look very bad for the Emperor to have his household running away like rats from a sinking ship. I didn’t know how to tell you.

  I think life in America would have been very happy, and perhaps, sometime in the future, I may still make it. But this is not the time. I shall never forget you, Mr. Rogers and I hope you will not forget me. I believe you will be able to solve all your mysteries and be accepted again by your own people. Good luck. Hong.’

  ‘Good luck?’ That was the best she could do? That was the most suitable sign off she could come up with? ‘Good luck?’ He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it onto the ground. A flock of desperate pigeons came down to inspect it. There are two types of disappointment. One comes when the totally unexpected hits you and knocks you flat. The other is one you wait for. You go over it in your mind even to the point of how you’ll react when it arrives. But you never get it right. You never completely take into account how much damage sadness can do to you.

  Bodge continued to sit on the bench, waiting for the feeling to go away. At one point he rescued the letter and read it again. He folded it neatly and put it into his pocket. But no matter how long he waited, the sadness stayed there with him like an undertaker at a death bed.

  61.

  “So, even when we were together in New York you were under suspension?”

  “It’s been five months, now.”

  “With pay?”

  “Half.”

  “How do you get by?”

  “Anthony’s family helps.”

  ‘Anthony!’ Palmer’s first name. At last. He had a Christian name. Anthony and Denholm — the gay old bachelors. Palmer hadn’t given anything away on the boat. It had all come together in Bodge’s mind on the long flight from Hong Kong. Denholm had been there at LaGuardia to meet his flight. Palmer’s Buick was parked in the tow zone with a large ‘On official Police Business’ card tucked in the front windshield — one of the last perks of a soon to be inactive service with the New York police force. They drove along Grand Central Parkway toward Manhattan. It was a rolling badly-laid road and long stretches of it had no central dividing lines. With its overgrown acacias it didn’t give any indication it led to one of the world’s most developed metropolises. It was like sneaking into the city on a back road.