by Jack Twist
Chapter 30
My best excuse to abscond once again from my countrymen, turned out not to be my injury but my lack of practice. “Well you’re not much use to us now anyhow,” said the captain. “You can watch the gear in the bus.”
“Sir,” I said quickly, “I’d like to rest it. It’d be easier here at the base.”
“You said it only hurt when you marched.”
“Yes. But since I can’t march. I’d rather rest properly. Get it right to go home, a few days away. It might be a bit uncomfortable on the bus.”
The captain was nodding. The sergeant wasn’t. “What difference does it make?” he said.
I wanted to scream. Please go and march your new-issue, spit-polished boots-general-purpose off your feet. Just don’t let me suffer this lie of mine any longer.
“Well, as I said, you’re not much use to us now.”
I hid my inner-joy, the violins playing inside my head and all that. Never had I felt so grateful for my uselessness.
But it wasn’t until I had turned a corner to place the big base out of sight that I felt relieved, quickened my pace, though the sun was already fierce. Soldiers were putting up a barricade at the intersection of the road I was in and the one to the airport. The march was to start somewhere else and finish at this end.
An atmosphere of urgency prevailed inside the Tan Son Nhut Airport building, as intense as the humidity. The huge PX shopping hangar was almost deserted and in the departure lounge, where it was all happening, people milled about with a quiet anxiety that could be felt more than seen or heard.
I had arrived about nine o’clock and stood at the back, as inconspicuously as I could, where I could see everyone who entered the building. There must have been at least six queues although the place was so crowded they mingled into one another. I could see no arrivals section. Everyone seemed interested only in leaving, with little distinction between the one exclusively non-military line and the others. The officials did not look happy with their work. There were no well-wishing smiles for those departing and their eyes seemed to wander from their tasks, slyly, almost expectantly.
The time passed slowly as ten o’clock approached. I was confronted more than approached by two different officials. A local airport security officer said nothing to my explanation but continued to watch me from where he stood and an American military policeman wanted to move me on, insisting I did not have much more time to hang about the way I was.
Abbie came hurrying through the doorway carrying a small travel bag in one hand and the baby in the other. She smiled as I went to her but was clearly concerned. The usual host of eyes turned to look, but their interest was cold. Young, western and female, she was still just another someone on the way out.
“I’m so glad you made it,” she said.
“I’ve been here nearly an hour. If the plane leaves at ten you didn’t give yourself much time.”
“I know. Complications. Nothing ever runs smoothly in this country. My God, isn’t it hot in here.”
“What happened?”
“Oh nothing to do with the baby. I mean, getting her was easy. But she’s not well. I think she’s very sick. I don’t think she’s been getting much of the milk I gave the orphanage.”
She held her out for my inspection.
“As soon as I get her on the plane I’ll get some milk or something to build her strength. I don’t know what they’ve been doing for her. And they didn’t want to tell me anything. All they cared about was the money. They said the money would save many more children. Anyway I’ve got these.” She produced a syringe and a small medicine bottle containing some milk . “I knew they wouldn’t give me anything at the orphanage so I took these from the embassy first-aid room, to give her something while we’re waiting for the plane. Not that we have much time now.”
“What was the hold up?”
“Chuck. I feel so stupid. I was sure he’d be okay about my taking the baby and thought I should tell him about my plans, what I’d arranged, before we headed out there. He turned against me immediately. Went all rules and regulations and refused to take me. I had to get a Lambretta, when I could get away from him, and I’m sure he’ll tell Julie as soon as he realises I’ve gone.
“You know, they’ve had that orphanage watched the whole time. I think the only reason he ever took me there was that it might bring out Lin’s sister, Con Ma Nu. That’s all they care about. I didn’t even risk saying goodbye to Julie. But if she comes here to try to stop me, hopefully the plane will have gone.” She looked at the baby and then back to me. “And, apart from everything else, Chuck’s suspicious about last night.”
“Did you say anything?”
“No. Of course not.” She looked around her, through the crowd. “That’s my section over there.” I looked at the officer at the non-military check-in counter. He was looking around him as he processed passports.
“What’s it got to do with Chuck?” I said. “With any of them?”
“Nothing. It’s my business. Or it should be. Mine and my father’s. Oh, if I can just get her out of here, Mark. Home, for when our father arrives. Look, I’ll go over to the check-in gate and make sure I’m on time. I think I only have a few minutes. Then, we can maybe try to feed her. It was too crowded on the Lambretta.”
“Yeh. Go on. I’ll wait here.”
She looked up at me. I thought she was going to cry but then she reached up and kissed me. “I’m so glad you made it. And I have her. We have her.” She looked at the baby. “And we’ll fatten those little cheeks and bring her back to normal colour. She’s sick because she’s been without us, you see. Sick without her mama and papa san.”
“You’d better go and check in. Make sure it’s okay.”
“Yes. And listen. Write your address out for me. We still haven’t exchanged addresses.”
She moved off through the crowd, soldiers and civilians parting to let her pass and as she moved out of my sight I heard the baby start to cry. By the time she had returned it was high-pitched and desperate, a cry without hope.
“There, there,” Abbie rocked her to and fro. “It’s okay now, baby.”
I hated the sound. People turned to look, intruding on our pathetic little privacy, our last few moments together. “Is it okay?”
“Yeh. He’s there. I wanted to make sure it was the one I paid, but he’s too busy to talk..”
The baby’s cry weakened noticeably but it was still there in the stuffy air, adding to the tension. Aggravating, unwanted, it challenged the order in the room, a voice for the chaos beneath.
“Don’t cry, baby.” Sweat ran down the side of her face as she tried to speak over the desperate screams. “It won’t be long now. They’ll have something for her on the plane.” She took the phial of milk and the syringe from her bag, then looked at me. “Please come, Mark. I mean when you can. It could work out, you know. And you were so good with her.”
I wanted to tell her, yes. Of course I will come to you, Abbie. You know I will. But the baby was crying and Abbie was crying too now. Not that you would notice from a distance, just a tear in each eye as she rocked the baby and tried to feed her and make her quiet.
“Here. Let me take her.”
“Thanks.” Agitated, she struggled to extract the milk. Lying on my arm, the baby squeaked pathetically. She still seemed not to know how to suck, even when Abbie tried to squirt it into her mouth. When it was all but gone I don’t think she had swallowed a drop. “Oh, please, baby. Oh hell. I’ll have to go.”
But I wanted to say goodbye properly. She was too upset and we hadn’t exchanged addresses. “Hold on. What about you just talk to the guy and make sure it’s all okay. See how long you’ve got. Maybe there’s more time than we think. I’ll hold the baby.”
“Okay. You’re sure?”
“Yeh. Sure. Give me the milk bottle thing. Maybe I can get her to take that last bit. Go. Quick. And see. I’ll stay near to you”
She made her way thr
ough the crowd again and I followed, keeping my distance. She looked small, just a girl, and trying to take with her this crying baby. I wished then that I could go with her, to share the load, as we had done.
The baby’s cries died further. I looked at her. There was something frighteningly skeletal about the hollow cheeks and eye sockets. Her skin was red and blotchy. I was dipping the syringe into the little container when Abbie called out. “She’s coming with me! She’s coming with me!”
I put the phial and syringe in my pocket and moved in closer towards her, as did some airport officials including the security guard who had questioned me earlier.
“No! No! She’s coming with me!” She told the man at the counter. “You know she is. You told me she could. I paid you, for God’s sake!”
I pushed forward with the baby. Someone grabbed my arm and I pulled free. “Abbie. What’s wrong?”
“He says I can’t. They won’t let me take the baby.”
When more officials had gathered they remonstrated with her. Two American MPs joined the group, including the one who had questioned me.
“You wanna step over here, ma’am, while we sort this out.” His arm gently on Abbie’s elbow, he took her out of the line. The passport official turned to the next person in line and seemed to forget Abbie immediately. I followed her and the MPs.
“Tell them, Mark. Please. She is my sister and I’m taking her home.”
“That’s right.”
“And who are you?” I told him. “And why are you not with your unit?”
“I’ve got special permission to see her off. We’re close friends and I helped her with the baby. And the baby is her sister.”
He examined me a moment, glanced at the baby, lying there on little more than the palm of my left hand, and then turned to Abbie. “You cannot take the baby, Ma’am. She has no passport. No visa. She does not exist.”
Abbie looked at the baby. “What do you mean, does not exist?”
“On paper. She has no rights. Certainly no right to go home with you.”
“Listen. She exists and she has rights.” She took a paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. He studied it. “Look. There’s her name. She is the daughter of Mr Jake Klein. If you contact the embassy…”
“Ma’am. This emigration paper is not valid. And she must have a boarding pass.” He looked at her. “And the embassy just contacted us. The baby is not to leave. And I’m afraid you are to wait behind too. Someone from the embassy will be here soon to explain.”
Abbie stared, lost for words. The baby had stopped crying now and when I looked at her she was asleep but with her tiny facial features so drawn it did not look like a sleep that would last.
“We’re sorry, ma’am.” He was a big man with a slow drawl.
Abbie looked at the baby. “Let me have her,” she said to me. As I handed her over the baby started crying, short, desperate little cries, more troubling for their shrill tone than the noise. “She is my sister, and our father is wounded,” she told the big MP “And I can’t just run off and leave her.”
Julie came in carrying a basket like a bassinet with two carrying handles. “Give me the baby, Abbie.”
“No. I’m taking her, Julie.”
“Just put the baby in here. It might quieten her. I have something very important to tell you. Thanks fellers.” This to dismiss the MPs. “Please, Abbie.”
Abbie placed the baby gently into the basket but she kept up her feeble cries.
“Now. You have to cooperate, Abbie. We’ve given instructions for the plane to wait but the pilot can’t stay too much longer.” She raised her hand to her forehead. “My God. I can’t hear myself think.” The baby cried on, pitiful but incessant. “We’ll have to leave her somewhere. Just so we can talk.”
“No!”
“I can leave her safely with the MPs while we …”
“The baby stays with me! Though I’d appreciate it if the MPs or someone could get a baby’s bottle, if there’s such a thing around here, before I get her onto the plane.”
“Please be calm, Abbie. Look. It’ll be a little quieter down the front there.”
The waiting area was almost full but there were some vacant seats at one end of the front row. Julie put the baby’s basket on the end seat. Abbie looked concerned at the baby’s cries but then we were both watching Julie. She looked perturbed, in a way I would never have thought possible.
“What is it, Julie,” Abbie asked.
She seemed to be thinking deeply. Beads of sweat covered her forehead. Julie Shields had an even-featured, well-shaped face. She was used to being in control of situations. I could imagine her, when she chose to leave Germany, deliberately prioritising her life’s needs for the future. Choosing the hot spots. Placing, from then on, intellect before emotion, career before romance. But without the practised cynicism, the constant search for advantage that usually masked her face, she was an attractive woman.
She stood there, gathering her thoughts. Above the buzz of business inside the airport there was a rumble of thunder and as it faded we could hear marching music in the distance.
“Abbie. I … I have some bad news. Some terrible news.”
“What is it? Is my father okay?”
The baby cried on. Julie glanced at her in frustration but seemed just as worried for her own sake. She looked around and then rubbed her eyes before she spoke. “Look. Can we move along here? Just a little away from the … noise. Please. I want you to sit down. Give me your bag.”
Anxious to hear what Julie had to tell her, Abbie handed her her bag and reached out to touch the crying baby as we moved along the row.
“Please be quick, Julie. I need to get her a drink.”
“Just leave a couple of seats. Sit here, where … where we can think.”
There were so few spare seats I stood beside Abbie, where she sat, as did Julie on her other side. I turned to look through the louvred windows in front of us. Outside on the tarmac, some distance from us, a big jet moved into view. In the basket, three or four seats from us, the baby’s crying was still audible above the noise of people.
Julie placed Abbie’s bag on the seat beside her and put her hand to her eyes again. “Abbie. On the day … on the day when Thi Lin Quang was killed your father was attacked as well. He was very badly beaten. He has been in a very serious condition ever since.”
Abbie was staring up at the taller woman. “You told me he was getting better.”
“Listen, Abbie. Please. I have just been informed that he … he has died. He died last night.”
“What? You said he was okay. You said he was stable. What’s going on here, Julie? What are you saying?”
“I’m terribly sorry, Abbie. The information from Danang was always sketchy. I was hoping he might recover. I didn’t want to worry you, but last night he passed away.”
Pain enveloped Abbie’s face. She stared. “My father is dead? He died … last night? Why … why didn’t you tell me last night? Or this morning?”
“Please try to understand, Abbie. I was only just now informed.”
“I’m about to take the baby home, for him, when he comes home … and … he’s … “ Abbie looked ready to cry. She was staring at the plane on the tarmac, absorbing the fact of her loss. When she next spoke her voice rose, became shrill with emotion, almost hysterical. “He can’t be. Don’t tell me this … when … when you said … you’ve been saying all along, that he’s stable. How can this be? I don’t trust you, Julie. I’m taking the baby, no matter what you say.”
“Abbie. I would not … I would never tell you something like this unless it were true.”
“But you’ve been telling me …” She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, and then at Julie, struggling for some impossible equanimity, some impossible understanding. “I’m still taking the baby, Julie. Even if what you say is true. I’m still taking the baby.”
Julie looked away. “You can’t, Abbie.”
�
��I have to. With no mother, and now, if you say, no father. How can that be?” She brushed tears from her eyes as she tried to hold them back. “Why didn’t you …? I have to take her. There’s no one else to look after her. To properly look after her.”
“I am really so sorry, Abbie. I know this is a terrible shock, but it’s not that simple. She has no rights. There is no record of her birth. She cannot get a boarding pass.”
“You could fix it for me. It could be her life, Julie. You have to … do something.”
“Abbie. You’re upset, naturally, but you can’t just leave with a baby. She has no name. No parents to claim her. Even were she granted refugee status as an orphan, which would take time, she would be one of thousands. I have contacted your mother to explain the situation and she only wants you arriving home. Not an orphan who has nothing to do with her.”
Abbie looked up. “You had no right. My mother has nothing to do with this. And the baby has a name. I named her. I can be … the parent. Her name is …”
“It has to be done legally, Abbie. Now your mother will be at the airport to meet you. She’s looking forward so much to seeing you, safe, at home. And once you’ve settled again, I’m sure you’ll see that going home alone was for the best.”
“Best for me. Not for my sister.” She looked at me again. “This can’t be happening.”
There was another roll of thunder, then the sound of the marching band, a little louder now as the parade approached the Tan Son Nhut district. Two young men in uniform moved along the front to take two of the seats between us and the baby. I stepped back to make sure I could see her. She had stopped crying.
Abbie turned again to Julie, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, trying still to hold back the tears.
“You’ve been very good to me, Julie. Letting me stay. And I thank you for that. But, I’m sorry. I don’t trust you. Because some things never did quite add up for me. Why is it that just now, just after Chuck would have told you that I have the baby, ready to take her home, why is just now that you come rushing into the airport to tell me … to tell me that my father …” She let the tears well in her eyes then as she stared ahead, surrendering to her misery, a signal, I thought, of her final defeat, a willingness to comply. I put my hand on her shoulder.
She looked at me. “I have to stay calm. For the baby. I have to.” Then clearly, controlled, with a bitterness I had never heard from her before. “How long is it since my father died, Julie? Who killed him? And how long is it, really, since he died?”
For a second Julie fumbled with her answer, defending herself and sympathising at the same time with this young, unwanted guest who had been placed in her charge. So that Abbie was able slowly to build her case. Emotion seemed to strip away inhibition, even as she held control. She became, for as long as that control remained, a quietly angry and bitter accuser, refusing now to hold back.
It was all a lie, she told the diplomat. Her father had died on the same day as Lin. And the baby had been bait to lure Con Ma Nu, who would have disappeared from the scene completely had Abbie stopped visiting the orphanage. Abbie’s presence equaled the baby’s presence. More than anyone Abbie was the baby’s destiny. Any chance of the guerrilla commander surfacing in the vicinity of the orphanage, as she had already, would vanish if the American half-sister stopped visiting. Someone, perhaps Mai, would simply be sent to collect the baby. And it was easier to keep Abbie making those visits if she thought her father was alive, and improving, ready to be united with his daughters in America. The baby, to Julie and her colleagues, had been nothing more than bait. This latest story, that her father had died last night was just another arrogant and egregious lie. Lies. The stock-in-trade of diplomacy. He had been dead for days.
Julie watched with sympathy, slowly shook her head and permitted herself an uncharacteristic frankness. She agreed, proudly, that there was a determination to eliminate Con Ma Nu and her ‘death squad’, which would make the lives of many Americans much safer. Jake Klein’s killers, she did not know who they were yet, had wanted information on Thi Lin Quang’s whereabouts. And they had gone too far. How they had gained entry into the Vung Tau compound was a matter under investigation, but they would be caught and punished for murder, the murder of an American citizen.
It did little to placate the accuser. Abbie looked ahead again, staring, as if undergoing some cathartic sense of release in this quiet, white-hot lashing out, blaming.
Julie must have been pleased with the death of Thi Lin, she said. So why not Jake Klein? Someone from the embassy had informed the Saigon government of Lin’s true identity, so they could set that murderer Lee Dang Bah onto her, and he had included her lover, her cohort, in the attack. They were killed on the same day. And then Julie could inform Abbie of her father’s death when she was out of her hair, back home in the States, the whole sorry saga of the Kleins and their little bastard gone for good. And good riddance. Only Abbie had spoilt things, by daring to take the baby.
She glared fiercely through her tears. Her outburst, as contained as it was acrimonious, might have appeared irrational to an impartial observer, too desperate to hurt, or at least too confident that she could see all, the trauma of Julie’s news of her father notwithstanding. For me, whatever the truth, Julie was the villain. As always, Abbie could do no wrong.
Julie now looked almost as distressed as she did. She took the bag from the seat next to Abbie, put it on the floor and sat, turned in towards her.
“That’s not fair, Abbie. I know you’re very upset but there are many things you don’t understand. You know that you’ve been waiting in Saigon these past few days for this commercial flight. And to suggest that I or anyone else at the embassy wanted your father harmed is ridiculous. He was medevaced immediately from Vung Tau to Danang for intensive care. As an American citizen he was entitled to our protection but I had no idea about his … relationship with Thi Lin Quang. I suggest, if you want to blame someone, you direct your anger at those who attacked him. They are murderers and will be brought to justice. That’s a promise.”
Abbie looked at me, her face thawed. She remained controlled but tears welled again and then further accusation and challenge seemed beyond her.
Julie moved closer to her. “You should never have come here. We warned you from the start and we only approved your visa at this end because it seemed reasonable at the time. You hadn’t seen your father for some time and he was working in Vung Tau. I have tried to make your time here as comfortable as possible, but it’s a hard, cruel place. The normal rules of decency do not apply. And you don’t belong here. From what I’ve come to know about him I’m not sure your father should have been here either.”
Abbie was drying her eyes. She looked pale and drawn. “I’m still not going without the baby, Julie.”
“I’m afraid you have to.”
“No. I won’t. Now more than ever I won’t. She is too sick for her family here to look after her properly. And you could inform them. And establish contact with her.” She was struggling for control again and I sat down beside her and put my arm across her shoulders. She looked at Julie. “You say my father has died. Please let me save his baby.”
The diplomat was staring through the window at the plane on the tarmac. “Do you really know what you’re saying? What you might be letting yourself in for? How difficult all this could be, even when or if she were granted citizenship?”
“Yes. You know how important this is for me. Now more than ever. I know you could authorise a boarding pass, sort out the legals. And I will stay strong for her. I’m all she has now.”
Julie turned to her. “This is a huge decision, Abbie.”
I stood to check on the baby at the end of the row of seats. The two soldiers sitting near the basket returned my look and I put my hand gently on Abbie’s shoulder. “I … I’ll try to give her some of this.” I was taking the little bottle and syringe from my pocket, “while you sort out…” I didn’t finish, discovering that the c
ontainer had emptied into my pocket. I glanced at the baby as I hurried past to look for the MPs. She lay still and quiet.
Initially the big American military policeman who had dealt with us earlier ignored my requests. “That plane should have left by now.” But when he looked at the two women, saw Julie’s earnest manner, sitting as close as she was to the girl as she spoke, he seemed to sense the exigency and turned and led me to a small kitchen area.
“I can’t find any milk here.”
“Water will do.”
He poured some water from a tap into a paper cup. As I made my way through the crowd to the front row I took the syringe from my pocket. Julie was sitting even closer to Abbie now, explaining, I imagined, procedure and the immediate emigration difficulties. Although I wondered, if that were so, why they hadn’t moved already. Was Julie still trying to persuade against taking the baby?
And then I was beside the seats, and standing dumbfounded. Because the basket was empty.
I looked around the immediate area. The baby was not with Abbie, who was intent now on what Julie was saying. Despite their empty hands, I looked suspiciously at the two men in uniform. They were leaning forward, watching the plane out on the tarmac. I dropped the cup and everything where I stood. The baby was gone.
I looked around the airport. All staff seemed occupied on the constant departure flow. On instinct, I turned to the main front entrance and saw a little girl walking calmly through the doorway. She was carrying a baby.
