The Son

by Marc Santailler

  ‘You bastard!’ I said. ‘You knew! You knew all along they were planning to kill Loc, and they were going to pin it on Eric! What was it? A power struggle inside the Vietnamese Politburo? The hardliners trying to get rid of a rival, and blame it on anti-communist extremists? Was that it?’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘And when did you find out, that’s what I want to know! Was it when you got the traces on Bach, from the Americans? Was that it? When you told Considine and me they had nothing on him, you were lying! They did! I bet they knew all about him! They had to! Otherwise why would they have refused to accept him into the US? Come on, Roger! Tell me the truth! I’ve got a right to know, surely!’

  ‘Nothing would have happened to you if you’d done what you were told. But you always were an insubordinate sod!’

  ‘Thank Christ I was! Why, do you think it would have ended happily if I hadn’t been there? You saw what happened, Roger! You saw what those bastards tried to do to Eric! They would have killed him, and might have killed Loc too. There was no way Considine could have got through that door in time! But you don’t care, do you! You were quite prepared to sacrifice him if need be, to push your little scheme through!’

  He made to say something but I ploughed on.

  ‘You were in this with the Yanks, weren’t you! To make sure that Loc came out on top and his enemies were unmasked. Loc’s their golden boy, isn’t he! They want him to get the top job. And so do you. And you were prepared to do anything to make sure he gets it. Foiling an assassination attempt wasn’t enough! Identifying the inside men wasn’t enough! You had to make sure they got caught red-handed, so that the hard men in Hanoi would know, so that Loc’s faction would get the upper hand, take the fight back to them … I bet you’ve even sent them a copy of the tape, to make sure it’s all there on record. What’s going to happen now, Roger? A few demotions among the hard men on the left? A few hardliners pushed aside for a time, so that the golden boy can have a smooth ride to the top? What is he, Roger? Is he working for you? For the Americans? Is that it? Their top man in Hanoi?’

  That stung him.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Paul! Do you think a man of that calibre would work for another country? He’s a nationalist, for Christ’s sake! You said it yourself! He loves his country!’

  ‘So why did you do it Roger? To uphold democratic values?’

  ‘Don’t sneer, Paul. Is that so wrong? Loc’s one of the key men in that government. He’ll be prime minister one day. And he’s one of the few who’s got any understanding of the outside world, who’s ready to open his country to the west instead of trying to push it back to some Stalinist paradise! Of course he was worth defending! That’s our job, remember? That’s what we’re in the business of doing, when we get the chance! So what’s your beef all about?’

  ‘Nothing! Except that you very nearly got Eric killed! And now you’re trying to pin the blame on anybody except the real culprits. Make it look as if it was all the work of some loonies in the Vietnamese community! Isn’t that a little self-defeating? Playing Hanoi’s game for them?’

  ‘It’s the price we have to pay! We can’t afford to rub their face into it publicly. This is the only way we can be sure the information will be used properly. Otherwise it’ll have the opposite effect and strengthen the hand of the hardliners in Hanoi. Besides, that’s the way Loc wanted it played. He asked us himself to handle it like this. Of course it’s nasty. Whoever said it wasn’t? Don’t be so naïve, Paul.’

  We glared at each other.

  ‘What about the Vietnamese community here? Don’t you care that their reputation will suffer? They already get a bad enough press as it is!’

  He shook his head.

  ‘It won’t last long. People will soon see it was just a lunatic fringe. If necessary we can push that line with the press, feed it through some tame journalist. Besides, don’t forget that some members of that community were only too happy to take part. Even if it was hatched by Bach Ho. Vo Khanh, for one. And those others who volunteered for it. Eric himself probably, if you hadn’t turned him!’

  I was silent. His cynicism floored me.

  ‘I’m sorry to see you laid up like this, Paul,’ he went on. ‘I really am. If it’s any help, I got approval from Bill for the office to cover all your medical bills. But please don’t play the innocent with us. You knew we would have to take this all the way, or you should have known. Don’t forget, he volunteered, Paul. And you brought him to us. Did you think we were just going to sit on our hands? Come on! And think what would have happened if you hadn’t brought him to us. If you hadn’t turned him and he’d genuinely tried to do the job for them. He would surely have been killed then! So don’t play the injured party, Paul. It won’t wash.’

  He paused, seemed to pull himself back, conscious that he was going too far.

  ‘Besides, you got what you wanted,’ he went on more calmly. He pulled an envelope out from his coat pocket, took out two passports. He held them out for me to see. But when I reached for them he pulled his hand back.

  ‘Sorry, can’t let you have them just yet. When she comes back from her trip. She and Eric will have to go to Immigration in person, and be sworn in like everyone else. You can be there as witness. No need to look so grateful. Did you think I was going to renege on the deal? But there’s one condition, Paul.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Not a word, to anyone! I mean it! Stick to the approved version. You can say if you must that you got wind through Eric of some attempt to attack Loc and you tried to step in and got shot for your pains, but nothing else, not a word about Truong Dzu or inside help. I need your word, Paul! Otherwise they don’t get these.’

  He held the passports up, then put them back in the envelope. I nodded.

  ‘You have it.’

  ‘Good. That’s settled. I’d better be going. I have a plane to catch. I’ll come back and see you in a couple of days. Meanwhile Bill and the mob send their love. He thinks you did well, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks. But I still have one request.’

  He sighed in exasperation.

  ‘Not another one, surely! Don’t you ever stop?’

  ‘Not for me. For Quang. He had a daughter. She came to the funeral last week. Lives in Paris with her mother. From what I saw she’s not too well off. I think some compensation would be a nice gesture. Anonymously, of course. Some investment of Quang’s that paid off? A hundred thousand dollars? That shouldn’t be too much for the Agency’s coffers, should it? After all, it’s not as if this operation cost you much. Others did most of the work.’

  He sighed again, but nodded.

  ‘I’ll put it to Bill. You’re right. I’m sure we can work something out.’

  I looked after him as he went. Roger had tried to be decent at the end, and had lived up to his promise about the passports. I had to give him that. But I couldn’t forgive him for the way he’d been prepared to sacrifice Eric. I knew that nothing would ever be the same between us.

  More visitors. Vivien of course, almost every day. Maisie was back on the south coast, but I’d instinctively played it Roger’s way with them, telling them how Eric and I had helped foil an attempted assassination, but were now under strict orders not to reveal any further details, for fear others might learn from them. They were both thrilled to the core, beneath their concern for me.

  With Jack Lipton I was much more frank, when he and Sen came to see me. I didn’t see why I should lie to him, when it was through him that I had first met Quang, and because of it that Quang had been killed. So I told him the bare bones of the truth: that Bach had been at the centre of a plot to kill Loc, working through a group of crazy extremists, but that he himself was in fact an agent of Hanoi, working for some unholy elements there; I also told him I was pretty sure that was why Quang had been killed, because he was getting too close to the truth, and that it was probably Binh, Bach’s offsider, who had done the killing. I said it for a reason: both Bach and Bi
nh had disappeared; but Jack had many contacts in the Vietnamese community. If he discreetly spread it about that they were in the pay of Hanoi, it would make it that much harder for them to escape. He said little, but took it all in. I knew he’d put the information to good use.

  As for the man himself, Dang van Loc, that was another surprise. He showed not the slightest distress at what had happened, as if it was all part of the job. He’d been through worse in his life. But on the way back from New Zealand he made an unexpected stop, breaking his journey in Sydney to come and see me in hospital. We had been forewarned, Eric was there, with Brian Considine. He didn’t stay long, an hour between two flights, but he shook my hand warmly, and Eric’s and Brian’s, and praised our courage for what we had done, and expressed his regret at the way I’d been hurt. He was startled when I spoke to him in Vietnamese: a couple of stilted phrases I’d rehearsed beforehand, to which he replied in his own stilted English.

  ‘Where did you learn Vietnamese?’ he asked. ‘Were you a soldier?’

  ‘Thư’a, không,’ I said mischievously, keeping to Vietnamese. ‘No. I worked in the embassy, in Saigon.’ I deliberately used the old pre-communist name. ‘April 1975. I was there at the end.’

  He nodded and smiled.

  ‘We call it the new beginning,’ he said.

  I smiled back and we savoured each other’s wit.

  ‘I recently met an old friend of yours,’ I went on more seriously, in English. ‘Le Minh Quang. I believe he worked for you for a while on the Ho Chi Minh City People’s Committee.’

  ‘That’s right. An old friend, as you say.’

  ‘He was killed two weeks ago. Murdered by one of the men who plotted to kill you.’

  He nodded gravely.

  ‘It was largely due to him that we found out about the plot. He was very anxious that you should be protected.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me. I had heard he was dead, but I wasn’t sure how. I am very sorry.’

  We exchanged a few more comments. He shook hands again with Brian and Eric, and thanked them both too, and all who had helped foil the plot.

  ‘My life is not important. But what those people tried to do is bad for Vietnam, and such people must not be allowed to succeed. Thank you for that.’

  He turned back to me. His large head was all skin and sinew and bone, alive with an intense energy. His black eyes bored into me.

  ‘I will not forget my friend Quang. Or you either, Mr Quinn. Good-bye.’

  His eyes swept over the others in the room, rested gently on Eric for a second. When he limped out, with his assistant in tow, who hadn’t uttered a word, the air felt a little less charged.

  My wounds were healing nicely, and I was now able to sit up. My legs were the worry. Physio didn’t seem to be doing much good, I had hardly any sensation in them, and the neurologist who took x-rays was still reluctant to operate.

  ‘The bullet is deeply embedded. The spinal cord itself doesn’t appear to have been directly damaged but there’s a good deal of pressure on it and we may do more harm than good if we try and remove it. Let’s try more physio first. If it doesn’t work then we can think again. I think tomorrow you can start using the walking machine.’

  Anything was better than staring at the ceiling.

  ‘I talked to my aunt.’ Eric had finally contacted Hao. He’d moved into the flat, and reached her at her brother’s house. She had caught the bare facts of the assassination attempt on the news and she was in a high state of alarm.

  ‘I had to tell her you were still in hospital. She’s going to ring you tonight.’

  I waited anxiously for her call. It was now ten days since her departure, and so much had happened since that it felt as if she’d been gone much longer. When I heard her voice I almost couldn’t speak at first.

  ‘Paul? Can you hear me?’

  ‘Yes.’ I cleared my throat. ‘How are you? How’s your mother?’

  ‘Better. She’s back home now. She still can’t talk or move very well but the doctor thinks she’ll recover most of that in due course … How are you? Viv told me you were shot! Are you badly hurt?’

  ‘Not too badly. Recovering satisfactorily, as they say. I’ll be okay.’

  I didn’t tell her about my legs. I didn’t want to tug at her pity.

  ‘What happened? Paul? Why didn’t you call me earlier? Eric said he also got shot …’

  ‘It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when you get back. But don’t worry about him. He’s fine, it was just a small wound …’

  ‘He said you saved his life.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Paul? Is that true? He said you were wounded when you tried to stop someone from shooting him …’

  ‘It’s okay,’ I tried to say. ‘He’s being dramatic. It was my fault.

  You were right. I should never have let things get to that stage.’

  I sighed.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it later,’ I said again, lamely. ‘When are you coming back? Is everything alright with you?’

  ‘Yes. No. How can it be?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Here I am worried to death, and missing you dreadfully, and you’re lying in a hospital bed … I’ve been trying to book a seat to Sydney but all the flights are booked up for a week – I’m on stand-by for Wednesday evening. I should never have left you!’

  ‘Yes you should. You had to.’

  ‘Do you still want to marry me?’

  ‘What a stupid question! Have you changed your mind?’

  ‘Of course not! When I was in Leeds, I kept thinking of you, and how much my life has changed since I met you … and …’

  She paused. I waited. I could hear her breathing.

  ‘When I saw Robert I told him all about you,’ she said. ‘I told him you were sweet, and loveable, and you would never have forced me to have an affair with you. I also told him – I told him – you make love even better than him.’

  Only one more hurdle to clear: how would she face having to live with a cripple?

  I was at physio when she came. Straining on the walking machine, sweat pouring down my face, trying to put one foot in front of the other and avoid putting too much stress on my chest. I wasn’t aware of her at first, it wasn’t until the physiotherapist looked towards the door that I turned and saw her. For a moment I stood there, gripping the bars and trying to stay upright. Then I levered myself into my wheelchair and she came forward.

  ‘Oh Paul! What did they do to you!’ she cried, and ran towards me. She knelt and put her arms around me. We wet each other’s shirts with our tears.

  EPILOGUE

  NEW BEGINNINGS

  We were married four weeks later, one Saturday in June, on the back veranda of Geoff and Cathy’s house, overlooking the vineyard. A bright sunny winter’s day, with the Brokenback mountains standing clear and sharp on the western horizon and the rows of pruned vines stark against the short winter grass.

  Also present were most of the usual suspects, who had taken the trouble to drive up from Sydney: Jack and Sen Lipton, and Ann and Nghiem, Liz and her husband, a scattering of old friends. Rachel of course, who had flown up the day before from Melbourne and driven up with Vivien: there was no room in the flat and she was staying with Viv for the weekend.

  Not present were any of the cousins, although Hao had made a point of inviting them. They had sent a short reply regretting that they couldn’t take time away from the shop. More likely, I thought, they couldn’t bear to fork out the traditional Vietnamese wedding gift of money.

  Nor Roger or his wife. I liked Nancy, she’d been a good friend to Sandy in the old days, and I would have liked her to meet Hao as well, but a shadow had fallen over our friendship and I had no wish to see him again soon. But Brian Considine was there, with his spouse Barbara, resplendent in pink. In losing an old friend I had gained a new one.

  And also the pretty Samantha, invited at Eric’s request. I’m not quite sure why: he’d
brought Hong along, the girl from the restaurant, Vo Khanh’s niece, which was a nice thing to do. She’d been cut adrift by recent events and her uncle’s arrest, and he and Hao had taken her under their wing. As far as Samantha was concerned I couldn’t see much future in the relationship. There was too much of an age gap, and she was due for another posting. But there was a secretive, amused look in her eye when she looked at him, and I couldn’t help wondering how close they’d become during their short time together, how far they’d taken those debriefing sessions in the safe flat in Bondi. He’d been very quiet on the subject.

  On Hao’s side, apart from Eric, her brother Nhan, who had also arrived the day before, from LA, and was staying with us. He’d come alone: they probably couldn’t afford more than one fare, and someone had to stay home to look after her mother. She was recovering but in no shape to undertake long-distance travel. An early trip to the States was on the program.

  Before the ceremony they came to talk to me, bending down to my level in my wheelchair. I hadn’t made much progress with physio, and could barely walk across a room unaided, even with sticks. But a few days before I’d reached a decision. I was going to have the operation, with all its risks. Better that than remain a cripple. I wanted to have it done before the wedding, in case it failed, to give Hao the chance to reconsider. But she would have none of it. She wanted us to be married, whatever happened. And she was very insistent.

  Liz, looking wistful and moist about the eyes, gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek, her husband Frank standing beside her with a glass of bubbly in hand. ‘She’s beautiful, Paul!’ she whispered into my ear. ‘I can see why you were so besotted. You will get well again soon, won’t you my love? If only for her sake?’

  Jack, who clutched a cold beer instead, waited until there was no one within earshot.

  ‘About our friends,’ he said. ‘You may be interested. A rumour I heard.’