Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“Which direction was it?”

“From the north, looks like.”

“It seemed very close.”

Cao and his men ran outside to the police car. As they approached it, suddenly another car parked nearby turned on its headlights. Frowning, Cao instinctively held one hand in front of his forehead. The car lurched straight toward him, a submachine gun firing from within. Hit more than a dozen times, Cao tumbled to the ground. His driver and bodyguard pulled out their guns but also fell before they could fire a single shot. The car paused in front of the Sports Club long enough for the occupants to throw two hand grenades inside and to rake the building with gunfire, then it roared away with tires squealing.

Hae Jong sprang up in bed. Mike, who had been sleeping like a log beside her, awoke at the same time and in an instant had rolled onto the floor and crawled under the bed. The sight of his behind disappearing struck her as funny, somehow, but quickly she threw off the sheet and was on her feet. With nothing on but a robe she rushed downstairs, running into Lin, also dressed in a gown. After the first enormous explosion, there had been a lull, followed by a series of shots from somewhere very near.

Lin embraced Mimi and said, “We must escape quickly. It’s the Viet Cong. Oh, Beck, where are you?”

Beck soon appeared hopping down the stairs in pajamas. They huddled together and crossed the garden. There was an air raid shelter in the backyard that had not been used for a long time. On the way, Hae Jong pulled away and started to go back.

“Mimi, where are you going?” Lin asked.

“Mike’s in the room.”

“Don’t call him. An American soldier is dangerous.”

Still, she turned back. She could not leave Mike. Not because she had slept with that ordinary-looking American several times. In such danger, she would not have gone back for Pham Quyen if it had been him lying under that bed. But Mike was a finance officer at headquarters. If he died, she would lose the key to US dollars. Especially now, when a single day seemed to her like a dozen years. Again there was the noise of a grenade exploding. She rushed into the room.

“Mike! Mike!”

He crawled back out from beneath the bed.

“The Viet Cong are here. Quickly, get out!”

Hae Jong covered his naked body with a sheet and pulled him along by the hand. He was trembling like a leaf.

Madame Lin was waving from the entrance to the air raid shelter. “This way, Mimi.”

The four of them lay down in a clump on the damp cement floor spotted with puddles. Another fusillade could be heard outside. Then all the lights went out. When it quieted down, Lin was weeping softly.

They heard a loud siren, followed by the sound of a car pulling to a stop. They heard voices shouting back and forth in Vietnamese. Beck craned his head out of the entrance of the shelter and then said, “Sounds like government forces. .”

“We don’t know yet. If it’s not Americans, then we can’t be sure yet of our safety,” said Madame Lin, tugging at her husband’s pajama leg.

“She’s right,” Hae Jong agreed. “You can never tell who’s who among the government forces. Don’t go out until you hear English.”

Mike was shivering inside of his sheet. As an administrative officer from the American Northeast, he was the sort of soldier who, after holding a rifle a few times in basic training, had seldom been away from his air-conditioned office at headquarters, where cold drinks were always available for the asking. He had heard gunfire a few times, but never before had he experienced a firefight in close proximity like this. Hae Jong kept patting him on the shoulder.

“I’m an American soldier; the guerrillas will kidnap me,” Mike kept moaning. “They’ll drag us all away.”

Hae Jong hugged him. “It’s all over now, don’t worry.”

They heard the clomping of heavy boots, then warning shots, loud enough to deafen you, came from close by. Then another burst of automatic weapons fire tore through the darkened club. After the sound of glass breaking, several dark figures of men appeared on the terrace.

Beck yelled out, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”

They heard someone say something in Vietnamese, and this time Hae Jong shouted back, “ Nguoi mi, toi la nguoi Dai Han .”

Flashlights shone down into the shelter. At the order “ Lai, lai ” Beck went out, his hands raised. Hae Jong helped Mike, while Madame Lin, still skeptical about the situation, followed last with her back stooped low. The soldiers were an airborne squad belonging to the provincial government security detachment.

A lieutenant came up and asked Beck, “Isn’t there anyone else inside?”

Beck recognized the face of this lieutenant; he was one of Colonel Cao’s men. “No, only us,” he said. “But there were others inside the club. The colonel, what happened to Colonel Cao? Frank was also there. What about the other customers?”

The lieutenant shook his head. “The colonel was the enemy’s target. They did him in on the street.” From inside the club the Vietnamese staff and the hostesses began to emerge and the lights came on again. When she saw the bullet-ridden bar and the wretched condition of the interior and furniture, nearly demolished by the two grenades, Madame Lin broke down and cried. The wounded were still strewn all about. In the hall could be seen the blood-soaked corpses of three men and two women. The body lying under the arch at the entry to the hall turned out to be Frank’s. Beck spoke to the terrified employees and hostesses.

“Now, the men will clean up the broken glass and the rest of the damage, and you women should go back inside to the house and get some rest.

He gently nudged his wife on the back. “I can deal with the soldiers here, so you go ahead.”

Madame Lin was still covering her mouth to stifle another outburst of weeping, and Hae Jong escorted her back to the residence. Mike, who had been squatting on the terrace with a blanket, followed the two women into the house.

“Go back to the room,” Hae Jong said to Mike, “I’ll look after the Madame.”

The two women went into Lin’s bedroom suite. After helping her to lie down on the bed, Hae Jong took a bottle of whiskey out of the liquor cabinet.

“Here, have a drink. Then sleep a little, and before you know it everything will be in order again.”

Lin finished the glass in a single gulp and then heaved a great sigh. “Another, please. Nobody knows how hard it was for me to make this club, and now it’s all gone. Now you see why I was so insistent about keeping Vietnamese out of this place.”

“Poor Frank! Did you see his body?”

“Horrible, I couldn’t bear to look. Mike, where’s Mike? He was with us in the shelter.”

Hae Jong handed her another scotch and soda. “He’s back in the same room as before.”

Drinking more slowly, Madame Lin gradually recovered her wits.

“Wait, Mike said something very important.”

“Yes, and believe me, I haven’t forgotten, either.”

“That the military currency will be changed. . isn’t that awfully important?”

“It is,” said Hae Jong. “You and I just grabbed a golden opportunity. We saved Mike’s life.”

“Mimi, what time is it now?” Lin asked, gazing about.

“A little after eleven.”

Lin sat up in bed. “It’s still early then, eh? We’ve got a lot to talk over with the captain.”

Hae Jong got up. “I’ll call him.”

“Hold on a minute. No rush. First, we need to figure out what sorts of things will happen when the old currency is swapped for new. Right away many people will go into a frenzy to exchange before the old currency is no good. You’ll be able to get a commission for changing it, and the commission will grow as time runs out. By the last day, you’ll be able to buy the old currency dirt cheap with piasters, like it was wastepaper.”