The Cover of War (11 page)

'I - I - I get
information.'

He watched the
needles.
True,
he thought
. This'll be easy.

Protocol
dictated that he access the results after the questioning was complete; but for
the extraction of information, he needed to assess her answers one-by-one, and
if torture was applied, allow the machine to re-calibrate.

'So you're a
spy?' He said.

'I guess so. Not
a very good one.'

The needles flickered,
but the result was inconclusive. It sometimes happened.

Mancini studied
her manicured eyebrows. 'Who was the black Major? The one from last night?'

Her forehead
wrinkled.

'Answer the
question. Who was the black Major?'

'Major Johnson.'

True. Good,
Mancini thought.

Thi continued:
'That's all I know.'

The needles
spiked.
Lie
, he thought.
Interesting.
'Do you know Amai Nguyen?'

'No.'

The chart
recorder indicated another lie.

Mancini put his
hand on Thi's stomach and felt her abdominal muscles bunching beneath the skin.
'Who is your handler?'

'I don't
understand.'

He turned to the
polygraph and took his hand off her skin. The machine confirmed her dishonesty.
He wanted to touch her again.

Concentrate.
'Who do you report to?' . . . 'Who do you report to?'

'A man,' she
said. 'Nguyen Tan Dat.'

Inconclusive,
he thought.
Fuck.

Mancini knew
what he had to do and his skin prickled as the adrenaline entered his blood.

'Miss Nang,' he
said. 'We warned you. We told you that if you lied - you would suffer.'

* * *

Thi saw Mancini nod to Albertez.

It had taken all
of her courage to lie, and now she was so scared that she began to
hyperventilate. 

Mancini said:
'Do it Alby.'

The one called
Albertez lifted something heavy from the floor.

She saw a metal
spout. Cold water hit her face, soaking the muslin cloth.
   Albertez' thick, hairy arms bunched as he raised the can
higher. Water splashed over her face and down her neck. She felt it soak
through her bra and realized that it would be see-through.

She tried to
breathe in, but couldn't. Her trapped muscles locked with panic. 

Water filled her
mouth and nose and she gagged.

I can't
breathe.

Her fingers
clawed at the board. She felt intense pressure directly behind her eyes. Unable
to hold her breath a second longer, she inhaled the water and choked.

I'm going to
die! 

Then the board
was raised. Relief washed over her. Water drained from her face. Snot hung from
her nostrils and lips. She coughed up fluid - but she could breathe.

Then it was
happening again.

The board
dropped back down. Water flooded her mouth. This time she knew what to expect
and soiled herself.

The terrific
fear of suffocation engulfed her as her airways filled with un-breathable
pressure. She gagged and choked. There was no way to control it. No way to beat
it.

Her body jerked
convulsively in a vain attempt to get free.

Uncontrollable
panic took over and her body wrenched. She heard a crack and a popping noise
and felt her right elbow break. She tried to scream through her water packed mouth,
but couldn't.

She was
drowning.

Then she was up.
Again the water drained from her face. She struggled for air. Again the relief
was unimaginable. Her broken elbow throbbed under the tight strapping. Mancini
and Albertez were laughing. Then she saw Albertez' hand rush toward her face.
Her nose exploded in pain. She heard it break. Sharp pain drove into her head;
stars swirled through her vision.

They kept
laughing.

Thi had never
felt so worthless.

* * *

Nash could smell Thi's feces.

He pinched his
nose and bent down beside her. She didn't look so good this time. Her panties
and thighs were smeared with dark shit. Her perfect nose was broken and bloody.
Her face was contorted, and the light in her previously bright eyes, had been
extinguished.

Nash had not
been impressed when Albertez struck her. It had been unnecessary. He would
discipline him later.

For some reason,
the sight of Thi's dislocated elbow made Nash queasy.

It's a shame
, he thought.
She would've been a great fuck.

He reminded
himself that they were fighting a war.
She's a communist,
he thought
.
A fucking communist!  
But it was more than that now. Nash desperately
wanted to show Colonel Hitchcock that he was worthy. He wanted to show
Hitchcock that he was best Intelligence officer in the Corps.

Nash ground his
teeth.
I'll show him,
he thought.
By God I'll show him.

Nash looked into
Thi’s eyes. 'Like I said, Thi. What happens in here is entirely up to you. Just
answer the questions truthfully. Don't even think. Just give us the truth.
We'll get it one way or another.' He kneaded his bicep. It felt solid; the
adrenaline had pumped him up.

The door grated
opened, washing Thi's body in natural light. Nash rounded on the intruder - it
was the young looking Corporal that Hitchcock favored.

'This’d better
be good, Corporal.'

The Corporal
looked at Thi and cringed. 'We've got the other one, Sir.' he said, his eyes
locked on Thi. 'She's in the building on Rue De Varlin. She's been there less
than a minute.'  

Nash couldn’t
believe his luck. 'Get the jeep,' he said. 'I'll be right out.'

Nash looked back
down at Thi. 'Gotta pay your girlfriend a visit,' he said.

Then he went
out.

* * *

Adrenaline raced through Mancini's heart.

His mind told
him the torture was wrong, but it felt strangely thrilling - even erotic.

Mancini said to
Thi: 'Let's continue. Your heart rate is at two hundred and forty
beats-per-minute. Better start telling the truth. I wouldn't want to see a sexy
bitch like you die.'

'Asshole.'

Albertez looked
at the polygraph and laughed. 'True.'

Mancini snorted.
'Who do you report to? Quickly.'

Thi's voice
cracked. 'A man,' she said. 'Triet.'

True. Excellent.

'I don't think
that's his real name.'

True
, Mancini thought.
I've broken her.
He felt ecstatic, she was
his first. 'We know the VC are planning a major attack,' he said. 'Where?'

Thi's voice
gained strength: 'Khe Sanh,' she said. 'Twenty thousand will hit the base.
General Giap will come from
Hanoi
to control the battle.'

Jackpot!
Mancini thought.
Just as Hitchcock suspected.
The polygraph result
was inconclusive, but he knew her words were the truth.  

'Amai Nguyen,'
Mancini said. 'You know her don't you?'

'Yes.' Her voice
was a whisper.

She spilling
it all now,
he thought
.
'Wise girl. What was
your relationship with her?'

'We were on
assignment.'

'Together?'

'Yes.'

'What
assignment? Details?'

'The black
Major,' she said. 'We were to seduce him for information.'

'What
information?'

'I don't know.'

He looked at the
polygraph.
True,
he thought.
Damn it.
'What
did
you get?'

'Nothing.'

True. Damn.
'Who is this Major? Everything you know.'

Thi whimpered.
'I'm in pain. My arm.'

True. Damn.
'Answer the question,' he said. 'You'll get treatment when you're
done.' He felt like a God.

'Major Johnson.
He works at the Embassy. Deals with the Pentagon. Has a fetish for Asian girls.
That's why he was given to us.' She looked up. 'And he's a great fuck.'

True. Damn.
'Did you both fuck him?' He heard the malice in his voice.

'I think you
call it a ménage a trios.'

True,
he thought.
You fucking bitch.

* * *

Thi smiled inwardly; he had bought her
cover story. Then she saw Mancini’s face change. He looked demonic.

The board
slammed back down. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't take it.

‘No!’ She
screamed. ‘I’ve told the truth.’

Water hit her face.
But this time it was different. She knew that if Nash were here, he would stop
Mancini; but Nash was halfway across
Saigon
, racing toward Rue De Varlin - toward Amai.

Water packed
Thi's airways. Her face felt ready to explode.

Mancini kept
pouring.

Thi felt her
face bloat and distort.

This time she
knew she would die and was glad of it. She just wanted the humiliation to end.

Then she felt an
unbearable pain behind her eyes. The pressure forced her left eyeball out of
its socket and onto her face. She felt it flopping against her bloated cheek.

Then the water
hit her lungs.

The inside of
her chest burned like fire.

Then a strange
thing happened: a warm calmness surrounded her. She felt an incredible sense of
peace. Light filled the room. She began to drift upward, into the light. She
was weightless. She felt no pain, no suffering - instead she felt deeply in
love.

She looked down.
Mancini was slapping her face, trying to wake her.

Albertez was
saying: 'You've done it now. Nash'll be pissed.'

Intense energy
vibrated through her body.

The last human
emotion that Thi felt before the light took her was pity for her torturers.

* * *

Nash screamed at the Corporal to drive
faster.

He cursed
anything that got in their way.

As they forced
through the congestion, Nash burned with savage delight. Behind him, he could
hear the second jeep's engine revving hard to keep up. His men were like a pack
of wild dogs, hungry for the kill.

Nash's hand went
to his throbbing calf, and he thought:
Now I'm going to get the bitch.

22

'I
f I'm caught with you,' Blue said. 'I'll be crucified.'

The
Bangkok
taxi stopped within sight of the
hangar, where Danny had arrived aboard the F-4 Phantom.

He could see the
C-130's tail fin behind the hurricane-wire-fence. 'We need to get on that
C-130; it's bound to be going to
Vietnam
.'

'Mmm.'

Danny followed
Blue to the gate where he showed the security guard some kind of ID. The man
opened the gate and they went into the hangar. The C-130's flight crew was
sitting at a square, Formica table, engaged in a card game. Blue went to the
table. 'Morning gents. Who's the ranking officer?'

'I am. Who are
you?' The man was an Air National Guard Lieutenant Colonel.

'Colonel,' Blue
said, saluting. 'I'm with The Special Activities Division.'

The Colonel's
face showed no recognition.

Blue held up ID.
'CIA field ops.'

'Oh, yeah?'

'When does your
aircraft depart, and what's your destination?'

The Colonel's
eyes went to Danny. 'Who's your friend?'

'A civilian. Are
you headed to
Vietnam
?'

'I can transport
you. But no civilians.'

23

T
he rain had broken in a series of short-lived downpours, making the
roads greasy. A cyclist rode in front of Nash's jeep, folding with a crunch as
it went under the wheels. The driver hit the breaks and Nash yelled at him to keep
going.

Nothing was
going to stop him from getting Amai - nothing.

Once she's in
the pit,
he thought. 
My boys will squeeze
the information out of her like wringing water from a sponge.

She would give
him the Viet Cong Commander; and under his new method of interrogation, the
Commander would reveal his battle plans and weapons caches - the evidence of
insurrection. Nash would rub these trophies in Hitchcock's smug face.

A
nd then,
Nash
thought.
Weyand will promote me.

There would be
nothing Hitchcock could do to stop it.

The jeep leaned
into a tight left-hander and Nash gripped the dash-handle as gravity strove to
hurl him to the pavement.

This is what he
loved about
Saigon
: the thrill
of the chase; the smell of his prey in his nostrils - the anticipation of
victory.

* * *

Amai clumped up the stairs to the third
floor.

Her vision was
patchy. She noticed silly things: patterns in the chipped and stained tiles;
the mold in their grout; a man she had not seen before, who stared at her as if
trying to remember her face.

Something's
wrong,
she thought.

Trepidation
slowly bubbled up through the despair she felt over Danny's disappearance.

Please don't
be dead,
she thought.
I need you.

She went into
Thi's flat, feeling desperately thirsty. An envelope with her name scrawled on
it had been slipped under the door. She picked it up, undid the two bottom
buttons of her chemise, and slipped it into her purse. Then she went to the
tap.

Where is Thi?

Heavy footfall
on the stairs brought her mind back into focus. They were the feet of a big man
running hard. Panic fizzed in the pit of her gut and she felt an overwhelming
need to get away.

Trust your
intuition;
she heard
Cam
's voice in her head.

She ran to the
window and hauled on the sash. It opened several inches and then stuck.

The stomping
feet stopped at Thi's door. 

Terror put
strength into Amai’s muscles, but the sash only opened another foot.

The front door
crashed open.

Amai saw the
intruder's face.

It was Nash.

In a split
second, Amai knew that Nash had Thi, and realized that she had stupidly walked
into the same trap. 

Nash charged
toward her. Amai saw the intent in his eyes. Then she squeezed her body through
the gap between the window and the sill.

* * *

Nash got to the window and slammed the sash
up to its stopper.

Fear struck him;
the fear of failure.
She's doing it again.

He couldn't let
her get away - not this time - not when success was so close he could taste it.

Amai was only
feet away from him now, clinging to a rusty ladder. She looked him straight in
the eye, and then scuttled down like a cockroach. Nash felt fleeting
admiration; her eyes held not fear, but defiance.

He hadn't
considered that she might go out a window, thinking it was too high up.

Fire escape
, he thought.
Idiot.

He looked down
and fear struck him again - the fear of falling.

He guessed a
fall from this height would either kill or paralyze him and vertigo tingled in
the soles of his feet. Then he imagined the shame of telling Hitchcock that
Amai had beaten him again. He heard Hitchcock's arrogant voice:
Can't even
catch one little slant eyed girl, maybe this isn't the right business for you
sonny.

It was all the
motivation Nash needed.

He mounted the
window sill. His injured leg was stiff and sore, but he forced himself to climb
onto the ladder. His white knuckled hands clung to the metal rungs. Then he
forgot the pain, he forgot the height, and he clambered down the ladder after
Amai.

He felt the
ladder shift, and looked down to see her swing gracefully across to a drainpipe.
His mind did the math: he guessed that she would beat him to the ground, but
only by seconds. He had the advantage of the ladder, and she was shinnying
awkwardly down the pipe.

Stupid girl,
he thought.
Advantage Nash.

The enclosure
below was a dead-end, hemmed in by an eight foot block-wall.

She'll be
trapped
.

Then, ten feet
above the ground, it happened.

In a
gut-twisting moment of insight, he realized why Amai had jumped to the
drainpipe. But it was too late.

With unnatural
clarity, he heard the sound of metal tearing, and his section of the ladder
jolted and gave way.

Nash felt
himself falling. His arms chopped the air. There was nothing he could do.

He landed hard
on his back.

The impact drove
every particle of air from his lungs. The section of broken ladder followed him
down and hit him in the face.

Stars crashed
into his vision. Searing pain shot into his skull and he tasted warm blood.

Through a fog,
he watched helplessly as Amai began climbing the block-wall at the end of the
enclosure. Winded by the fall, he felt like he was suffocating, but even in his
state of breathless pain, he was able to admire Amai's perfect ass, as the dark
silk of her pants stretched tightly into every crevasse. 

How is she
doing this?
He thought.

He looked
closer. She was using vines, the mortar gap, and chips in the masonry, to gain
foot and hand holds. His men would never climb it - she would escape.

He tried to
yell, but his breath was gone.

I should've
put a block in at the rear,
he thought.
Idiot.

He put his hands
behind his head and sucked hard for air. His men ran into the yard and Amai
disappeared over the top of the wall.

'Get her.' Nash
wheezed, with all the breath he could muster.

His men ran to
the wall. One formed a stirrup with his hands. The other put his foot into the
stirrup and was boosted up the face. He grabbed the top, hauled himself into a
sitting position, and then reached down and hauled the other up.

Yes
, Nash thought, pumping his fist.

* * *

Amai dropped from the top of the wall and
let her legs absorb the shock.

Her face
stretched into a smile. The ladder had held Nash's weight longer than expected,
but the trick was priceless. She hoped it hurt. She relived the moment: his
look of dread; his wind-milling arms; the noise he made on impact. She would
cherish it forever.

She looked
around and realized that she was on the bank of a narrow canal. The bank
itself, only a few feet wide, followed the canal in both directions. In the
shallow water, a long line of barges tied together as one snaking convoy,
blocked the channel. A noisy motorized boat towed the convoy by a thick rope.
On the opposite bank, the tin and canvas shacks of a large shantytown spread
out as far as she could see.

She looked back
at the wall. Nash's thugs were scrambling over the top. Her smile vanished.

Initially she
thought of running away down the side of the canal, but Nash's men were fit and
strong and she knew they would quickly run her down. She looked at the canal.
Despite its narrow width and shallow depth, the convoy of barges made it
impossible to cross.

Despair struck
her. There were no options. She couldn't believe that she was going to be
caught.

What will
they do to me?
She thought.
Will they torture
me? Have they tortured Thi?

Amai didn't want
to be tortured. The fear turned her saliva to glue.

Nash's men
thudded to the ground, expelling their breath loudly. Their hairy arms came
out. Amai turned and felt her ankle twist. She squealed in pain and fright.

One of them
said: 'Grab her,' and the will to survive hijacked her body. Adrenaline burst
from her chest and into her legs, and without further thought for her own life,
she dove into the canal.

She swum down to
the bottom sludge, and thought:
Can I fit under the barge?

She stretched
her body out flat, dug her fingers into the mud, and dragged herself forward.

A barge's keel
hit her back and pinned her to the bottom.

I'll drown.

The boat felt
like it would crush her. With all the strength she could muster underwater, she
desperately thrashed her arms and legs.

I need air.

She wriggled
forward an inch.

I need to
breathe.

She jerked her
hips and came free. She stood up and her head broke the surface. Air filled her
lungs and her eyes focused on the bank.  

The fear of
capture drove her on.

Amai slogged through
the mud. Her thighs burned.

I'm going too
slow.

She made the
bank and looked back.

Both of Nash's
men were in the water. The bow of a trailing barge struck one and he went
under. The barge rode up onto his body, listed, and then capsized, dumping its
full load of vegetables into the canal. 

He'll drown,
she thought.

Then she ran
toward the slums.