Targets: A Vietnam War Novel

by Don McQuinn

  Taylor pressed a cigarette to the lips. Again there was a trace of resistance before acceptance and then a deep draw. Tu’s eyes remained closed.

  “When the pain is fading,” Taylor continued, “it will come to you that you have told me nothing. You will think you have one last hope, that you can continue to remain silent and people will know, somehow, that you never talked. After what has happened today, who will believe that? You heard them laugh today. I am the only person in the world who can make you a man again.”

  He gripped Tu’s shoulder and squeezed hard. Tu grunted at the pain and the ash toppled from his cigarette onto his wet chin, turning black and white like a smudged bird-dropping.

  Plucking the remains of the cigarette from Tu’s lips, Taylor stepped into the hall and signaled a waiting guard to lock the door. He lit a smoke of his own, holding the match, willing the shaking from his hand before the flame reached his fingers. Then he walked to the lobby where Tho waited.

  “How long before he can talk?”

  “He should be OK by morning. Stiff, not hurt.”

  Tho said, “What you have done is very clever, Thieu Ta. You surprised everyone. We thought you would die.”

  Duc came in, uncertain of Tho’s frame of mind. He looked to Taylor, questioning silently, and at the American’s easy smile, returned a delighted grin before hurrying back to the courtyard.

  Tho put his hands behind his back and paced, speaking to Taylor. “You are the man who did not want to work with me.” The smile he showed detracted nothing from the accusation.

  Taylor nodded ruefully. “I know what you are thinking. I have thought the same thing.”

  “Are you certain? I have been thinking I never saw a man so cruel. You do not take away life, you take away hope for an honest death. It is a terrible thing when all a man has to live for is a purposeful death, and to have someone take that and make it a thing of laughter, of shame—” He turned his palms up helplessly.

  Taylor said, “You told me once that you use what is available. That is what I did. Tu is cunning. Treacherous. I do not know if he has killed anyone, but I know he would be happy to see me in his position. I am not, and that is the difference between us. At least he is not crippled.”

  “Not crippled?” Tho’s smile mocked. “His mind is not important?”

  “He can form new ideas. He will adjust to his new situation. He would never grow another knee, a new set of knuckles. He will not flinch every time he hears a telephone ring.”

  Tho looked away. “I apologize. I have made you defend yourself, and I should not. You have done an unpleasant thing that was necessary and you have done it well.” He brought his eyes back to Taylor. “I am a cruel man, Major. Not heartless, but determined and cruel. I, too, sometimes scream in the night, nevertheless. I think you would also scream if you worked with another Tu, ten Tus, every day, every week, every year. Men like him—I deal with them constantly. They put bombs in markets, mines under buses, kill people as examples to others. I bring them pain in order to find out who helps them do these things and I am despised, even by you. And yet I could not do what you have done. I wonder why you did it. I see the pain and disgust in your face. It amuses me because it is your people who make heroes of my enemies, even when they are as I am, and I am ashamed to confess I take pleasure in your suffering because I like and respect you. But you are an American.”

  “How do we ever stop any of it?”

  Tho laughed soundlessly, baring his teeth. “There is no way out, not for men like us. You will leave here, of course, but what has happened will go with you. I will die and my road will end. And we will continue, those who come after you and the ones like me, to kill each other, torture, imprison. The greatest forgiveness left in my country is a quick death. It will be that way until one side or the other dominates.”

  Taylor slipped into English. “Jesus, it can’t be that grim.”

  “If I were a Christian, I would hope you were praying,” Tho said dryly.

  “I do not understand.” Taylor moved to the window and watched the work party carrying away the sandbags. “Sometimes I really do not understand why you people do not simply quit.”

  The voice behind him struggled under sudden weariness. “All of us consider it. In the south we have evil and hope. To the north the evil is one great force and the only hope allowed is what that evil approves. Our troubles here will only end if we can find the strength to turn back invasion by that evil. If we lose, you will see the refugees being marched back north and you can watch the joy of your countrymen.”

  The bitterness in the last sentence seemed to mingle with the sweat on Taylor’s spine in a glutinous mass. A shudder failed to dislodge it.

  “Duc has gotten almost everything cleaned up outside,” he said. “We can go back to the villa now.”

  Tho headed for the door right away. “Yes, we should leave. I think you have been in this place long enough for one day. But there is one more thing, the continuing interrogation of Tu. I will help you, if you like.”

  Taylor’s glance was transparent in its doubt and Tho smiled. “I will not hurt him. It is not necessary. We must build now, not destroy.”

  “Amen.”

  “You are praying again. Wait for us in your jeep. I will instruct the guards and bring Duc.”

  Taylor went to the machine, the tactile sensations of the familiar seat, the chipped steering wheel, the stiff clutch pedal all marvelously reassuring. He worked the clutch rhythmically while he waited, enjoying the mechanical predictability. Tho and Duc joined him and he lost himself in the concentration of driving.

  Winter was writing a letter when he stepped through the open door of the austere office. Looking up, Winter put the pen down and sat erect.

  “It’s a bitch, buddy,” he greeted him.

  “Still show that much?”

  “Like a lantern in the night. It does something to the set of a man’s jaw, like he was trying to eat his own tongue. Incidentally, Tho phoned Loc and told him the essentials and he passed it on to me. Try to forget it for a while. Make your report tomorrow. Get out of here for now.”

  Taylor smiled wanly.

  Winter went on. “I figured you’d be hurting when this day was out, win or lose, so I’ve got a piece of sunshine for you. I talked to Ly’s parents.”

  A frown pulled at Taylor’s features. Winter ignored it.

  “I couldn’t really lay down any law, but I made them understand we wanted no trouble. They don’t like the situation, but they know you won’t hurt Ly. And they know it’s her decision. Avoid them, though. You’re number one on their shit list, so don’t aggravate the situation.”

  “No sweat. Now I have to worry about what happens when I leave.”

  “You had that to worry about the first time you thought about laying her,” Winter said coldly. “I’ve insured the parents won’t make an issue of things. Everything else is between you two. Handle it any way you want, as long as it’s quiet.”

  “Don’t shit me. You’re just getting your hand in as a marriage counselor for when you retire.”

  Winter gave him a grotesque wink. “I figure I can mix that with pimping and make my fortune. Unbeatable combination.”

  Taylor mustered up a smile to show appreciation for the attempt, and once it had served its purpose, said, “You stuck your neck out, coach. I appreciate it.”

  “Get out of here.” Winter flagged at him with both hands. “The sight of you being humble and grateful makes my ass pucker. Why don’t you go see her? She’s probably at the apartment now, fluttering around with her buddy and that other tomcat, Allen.”

  Taylor’s surprise showed before he could stop it. “You knew?”

  “I knew about it almost as soon as he did. She’s not a legal wife, and they’ve been very careful. He’s so short now there’s little point in moving him out.”

  “There really aren’t any scruples left, are there? There really isn’t any place to hide.”

  Winter’
s voice softened. “That funny look’s back in your jaw. Try to shake it. It doesn’t do you much good.” He made a face. “Maybe there’s a reason for the world to be a cesspool. Meanwhile, if something good comes along, be thankful and grab it.”

  Taylor was almost to the door when Denby appeared.

  “Oh, Taylor. Glad I caught you.” He extended a hand that Taylor shook listlessly. “What happened today—Duc was just telling me—it was deplorable, but I think you did it with a minimum of fuss. I was personally pleased to see you accomplish your objective without the brutality we see so much of here. Tu’s information will be invaluable. He’ll give us good cooperation now. I’ll tell you, what you did was psychologically brilliant.”

  Taylor opened his mouth and Winter’s harsh voice cut him off. “I told you I was through talking to you, Major. I told you to get out. Do it.”

  In the sanctum of the dim hallway Taylor leaned against the wall and swallowed until most of the slimy bile taste was gone. Then he went to the shower.

  Chapter 32

  Taylor opened the apartment door and shook his head in amusement at the new furniture arrangement. He tried to remember how many arrangements had preceded this one and gave it up. Ly wasn’t satisfied to merely busy herself keeping the place attractive but seemed driven to constantly change it, as though the positioning of the objects might create a pentacle to hold out the world.

  She came to him and pushed the door shut. “You like it?” she asked, her voice saying she hoped he did. She was wearing her blue ao dai and he remembered that this was the evening Hal and Dao were coming for dinner.

  He studied the room. “The painting clashes with the sofa and I think the sofa should be against that wall, regardless.”

  When her face crumpled in shock, he couldn’t hold back the laughter. “It’s fine, Ly. I don’t know how you do it.”

  She laughed, pummeling his chest. “You frightened me! I worked so hard to make it look nicer and all you can say is ‘move the sofa!’ ”

  He said, “I hope you haven’t hidden the whiskey,” and moved to get it. She stepped forward quickly.

  “No, you relax. Let me.”

  He snapped on the stereo in passing, knowing she’d have a record ready to go. Settling in his chair, he watched her measure the drink, brows together in concentration. At first it pleased him and then a tendril of concern made him duplicate her frown as he considered such intensity exemplified her constant search for perfection in the management of the apartment. He asked himself if it was healthy, knowing it wasn’t, knowing she did it because she was trying to build a lifetime of memories for both of them and had less than a year to work with.

  When she handed him the glass he pulled her to him and kissed her with a longing tenderness that startled her and then she responded in kind. For a heavy moment afterward they looked into each other’s eyes and then she sat on the arm of the chair, leaning against him and they let the music speak for them. He turned his head and nuzzled her breast. She ran her hand across the bristled crew cut.

  “Not now, Charles. Later.” She rose and he caught her and held her to him.

  “We have time. Why not?”

  Turning inside the circle of his arms, she leaned her forehead on his chest. “You think I’m silly.”

  “You’re here with me so I know you’re silly.” He stroked her back. “Later’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  She lifted her face to look at him. “I am silly, and you’re no better. I hope you’re happy, as I am.”

  He kissed her forehead. “You know I am.”

  She hugged him. “I’m glad. I want to be with you and I want you to be happy when you are with me.” She squeezed hard, then shoved against him with both hands. “We have guests coming. First you insult my housekeeping and now you’ll have me be rude to guests. Shame!”

  Taylor walked to the stereo and selected a classical guitar piece for mood. The sound of the TV from the kitchen grated across the more subtle strings and he went to her side, his face drawn into fake anger.

  “You’re becoming addicted to that thing!”

  Her defensive response was immediate and surprising. “I only watch because I have little else to do!”

  As quickly as the words were released, she dropped her stirring spoon and reached to take his face in both her hands. “Oh, Charles, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s true. I wish we could go home, to my home.” The sentence broke against the taut set of her jaw.

  She turned back to her stove and found her spoon, resuming stirring. “That is how we must live—wishes we know can’t come true and everything is pretend. No one is real, we live stories as actors do. Sometimes when I see pictures of the war, it’s as unreal as a movie, for just a moment. I catch myself wishing it were so, because then I would know how it ends.”

  He put an arm across her shoulder and she covered his hand with hers.

  There was an urgent pounding on the door that could only mean trouble. He motioned her to stay in the kitchen and moved with cautious speed for his .38 and took a firing stance at an angle from the door. Before he could ask, Allen identified himself.

  “It’s me! Hal! Tay? Ly? Is anyone in there?”

  Ly ran in as Taylor flung open the door and Allen stepped through. He pushed the door shut, pulling the handle from Taylor’s hand in his rush.

  “I need a drink.” He advanced on the bottle. “Do you mind?” He continued without looking for permission.

  At the first look, Taylor had pulled Ly to him and now he indicated the sofa. They moved to it, seating themselves and waiting. They continued to wait as his nervous strides hurried him from the cabinet holding the whiskey to the window and back again.

  “It’s the Colonel. The one that—you know.” He practically spat the words at them. “The sonofabitch is here. She got word to me through a friend of hers. I have to wait until she calls me.” He stopped pacing long enough to look at Taylor, pleading. Not knowing what else to do, Taylor nodded. It seemed to satisfy Allen and he set himself in motion again. “Why did he have to come now? Three lousy days and I’d have been gone and in another week she’d have been in New York and it would’ve been all over! Goddam it!”

  Taylor tried to sound reassuring. “We don’t even know if she’s with him, Hal. So he’s in town—he could be here for a dozen reasons. And she’d be crazy not to sit tight in the apartment and wait to hear from him.”

  “She has heard from him. He showed up this afternoon with no warning, mad as hell, didn’t stay with her five minutes and took off for ARVN headquarters. He knows something’s wrong. We’re just damned-fool lucky I’ve moved all my gear out and none was around for him to find. Maybe I ought to get down there, be with her if he comes around.”

  Ly interrupted, her voice controlled. “Could he know of Dao’s plan to leave?”

  Allen stopped. “He better not. We’ve bribed everybody in Saigon to get her cleared out of here.”

  “What kind of paper is she using?” Taylor asked.

  “Her own.” He managed a twisted grin at Taylor’s surprise. “I thought it’d be safer, in the long run, even if it costs a lot more. Once she’s out of the country and the Colonel finds out, all the people I’ve paid off will be so busy saving their own jobs they’ll never cooperate with an investigation. And the big boys will be too embarrassed over the incident to try to call her back. She’ll be my wife and a citizen before he can do a damned thing, and then it’ll be too late.”

  Taylor nodded. “I like it better. When you were talking about a Cambodian passport—” He shook his head. “Anyone could have blown the whistle on her and had a legitimate charge to drop on her. This way you’ve got a lot of people who’ll scramble to protect you.”

  Ly frowned her puzzlement from one to the other. “Cambodian passport? Dao is not Cambodian.”

  Taylor laughed. “Honey, with a Cambodian passport she could fly away from here and go wherever she wanted, and the damned thing’d on
ly cost one, maybe two hundred bucks. I don’t even want to know what a real exit visa costs.”

  “A lot.” Allen grimaced. “I never saw so many open palms in my life.”

  Ly got up stiffly. “I will make coffee.”

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Taylor hurried along beside her, waving the crestfallen Allen to stay behind. “Hal wasn’t criticizing, honey. You know him better than that. He was just saying—”

  He paused to grope for the words and she snapped, “You see? You wish to say the same things.”

  “That’s not true. I’m trying to say he and Dao are stuck in a system. If they play by the written rules, they can’t accomplish anything, so they do what everyone else does, play by the unwritten rules.”

  She jerked the percolator off the stove and shoved it under the tap. “And what of you? What rules are yours? Any? None? How long will it take you to forget me?”

  He watched silently while she hitched through the business of making the coffee, his own muscles rigid under cold skin. When there was nothing else she could do, she had to face him and she turned swiftly, apprehension and defiance struggling to dominate her actions. He took her shoulders in his hands.

  “I could never forget you. I want you with me always. I want you to marry me.”

  Instead of the reaction he expected, she slipped into the watchfulness of someone painfully aware of personal vulnerability.

  “Oh, my Charles.” Her words were scarcely more than breath. “What fools we are.”

  “Not me.” He smiled, trying to lighten her mood. “I know what I want.”

  “And so do I.” She remained neutral. “And I know what cannot be.” She moved to him, put her arms around him. “I was making a quarrel. I’m sorry. This thing with Hal and Dao. It has me frightened.”

  “A couple of days. Two and a wake-up, honey. He’ll be heading for the States to wait for her. They’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so.” She pulled his head down and kissed him quickly, spinning out of his arms and past him. “We have to get back. Hal will wonder.”