Tri's expression did not change. "I said, where is your daughter?"
Tran put his hands on the table. "Comrade Tri. I have records of all my operations. I have taken certain precautions. If anything ever happens to me -- or to my daughter -- everything will be made public. The Plan, the Paris courier, the rest -- everything. Everything! Do you understand?"
Tri was a snarling dog. "You do not trust your homeland? Your own people?"
Tran leaned over the table, closer to Tri's face. "Comrade, in my business I trust no one." He leaned back.
Tri had to admire the old warrior. Tran Van Lam had been in the service of the Vietnamese Communists a long time, and had served them well. He knew his business. And he could not blame him for protecting himself. Still, he made some mental notes about Tran Thi Li. Precautions worked both ways.
"All right, my friend. Tell me the rest."
Tran went on to tell him his own version of the story. A story of how Buzz forced him to talk with a gun in his hand. And how Cao Vien came in to intervene, only to be killed by Buzz. And how they made a deal, one to shut up about the body, the other to be silent about the operations of a certain, well-known Vietnamese businessman who was a pillar of the community.
Tran drank some more wine. "I took care of Cao, and everything was quiet. In fact, Basilio evidently did not follow through on his threat to talk to the authorities."
"What about the congressman, Baxter?"
"I believe that Baxter probably knows what happened, and that he sent Basilio away until, as the Americans say, things 'cooled off.'"
"But he knows."
"He is a politician! He cannot let this get out to the press. Americans do not reelect congressmen whose staffers are murderers. No, we have nothing to fear from him."
Tri thought for a moment. "That seems logical. But what about Basilio? What do you propose to do about him?"
"Kill him, of course! He is the key."
Tri smiled. "I am afraid your hatred for him has clouded your judgment. If he is dead, then Baxter can tell the authorities whatever he wants about you. His 'embarrassment' will be out of the way."
"But with what evidence?" He had neglected to tell his old friend about the tape.
"Yes, but murder is a nasty business. Basilio is an American citizen. His murder would cause an international incident."
"But he is in Thailand. Within our reach. Any number of things can happen to him!"
Tri folded his hands. "Hmmmm. I do not know, Tran. Think about what you said about the evidence. It is still his word against yours, and his reputation leaves much to be desired."
Tran drained the little wine left in his glass, and slammed it on the table, breaking it at the stem with an audible snap. "He humiliated me! I want him dead!" Tran dropped what was left of the glass on the table and ignored it as he glared at Tri.
The evil smile appeared on Tri's face again. "I see. Comrade, you must not let your emotions get to you this way." He took a sip of his previously untouched water. "Perhaps we can arrange for him to be -- indisposed," he said quietly as he stared off into space.
Tran was unrelenting. "He is resourceful. I thought he was out of the way when Erickson had him disgraced in his own agency." He was speaking quickly, nervously.
"Erickson. How much does he know about you?"
Tran was silent.
Tri understood immediately. "You fool. He is the one who opened his mouth, isn't he?"
Tran was almost embarrassed. "He knows little."
Tri regarded Tran with considerably less respect than he had a few moments ago. "Tran Van Lam, what are you not telling me?"
"I have told you what I know."
"I see." He straightened up in the chair. "I will deal with Basilio, my way. I will also take care of Erickson."
"Comrade Tri, if something happens to Erickson and it is traced to the Vietnamese community, there will be hell to pay."
He was right. Tri massaged his chin. "Do not worry. Nothing will be traced. You will go back to Washington and say nothing. Do not talk to Erickson. You will wait for
instructions."
"What instructions will I get? And when?"
"Comrade, let us face the facts. You have been an asset in the past, but your latest actions have indicated that perhaps you are now, let us say, unreliable."
A deathly pallor fell across Tran's face. Unreliable! How dare you," he said in a rising voice.
"Shut up. Do as you are told. We will handle matters from here on. When the Plan is successful and we have our final victory, you will be rewarded. Perhaps you can come home then and retire, secure in the knowledge that you have served the Motherland." His voice bordered just on this side of sarcasm. He rose from his chair.
"What about my daughter?"
Tri looked down at him, almost with pity. "I will take your word that she knows nothing. Now go home." He left without another word.
Tran Van Lam sat alone, a beaten man. He felt powerless, caught in a tide of events over which he had lost control. Worse, he had contributed to the situation by confiding in the dupe Erickson. Something else gnawed at him. Tran Van Lam was an old fighter. Under different names, he had fought for his country since Ho Chi Minh battled with the French. He had seen death many times, on the battlefield and off. Even when Basilio held the gun to his head, he had not felt fear like this. Nor humiliation.
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From Chapter 20 - "The Ghosts of Hanoi"
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