Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“What do you mean?”

“Well, eh. . while touring on performances, I eh. . heard she was living with some American officer. She’s about thirty years old now.”

Sergeant Yun broke in. “Hey, her looks are killer. Back home she’d make a first-rate actress.”

Yong Kyu didn’t ask any more questions. Sergeant Yun kept on running his mouth. “I mean, you’ve got to speak their language to get it up. Can’t understand a word they’re chirping underneath.”

“Is that all?” asked Pak cautiously. Yong Kyu smiled as he replied. “We’re through with that, but I understand you’ve had four performances over at Monkey Mountain.”

“What. .?”

“Thank you.”

Sergeant Yun interrupted again. “Hey, you’re not a lifer. Soon enough you’ll take off your uniform and go back to real life, huh? Just take it easy, kill some time here, and then get lost without ever looking back.”

“That’s the same for everybody,” Yong Kyu said, “so hurry up and give me my lunch.”

“I spent four months crawling, too. I got my medal. Want to see it?” Sergeant Yun pulled up one pant leg. A large scar from a grenade wound.

“I was laid up in the hospital for two months. They could’ve sent me home, but didn’t. So, out of spite, I extended my stay.”

They ate lunch. Leaving behind Yun, who tried to get them to stay for more drinking, Toi and Yong Kyu crossed the bridge and headed through the airbase. It was already after three. They passed Dong Dao and went into the navy PX. The manager was a middle-aged civilian, neatly dressed in a short-sleeve shirt and tie and wearing gold-rimmed glasses. Yong Kyu showed his ID card and described the woman he was looking for.

“Ah, you mean Mimi. We do have a personnel card on her.”

At the mention of the woman’s distinguishing mark, the mole on her forehead, the manager had immediately recognized her and used her American name. He got on an intercom and asked for the personnel card to be brought to him.

“What’s this all about?”

“We’re conducting an investigation. When did she quit working here?”

“Two months ago. She was fired. Considering her experience and skills we tried to work it out but. .”

“And the reason for her dismissal?”

“It’s a bit delicate. . let me get you the security officer.”

While he was on the phone, the personnel card came. There was even a photograph attached. Her weight, height, hair and eye color, and other details including her hobbies were recorded on the card.

“When you go out through the back, there’s a Quonset hut directly facing you. The security officer will be waiting in there.”

“Can you lend this card to the joint investigation team for a few days?”

“Ask the security officer.”

Yong Kyu passed around the manager’s desk and opened the back door. When he went into the Quonset hut, a tall American soldier with short-cropped hair turned around. Once more Yong Kyu presented his ID and told him the purpose of his visit. The American listened and then spoke briefly.

“When we fired her, we reported it to your embassy right away.”

“And the reason for her dismissal?”

“We found her inappropriate to serve as an employee for this organization.”

Judging from the frozen expression on his face, Yong Kyu could tell that this corporal was the one who had fired her. He was probably dispatched from the investigation division headquarters.

“Can we borrow her personnel card?”

“I’ll make a copy for you.”

He gave the card to a clerk and a copy was soon brought back.

“Thank you.”

Yong Kyu came up close to him, and said in a tone mimicking the American’s, “Mimi is the key to our investigation, so CID is sparing no efforts to locate her. What was the exact reason for her dismissal?”

The security officer seemed reluctant at first to open his mouth, but then shrugged his shoulders and said, “She was fired for possession of heroin.”

Back outside, the weather was stifling hot. Toi was perched on the Land Rover, sucking a cigarette. “Find anything out?”

Yong Kyu waved the card at him.

“Let me have a look.”

Yong Kyu thought twice and then handed it over. Toi glanced through it.

“A real beauty. Thirty, that’s thirty-one the way we count age.”

“Read it later, let’s just get out of here.”

“Where to?”

“Back to the office.”

Yong Kyu decided that he should get a pair of sunglasses, too. Normally, Madame Butterfly and heroin didn’t go together. But in Vietnam, Madame Butterfly, heroin, and the black market — now those went together beautifully. A grand poetic connection. Nothing more to add.

The helicopter was in the air.

Pham Quyen had fastened his seat belt, but the bubble-like cockpit offered little sense of security. Below, the tributaries of the Thu Bon flowed through the plain like the tangled branches of a tropical plant, its swamps connected by a web of narrow waterways like raindrops, dispersing and flowing together as they ran down a windowpane. They were flying toward the dark and ominous jungle of the plateau. The helicopter began to descend as they approached the destination, passing over Chiang Hoa.

As the plains ended there appeared a narrow bottlenecked valley. The plain continued along the upper edges of this lush ravine like flesh clinging to a bony rib. The wide river flowed on peacefully at the bottom of its serpentine canyon. An Diem was situated at the point that looked like the base of the bottle. Even to those with no experience in military affairs, the strategic value of An Diem was obvious at a glance. The Vietnamese pilot sent a message over the radio. Pink smoke began ascending from a white circle below, as small as a coin.

“We’re landing, sir.”

“Good. Tell the patrol leader to be ready.”

As they radioed back and forth, the helicopter hung suspended in the air. Then it slowly began a jerky descent. A cloud of red dust floated up. The helipad was large and paved with asphalt. The dust came from the area surrounding the landing strip. As soon as they touched down, Pham Quyen ran to the edge of the pad, bent over and leaning down away from the propeller. A Ranger lieutenant had been waiting for him and was saluting.

“First Lieutenant Kanh, in charge of the guard detail, sir.”

Pham Quyen looked around the heliport. Militiamen, enough for a squad, spread about on watch. They wore black Vietnamese clothing and Burmese jungle hats. Their carbines were in bad shape.

“Is that your patrol?”

“No, sir. We have the platoon stationed up on both sides of the high hill over there. From up there the site is within range of mortars and rockets.”

“And the front line on the other side?”

“The American special forces and our battalion. We’ve been dispatched from that unit to here, sir.”

“Do you have field glasses?”

The lieutenant barked a command to his staff and a pair of binoculars were immediately brought to Pham Quyen. Just as the lieutenant had said, the buffer detachments were visible. He could make out a high sandbag barricade, barbed wire fences, and a secure operations road. He also scanned both sides of the nearby hill. They had set up machine gun nests, a trench mortar and a 3.5-inch rocket launcher. The soldiers had dug out foxholes and were surveying the opposite sides of the hills. Pham Quyen looked at his watch.

“Fire warning shots.”

The lieutenant hurried to a waiting Jeep and picked up the radio transmitter. As Pham Quyen looked on through the field glasses, 81mm cannon started firing and a heavy machine gun began to sputter. Rockets and trench mortar shells flew up and rained down into the ravine. The valley seemed about to explode from the noise. Cannon smoke was visible from three directions.