by Travis Stone
'I'm glad you came.' He smiled. 'Your task is not yet finished.'
Amai couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was he really foolish enough to send her back out? Amai had other plans. She would find another way to report Tet, and then she would hide. There were places in Saigon where she could disappear - until Danny returned.
Triet took her by the shoulders. 'Something important has come up.' The intensity in his eyes was disturbing.
'What?'
Triet put his arm around her and steered her out of the club and into the street. He took her through Cholon to a rundown building, squashed into a narrow lane near the Phu Tho racetrack.
Amai felt emotionally drained. Her escape from the canal had been luck. She knew that she could be dead - or worse - suffering torture at the hands a grinning General Loan.
'This is my Headquarters,' Triet said.
His building was a dirty yellow color with a terracotta roof. Outside, hard-faced men milled about smoking tobacco. Inside, several played a dice game on the concrete floor. In turn, the men nodded to Triet as he led her past. A thin man holding a thin cigarette between his lips stared at her breasts, before looking her up and down. Amai would never have come here without Triet. Triet gave a hand signal and the skinny man and one other fell in behind them.
He led her through several passageways and doors before exiting the building into a closed courtyard. The two men went to a dry concrete fountain and dragged it back several feet. The fountain had concealed an opening. The smell of opium drifted up from the concrete basement, and Amai felt the sudden urge to smoke. She had never smoked the drug, and hadn't wanted to, but Saigon was getting on top of her. She needed an escape.
She climbed down the narrow ladder behind Triet. Two ugly men and a beautiful girl sat on the floor. The men stood, greeted Triet, and then the three of them became engrossed in conversation, referring periodically to a large wall map. Amai recognized one of the men as Pham Xuan An, the blunt-nosed spy from Time Magazine. She had worked with An before.
Amai listened to the men talk.
An said: 'We'll bring in AK-47s by the thousands. And grenades.'
'How?'
An's blunt nose flared. 'The Tet celebrations. We'll bring in truck loads of flowers and hide the weapons underneath.
Amai looked at the girl. Shrouded in velvety smoke, the girl drew back on a long bamboo pipe. She smiled at Amai and then put the pipe on the worn rug on which she sat. Amai recognized her.
Thi Ling Nang, Amai thought.
They had walked part of the Ho Chi Minh Trail together; from the Pan Handle to Cu Chi. Thi was a spy.
Thi waved in lethargic recognition, but did not get up. Amai figured that she had smoked several pipes; her glazed eyes suggesting that nothing would bother her.
That's how Amai wanted to feel.
Amai realized Triet was looking at her. 'Pipe?' He said.
Amai nodded. He looked surprised.
Amai sat beside Thi and smelled the subtle scent of her hair through the opium.
She could never return to her flat on Thong Nhut Boulevard. She would have to abandon her beautiful dresses and shoes - she could never get them back. And Danny, she thought. How will he find me?
Under a dim electric bulb, Amai watched Triet light a small stove, heat the opium bead, and then scrap it into the bamboo pipe. Amai took the pipe and inhaled. The smoke tasted hot and sharp. She coughed - and then drew back again.
'Another?' Triet said.
She felt heavy. 'Yes.'
Triet repeated the process.
Amai wanted to forget everything single thing that had happened today. She wanted to forget everything from now, until Danny came back. She drew back as much smoke as her lungs could handle and the effect was immediate and overpowering. She felt sluggish and lethargic and her arms felt like blocks.
Xuan An spoke into Triet's ear and the two men climbed the ladder and left the basement. The sound of their sandals on the ladder echoed in Amai's head.
Thi smiled casually. 'Where's your handbag?'
Amai thought that Thi was dazzlingly pretty: petite, with smooth youthful features, and sharp darting eyes. 'I don't carry one. Why?'
Thi held up a glossy snakeskin purse. 'It's genuine python.' Thi opened the purse, took out a stick of lip-gloss, and applied some to her lips. Then she said: 'You've still got the best breasts in the world.'
Thi's comment took Amai back six years, to the Ho Chi Minh trail. She recalled her fears as a naive seventeen year-old: showering in the monsoon rain, as her hands soaped the curves of her body, she worried about looking different to the other girls. They all had petite bodies and small, perky breasts; but Amai's body was fuller, and amongst the girls, her breasts quickly became the source of secret conversation.
How stupid, Amai though. I should've been scared of coming here.
Back then, when the men ogled her, it had made her feel grown-up. Now she had learned to loath it - except for Danny.
The opium made her head swim. She felt nostalgic; then homesick; and then Danny entered the bunker. She stroked his windswept hair and the weather-beaten skin of his face; and then he dissolved into the velvety cloud.
Thi was smoking again.
Amai felt gravity force her down. She lay close to Thi. Waves of fear rocked her. They're after me. Everyone's after me. Beads of cold sweat covered her body. I can't take this. They'll kill me.
Amai felt Thi's velvety skin moving against hers; a comforting arm wrapping around her shoulders. The drug heightened all sensations. Thi stroked her hair and whispered calming words; her comfort driving out the fear. Amai felt the warmth of affection and she realized it was what she so desperately needed. Her hand found Thi's small round shoulder and they held one another.
Then she felt Thi's soft lips on hers, kissing her gently. Amai pulled back. Thi followed; the tip of her tiny tongue licking the tears from her cheeks. Thi's hand slid up her thigh.
Amai tensed. What is she doing?
Then Thi was kissing her again.
Amai felt detached from reality. I'm drugged.
Thi sucked her bottom lip. Amai couldn't stop herself from kissing her back and they began sucking each others tongues and Amai realized that she was unbelievably wet.
What am I doing?
Thi's hand moved between Amai's legs and found her most sensitive spot. Amai felt a surge of sexual desire run through her body, and she realized that she needed something that she couldn't put into words. Thi seemed to understand her craving and her fingers slipped in and out of her while her thumb rubbed her in a circular motion.
Amai's hips moved involuntarily.
Then a tingling feeling started in the soles of her feet. It spread into her legs, her thighs, her belly, and her clitoris. Then it came in an intense wave and she let the ecstasy take her.
8
The CIA man's driver wore a tweed suit and drove very fast.
'They know you're tailing them,' the CIA man said.
His partner backed off the accelerator and the grey Citroen in front of them pulled away, and then turned left again.
'Follow cautiously. Don't loose them completely,' The CIA man said; he wanted Benmore's driver to think he was getting away.
The CIA tracked Jim Benmore wherever he went; they also kept tabs on all he met with; but by arriving in South East Asia, at this time, General Benmore retired, had signed his own death warrant.
* * *
The Citron skidded to a stop in a narrow alley, throwing Danny into the dash.
'Follow me,' the driver yelled.
Danny got out of the car and ran after the man. He had to sprint to keep up as the driver ran down another side alley. They emerged onto the sidewalk of a busy road and the driver got into a blue Volkswagen Beetle.
'Hurry up.'
Danny got in and the Volkswagen pulled sharply into the flow of traffic.
'What's all this about?' Danny said between breaths. 'Who's following us?'
/> 'CIA. DIA. Take your pick. We didn't think they knew we were here.'
Danny had never heard of the DIA. He looked back into the myriad of automobiles. 'I think you lost him. There's no tan sedan behind us.'
'Good.'
Danny looked to the front. 'What's all this about?'
'Mister Benmore will tell you what he wants you to know.'
* * *
The CIA man kept his driver well back from the blue Volkswagen.
Benmore's driver had now assimilated into the traffic flow, apparently unaware that he was still behind him.
* * *
The Volkswagen drove down to a small jetty, along the bank of a large river.
The car stopped. 'Follow me onto the boat,' the driver said.
Danny got out of the car. A small boat with a covered wheel-house was idling beside the jetty. As soon as Danny stepped onto the boat, the engine revved up and it began moving out into the wide channel.
* * *
The CIA man could see the blue VW, and the boat pulling away from the jetty.
Damn.
He took a long barreled hunting rifle with a telescopic sight from the backseat, shouldered the weapon, and looked through the sight. Danny's back and head came into the circle. His finger went to the trigger.
9
When Triet returned to the hidden basement in Pho Tho, he regretted what he was about to do. He didn't want to send Amai into danger, but it was his duty. The mission would go ahead. Triet adored Amai, but nothing would stop him fulfilling his duty to Vietnam. Everything would wait until the Americans were driven out - everything.
Raised in war, and knowing nothing else, Triet had spent the last six years honing twenty beautiful girls into a fluid network of spies. The seven years before that he had spent in Moscow with the KGB. And before that, as a mere boy, he had proudly been one of General Giap's French War prodigies.
He paused at the top of the basement ladder. If it wasn't for this war, he thought. These dammed Americans.
But something about Amai disturbed him. Something about her was eating away at him. Something was wrong.
He knew it was Danny.
His chest emptied.
Amai was happy when she was with the American - too happy. They were never far apart. She glowed when she was with Danny. Triet wanted her to glow like that with him.
His knuckles went white around the top rung. She's in love with him, he thought.
In reality, he had known for sometime, but denial had blinded him from the truth.
He climbed down into the bunker. Jealousy bubbled in his gut acid. He couldn't bear to see Amai with another, let alone an American; ironically, it was he who had forced her to do it; and he was about to force her to do it again. General Giap had ordered it.
Triet stepped off the ladder and was shocked to see Amai's naked breasts. He had seen her naked before; back in Laos he had secretly watched her shower in the monsoon rains; but this time he felt no sexual arousal - he was too dark. He saw that Thi was also naked.
Triet tried to control his breathing. Vietnam needs them.
Amai was the only one who could pull-off the next assignment. Thi was far too inexperienced to do it alone.
Triet controlled his voice: 'Your old assignment is finished. Cease all contact with Danny.'
He watched Amai's eyes as he spoke. In the briefest of seconds, they betrayed her true feelings: disappointment and fear. Nevertheless, her faint but telling reaction only confirmed what he already knew.
The thought of his Amai with that capitalist pig angered him. It drove into his mind like a nail. Without her, the war was all he had - Tet his only reason for living.
* * *
The look in Triet's eyes frightened Amai.
She felt as though he could read her mind; and she felt as though she could read his. Her fear felt raw in her stomach, like a fresh wound. She always knew this moment would come: the moment when Triet realized he would never have her.
She covered her breasts with her hands. What will he do? She thought. His reaction was impossible to predict.
The opium had worn off and Amai felt groggy and embarrassed at Triet seeing her with Thi. Amai was mortified by her own depravity. She didn't even know how it had happened.
Triet ordered Thi to leave. When Thi had gone, he said: 'You have a new assignment.'
'Are you crazy?'
'A Pentagon Major named Randy Johnson,' he went on. 'We know he has a weakness for beautiful Asian girls. He has vital intelligence - and you will take it from him.'
Amai feared that Triet might actually send her back out. It was possible that she could use this Pentagon Major to report Tet, but going out into the city with Military Intelligence hunting her, she doubted if she would survive for long enough. She needed a safer way to get the message to MACV. She would not do it.
Triet continued: 'He will be at the Maison Blanche tonight. You can not go in of course.' Triet looked up. 'But the Major has a routine. He leaves the Maison Blanche at eight o'clock. You and Thi will follow him and seduce him.' Triet smirked again. 'I'm sure the two of you will satisfy his fetish.'
'Triet, this is insane,' she said. 'I won't last an hour-'
Triet's face straightened. 'You will give him this.' His boney hand dug into a pocket, and he took out a tiny glass vile, filled with clear liquid. 'The KGB's latest technology,' he said proudly. 'Once you administer the dose, the Major will tell you why he is here and what he is doing.'
'Triet-'
'I will give you a list of questions. You will write down his answers. You will be staying at Thi's flat in Rue De Varlin. Your cover is a waitress at the Club De Larvae. General Giap has given this the highest priority - all details are top-secret - tell no one.'
Amai slipped into her panties. She could feel Triet's eyes on her skin. She shrugged into her bra, positioning each breast for comfort. 'No, Triet,' She said. 'It would be suicide - and besides, I've had enough of acting like your whore.'
'You will do it,' Triet said.
She stopped and looked at him. His eyes were so full of violence that it scared her.
'You will do it or your nine year old niece, Nhu An-'
Amai went stiff.
'I will cut off her hands.'
Nhu An had only been small when Amai had joined Triet's unit, but she possessed an infectious energy and Amai loved her. Amai remembered telling Nhu An stories, and watching her small, excited face as she imagined herself adventuring through strange lands. Amai would say to her: Close your eyes and imagine yourself as a bird, flying above the rain-forest. You are gliding above the treetops. You see a clearing of green grass beside a stream. The sun is pouring in through the trees. It is warm and peaceful. You fly down and land in the clearing. You see an animal. What animal do you see?
The excited little voice always said: A baby deer - her favorite animal.
Amai would say: The fawn comes over to you. You're you again. She wants to play. What game does she want to play? Nhu An would say: She wants me to chase her.
They often played these games for hours, but that was six years ago. Since then, so much had happened; so much had changed.
There was no doubt in Amai's mind - if she failed to obey Triet's orders, he would go through with his gruesome threat. Triet would maim Nhu An.
Dramatic imagery of the likely scene burst into Amai's head: the thugs holding down the innocent girl; the thud of the blade hitting the chopping block; the parents screaming as their child's arm fell to the ground; the small fingers curling on the dismembered hand.
The thought made Amai sick. How could he involve an innocent child in this? She's got nothing to do with it.
'It is only one night, Amai.' Triet said. 'One night to save your precious niece.'
10
The driver went to the boat's stern and lit a smoke. Danny put his head inside the small wheelhouse, where a man he put closer to seventy than sixty, stood at the controls; his build smallish, his hair short
and white, his frame ridged, his eyes authoritative.
'I thought I'd traveled incognito,' the man said.
Danny braced himself in the doorway; the river was choppy due to heavy boat traffic. 'Your being in this part of the world upsets the - CIA?'
'I'm on their watch-lists now - all of them.'
Mister Benmore, I take it. General Wild-'
'No names please. I know who you are.'
'Why am I here?'
Benmore looked out the window, appearing both thoughtful and sad. 'I've spent a good chunk of my adult life causing mass human suffering, so big US corporations could make big money. I'm ashamed. Ashamed at my lack of intelligence - I was a stupid tool of a clever system.'
'You're referring to the Military Industrial Complex?'
'Based on Hitler's, yes. Looking back, I was no better than a Nazi exterminator, securing poor countries for corporate plunder.' Benmore looked tired; the bags under his eyes puffing.
'I can understand that. But-'
'It happened to me in Korea; it's happening again.' He spoke more to himself.
'Why am I here?' Danny said. Weyand had promised information; tools; a story.
'Get the truth to print,' Benmore said. 'Break the story about Soviet Generals approving US General's battle-plans.' Benmore handed him a slip of paper with numbers on it. 'Start exposing Westmoreland and his cronies for what they really are.'
Danny held the small bit of paper. 'What's this?'
'A drop box in Washington. A contact in the State Department you can trust.'
Benmore spoke to himself again: 'Why all these delaying tactics? Why prolong this war?' He looked at Danny. 'These people don't do things for nothing.'
'Profit,' Danny said. 'Simple.'
'Yes, yes, of course profit; but this is far different. Vietnam is total control of a fabricated war. It looks like an experiment - like they're setting a template - a system for future wars.'
'War Inc.'
'Yes.' The older man nodded. 'War Inc.'
Danny suffered a rush of nerves. If Benmore was right, this conspiracy was bigger and more dangerous than he wanted. Meddling in such a thing could get him killed. But it could also change history - it could also earn him a Pulitzer. Benmore could also be wrong - or crazy, which seemed equally likely.