Saigon Wife

by Colin Falconer

  He fell to his knees in the middle of the convent playground. For the first time since he was a child he hung his head and felt the sadness of loss envelope him. He was not a man for crying, so hanging his head was as bad as it ever got.

  They said the Devil looks after his own, and he guessed that was the answer. He’d been in enough war zones to know that you couldn’t pray yourself out of an ambush. He had to figure out a way out of this and he had to do it fast.

  Chapter 41

  “Jesus,” Walt said when he walked in. “What happened to you?”

  Reyes slumped into a chair. “Got any of that special coffee?”

  “Sure,” he said. He came back a couple of minutes later with a polystyrene cup of black coffee and put it on the desk. He reached into his drawer and tipped in a generous shot of Jack Daniels.

  “Okay, shoot.”

  “I’m in big trouble.”

  “This from a man who just snatched his girlfriend’s husband from communist guerrillas?”

  “I lost the heroin.”

  Walt blinked. “That was careless, Reyes.”

  “It was just plain bad luck.”

  “We’ve all been there. So, what can I do for you, my friend?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Another one?”

  “Just some information.”

  “Seems to me this is becoming a one-way friendship, but do your worst.”

  “There was an orphanage in Cholon, the Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus.”

  “Catchy name.”

  “Two nights ago, it was hit by a rocket strike from the VC. I want to know if there were any survivors.”

  Walt whistled and shook his head. “Not the kind of information I have at my fingertips, buddy. I could look into it if it’s real important, but that could take days. Those places don’t take roll call like the 106th Airborne. What is the big deal about this place?”

  “I’ve been taking aid parcels there for a while.”

  “Man, you are full of surprises.”

  “There’s more. I got friendly with the Mother Superior. Not in that way, Walt, you crazy bastard. She was sixty years old and a woman of God. Point is, I asked her to do a little favor for me.”

  It took a moment for Walt to catch up. “Jesus Christ! You gave a nun seven keys of heroin?”

  “She didn’t know what was in the briefcase. I just said it was important and could she keep it for a while. It seemed like the perfect place to hide it.”

  “All along you told me you didn’t have it!”

  “I lied.”

  “I know you fucking lied! I didn’t know you gave the stuff to a nun! What the fuck were you going to do with it?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I was keeping it as insurance, I guess. When I left Saigon, I was going to throw it in the river.”

  “You were going to what?”

  “What else could I do?”

  “You are going to hell, man! What about Paradise Island? What about me?”

  “I wasn’t going to buy my future with drug money. As for you, Walt, you’re a great guy and a good friend, but I don’t trust you.”

  Walt tapped a pencil on his desktop and tried to look offended. Then he shrugged and looked out of the window. “Yeah, far enough.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Giving it to me would have been better than throwing it in the river. At least it would have gone to a good home.”

  “There is no good home for shit like that.”

  “Don’t get moral on me, Reyes, we’ve known each other too long for that. It’s just another product, man. If people want to buy it, you sell it to them. It’s no different than gambling or guns. Sure it’s not good for their health but people have a need.”

  “Maybe once I would have agreed with you. But I want out, Walt and you don’t get out by getting in deeper.”

  Walt sighed and poured them both two more shots of Jack Daniels, straight. He swirled the rye around the polystyrene cup like it was brandy in a crystal glass. “So you lost the eight keys. If you were going to throw it in the river anyway, what’s the big deal?”

  “The owner wants it back and if he doesn’t get it, he intends to foreclose on the one thing that still means anything to me.”

  “So you were right, Macheda has your girlfriend.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Oh man, you are just one walking, talking bunch of trouble, aren’t you?”

  “I have to get the powder to him by tomorrow night.”

  “You could give him eight keys of talcum powder.”

  “He’s not that stupid. He’ll know there’s something wrong before he’s even tested it. He’ll be looking for the brand stamp on the bags.”

  Walt downed the whisky. “Here’s my advice. Listen carefully. You have no idea if your girlfriend’s still alive, and even if she is, a guy like that, once he’s got his gear, he’s not going to let either of you walk out of there alive. My guess is, he’d ice you both anyway as a parting gesture. But even if he was the one kind-hearted dope dealer left in the world, you don’t even have that slim chance to cling to because you don’t even have his product. If I were you I’d get on a plane tonight and go someplace he can’t find you.”

  “What about Magdalena?”

  “Man, it’s just a woman. Not just any woman, she’s someone else’s wife.”

  “Widow.”

  “Whatever. She’s one beautiful lady but it’s not like she’s the only beautiful woman in the world. You saved her life once, you even saved her husband’s life, it’s not going to help her you both being dead. Listen to me, this is above and beyond.”

  “Nice advice. But let’s say we rule that out. I’m going to be there on time tomorrow night. What’s my second option?”

  “There is no second option.”

  Reyes finished his whisky and held out his cup for more. Walt looked ruefully at the two fingers left in the bottle and poured the rest into Reyes’ cup and the dregs into his.

  “I have an idea,” Reyes said, and he told him what it was.

  When he finished, Walt shook his head. “You are out of your mind.”

  “It will work, but I need your help.”

  “I don’t know, man. Someone finds out the Agency was part of this, I lose my job.”

  “No one has to die.”

  “But they will, my friend, you know that.”

  “The Agency is not going to be involved. I’m on my own in this. You don’t help me I’m going out there tomorrow night bare-ass naked. I’m a dead man walking. Do you want that?”

  “Oh, I might. Life would be so much easier.”

  “But dull.”

  Walt gave an almost imperceptible nod. Reyes put a hand on his shoulder. “How will I ever repay you?”

  “You won’t,” Walt said. “I bet I don’t even get a Christmas card.”

  “Can you have it ready by tomorrow afternoon?”

  Walt nodded. “But one question. Why are you doing this? What happened to looking out for the most important person in the world?”

  “Look at us, Walt. What have we got, cockfights and strip shows? I’m moving on.”

  “I’ll tell them that at your funeral.”

  “They’ve got to get me first, Walt. They’ve got to get me first.”

  Chapter 42

  MAGDALENA

  They had tied me to an office chair with a gag in my mouth. The only light came from a low-wattage bulb that hung from the ceiling on a frayed black flex. A tiny white chinchook lizard darted, ever watchful, along the exposed rough-hewn beams of the roof. There was the overpowering smell of camphor and fish.

  I was in some sort of warehouse; there were raucous cries that sounded like they came from a market. Occasionally I could hear tug boats moving up and down the river.

  A car drove in and the warehouse doors slammed shut behind it. The office door opened, it was Angel. He looked crisp, dapper, freshly groomed.

  He stood in front of me, his
hands in his pockets. “How did it come to this?” he said. He knelt down in front of me. “I remember that time you lay naked on the bed back in Havana. Guapa. If only that afternoon could have lasted forever.”

  He reached up and took the gag out of my mouth.

  He rapped out an order to one of his goons and they came back a moment later with a bottle of water. He held it to my lips. One mouthful for me, I thought, one for him, and I spat it in his face.

  Angel stepped back, and his face twisted into a snarl. He wanted to hit me, but he controlled himself, and in moments the smile was back. “Well I guess I deserved that, baby. Like you deserve this.” And he emptied the rest of the bottle over my head. “Think about this later today, when you get thirsty.” He threw the bottle across the office. “I’m sorry it came to this, but I got no choice. Your lover has caused me serious aggravation. All I want is what belongs to me, a nice peaceful solution to the problem. Why do people have to be so difficult?”

  He found an old chair in the corner, it had four wheels, but one of the castors had broken off. He dragged it across the cement floor and put it down in front of me. “Look at this piece of shit,” he said and perched himself down on it with is arms resting on the back. “I was sorry to hear about Mister Magdalena; they tell me he had some real bad luck. Thought I’d find you all dressed in black.” He leaned forward. “Cat got your tongue?”

  I didn’t answer him, I couldn’t. Connor was dead, then. Winstone had said they both got back to Vientiane but he must have been wrong. There was no reason for Angel to lie.

  I felt like I should weep for him but I just felt numb. Angel beat a little tattoo with his hands on the seat of the chair. “I heard from lover man. He has my property, had it all along. He has wasted so much of my time, that fuck.” He looked at his watch. “He’ll be here in a few hours. You must be looking forward to your tearful reunion. Once again he rides in from the sunset to rescue you.”

  “Are you going to let us go?” I said before I could stop myself.

  He laughed. “Sure I’m going to let you go. What kind of animal you think I am? I just want what’s mine.”

  It was a lie, of course. “The smart move would have been to trade it on the black market and get the hell out. But no, not this guy. He’s giving up maybe two million bucks for you. You know what a man can do with two million dollars? He can buy as many women as he wants for the rest of his life. Back in Havana he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I looked up to him back in those days, he knew how things were, didn’t stick his neck out for nobody. You castrated him, that’s what you’ve done, you are a living breathing ball breaker.”

  He stroked my face with the back of his hand. “I wish things had turned out different,” he said, and I knew right then, he was never going to let me go, or Reyes. This was his way of saying goodbye. “I won’t ever hurt you,” he said and put the gag back in my mouth. What he meant was: I’m going to make it quick.

  He was right. We had come a long way from Calle San Lorenzo, further than either of us could ever have imagined.

  Chapter 43

  REYES

  Vertical signs in Chinese script crowded up the walls of the shop houses, big-bellied children and thin-ribbed dogs squabbled in the mud alleys between the wooden shanties. Now and then he caught a glimpse of the greasy waters of the Arroyo Chinois and the wooden houses suspended on stilts over the glistening black mud.

  The taxi was caught in the sprawl of traffic beside the Saigon River. He decided to get out and walk the rest of the way.

  He hefted the suitcase in his right hand. The evening was hot and heavy, and the city smelled of rancid gasoline. Soft violet clouds of smog silhouetted the plane trees against the sky.

  He found the street he was looking for in a warren of alleys near the docks. Old women in black pajamas squatted in the mud hawking wicker baskets of green bananas, durian and watermelons. He made his way up a narrow laneway, dodging the motorcycles and push bikes, picking his way through the piles of rubbish.

  He turned down another alley and found himself in a deserted alley. A door opened in one of the godowns and two men came out. One of them could have been a heavyweight boxer, the other was shorter, squat with no neck. He drew his gun and watched while his pal frisked him for weapons. It was done expertly and not too gently.

  They nodded to each other and pushed him towards the door.

  It took him a moment for his eyes to grow accustomed to the light. He was inside a vast warehouse. It smelled of camphor but it was empty now except for some old wooden crates and pieces of rope. The ideal place to kill someone, Reyes thought. Stick them in one of those drums over there, push them into the harbor, and let them float out to sea.

  Angel had arranged the scene; he sat behind a wooden desk in a white linen suit, looking relaxed with his feet on the desk. He had to be feeling confident if he had only these two guys with him. Magdalena sat on a chair behind him, her hands tied behind her and a gag in her mouth. His eyes met hers and he tried to somehow reassure her. She looked calm. She had guts, this girl.

  “Can’t believe you came,” Angel said. “I guess I thought you’d be on a plane out of Saigon by now.”

  “No, I like the climate here.”

  Angel took his feet off the desk. “I hope she’s worth it.”

  “I don’t kiss and tell, Angel, you know that.”

  “I’m disappointed in you.” He tapped the top of the desk. “Okay, let’s get this done. Show me what you got in the briefcase.”

  Reyes slammed it on the desk and stood back. “You let Magdalena go.”

  “Not until I make sure you have returned my property as it was when you found it.”

  He unsnapped the latches. It was locked.

  “I had to break the lock on the original case. That’s a new one. I’d like it back when you’re done, it was quite expensive.”

  “I’ve always loved your sense of humor. Code?”

  “Triple seven, triple seven. It’s my lucky number.”

  Angel dialed the codes and unfastened the locks. He opened the case.

  The thunderflash took everyone in the room by surprise except Reyes. Angel screamed and hurtled backwards off the chair. At the same moment, Reyes put his elbow into the nose of the short guy on his right and chopped backhanded at the big guy on the other side, destroying his windpipe. They hadn’t even had time to go for their weapons.

  The big guy went down, clawing at his throat, and making choking noises, kicking wildly with his legs. His pal took two steps back, clutching at his nose, blood welling between his fingers. Reyes didn’t like violence. He could have done a lot more damage but instead he just applied a little pressure with his thumb on the guy’s carotid and he went down like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer.

  Angel was rolling on the floor, screaming and clutching at his eyes. The thunderflash had temporarily blinded him, and right now his eyes would be burning. There was no hurry.

  The big guy was dead. Reyes took his gun from his shoulder holster - a Glock automatic, the silencer already screwed on, so they didn’t have to waste time when they executed him and Magdalena.

  Reyes took the other guy’s weapon and put it in the back of his pants.

  He supposed he would have a switchblade in his sock and he was right. He opened it, went to Magdalena and cut her free. He took off the gag and led her outside.

  She was shaking. He could still hear Angel screaming. “Are you all right?” he said.

  She nodded. He put his arms around her.

  “You came back,” she said.

  “Of course I came back.” He looked at the Glock in his hand then he looked at her.

  “What are you thinking?” she said.

  Reyes had never killed a man in cold blood and he thought he never would. He could just walk away from this, the man he’d just killed...well there was no choice. But Angel was different. If he finished him it would give them time to get away and it might take Bobbo Salvatore a long
time to put all the pieces together. By then they would be long gone.

  If he let Angel live, it would cut the time they had by days. He wouldn’t lie there yelling forever, he’d start stumbling around looking for help, if he got lucky someone would find him and call the police.

  He hesitated.

  “What did you do?” Magdalena said.

  “I got a little professional help. The case was rigged with flash powder. My friend Walt at the Embassy got one of the dirty tricks guys to rig it for him.”

  “What’s going to happen to Angel?”

  “He’ll be okay,” he said, but that wasn’t quite true. It was more than just a party trick—there was acid in those things. What have I got to feel bad about? Reyes thought. The guy was going to kill us.

  “I can’t bear hearing him scream like that,” she said.

  He looked down the alley. It seemed no one had heard the bang or else they just thought it was a firecracker going off. All they had to do now was get a siclo into the city, grab their cases, jump in a cab out to Tan Son Nhut. In a few hours they could be on a plane back to the States.

  “Are you going to kill him?” she said.

  “The guy’s in pain. I either kill him or call an ambulance.”

  “He was going to kill us.”

  “That’s right, he was.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “They are going to come after us,” he said. “They’ll look in every city in the whole world for us after this.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?”

  “You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for me.”

  “It was fate.” He started towards the warehouse determined to finish what they had started, then stopped.

  “We can just leave him,” she said.

  “If we leave him he will make it his life’s work to find us. If he’s dead, I don’t know, maybe they’ll never know it was us.”

  “Then you’ll have to kill the other guy as well.”

  Reyes shook his head. “I thought I could do this,” he said.