Hwang Sok-Yong - The Shadow of Arms

“Are you coming home tonight?”

“I don’t know. I might be late.”

He drove back to the provincial government offices in a savage mood. Before going in he bought a bánh mì from a vendor out front. As he walked in the door, a lieutenant with a freshly washed face spoke to him.

“A telephone call came for you just now, sir. From the Thanh Thanh.”

Chewing on the bánh mì , Major Pham said to the lieutenant, “Bring me a cup of coffee from downstairs.”

As soon as he left, Quyen picked up the phone.

“Mmm, it’s me. What’s up? What a pleasant surprise, you calling me at the office.”

Mimi gave him the full story on what had happened to her that morning. Pham Quyen almost threw down his bánh mì . She also told him she figured that there might very well be something they hoped to get out of him, since they said they would be consulting with him on the case.

Quyen barely contained his rage. “I’ll have those bastards kicked out of Da Nang. Don’t worry too much, I’ll be over later.”

He slammed down the receiver. Then he wrapped up what was left of the bánh mì in paper and tossed it in the garbage.

“Shit! And they call this coffee. Tastes like caffeine tablets in water.”

“They brought it this morning from the kitchen at the Grand Hotel, sir.”

“I know. The slop they call food. . why can’t they eat like the French? Ignorant Americans.”

Sensing that the major was not in the best of moods, the lieutenant lingered for a while pretending to thumb through some papers, then at the first chance he slipped out of the room. At that moment the telephone rang.

“Hello, office of the aide-de-camp.”

But the voice on the other end was speaking English. “Excuse me. Is this the aide-de-camp’s office?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Ah, is this Major Pham?”

“You haven’t answered me, who are you?”

“Pardon me. I’m an investigator with CID.”

“You son of a bitch. Your name and rank, right now!”

The person on the other end of the line was not so easily intimidated.

“Please, Major, don’t get worked up. I have a signed confession which says you had your girlfriend dealing in C-rations and that both of you are narcotics users. I’m fully aware that you are at a desk where neither your own army nor the police can lay a hand on you. And I suppose the Allied Forces joint investigation team also regards you as untouchable. Are you listening, sir?”

“Yes, I’m listening, you son of a bitch.”

“Ah, thank you. We do, however, have certain channels. We can send these documents directly to the English newspapers and to the Anti-Corruption League down in Saigon. You don’t need to give us an answer right now. We’re at the Sports Club, so you sleep on it and let us know.”

The line went dead. Pham Quyen threw the phone down violently. He began to pace around the office. They had found his weak spot and were stabbing him right in it. What a shitty day! What could it be that they wanted from him? If they wanted nothing, then they would have just gone ahead without bothering to notify him. The League was not much to fear. If he spoke in advance about it to Liam, the general would not care a fish’s tit about it.

But he was worried about the English newspapers. Reporters being what they were, bastards aping the infantile liberals, they were sure to print a few lines that would make him a laughingstock. Or they might simply ignore it. If, by a stroke of rotten luck, the news desk in Saigon decided to target him and had their reporters in Da Nang start poking deeper on him, it would cost him a bundle. He walked over to the telephone, picked it up, and asked the operator to connect him with the Sports Club. To the person who answered, he said in Vietnamese that he wanted to speak with the foreigner who had just made a phone call. In a second he was put through.

“We were expecting your call. Would you like to meet with us, sir?”

“All right. I’ll see you there when I’m through with work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Pham Quyen escorted the general to the airport and then went directly to the club. It was still early, so the place was nearly empty. As Pham entered, the waiter frowned at the sight of a Vietnamese army uniform. Madame Lin had invited Major Pham to several of her garden parties, so he was in fact more welcome than most of the foreign officers who patronized the club, but that was true only when he was in civilian attire. In that uniform it was not appropriate for him to mix with the American and Australian regulars.

“Those customers are in the last room on the right,” the waiter said.

Major Pham walked across the floor and into the arched passage. Paper lanterns had been lit in each of the rooms. He reached the room at the end and looked through the colored beads with a butterfly pattern hanging over the door. The two men inside straightened up and rose from their seats.

“You must be Major Pham Quyen. I’m the one who called you.”

Pham Quyen went in and sat down without saying a word. He was scrutinizing them carefully when one of the two pulled out his CID card and showed it to him.

“I’m Sergeant Ahn with CID.”

Pham Quyen did not even glance at the identification. The second man was obviously Vietnamese. He could not exactly place the face, but he had a vague feeling that he had seen him before somewhere. Actually, it was a very familiar face. Yong Kyu felt around in his pocket and produced some documents.

“Please read these.”

Major Pham snatched the papers from Yong Kyu and began to read. The other two men waited in silence. The major showed no change of expression. When he finished, he held out the papers to Yong Kyu.

“Keep them. They’re only copies.”

“What is it you want?” Pham Quyen asked disdainfully. “What is it you think you can do to me with these lousy sheets of paper?”

Then the major took his wallet out from the pocket of his army jacket. He threw down a hundred dollar bill — not a military payment certificate, but an authentic stateside note — on top of the confession documents.

“This is for your drinks. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a busy man.”

The major was about to get up and leave when Toi quickly uttered a few words in Vietnamese. “Major, the difficulty lies with your lady friend. My friend here can have her forcibly deported tomorrow through the Korean consulate.”

Pham Quyen faltered for an instant and then sat back down on the sofa.

“Our intention is not to blackmail you. . We just need your cooperation on something,” Toi said.

“Who the hell are you, anyway? Where are you posted?”

“I work at the same place as this soldier. Discharged. Now I’m a civilian contract employee for the Allied Forces administrative bureau. Temporarily, though. Anyway, I know you very well, Major. My father once worked for your household. We used to collect herbal medicines from the old market in Le Loi Boulevard and deliver them to your house.”

Pham Quyen then realized why the man looked familiar. His father had been one of the suppliers who collected cinnamon and cloves from the Thu Bon valleys. A plumper and more wrinkled face appeared to Quyen superimposed on this man’s. Still, he kept cool as he looked back over at Toi. Sensing the reaction, Toi turned back to the matter at hand.

“If we wanted to, within ten days we could gather complete information on the dealing channels used by the provincial government office. All we want is a little cooperation.”

“What sort?”

“We divide the goods traded in the Da Nang black markets into three categories: luxury goods, daily necessities, and military supplies. With the exception of the last, the dealing of these goods is conducted out in the open. We’re asking for your cooperation in the category of daily necessities. Help us connect with the dealing channels at your office. We can supply you with almost anything. Also, let us use your warehouse and the container terminal at the port.”