Monsoon

by Di Morrissey

  ‘One way to find out,’ said Jean-Claude, making a move towards the crates.

  Carlo slammed his hand down on the boxes. ‘Leave it.’

  Anna was frightened at the sudden turn of events. ‘Carlo, there’s something wrong. Make Hung stop.’

  Carlo moved forward and tugged at Hung’s sleeve. ‘Man, what’s going on?’

  Hung didn’t look behind him but swung his free arm, pushing Carlo so that he lost his balance and fell down.

  ‘Carlo! Are you okay?’ Anna tried to help him as he struggled to get back on his seat.

  ‘I’ll get the bastard for this. Whatever his problem is, it’s nothing to do with us,’ spluttered Carlo.

  Sandy suddenly said, ‘I know where he’s headed . . . the grotto!’

  The view of the peaks was breaking through the slicing rain and they could see the mouth of the grotto at the base of the pagoda peak.

  ‘What’s he running from?’ exclaimed Rick. ‘Let’s check these boxes again.’

  ‘What for? You saw what was in them,’ said Carlo angrily.

  ‘Only the things at the top,’ said Rick. He pulled out a penknife and began levering the plywood top off a crate.

  Hung glanced back and made a move as though to stop them, but they were almost at the entrance to the grotto and he needed to pay full attention to getting through the narrow passage. He slowed the launch slightly, judging the level and wash of the water.

  Carlo was now helping Rick and Jean-Claude as they wrenched off the top of the crate and pulled out and unwrapped the top layer, then another and another.

  Rick shouted, ‘These aren’t the ones you paid for! These are cheap copies you can buy in any market.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ gasped Carlo. ‘What about the rest of them?’ He sounded panicky. Elbowing Jean-Claude away he began pulling out blue-and-white plates that now, even to him, looked like cheap imitations of the pieces he’d seen on the junk.

  Carlo stumbled to Hung and grabbed him, shaking his shoulder. ‘What’s going on? What do you know about this? Where’re my antiques?’ he shouted.

  ‘Look out!’ squealed Anna as the launch swung towards the rock face.

  ‘Duck down,’ shouted Jean-Claude as the boat flashed through the low arched entrance to the grotto.

  It was suddenly quiet as Hung cut the motor and they glided deeper into the eerie green cave.

  Jean-Claude and Rick continued delving into the crates when Jean-Claude suddenly gasped. ‘What on earth? Oh, mon dieu.’

  Rick let out his breath. ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Let me see,’ screamed Carlo.

  Rick and Jean-Claude were holding some packages wrapped in plastic. Rick ripped one open.

  Carlo was ashen-faced. ‘What the hell is that?’ he said in a whisper, looking at the white powder.

  ‘What’s it look like?’ snapped Rick. ‘Dope of some kind for sure. Probably heroin.’

  ‘Throw it overboard,’ yelled Jean-Claude. ‘Get rid of it, fast.’

  Carlo flew into a rage. ‘Where’s my stuff? It has to be there! I don’t know anything about fucking drugs!’

  ‘Drugs! Who put them there? Oh god, this is terrible,’ said Anna, starting to cry.

  ‘That’s why the police or customs are following us. Carlo, if you’re caught with this . . .’ Sandy suddenly stopped. ‘It’s us too. We could be executed!’

  ‘That’s right. This stuff is a death sentence.’ Jean-Claude spun around to Hung.

  ‘Is this Madame Nguyen’s or yours?’

  Hung took no notice as the launch slid close to the rock wall at the very back of the grotto.

  Rick was ripping through the plastic and tossed several plates over the side along with packets of drugs.

  ‘Just throw the crates over,’ said Jean-Claude. ‘We don’t have time to pick out the drug packets.’

  ‘No way. Stop! My antiques might be in there!’ cried Carlo, flinging himself at the crate and pulling out plates in the hope that he’d find what he had paid for.

  ‘Forget it,’ shouted Rick. ‘It’s cheap shit. Worthless. You’ve been conned.’

  ‘Hung! Look at Hung,’ shouted Anna.

  Hung had clambered to the bow and had reached for the overhang of a rock ledge and pushed himself out of the boat. The boat dipped and everyone held on fast to keep their balance.

  ‘Let him go. Get rid of the crates,’ snapped Jean-Claude and he and Rick elbowed Carlo out of the way and heaved the first crate over the side.

  ‘Oh, Jesus. No!’ Carlo struggled with them until Anna grabbed him.

  ‘Stop it! Don’t you understand? We can be arrested, jailed for life or worse if we’re caught with this!’

  Carlo slumped as the second crate went over, his face in his hands.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Rick, peering over the side.

  ‘Can you see the crates at all? How deep is it?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘Deeper than the karst is high, I’d say,’ said Jean-Claude.

  ‘So what do we do?’ asked Anna in a frightened voice. ‘Where has Hung gone?’

  ‘He can look after himself, stuff him,’ said Rick.

  ‘And the patrol boat? They’re still out there. Even if they didn’t see us come in here they know we have to go back to the mainland sometime,’ said Sandy.

  They all looked at each other for a moment, the realisation of how close they’d come to being caught with a haul of illicit drugs – and the certain consequences.

  ‘They’re going to ask a lot of awkward questions. They must have seen us leave the junk.’

  ‘But did they see the crates loaded on board?’ asked Rick.

  ‘Crates? What crates?’ said Jean-Claude with an arched eyebrow. ‘This is what we do. We’re tourists. We were invited to visit Madame Nguyen to see her beautiful junk and now we are going to explore the grotto and climb the peak as Anna wishes to see the nun again.’

  ‘In this weather?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘Chérie, you are visitors, you only have so much time to see the sights,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Rick, start the engine. Carlo? You are au fait with this scenario?’

  ‘I don’t give a shit.’

  ‘Well, you’d better,’ said Sandy. ‘We don’t want to be hauled in for questioning. Play along. This government doesn’t approve of smuggling. Especially drugs.’

  Carlo was shaking his head, still in shock. ‘Rick, you checked the plates; didn’t you suspect anything?’ he demanded.

  ‘Hey, don’t start accusing me. The plate and the jug on top were real. It was pretty sharp of them to keep the crates open and appear so upfront. All they had to do was have the good stuff on top and the rubbish underneath,’ said Rick as he turned over the motor.

  ‘What if we’d insisted on looking through the entire crate?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘Guess they took the risk,’ said Rick. ‘Jean-Claude who do you think is behind this? Hung?’

  ‘I’d say Madame Nguyen for sure.’

  ‘So do you think the authorities were watching her? Or Hung?’ asked Sandy.

  ‘Both of them, most likely,’ said Jean-Claude. ‘You don’t have fingers in as many pies as she does or get so wealthy without a sideline or two.’

  ‘I want to go to the junk and throttle that bitch. Get my antiques back,’ said Carlo furiously.

  ‘Forget it. There won’t be anything on board. And I wouldn’t put it past that crew of Madame Nguyen’s to dump you over the side with rocks tied to your feet,’ said Rick, steering through the opening of the grotto.

  ‘I saw them pull up the anchor and get underway. They could be anywhere,’ said Sandy.

  The monsoonal rain had eased once more and as soon as the launch came from behind the peaks they spotted the patrol boat idling in the bay. It revved its engine and raced towards them.

  ‘Here they come. Carlo, sharpen up. Don’t look so miserable,’ said Jean-Claude.

  ‘Piss off. You haven’t just lost a bloody fortune,’ snapped Carlo. />
  ‘We’re tourists, remember. Having a good time,’ said Sandy.

  ‘Yeah, right. Say nothing. Let Rick and me do the talking,’ said Jean-Claude, very much in control of the situation.

  Rick pointed the launch towards the peak with the pagoda, aiming for the strip of beach that they could just make out through the rain.

  A horn blared and a voice came through a loud hailer as the patrol boat drew alongside.

  Rick idled the engine. ‘Something wrong, officer?’ he shouted.

  ‘Who are they? Water police?’ whispered Sandy.

  There were four men on board. They wore khaki and navy uniforms Sandy hadn’t seen before. They had holsters with hand guns.

  ‘You, stop your boat. Throw a line, here.’ The senior officer reached out for the bow line that Jean-Claude tossed to him. ‘Where you go? What you have in boat?’

  ‘Just our gear, sir. We’re tourists, looking around.’ He shrugged and pointed at the rainy heavens. ‘Too bad it’s monsoon time.’

  ‘Stand back: we come and look.’ The officer clicked his fingers and a younger, agile crew member sprang into the launch.

  ‘What’s up? What’re you looking for?’ asked Jean-Claude.

  ‘You. No speak. Stay there.’ The officer pointed at Jean-Claude and spoke in an abrupt tone.

  ‘Ssh,’ whispered Sandy. ‘He probably hates the French.’

  They sat still, Anna and Sandy huddled together as the young officer stepped between them, prodding under seats, lifting floor boards and looking in the engine housing.

  ‘Bag,’ he demanded, and the girls gave him their handbags, which he emptied on the floor of the boat.

  ‘Hey, my camera!’ exclaimed Anna, but Sandy gripped her hand, telling her to be quiet.

  He pointed at the girls’ capes. ‘Take off.’

  Everybody peeled off their rain capes. It was obvious they weren’t hiding anything and the young officer gazed at his superior, looking for guidance as to his next move.

  The senior officer glared at them. ‘Why you visit the big junk?’

  ‘Madame Nguyen invited us to see it. We met her in . . . a shop,’ said Rick.

  ‘Silk shop,’ added Sandy.

  ‘Where you go just now?’ He inclined his head towards the small peaks.

  ‘We were told about the grotto in there. Very interesting,’ said Rick.

  The senior man spoke in Vietnamese to another crew member, who leapt to lower an outboard-powered inflatable over the side. He climbed in and at barked instructions from the chief, sped in the direction of the grotto. The officer who had searched the launch climbed back onto the patrol boat.

  ‘Can we go now?’ said Anna. ‘We want to climb up to the pagoda.’

  ‘You stay.’ He lit a cigarette. The other two officers didn’t take their gaze off the launch and the five foreigners, who sat in the steady rain. No one spoke.

  The inflatable returned and the crewman spoke rapidly to the senior officer, who turned and gave them all a hard look. He leaned down and untied their bow rope and tossed it into the launch.

  ‘Be careful who you do business with in my country,’ he said sullenly.

  ‘We’re tourists. We like Vietnam very much,’ said Rick.

  For the first time the man gave a cold smile, making it clear he saw through Rick’s polite retort. He jerked his head at his man at the helm and the boat roared off.

  ‘What a sinister-looking bastard. What now?’ said Rick.

  ‘We go to the pagoda, of course,’ said Anna.

  ‘Are you for real?’ shouted Carlo. ‘Oh, Christ. My father will kill me. This’ll bust me.’

  ‘Yes, I think you have certainly been taken for a ride,’ said Jean-Claude. ‘What interests me is how the goods were going to be collected in Sydney before Carlo took delivery.’

  ‘If they’re paying off people this end, they must have someone waiting for it at the other end. The drug haul would have been worth a lot of money,’ said Rick. ‘I bet Madame Nguyen has done this before.’

  ‘Heavens,’ said Sandy. ‘What if Australian customs had intercepted it first! We’d be dead meat.’

  ‘There’s the little beach, Rick, go in there,’ said Anna, still shaken.

  ‘You’re not really going to hike up that bloody hill, are you?’ grumbled Carlo.

  ‘Listen, do you realise how close we came to getting arrested and probably executed?’ snapped Sandy. ‘We should all be giving thanks. Especially you, Carlo.’

  ‘Don’t blame me; it wasn’t my fault,’ exploded Carlo. And then his face crumpled. ‘You don’t know what this means to me. I’m done for. Wiped out. How am I going to pay back my father?’ He threw a desperate look to Anna who moved next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

  ‘Listen, we’ll get through this. You’ve still got the landscaping and garden stuff coming. That’ll make good money. And if the worst comes to the worst you can always sell your flat, downsize. Or I can move in and help with the mortgage. We’ll manage,’ she said soothingly.

  Sandy, Rick and Jean-Claude exchanged incredulous glances.

  The launch nosed onto the beach and they all jumped out.

  ‘Look, the police guys, they’re out there watching us,’ said Sandy.

  The patrol boat had stopped, and its crew were obviously observing them through the sheets of rain.

  ‘Well, let them,’ said Anna. ‘I’m going up to see the nun. You coming, Carlo?’

  ‘What for?’

  Sandy hesitated, she knew this was Anna’s thing, but she didn’t want to let her go up there alone. ‘I’ll come, but wait for you outside the temple, okay?’

  ‘We’ll wait here; there’s shelter over there near the rocks,’ said Jean-Claude.

  ‘They might think we’re collecting illicit cargo,’ said Rick.

  ‘Let them,’ snapped Carlo. He was still angry at Rick and wanted to blame him for this disaster. Anything but admit he’d been conned.

  ‘No, you guys come up to the pagoda. There’s some shelter there for you while Anna sees the nun. It’s really special. And I do believe we should pay our respects to whichever god looked over us.’

  ‘It was damned close, that’s for sure,’ said Rick.

  ‘If you want us to come, then we will,’ said Jean-Claude.

  ‘I want to get out of this pissing rain,’ snarled Carlo.

  Anna ignored him and started on the track that wound up the hill. It was familiar now and despite the rain she strode ahead, followed by Sandy, Jean-Claude, Rick and a reluctant Carlo.

  Halfway up they paused and from a lookout across the bay saw several tourist boats and the waiting patrol boat. Then the rain swept across the karst wiping out the view. They trudged on in wet and sombre silence.

  Anna found her steps quickening as she got closer to the pagoda at the peak. She had so many thoughts swirling through her mind. Her heart ached over the collapse of Carlo’s deal. Yet this time it wasn’t really Carlo’s fault. Everyone had thought he’d do so well with the antiques. In an odd way too, she’d been pleased that he’d taken an interest in a project in Vietnam.

  The rain stopped just as they reached the pagoda. Shrugging off their capes they stood quietly in the entrance.

  ‘We’ll wait here,’ said Sandy softly to Anna. ‘You go and find her.’

  Anna took off her shoes and walked towards the simple altar. She glanced around, then stood alone, bowed her head and gave a prayer of thanks and lit a stick of incense. As she stood there, deep in meditation, she felt the presence of the little nun beside her. She hadn’t heard her softly enter from the side doorway but when she turned she saw the nun smiling at her.

  Anna took her hand and lifted it to her face. ‘It’s me, Anna.’

  ‘I remember. I knew you come back.’

  ‘I wanted to come back and thank you before I leave Vietnam.’

  The nun studied her through her watery eyes. ‘You find your family?’

  ‘I did. It was not as I
expected. But it was good. I saw where my mother grew up. Where she lived and played and went to church.’

  The nun nodded. ‘So you can tell your children. They will know how it was for you, and for your mother. And what family you find?’

  ‘Only my great-uncle. But he remembered my mother. I’m so pleased I met him.’

  She smiled. ‘We can believe in many things but we must believe what the heart tell us. You have a true heart, child.’ The nun was about to say more but cocked her head to the murmur of voices outside. ‘You have friends here?’

  ‘Yes. I will bring them in to give thanks in the temple. And then, can I see you alone for a moment or two?’

  The nun took her hand and walked to the entrance where Anna introduced the others. The nun said to Sandy in Vietnamese, ‘I am glad your friend followed her heart. She made the right choice.’

  ‘You helped her very much. Thank you. She will go home more at peace,’ answered Sandy.

  ‘And your family?’ the nun asked Sandy.

  ‘My father came here for the first time since the American war. He came for a special memorial service. I think the visit helped him too.’

  In her fractured English the nun addressed the group. ‘You all come again to this place. It special place for thinking, deciding on path in life.’

  ‘They come to see you,’ said Anna.

  ‘I will always be here. Even after I die. My spirit will return. Now, please, come in.’ The nun gestured to them and Sandy took off her shoes and led the way into the pagoda to give thanks.

  Carlo was uncomfortable: this felt alien to his Catholic upbringing, but Anna squeezed his hand and so he slipped off his shoes and followed the others.

  Anna and the nun left them there and walked to the simple room where the nun lived.

  ‘I wanted to thank you for giving me the courage to make this journey,’ said Anna. ‘It has become much more than looking for my family. I think I’ve found myself, as well.’

  ‘You not always find what you expect in life. Accepting what comes – that important.’

  ‘I still treasure the gift you gave me,’ said Anna, opening her hand to reveal the tiny green Buddha. ‘Thank you for giving it to me.’

  The nun closed her eyes, fingering the shape and then her face broke into a smile. ‘It has helped you on your journey.’ She rose and Anna thought how much frailer she seemed. Together they walked back to the pagoda, the nun holding Anna’s arm. ‘And you have decided about your life?’