Angel in the Full Moon (26 page)

“I'll lend you this,” said Sonny, passing Jack a cellphone
and business card. “If there is a problem with anything while you are here, please call me.”

“Thanks. Much appreciated,” replied Jack.

“Tomorrow night when the Russians arrive, they will be staying in the room directly above you,” said Sonny, looking at Jack. “I will stay in your room with you. I speak Russian.”

“Their room will be bugged?” asked Jack.

“If the equipment decides to work,” said Sonny. “I will also have men to follow them wherever they go.”

“Great,” replied Jack. “I think our faces would stand out in this city.”

Sonny smiled and said, “They would. You are both tall ....” he paused and looked at Laura and said, “You, of course, would never be good at following people.”

“I'm sorry?” replied Laura, not sure that she heard him correctly.

“You must know that you would not be good for such a duty. You are too beautiful. Men would remember seeing you.”

Laura waited until Sonny left and turned to Jack and asked, “Did I just receive a compliment or an insult?”

“I don't know. I'm too tired to think. See you in the morning.”

Six hours later, Jack awakened to the echo of people chatting and the noise of tiny rollers on suitcases being dragged across the tiled floors to the elevators. Moments later, he heard the sound of a shower in the room next to him and knew that Laura was up. He met her for breakfast and suggested a walk around the area before noon.

“This is nerve-wracking,” muttered Laura, as they crossed various streets. “These scooters and cars are zooming past so close I can touch them.”

“The trick is to keep walking at a steady pace,” said Jack. “Don't make eye contact with the drivers. I just did and ended up doing a jig while we tried to second guess each ...”

“Silk!” shouted Laura. “Tailor-made! Success!”

Laura gestured to a mannequin in a store window wearing a woman's traditional-style Vietnamese dress known as an
áo-dài.
The long gown was tailored to snugly fit the body and two long slits along the side allowed the gown to have free-floating panels in the front and the back. Silk slacks were worn underneath.

Laura was pleased to find that the clerk spoke broken English.

Laura turned to Jack and said, “Can you believe the price? Twenty-two bucks American. This would cost a fortune at home. I like the emerald green dress with white slacks. Do you think Elvis would like it?”

“It'll look great,” said Jack.

“Two for twenty dollar each,” the clerk told them.

After some discussion with the clerk, Jack ordered a similar outfit for Natasha. “Same figure, only shorter,” he said.

Laura whispered in his ear and said, “Tell her to make yours a bit larger through the chest,” while indicating her breasts.

“You can explain that to her.”

Laura laughed and said, “Tell you what, buy me a conical hat and I will.”

Just before noon, they returned to their hotel. As promised, Jack bought Laura a conical hat, along with an extra one for Natasha. The total price for the hats came to two American dollars. As a souvenir for himself, he bought a green pith helmet with a small badge on the front. The badge had a single gold star on a red background to closely match the Vietnamese flag. “How do you like it?” he asked Laura as he modelled the helmet. “Could I pass as a local?”

“Too tall, round eyes, too tall,” she retorted.

Sonny arrived at Jack's room on schedule and Laura mentioned that they had been out shopping.

“What do you think?” asked Jack, indicating the green helmet he still wore.

Sonny grinned and said, “Many people use them as rice buckets here, but they are not that good.”

“They cook rice in these?” asked Jack.

Sonny chuckled and said, “No, that is what I call motorcycle helmets.”

“I've noticed that some helmets have a similar badge on the front with the gold star over an upper background in red and the lower half in blue.”

“That badge was special made for when the Communists won the war with the Americans. It was worn by the Northern soldiers when the last push was made to get the Americans out. It is a symbol of reunification between north and south Vietnam.”

“Were you in the war?” asked Jack.

Sonny nodded. “I was a teenager and fought for the North, but I also have family in the South. I had an uncle who fought for the South during the war. When the Americans pulled out, he was isolated deep in the Mekong Delta. Later he escaped to Cambodia and four years later made it to America.”

“An American citizen now?” asked Jack.

Sonny shook his head, replying, “The Americans told him he was too late. They would not accept him. My uncle went to Canada and became a Canadian citizen. He lives in Vancouver.”

“That's good,” said Jack.

“The Americans treat you like a lemon,” said Sonny.

“How is that?” asked Laura.

“They squeeze you until there is no juice left and then
throw you out,” he said, bitterly.

“Tough times back then,” said Jack. “Tough decisions being made by bureaucrats who never saw either end of a rifle.”

Sonny smiled. “You are right. Now I do not like to talk politics. It is best forgotten. Many American tourists come here now. They are most welcome.” He paused and added, “I have found them much friendlier now that I am not shooting at them.”

All three laughed and left the hotel to go for lunch to a place that Sonny recommended. They walked through crowded streets and eventually came to a small restaurant where they seated themselves.

Jack pointed to a line on the menu.
Bún bì, thit n
ong, cha giò
. “Strips of grilled pork with noodles?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Sonny. “Your Vietnamese is very good. So is that selection.”

“You understand that?” asked Laura in surprise.

“I have a favourite restaurant I go to whenever I'm in Victoria,” said Jack. “It's called the Saigon Night. That's number eighteen on their menu. It is what almost everyone orders.”

Laura ordered the same selection on Jack's advice and discovered that the meal consisted of a combination of rice vermicelli with shredded strips of grilled pork topped with peanuts and spring rolls filled with shrimp and crab. She also asked for a knife and fork.

“You don't use chopsticks?” asked Jack.

Laura shook her head and said, “I can never seem to master them. I'm afraid I'll end up sticking one up my nose.”

“I thought you worked a UC op' in Bangkok?”

“Actually, the Thai are one of the few Asian cultures that don't use chopsticks. They use a fork and a tablespoon. They push the food onto the spoon with the fork and eat it that way. They also tend to order the food on platters for the centre of
the table and everyone helps themselves. Very social. Kind of nice, really.”

Jack also added several clumps of hot chili paste from a small dish he found amongst the condiments.

“Watch it, Jack,” Sonny warned. “Very hot.”

Jack nodded and said, “I know. I love this stuff.”

Laura found the food to be delicious without the chili paste.

“You both like beer?” asked Sonny. He waited until he received affirmative nods and ordered three bottles of Huda.

Jack picked up the bill when it arrived and discovered that the total was less than twelve American dollars.

They spent the rest of the day sightseeing. Sonny took them to Uncle Ho's Mausoleum and pointed out the Canadian embassy across the street as they approached the mausoleum.

Jack and Laura were warned to look sombre at all times and lower their head to show respect as they entered the mausoleum. Guards with harsh, angry faces ensured that cameras were not taken inside and that people walked single file.

The experience was a reminder to Jack that he was now in a communist country and understood the fear that people developed toward authority.

Beside the mausoleum was a large park with many trees and ponds. Sonny led them down a path to show them where Uncle Ho lived during the war with the Americans.

“I never see any birds,” noted Jack.

“People eat them,” said Sonny.

“Even the little ones?”

“Yes.”

They viewed the small bamboo structure and tiny room with a single bed that had been used by Uncle Ho.

“Did Ho Chi Minh ever marry?”

Sonny quickly glanced around to see who might have
heard the question and said, “Keep your head down. That is not talked about.” He saw the bemused look on Jack's face and added, “The official version is no, he never married.”

“I guess he was gay,” Jack whispered to Laura.

Later that day, Sonny also took them to what was formerly the Hoa Lo Prison. It had been built by the French in 1896 and was home to thousands of Vietnamese who were imprisoned, tortured, and lost their lives.

In 1954 the communist party took over North Vietnam and the building became a state prison. From 1964 to 1973 it also became a prison for captured American pilots who nicknamed it the
Hanoi Hilton.

In 1993 most of the prison was demolished to make room for commercial property but a small portion of it was preserved for historic value, complete with dungeon-type cells with rows of shackles.

It was depressing, but for Jack and Laura, it was even more so. The shackles were a graphic reminder of a more recent victim who had been chained ... and a reminder of the real reason they had come to Vietnam.

On their way back to the Hotel Happy Holiday, Sonny pointed at a passing motor scooter being ridden by two men. On the back of the scooter was a small cage containing three dogs.

“Look,” he said. “Those are dognappers.”

“Dognappers?” asked Laura, watching the scooter quickly disappear amongst the traffic.

“Dog meat is considered a delicacy to Koreans. Sometimes to tribes in northern Vietnam also. Men on scooters will drive by and steal dogs.”

“In Canada, people on scooters steal women's purses,” said Jack.

“Was that really pork we had for lunch?” asked Laura.

Sonny smiled and said, “Yes, you don't have to worry. Dog meat is very expensive. Pork is much cheaper.”

Back in Vancouver, Randy passed the taxi containing the two Russians as it entered the perimeter leading to the Vancouver International Airport. He parked his car at the International Departures level and was met inside the doors by Aaron, who was an RCMP officer attached to a special unit at the airport.

At the airport Aaron routinely did surveillance on people as requested by various departments, such as Drug Section. On slower days, he would pick his own targets who looked suspicious, sometimes discovering drug mules or money launderers passing through from city to city or country to country.

Aaron also had the right connections with airline services to obtain information to meet various investigative needs. Aaron didn't look like a policeman and blended into the crowd like any other passenger ... except the attaché case he carried also took pictures.

“Not busy today?” asked Randy. “I didn't know whether to call you or not.”

“Not a problem,” replied Aaron. “You want photos of these guys?”

“May as well.”

Moments later Randy saw the taxi arrive and Moustache Pete and Fat Man stepped out.

“These your boys?” asked Aaron.

“That's them.”

“You should check with Intelligence. They took close-up pictures of these two just a couple of weeks ago. Man, it really shook them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It's kind of funny, really. I was tailing this guy and didn't know who he was. I didn't find out until later when I scooped his licence plate and showed his picture around the office that he was one of our guys. Staff Sergeant Quaile from Intelligence. He was following these same two guys. Walked right up to them and said,
Hello, comrades,
or something to that effect and took their picture.”

“Quaile did that?” said Randy, in disbelief.

“Yeah. These two guys looked so rattled I thought they were going to run out of the airport. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but figure Quaile must have been trying to scare them from taking their flight or something.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“No, he was gone long before I found out who he was. It was none of my business.” Aaron gave a nod toward the two Russians and said, “Here they come. I take it you want to be discreet this time?”

“Definitely,” said Randy, through clenched teeth. “And after, I want copies of every picture you took last time they were here.”

“It was simply a momentary lack of judgement,” said Quaile.

Isaac glowered back at him, pointed to the photos on his desk and yelled, “A momentary lack of judgement! Look at their faces! The only person more shocked is me!”