My Stilled Life: Chapter 18
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Helen laid back down in the bed, saying, “I want a gun. I want a gun now! Because if I ever see that asshole again I want to shoot at him.”
“I'm with you on that,” I said, climbing into bed with her. Helen was shaking, so I tried to hug away some of her fear but she wasn’t in the mood to be comforted. But after a little coaxing, we fell asleep together.
We woke to a knock on the door and the call of “Maid Service.”
I got up, moved gingerly to the door and peeked out.
A middle-aged woman smiled back at me, again saying, "Maid Service."
“Sorry, we’ve overslept. No cleaning today. Ok?”
The middle-aged woman performed the “wai,” nods her head, saying, “Yes sir, no maid today, OK.” Then she pushed her cart down to the next room.
I put out the Do Not Disturb sign, closed and double locked the door, then turned to look at Helen, who was sitting up in the bed.
“Helen, I think things just got really real. Too fucking real. What do you think about going back to Pasadena and waiting for me there? I’m not sure what’s going to happen next but I’d be happier if I knew you were safe,” I said in my most pleasant and conciliatory voice.
“Are you suffering from early onset of Alzheimer's or something? We’re together! There’s nothing more to say,” Helen said as she got up and started pacing the room.
She tried to walk past me, but I put out my hand, snagging her top. She turned and embraced me with a passion that was unexpected. We stayed that way for a while until, she pulled away and slapped my face. “We’ve got to get moving. Where the fuck are those old men? The ones who sent us here. "
“Let's get dressed and we’ll go find them,” I said, as I rubbed my cheek.
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“Good morning, sir, table for two? And would you both like coffee?”
I smiled at the hostess saying, “Yes to the table, no to the coffee. I’d like a Coke. In a bottle or a can. Cold and unopened, please.” Turning to Helen I asked, “What will you have?”
“I’ll have a large orange juice, no ice, please,” Helen said beaming. Turning to me, “I don’t know how you can drink that crap so early.
“It’s just the all-American boy in me. I prefer my caffeine cold. Let's do the breakfast buffet, it’ll be a lot faster.”
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After breakfast, we walked back into the sumptuous lobby of the Rex looking for one of the hotel’s guest computers. We found adjoining machines and sat down. I got on Google Earth using "street view" to give me an idea of what’s in store for us in route to our other hotel on Bui Vien Street. It was within easy walking distance. I’d just shut down when Helen prompted, “Hey, look at this.” She pointed at the screen of the computer she was using. “These Youtube videos of people crossing the streets here are very informative. Looks like it can be quite the adventure. Sort of a stop and go game. All you need to be is brave and a little foolhardy,” she said, laughing.
Staring at the video I added, “And with my fucked-up cyclops vision, I’m going to need you to run interference for me, as usual. Otherwise, I’m going to end up flat as a pancake.”
“Don’t worry, just follow mommy, I’m going to take very good care of you.”
“Up yours, my pretty little bitch.”
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As we left the hotel, the doorman pulled Helen aside, telling her that we’d be well advised to use a taxi.
“Walking in Saigon can be a very dangerous and unpredictable activity for new visitors, Madam,” he said, holding out his hand.
Helen just smiled, put a dollar in his hand and waved goodbye saying, “We’ll be fine, kind sir.”
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It was another dreadfully humid day in Saigon. Within the first block, I’d sweated through my beloved bush jacket.
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An aside: “I know they look ridiculously theatrical but they really are essential for travel. With all the pockets, and the cotton poplin fabric is breathable, wonderfully strong and able to soak up my sweat to give me a moist barrier against the heat. What more could you ask for in a garment.”
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After a couple of blocks further along, we were approached by a woman in her early twenties carrying a tray of sundry items. I thought she was going to try to sell us something, but instead, she passed me a note while engaging Helen in a sales pitch.
The note read:
Graceful Saigon Hotel is being watched. Follow girl. She will lead you to a safe location. RCPM
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Our guide led us on a grand tour of the narrowest alleyways in District One of Saigon.
After half an hour of slogging through an obstacle course of sidewalk stands and street vendors we saw her climb the stairs of what looked like an abandoned warehouse.
We walked through several areas filled with industrial sewing machines then climbed down several more flights of stairs. Back on the street, she hurried us through several small shops, back alleyways and into a walled compound. The place almost looked deserted, but through the overgrown garden, I could see a storm lantern swing in the breeze.
On the porch, she slid open a wooden door, instructed us to remove our shoes and ushered into what looked like a monk’s cell.
“You sit here. Someone come soon. I get tea. Wait here, no leave,” she instructed.
She was back in ten minutes with sweet tea in Starbucks cup. She shoved them at us and was gone again.
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"I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted and getting a bit pissed off being dragged around like this. How do we know what these old guys are really up to.?” Helen said in an anxious tone.
"Let’s just see who shows up here. Then if things still feel wonky, we can strike out on our own."
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We were just getting up to leave when the door slid open and an elderly Vietnamese man stepped in. He was followed in by a disheveled street person. Ragged, dirty and smelly, he smiled at us, saying, “Good afternoon guys,” in Mr. Joshua’s voice.
“May I introduce, Colonel Twan Van Knuw, formally of the South Vietnamese Army. A man of considerable influence in today’s Saigon underworld. An old and very trusted ally and your benefactor.”
I stood and shook hands with the Colonel and a virtually unrecognizable version of Mr. Joshua.
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Helen and I sat down at a ubiquitous plastic table across from the Colonel and Mr. Joshua.
The Colonel studied my face, saying, “Your eyes lack the intense focus of your father’s. Other than that, you are a lot like the John Stanley I knew. Same size, same edginess that plagued him when he was off duty.”
“I don’t know what it was about him but he was always tense until the action began, then a calm would transform him. He’d become oblivious to danger, unfazed by chaos and unconcerned about his personal safety. He was filled with the light of absolute belief in the rightness of the American cause, as naive as that sounds today,” the Colonel said, looking thoughtful. Then he continued, “You have the same perfect unblemished teeth that made your father’s smile so convincing. A real asset in troubled times. I marveled at how his smile could pacify other team members just before all hell would break loose.”
“I know my father was a great man to many of those who worked with him, but he was really just a stranger to me. I’m nothing like him," I said pointedly.
The Colonel smiled, “We shall see… But you’re right, now we need to discuss your current difficulties. Your father saved my life several times and that’s the debt I’m here to repay, regardless of how you felt about him.
"When South Vietnam collapsed, we were still fighting North Vietnamese regulars in the delta. John Stanley was ordered out but he had other ideas. He wanted to stay and organize a guerrilla resistance. But I knew that after decades of war all most Vietnamese wanted was peace, even if it was a communist peace.
"After many nights of us rending our garments John saw the futility of continuing. He tried to persuade me to come back to California with him but I had family obligation here. Reluctantly I said goodbye to John and made my way back to my family in Saigon to await my fate at the hands of the victorious and soon-to-be vengeful Communists.
"Within a few weeks, all former soldiers and civil servants were ordered to re-education centers. The new government promised it would only take a couple of months for us to be set on the path of true communist brotherhood. But it turned out that the communist, like all other bureaucrats, were liars. During the seven years of hard labor it took for them to re-educate me, I became acquainted with two elderly merchants from Singapore who had dithered too long trying to liquidate their holdings and were caught in the disintegration of Saigon.
“I did them a few kindnesses while we were imprisoned. There’s nothing like brutally hard labor, starvation, and cruelty to focus men’s hatred into a common bond against one’s oppressors. They, like I, were determined to remain uneducated, no matter what it cost us.
“After nine months they’d been deported out of Vietnam. I later learned that their families had paid the commandant $50,000 each for their release.
“When I was finally paroled back to Saigon, I was surprised to find that the elder Luru merchants hadn’t forgotten me. They provided enough financing for me to establish myself as a black market entrepreneur. This was during the time of the Four Great Kings, crime bosses that had enough money and clout to bribe Saigon police officials into passivity. This passivity benefited us in the underclass greatly. The Luru’s became my main supplier of all manner of contraband, from antibiotics to Sony Walkmans to month old Playboy magazines. Even in a city only a few years from a war footing the cash rolled in and that financial success cemented my relationship with the Luru clan.
“That was up until last year when I was informed that our agreement would have to be renegotiated. A new generation of leaders had been installed to modernize the clan to better cope with the 21st century. Young Turks had ousted the old men who they believed had ruined the family name.
“Outwardly, they styled themselves after MTV gangsters. Gold chains, fast cars, expensive liquors and overly augmented women. But that's all for show. In reality, these were a brutal, very well educated group of young men who felt the clan had been slighted and were out to set things right. They were Asian through and through and what really counted to them was face.
“After they consolidated their position within the family, they set about rehabilitating the clan’s reputation, extracting retribution from anyone who had brought shame to the clan or defied its authority.
“I believe that is why they have targeted your father and sister. And that is why you are in danger. They just view you as a black mark on the clan’s name that needs to be erased. It’s all a matter of face and there’s nothing more important to them than their rep.
“Ok. If that’s the way things are, how do we go about changing their minds?” I asked.
“They’re Asian, there’s no changing them. If you want peace we’ll need to kill them. I can’t see any other course of action that’s available. You’ve got to be as single-minded as they are.” Colonel Knuw said.
I hesitated before saying “I’m not sure I’ve got the stomach for that.”
“Then, Mr. Price, I hope your affairs are in order because as you’ve seen, they have no such compunction,” the colonel added.
Mr. Joshua’s phone rang and after a quick conversation, he said, “There’s someone watching us. We need to leave. I’ve just arranged for motor scooters to pick us up out back in five minutes.”
“What the fuck. Motor scooter?” Helen asked.
Both Helen and I looked dubious which made Mr. Joshua smile, saying, “Don’t worry, I assure you, it’s perfectly safe. And if we get separated the drivers know our destination.”
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Five minutes later we were in the alley behind the building climbing aboard what I considered as tiny, four-stroke motor scooters.
Soon we were speeding through the overcrowded streets of District One. We were in a single-file group when a couple of black BMW motorcycles came up fast and purposely crashed into the lead scooter. At this point, the other three drivers took off on their own. Weaving in a radical manner trying to escape.
I just got a glimpse of Colonel Knew, who’d been flung into several tables of a curbside eatery. I saw that he was trying to stand up when my scooter driver jumped the sidewalk nearly knocking me off the back. My knee clipped someone sitting at a table, when we whisked by and entered a side alley as the night was filled with gunshots.
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After what seemed like a lifetime my scooter driver pulled up in front of a residential apartment. He looked visually very scared as he told me, “207,” pointed up some tricky stairs then jetted away.
I was jittery and had a hard time climbing the outside stairs. I found room 207 in the rear and knocked, but got no answer. I tried the knob and found the place unlocked. Steeling myself, I pushed the door open and walked in. The closed curtains of the room were thin enough to allow some light from the commercial signage on the street to give me a shadowy view. I moved over to a dark corner, where my one good eye had a view of the door, and sat down to await the rest of the team.
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As hard as it is to believe, I fell asleep. Whether it was the humidity, the stress or the physical demands of the past few days, somehow they’d combined to lead me down to Hades and into the river of oblivion.
I woke mid-day alone, scared and without any idea of what to do or where to turn. The longer I sat there the more my stomach acid began to eat at me. I waited for another hour then flipped a coin.
I waved down a scooter taxi and told the driver “Rex Hotel, please.”
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Two days later I was still at the Rex. I still hadn’t seen anyone, not Helen, Joshua or the Colonel. To say my nerves were frayed was an understatement. I decided I’d wait one more day then fly out to Singapore. I didn’t have any idea what I’d do there, but somehow I felt it was the only option left to me.
I made a to-do list and started packing. I’d leave Helen's bag along with a detailed letter in the Hotel’s storage room in hopes that she might return. I thought about making a police report but didn’t know what I’d say, so I marked it off my list
At noon, I left the room, went to the rooftop restaurant to have lunch. The place was deserted except for an overabundance of wait staff who looked relieved when I showed up.
I was munching on tiger prawns when someone approached me from the rear. An unexpected fear propelled me up and spun me to face who or whatever was behind me. Unfortunately, my sudden movement had jarred the table knocking my coke over and onto the floor, which caused a flurry of activity from the wait staff.
I had so much adrenaline pumping that it took a moment to recognize Mr. James and calm myself a little.
”Fuck, Dude, don’t do that again,” I said with more anger than necessary.
“Are you OK?” he asked.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right. Things have gone to shit. I have no idea where anyone is. Helen, Joshua and the Colonel disappeared in a hail of bullets the other night. Somehow I got back here unhurt except for the strain on my mental faculties,” I spewed.
“Lower your voice, Mr. Price,” he said taking a seat across from me. “I just flew in from Singapore after getting a call from Mr. Joshua. He’s in the hospital with a broken ankle, a dislocated shoulder and a possible concussion. I’m afraid that he’s going to be out of commission for the foreseeable future. As for our brave compatriot, Colonel Knew, he died standing up, returning fire. He killed one of the assailants and possibly wounded another. But from what we’ve learned from the police, they were just locally hired help. There’s no direct link between them and the Lurus., at least that we can find.”
“As for Helen, there’s no sign of her. Everyone lost sight of her and her driver, who’s also disappeared. If she was taken, there hasn’t been a ransom note or any communications with those who might be holding her.”
“Should we ask the police for help?” I asked.
“I’m afraid that wouldn’t be prudent. A formal inquiry would just draw attention and complicate things. I suggest we fly to Singapore and begin direct actions against your distant relatives. Time for talking is over. Payment is due. We should start now before our losses compromise our ability to act.”
“By distant relatives, I’m guessing that’s a veiled reference to the Luru clan?”
Mr. James nodded.
“What about Helen? Wouldn’t that place her in more peril?”
“Look, more than likely she’s dead or being staked out as a lure to bring you to them. Helen knew the risks when she signed on. Now is not the time for hesitation. A fast and effective strike is needed. If we can save her we will. The others are saddled up and raring to go in Singapore, but this is your show. What do you want to do?”
“Aren’t you guys even a bit hesitant?”
“Look, the only thing in our future is a state-run old-folks home. Some place the government can park us where we don’t babble on about things we did in our youth, things that shouldn’t be talked about. Anyone of us would trade places with Colonel Knuw in a heartbeat. Death with meaning is our preferred method of exiting this plane of existence,” Mr. James said with all the seriousness he could muster.
“OK, what the fuck. Without Helen, I’m just a one-eyed geek with nothing to look forward to. So I’m in. You guys are sure you know where these assholes are and how to get to them?”
“Yes, it might not be pretty, but we have a way, a backdoor through an old CIA operative who’s retired in Singapore. He has been doing a little smuggling for them and is willing to place us within striking distance, for a price.”
“OK, pay him whatever he wants,” I directed.
“He doesn’t want money.”