The Shadow of Arms

by Hwang Sok-Yong

  Thach cocked his head. “I’m not sure I can do that. It raises the sticky problem of business ethics. Among merchants, we may know the particulars of others’ dealings, but it’s customary that we hold all that in confidence. A sort of tacit understanding, a bond of mutual trust, you might call it.”

  “Then in that case there’ll be no medical supplies, I’m afraid.”

  “As you wish.”

  The van was passing the blinding wall of the White Elephant. Through the trees lining the street the sea and the sidewalk cafés came into view. Clusters of soldiers and a few civilians were drinking soft drinks on wooden benches.

  “Can I give you a piece of friendly advice?” Thach asked.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t disagree with your objective of gathering information on the black market. That’s why I’m sharing an office with you. The reason I agreed was because our deal only concerned B-rations. So do not try to drag me into your plan.”

  “Is that your advice?”

  “No, I’m not finished yet. Pay no attention to the Americans. If you upset them, you’ll upset the entire market.”

  Toi asked which restaurant Thach had in mind, and latter said something and pointed. The conversation was suspended until they reached the restaurant. It was an old wooden ship secured to a pier in Da Nang Bay. The entrance was across a wooden gangway that bobbed up and down with the waves. Fish were picked out of a net just brought in, filleted on the spot and served with a clump of sweet rice and vegetables.

  “We have to know as much about the Americans as they know about us,” Yong Kyu said.

  Thach went on chewing his fish without any reply. Yong Kyu looked over at Toi. As if to emphasize his lack of interest in the conversation between Yong Kyu and Thach, he was staring out through the window at the bay.

  “What you want to know is something else. You want to know about the NLF’s dealings, don’t you?”

  Thach said it so nonchalantly that Yong Kyu lacked the presence of mind to come up with a smart response.

  “Yes.”

  “Will you report what you find out to the American forces?”

  “Not necessarily. That’s not for me to decide. I suppose we’ll inform them if and when it becomes necessary for us to play such a card for the sake of our position.”

  “It’ll be used for reverse leverage, so to speak?”

  Yong Kyu took a slow sip of water to buy some time to put his thoughts in order.

  “If I give you an honest answer, what sort of help can you give me in return?”

  “There is a lot that I know,” Thach said in a sincere tone.

  “Fine. We just want to know the kind and quantities of goods being delivered to the NLF, that’s all. Those transactions are the problem of the parties involved. As you know, we have no interest whatsoever in the dealings between the South Vietnamese government and their own civilians. But when a delicate problem arises between the Americans and us, we can solve it with that kind of information. But, then, the occasion to use it may not arise, you never know. That is, if we have full information on the American side’s dealings. That’s why I asked for your cooperation with Puohung.”

  “I can give you tips on what’s going on in Le Loi market. What you’re saying is, you’d like to have some ammunition for self-defense.”

  Toi started speaking in Vietnamese. Thach kept on nodding, as if in agreement.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I said you’ll be leaving in four months,” Toi answered. “All Korean soldiers’ duty lasts ten or twelve months, right? Even if you have information on the market situation here, it isn’t going to matter too much one way or another, that was my point.”

  “Good. I now see that it’s not a question of duties on your part. I’ll let you have information on Puohung Company business. I suppose you’re already familiar with Major Pham’s dealings. The problem is the situation on the NLF side, which means I’ll have to go out into the lot where the intercity trucks gather every day and confirm a few things. Out there you’ll find the men in charge of supplies for each NLF command region. I tell you what I’ll do. You let me know what information you need, and I’ll dig it up and pass it on to you, what do you say? In return, you provide me with medical supplies.”

  “We can’t be out front on that, but we’ll open a channel for you,” Yong Kyu said.

  Nguyen Thach held out his hand and grabbed Yong Kyu’s and shook it, before Yong Kyu even had time to react.

  “Now, let’s talk about the old man, Hien.”

  27

  On Friday Yong Kyu took one of the rec trucks to Turen. As he waited in front of the warehouse Leon came by on a forklift. The American gestured for him to go inside. Yong Kyu took a seat by a metal desk in the warehouse and waited for Leon to finish his job. It was a while before Leon appeared.

  “It’s driving me crazy. I’m just too busy.”

  “Finished?”

  Leon rolled his eyes and shook his head. “No, this is just the beginning. Inventory inspection has just gotten underway.”

  “How are you going to cover the shortages?”

  “We lend the stuff to each other. Whatever’s missing I can borrow from a warehouse in another block to fill the hole for now. There’ll be new goods coming in soon.”

  “Then I suppose the stuff I was to pick up today won’t be available?”

  “What did you say it was?”

  “Raisins.”

  “Ah, plenty of that still. Take it all. The inspection on B-rations isn’t very strict. And please, try to see Stapley.”

  “Where is he?”

  Leon lowered his voice. “Down by China Beach. On his way to the movies, one of our supply men saw him. I’m supposed to go meet him.”

  “What will you do when you see him?”

  “I can’t just let him go to prison. As we discussed earlier, we should find him a place to hide, a boarding house.”

  “Toi said he’d check around.”

  “Meet me at China Beach tonight. We have to move him quickly.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Yeah, that whorehouse near Somdomeh. The place Stapley and I used to go to.”

  “I’ll be there after I finish the day’s duty.”

  “Let’s meet at seven at the China Beach Bar.”

  “About the medical supplies,” Yong Kyu said, changing the subject, “do you supply civilian hospitals in Da Nang, too?”

  “Yes, for relief medicines. But a certified requisition from the Vietnamese government office is absolutely required.”

  “How about the Red Cross Hospital, is it the same?”

  “All they need is their own requisition. But why do you ask?”

  “Someone asked me about it, that’s all.”

  Yong Kyu left Turen with the raisins in the afternoon. He deposited the goods in a conex at the pier and returned to the office in Le Loi market. Thach had hung a hammock next to his desk and was taking a nap in the shade. A cool breeze blew through the window.

  “Mr. Nguyen Thach, please wake up.”

  Yong Kyu rocked the hammock, but its swinging motion only seemed to deepen the man’s sleep. He licked his lips and tilted his head sideways.

  “Wake up!” Yong Kyu spoke in a louder voice and held the hammock still. Thach looked up at him with a frown.

  “I’m sorry,” Yong Kyu said, “but this is important.”

  Thach pulled himself out of the hammock and took a seat in a steel chair without a word. Finally he raised his head and said, “What is it?”

  “You’ve got to introduce me to a clerk at Puohung Company.”

  Thach took his time before responding. He poured some cool green tea from a plastic pitcher and drank it slowly. “Can you get me antibiotics?”

  “I never s
aid I could get them myself. I’ll put you in touch with a man who may be able to get some for you.”

  “Who’s the man?”

  “The director of the Red Cross Hospital in Da Nang.”

  “It all sounds very uncertain.”

  “True, he might refuse. But one thing is for sure. Apart from the Vietnamese military, it’s about the only place you will find that has a flow of medical supplies.”

  Thach let out a short laugh. “I’m also aware of that. But there’s no guarantee the Red Cross Hospital will siphon off medical supplies from the American army. And if he gets offended and reports me to the authorities I’d be vulnerable and end up spending lots of money for nothing. So, under these circumstances, I can’t introduce you to anyone at Puohung Company.”

  Yong Kyu grew impatient. The Vietnamese never trusted foreigners. Any competent merchant in Le Loi market could easily see through men like him and Toi. And wasn’t old man Hien, the owner of Puohung Company, an even bigger merchant than Cuong? Hien’s men would never trust Toi, let alone Yong Kyu, and any attempt to approach them would be reported instantly to their boss. Without help from Thach as a trusted intermediary, there would be no success in establishing contacts with Puohung.

  “All right,” Yong Kyu said. “I’ll find out what he thinks about it and then I’ll introduce you. Will that satisfy you?”

  “Certainly.”

  “And the information on NLF dealings?”

  Before Yong Kyu went on, Thach held his finger to his lips. “Shhh, that’s no simple matter. The details on how much of which items have been transferred to whom is recorded in detail in daily reports and submitted to the concerned American authorities. Go out in the market right now and try to buy a captured weapon. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in uniform or not.”

  “What do you mean, ‘captured weapon’?”

  Nguyen Thach laughed softly. “Go out to one of the street stalls in the back alley over there and say you want to buy some personal firearms. Let’s suppose a company commander who has no real accomplishments to brag about in field operations is in need of captured weapons. His promotion and reputation require military exploits more than anything else. His adjutants and sergeants often put in an appearance at the market to purchase ‘captured weapons.’ Where did you get that six-shot revolver of yours?”

  “My predecessor bought it in the market.”

  “See what I mean? If the price is right, loads of guns will be delivered to wherever you want.”

  “Can they be traced?”

  “Never. Even if you arrest the dealer and interrogate him, it’d be pointless. The chain of transactions moves endlessly up. The links keep circling back upon themselves. It’s like being adrift on a great ocean, constantly floating up and down on endless swells.”

  Yong Kyu understood. “If so, it’s imperative for us to be in the know.”

  “As I said, I can give you daily information.” Thach then asked Yong Kyu, “So what do you think I want?”

  “Since you’re a trader, I expect you’ll be wanting money, profits.”

  Thach responded lightly. “Not necessarily. I’ve got an idea. Once you find out some of the details of the transactions of Puohung Company, share that information with me every day. You and I will exchange information, what do you say?”

  An interesting proposal, Yong Kyu thought. But what were his motives? Thach was well aware of Yong Kyu’s intention to bribe a clerk in order to get filled in on the company’s dealings. In effect, that was what Thach himself had suggested, and he was about to make the introduction. If Thach was so interested in the Puohung transactions, why had he not bribed the clerk himself? Most of all, why was he so curious about Puohung Company? Yong Kyu decided to just ask.

  “What do you gain from information on Puohung Company? And how come you don’t find out such things yourself?”

  “Ha, ha. I’m sure it puzzles you. It’s like the graduations on the bridges. Have you seen the water level graduations marked on the bridge pillars?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Without those graduations, you’d have no way of gauging whether the level of water was going up or down, whether the flow is increasing or decreasing.”

  “Are you saying that the transactions of Puohung provide a scale of some kind?”

  “For instance, it’s crucial to know the price of dollars in international markets. Similarly, the Le Loi market is an economy formed through circulation of goods from the US PXs in Da Nang. As you already know, Puohung is the only company that deals directly with the American soldiers. What is important is knowing precise details of those transactions.”

  “You mean A-rations?”

  “Right. Those items are bought and consumed by Vietnamese civilians who have a steady US dollar income. Oranges and apples are nothing like nuoc mam noodles or bánh mì. In this market it’s very useful to know in advance the trend of changes in A-ration prices. If you get current information on supply and demand, then you can have a rough picture of price movements. The ones who run the black market are also the ones who buy A-rations. With the money they earn from trading in guns, they may buy gold or opium, but they also have to eat like everybody else and their menu is as sumptuous as the profits they are earning from black market dealings. In short, the customers for A-rations are the very people who make up the black market. A-rations are an indicator of price trends and shifts in supply and demand throughout the Da Nang markets. I’m just trying to be ready in case there’s a panic.”

  “What kind of panic?”

  “We’ve been through a couple of panics in the last few years. The military currency changes sometimes. When that happens, the GI notes turn into wastepaper overnight. The finance section in the US forces command makes an announcement one night and replaces the military currency faster than lightning strikes. Vietnamese merchants who hold the superseded money can become beggars overnight. Everybody knows that currency control is also treated as an operational matter. To be closely informed about the daily transactions of Puohung Company is something my brother and I are very interested in, like other merchants in the market. Do you understand now?”

  “I do. And as for my other question . . .”

  “What was that? Oh, yes, you asked why I wouldn’t gather the information myself. Because it costs money to do that. If I need daily information, it’ll cost me money every day. Since I know many of the merchants from outside Da Nang who are on the NLF side, if I go out into the market and look around I’ll have a pretty good estimate of what merchandise is moving where for the NLF. In that way I can gather the information you need without spending any money, but to keep track of that old snake Hien I would have to dip into my pockets every day, so . . .”

  Thach broke into laughter and slapped Yong Kyu on the back. But Yong Kyu did not find it funny. “It isn’t fair.”

  “No, you’ve got it backwards. You people came empty-handed to a marketplace in another embattled country and are making money for yourselves here.”

  “Many of us have died in the fighting.”

  “You’re soldiers.”

  But Nguyen Thach did not drag things out. He went back over to the hammock and, sitting in it, said, “While you go to meet with the hospital director, I’ll get back to my siesta that was interrupted. If he agrees, then we can all meet together. That should be the order in which we proceed, don’t you think?”

  Yong Kyu just nodded. Reclining in the hammock, Thach stretched one leg down and lightly kicked the floor. The hammock began to swing back and forth. Yong Kyu picked up the telephone and asked the operator to connect him with the Red Cross Hospital. When he was put through he asked to speak with the director himself.

  “The director is at home right now,” the hospital operator said. “You should call him at home or else call back in an hour, please.”

  He
quietly replaced the receiver. Thach seemed to be asleep, his arms listlessly hanging down. Yong Kyu checked his watch. He pictured Dr. Tran’s two-story residence next to the customs house. He drove his van to the gate outside the customs house and pulled up to park in front of Tran’s house. As he pushed open the leaf-patterned iron gate, he heard the fierce barking of a dog. He was relieved to see that Gene had been chained to his kennel at the far corner of the lawn. A brown canvas-topped Jeep was parked in the driveway beneath the front hall. He couldn’t see anyone inside until he had gone up the steps to the front door. After looking around he noticed a stick above the glass door from which a copper bell was hanging. Inside the bell there was a heavy clapper and a doubled leather cord. When he pulled down on it, the cord sprang back and rang the bell. The clear low peal brought Madame Hue out from inside. She was dressed in black Vietnamese pants and a white blouse. When she spoke, Yong Kyu asked in broken Vietnamese whether the doctor was in.

  She went back inside and a moment later the portly figure of Dr. Tran appeared, putting on his gold-rimmed glasses as he came through the front hall to the door. Yong Kyu, standing there in his civilian clothes, saluted.

  “How are you, sir? I’m Sergeant Ahn, the Korean.”

  Dr. Tran did not seemed surprised to see him. But his voice was cold. “What brought you here, Sergeant Ahn?”

  “There’s something I need to see you about.”

  Tran opened the door. “Come in, please.”

  Madame Hue had been watching them. Tran had Yong Kyu sit on the same long wicker sofa where he had sat to have his arm bandaged the other night.

  “Is your arm fully healed?” Tran asked.

  “Yes, sir, some time ago. It was nothing serious.”

  “What’s on your mind, then?” Tran asked with the affected indifference of a mature Vietnamese man.

  “Is your son, Huan, at school?”

  Tran’s expression softened. “He’ll be back soon. Today is a busy day for me. This afternoon student volunteers will be at the hospital; the girls come every Friday to care for the patients.”