Authors: Travis Stone
39
T
he gunshot shocked Danny into paralysis.
He watched a
dark stain form on the back of Nash's shirt. Nash stepped back and his hands
went to his chest. Another gunshot exploded in the small room. Danny flinched.
Nash dropped to his knees. Danny could only watch; there was nowhere to run -
he didn't understand what was happening.
A stocky
Vietnamese man came into the room and Danny instantly recognized him as the
thug from Amai's Trung Hoa Club - the one who'd threatened him with the metal
bar. The thug put a bullet into the top of Nash's head.
Danny's body
jerked and he looked away. He heard the thud as Nash hit the floor.
My God,
he
thought.
Nash is dead.
Danny looked
back to the door. Two more Viet Cong men came into the room and stood behind
the gunman. One held a small, rectangular tin-can bearing a faded Caltex
star.
Amai's thug
walked up to Danny and slugged him in the gut. Danny doubled-over and felt the
pistol-grip strike the back of his head. He saw bright shapes and heard himself
hit the floor.
The thug tied
Danny's hands and feet, and then dragged him to the landing. Danny smelled
gasoline. He looked back into Amai's room. One intruder was bent over Nash,
going through his pockets, while the other splashed petrol over the bed and
floor. Nash looked asleep rather than dead.
Danny felt a
rush of heat as the fuel ignited, and thought:
They're going to kill me!
Amai's thugs
dragged Danny down the stairs and loaded him into the back of a green sedan,
double-parked with its engine running. The thugs jumped in, the doors slammed
shut, and the car speed off; its engine over-revving as the driver crashed up
and down through the gears, thrashing it for all it was worth.
Amai
, Danny thought.
She's done this.
It was the only
explanation he could think of.
Nash was
right.
How did I not see it? Why did I not
listen?
As it sunk in,
he understood that he had been easy game. He had had no power to resist her.
I've never
been good enough for a beautiful woman.
I
should've known better.
Amai's thug tied
a dusty rice-sack over Danny's head. The car lurched and Danny fell off the
seat and onto the floor. He could see nothing. The car hit a pothole and
Danny's head hit the wheel arch. The rear tyre ground up into the mudguard as
the suspension bottomed-out, and he felt sure the tyre would tear through the
thin metal and shred his face.
The car swerved
several times without slowing. The dusty sack made Danny feel asthmatic.
Just
breathe,
he thought.
Just breathe.
The three thugs
began to argue, but the man beside Danny quickly shouted the other two down. He
was the leader. He was the one who'd attacked him on the stairs. He was Amai's
man from the Trung Hoa.
Why do they
want me?
Danny thought.
What will they do to me?
He cursed his
own stupidity. It was obvious now that the Trung Hoa Club was a Viet Cong
front, and Amai had gone there because she was a Viet Cong spy; just as Nash
had said.
Nash's execution
came horrifically back to him.
The thug pulled
the sack off Danny's head and poked a finger into his forehead. 'She sold you
out, Yankee.' He poked him again. 'She works for Viet Cong.' He poked him
again. 'She doesn't love you, Yankee. She never did.'
The sack was
slammed back down, followed by a solid kidney punch. The blow hurt, but the
man's words hurt far more.
But why?
Danny thought.
What could I possibly have done for her?
It made no
sense. He held no Military secrets. He thought about his stories. It had to be
the stories.
But why
kidnap me?
Strangely, he
pictured Amai's face and knew that he still loved her. He smiled ruefully under
the sack - he knew that he always would.
But she never
loved me
, he thought.
It was all fake.
A drop in
traffic noise and a change of smell told Danny that they had left the city.
A chill ran
through his blood.
Oh God, where
are they taking me?
JANUARY 1968
40
January 1
Thong
Nhut Boulevard
10°46'57.90"N
106°42'04.75"E
T
he fire had gutted the apartment.
The brick facade
had collapsed to the pavement, exposing a tangle of charred timber, and from
the street, Colonel Hitchcock could see into all three floors.
The sight
reminded him of a sister's Doll's house that he had torched as a child.
Beside the
rubble, citizens were tending to blackened occupants, who lay in varying states
of consciousness.
Hitchcock saw
Corporal Mancini and made his way toward him. Mancini stood atop the rubble,
looking dumbfounded. Hitchcock climbed up beside him.
'We found
Captain Nash's body, Sir,' Mancini said. 'Only bones'n dog-tags left of him.'
With the backs
of his fingers, Hitchcock brushed soot from his starched uniform. 'And the
reporter?'
Mancini looked
nervous. 'Sir. I think he's been taken.'
'Taken? What do
you mean
taken,
Corporal?'
'Well Sir, I
covered the Embassy while Captain Nash came here. I saw the smoke from the
chancery. By time I got here, the place was blazin'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''-'
'Get to the
point.'
'I saw some
gooks, Sir. Looked like they put someone in the back of a car. They took off
fast-'
'And you
waited
to report that?'
'I-'
'What kind of
car?'
'A - green one.'
'What make?'
'Ah-'
'Quickly.'
'A Renault, I
think. Nash talked about a green Renault before, Sir.'
'That's Captain
Nash to you, Corporal.
'Yes, Sir.'
'Then what
happened?'
'Then I tried to
get to Captain Nash, Sir, but it was too damn hot. And then the bricks came
down.'
Something about
Danny Thorn bothered Hitchcock.
He's Amai's boyfriend,
he thought.
Which
means he probably knows the dead girl, Thi.
Hitchcock knew if Danny made inquiries
into Thi's disappearance, the consequences would be disastrous. Hitchcock would
retire soon, and wanted to do so with his Military pension and benefits
intact.
Hitchcock
smiled.
Seems I've killed two birds with one stone.
He eyeballed
Mancini. 'Say nothing of what you saw here today, Corporal. Is that clear?'
Mancini's face
screwed up. 'Sir?'
Thick little
shit.
'That reporter could bring us down, son. If
the VC have him - he's on his own.'
'Sir?'
'Trust me
Corporal, I shit-you-not. If any of your actions concerning the death of that
Thi girl get out, you
will
face war-crimes charges. Do you understand?'
Mancini's lips
peeled away from his teeth.
Hitchcock leaned
toward him. 'Forget about the reporter. Forget about the green Renault. Am I
making myself goddamn clear yet?'
'Crystal, Sir.'
Mancini shuffled uneasily. 'The VC Sir.'
'Yes, Corporal?'
'What will they
do to him?'
Hitchcock
shuddered involuntarily. He had been a POW for a brief period in
Korea
. 'I shouldn't think about it,
Corporal.'
Mancini
nodded.
Out of the
corner of his eye, Hitchcock saw a figure rounding the rubble. He stiffened; it
was General Weyand.
Hitchcock
flicked the General a salute.
Weyand strode up
staunchly. 'As you were, gentlemen. What a goddamn mess. What the
hell
happened here, Colonel?'
Hitchcock
selected his words. 'Investigation pending, Sir. Captain Nash
was
killed
in the blaze.'
Weyand frowned. 'Any
other casualties?'
'What'd you
mean?'
'Danny Thorn?' Weyand
said, his face unreadable. 'Was he in there?'
Hitchcock was
caught off guard. 'Excuse me, Sir?'
'I was aware
that your man, Nash, was looking to apprehend Danny here . . . Well?'
'Well what?'
'This
is
the flat of his Vietnamese girlfriend, is it not?'
Hitchcock
lasered his eyes into Mancini's. 'Corporal?'
Mancini looked
at Weyand's knees. 'Danny burned up in the fire, Sir. It was un-survivable.'
'You
sure
he was in there?'
Mancini shook
his head. 'He was with Nash, Sir. He's dead.'
'And the girl? Weyand
said. 'What's her name?'
'Amai Nguyen,
Sir.'
Weyand raised
his chin. 'That's right, Corporal.'
To Hitchcock,
Mancini's lying was obvious. He only hoped Weyand hadn't picked up on it.
Mancini said:
'Amai wasn't here, Sir. We-' Mancini shrugged.
'Thank you
Corporal,' Weyand said. 'Now I suggest you call in some ambulances - get these
wounded civilians seen to.'
'But they're
only-'
'What part of
your orders don't you understand, soldier? Now get to it.'
'Yes Sir.'
Mancini went toward the jeep.
Hitchcock saw
Corporal Albertez, and said: 'Hey you. Start moving these civilians outta here.
Cordon off the area. No one in or out without my say so.'
Weyand cast him
odd look before stalking away.
Unnervingly for
Hitchcock, the General stopped several times to stare back into the charred
building - and at him.
* * *
General Weyand, Commander II Field Force,
Vietnam
, stopped and eyed the burnt
structure. Something about the scene wasn't right. Whether it was the strange
way that Hitchcock and Mancini were acting, Weyand didn't know, but something
was amiss.
Danny's dead,
he thought.
What a goddamn shame.
Finding another
man as trustworthy as Danny Thorn would be difficult - if not impossible.
41
January 4
Laos
, North East of Saravane
16°08'17"N
107°09'53"E
S
till hooded, Danny woke to the smells of tobacco smoke and body odor.
The smoke was the Viet Cong thug's, the body odor his own. Bound hand-and-foot,
he sat up.
From
Saigon
, they had driven him to the
Cambodian boarder, where they had lashed him to the back of an old military
truck. The truck had carried him for what felt like days over rutted jungle
roads.
The thug pulled
the rice-sack off Danny's head and the light burned his eyes. The thug grinned;
the few teeth he did have were stained brown.
'Why am I here?'
Danny said. 'What do you want?'
The thug scraped
plaque from his teeth with a dirty fingernail.
Danny looked
past him to the matted jungle; it was hot and quiet and felt vastly remote. On
his right, a wide, dark river flowed urgently past, and over the treetops, he
could just see the rocky spine of a large mountain range.
Danny had no
idea where he was. His body felt weak, but his mind blazed with thoughts of
Amai, and the fear of what lay ahead. The knot in his gut was tightening. He
knew the North Vietnamese lived in tunnels, like moles. He hoped to hell that
they wouldn't force him underground.
He shivered
despite the heat. He couldn't think of anything worse; he knew he couldn't
handle it.
The thug jabbed
his rifle barrel into Danny's ribs. 'You-get-up. You-get-up.'
Danny stood. He
knew not to upset him.
A new man had
arrived, and as he approached, the thugs backed away like hyena pups.
The new man was
gaunt with a sharp face, but he carried both an air of superiority and the
threat of violence. Danny understood that these people hated Americans; and he
couldn't blame them for it.
Danny avoided
eye contact.
This is the man,
he thought.
He'll tell me why I'm here.
The two thugs
left and the gaunt man came toward him. The blow to the stomach was
surprisingly hard. The man's face came close and Danny smelled rich cigarette
smoke on his breath.
'My name is
Triet,' the man said. 'Do anything stupid and I'll cut your fucking balls out.'
* * *
Amai dreamed of the very moment when her
father gave her the one-eyed doll - her most loved childhood possession. Her happiness
was vividly real.
When she woke,
her fear was instantaneous. Blackness surrounded her. It was a blackness that
could only be experienced deep underground.
Incased in clay,
the walls touched her shoulders, head, and feet. She could barely move enough
to release a cramp or stretch out a muscle. The air was heavy and hard to
breath. She lay still, trying to control her emotions. Surviving underground
was something that she knew well. But this was different. This was torture.
To stave off
panic, she thought of Danny, Nhu An, her childhood, and the one eyed doll her
father had given her.
After Triet's
thugs had grabbed her outside the Phu Tho safe-house, she had been bound,
blindfolded, and stuffed into the cab of a lorry. Later they dressed her in the
black pajamas of the Viet Cong guerillas. She guessed that she had spent at
least three days in the lorry. But now, underground and in the dark, all sense
of time and orientation was lost.
She had no idea
when Triet would come and release her from this hell-hole.
But he will
come,
she said to herself.
He will come.