Guy moved closer to the chair and picked up one of the dentist's drills; he studied the control panel for a second or two, then touched a b.u.t.ton which set the drill in motion. Its high-pitched whine filled the office and Big Minh watched him suspiciously as the American leaned towards him. "To help you, general, I'm going to give you some highly confidential information. I'm going to read you two top-secret telegrams." He fished in his inside pocket with his free hand and pulled out two folded sheets of paper. "The first one was sent to Washington by the amba.s.sador here on August 29. It reads: 'We're launched on a course from which there is no respectable turning back - the overthrow of the Diem government. The chance of bringing off a generals' coup depen.ds to some extent on the Vietnamese officers concerned - but we should proceed to make an all-out effort to get the generals to move promptly.' Guy raised his head to look at Big Minh. "Is that clear enough?"

Minh nodded slowly, then arched a skeptical eyebrow. "That might have been the stand of the United States on August 29. But since then President Diem has sent Madame Nhu abroad, his brother the archbishop of Hue has left the country - and there are signs of confusion in the White House."

By way of reply Guy showed the other sheet of paper to the Vietnamese general. "The second telegram bears today's date, October 5," he said slowly. "It was sent here to Saigon from the White House only a few hours ago. It reads: 'The President today approved a recommendation that there should be an urgent covert effort under the broad guidance of the amba.s.sador to identify and build contacts with a possible alternative leadership. But this effort should be totally secure and fully deniable.'" Guy switched off the dental drill and replaced it on its hook; folding the telegrams, he returned them to his pocket. "Does that give you a better idea of the att.i.tude in Washington?"

Minh's smile broadened. "Thank you, Monsieur Sherman - but at our next meeting I'd appreciate it if you could give me more concrete a.s.surances on the questions of aid and noninterference. Then perhaps we can also discuss our plans and how we intend to carry them out."

"I'll report everything you've said in great detail," said Guy politely, "and I'll return with replies as soon as I can."

"Then I look forward to another meeting with you soon."

General Minh made no attempt to rise from his chair, and the American left the room quietly, unlocked a door in the pa.s.sage outside with his own key, and let himself out into an alleyway leading to the central market. As he hurried into the square he heard a sudden flurry of screams, and above the heads of a small crowd he saw black smoke belching upwards. When he drew nearer, the charred head and shoulders of a man seated on the pavement became visible, and he realized another Buddhist monk, the fifth since Thich Quang Duc, was burning himself to death in the center of Saigon.

13.

The leaves of the tamarind trees along Saigon's deserted lunchtime boulevards hung limp in the fierce, saturated heat of Friday, November 1, as the tanks, armored personnel carriers and artillery pieces of the forces in revolt roared through their shade towards the Gia Long Palace. The unsuspecting population of the city heard their rumble only dimly at first through a haze of sleep; it was one-thirty P.M., midpoint of the daily three-hour siesta, and Big Minh and the other insurgent generals had chosen the date carefully - All Saints' Day, a Catholic holiday - so as to catch the president and his defenders off guard. The fitfully slumbering city came abruptly awake at that unfamiliar hour, however, when Marine units spearheading the rebel battalions ran into a fierce barrage of gunfire from the palace defenders, that reverberated through the enclosed canyons of the capital's streets like spring thunder.

On the deserted roof of the Caravelle Hotel, Naomi Boyce- Lewis stood beside her Scottish cameraman, biting her lower lip in suppressed excitement as he panned his lens slowly across the wide panorama of tree-lined boulevards radiating from the Cia Long Palace. From that high vantage point, the attacking forces moving into the city down the three northern highways from Tay Ninh, Ben Cat and Bien Hoa looked like slow-crawling columns of predatory insects converging by communal instinct to destroy some threat to their existence. and as he filmed them, Jock whistled softly in appreciation.

I've got to hand it to you, Naomi - whoever tipped you off about this knew his stuff all right. I don't know how you do it - or maybe I do, but I'm not saying." As he shifted to cover a new angle of the advance, he winked at the soundman, who was leaning over the parapet holding his long microphone towards the roar of the advancing armor.

The English journalist delivered a mock punch to the side of his jaw with a small fist and smiled affectionately. "You've got a monorail mind, Jock -just concentrate on getting our exclusive coverage in the can, will you, please. The compet.i.tion are going to come stumbling out from under their mosquito nets any minute now to start trying to catch up."

"Was it that rugged American diplomat with the come-to-bed eyes who wants to spite the American press corps? Have you been working your siren spell on him, Naomi?"

"No comment, Jock -just keep filming."

In fact Guy Sherman had surprised her by appearing unannounced at the door of her room in the Continental Palace before breakfast that morning. Although he had affected a casual air, she'd noticed that his manner was tense beneath a surface calm, and he had insisted on entering the room and turning on the bedside radio before he spoke. Then he had explained in little more than a whisper that what he was about to tell her would be in the strictest confidence, and when she had given him her word that she would never reveal the source of her information to anyone, he said: "Today's the day, Naomi! Get your camera team up on the Caravelle roof for one-fifteen. Then you'll have a fine view of the cavalry coming over the hill."

It had been the first time she had seen Guy for a week. They had met on the Continental terrace for drinks on a number of occasions in the clays following Thich Quang Duc's suicide and eventually had begun to dine together regularly. As the conflict deepened following the raids on the Buddhist paG.o.das, student riots had broken out, several Buddhist leaders had sought asylum inside the American Emba.s.sy, and Ngo Dihn Nhu was reported to be suffering Hitler-style brainstorms as the situation deteriorated. With Saigon drowning in a sea of intrigue and plots and counterplots proliferating daily, Guy had become an invaluable source of information to her; with a wink or a nod he had smilingly confirmed or denied any rumors she had discussed with him, and largely because of his help she had provided consistently accurate and well-informed coverage of the growing crisis, which had won her praise and acclaim in both England and the United States In the course of their frequent meetings, a teasing. bond of intimacy had also grown up between them; they both made frequent lighthearted allusions to the selfish motives that drew them to one another, but at the same time she had sensed that the strong attraction Guy had flippantly confessed to at their first meeting was growing into a deeper infatuation.

She herself was no longer sure that the desire to cultivate a highly knowledgeable source of information was her sole reason for meeting Guy so regularly; as time pa.s.sed and the crisis grew more confused she had come to have a genuine regard for his seemingly unshakable confidence in the American mission in Vietnam, and whenever she was with him his dark good looks and his air of vigorous masculinity always gave her a comforting sense of security in a city which seemed to become more dangerous with each pa.s.sing day. On more than one occasion after dining together late at night they had strolled through the darkness of the tense city, acutely aware that their senses were mutely in tune, that they were drawn physically to one another. But always she had called a halt at the brink; always she had subordinated her emotions to her hard-headed determination to stay on top of the story and she had deliberately parted from him on these occasions with a murmured endearment and a smiling hint of promise for the future, This calculated ploy had produced precisely the effect she had desired, and Guy, seemingly accepting that she was holding herself in check till the story had run its course, began to take her increasingly into his confidence. For this reason she had been puzzled that he had stopped contacting her during the last days of October, but when he had appeared unexpectedly at the door of her room that morning she had known by his expression and the barely suppressed excitement in his voice that nothing had changed.

After delivering his message he had made to leave, but then he turned back and took her hand impulsively in his. "Stay tuned to me, Naomi," he'd said with deliberate emphasis. "If you do, I'll make sure you keep ahead of the opposition on the inside story tot). Okay?"

"Okay, Guy, thanks - and good luck." Feeling her own excitement rising in response, she had returned the pressure of his hand, and he had dashed from the room. She had begun immediately to make her preparations, renting several different cars and stationing them secretly at various selected locations around the center of Saigon to ensure that she and her camera team remained mobile during the inevitable dislocation that would catch the other film and newsprint journalists off guard. She had alerted Jock and their soundman to steer clear of the rest of the press corps and had sought out two or three Western visitors who were due to leave the city later that day and arranged for them to try to carry out her undeveloped film to Hong Kong.

One of the rented cars with its Vietnamese driver at the wheel was waiting in a side street close to the Caravelle Hotel, and as soon as she was satisfied that Jock had enough general rooftop shots of the initial rebel advance into the city, she led the way down the stairs to the street at a run.

But the unfolding coup d'etat that from the high vantage point had seemed simple and dramatic was at street level confusing and incoherent. During a quick tour of the city center, they heard distant scattered flurries of small arms fire, but by the time they had tracked down the shooting they found that the crack Marine spearhead units had already seized their primary objectives; the main police headquarters, the two radio Stations and the central telephone exchange had obviously been occupied by the rebels without much trouble, but there was little to film except small groups of steel-helmeted Vietnamese troops in leopard camouflage leaning casually against the walls. Armored cars were guarding the approach boulevards to the palace, standing still and silent in the roadway, their guns leveled and their hatches closed despite the stifling midday heat, but otherwise Naomi had to be content with pictures of anonymous infantry columns or truckloads of helmeted troops who rushed by without giving any indication of whether they were being deployed by the rebels or by the president.

Here and there the ominous, dun-colored bulk of a tank was visible squatting astride a road junction; in the peaceful, civilized streets of the city the sight of these war machines was, as the plotting generals had obviously intended, frightening and intimidating, and Naomi repeatedly ordered their driver to turn around and seek another route. From time to time a T-28 wheeled across the burning, cloudless sky to release a burst of rockets on the Gia Long Palace, and this always drew a rattle of heavy machine-gun fire from its defenders - but no concerted bombing attack or artillery barrage was mounted. By filming at the limit of his telephoto lens along some of the approach boulevards, Jock got pictures of the Presidential Guard preparing for a last-ditch stand; batteries of mortars, antiaircraft guns and even tanks were being dug in among the shrubs and tamarinds of the formal gardens, while on the roof heavy machine gun posts had already been set up around the gla.s.s and wrought-iron cupola. Dense barbed-wire entanglements had been strung around the palace railings in preparation for the siege, and it was obvious that the stubborn president and his brother were determined to resist to the bitter end their own army's efforts to unseat them.

The people of Saigon, startled from their siestas, eventually began emerging from their homes. Few vehicles ventured onto the boulevards that had become a battleground, but pedestrians thronged the sidewalks, peering fearfully at the stationary tanks and watching the pa.s.sing troops with anxious eyes. They scattered and dived for cover whenever the boom of a tank's cannon, deafening in the confined streets, or the stutter of a heavy machine gun sent sh.e.l.ls and bullets crashing through the branches of the tamarinds, but in the intervals of calm, small children rushed squealing from their hiding places to scoop up the empty bra.s.s cartridge cases. Gradually the sound of small arms fire and the crump of mortars were heard with greater frequency as the rebels attacked the Ministries of the Interior and National Defense; more planes dived down, their cannon pounding streams of sh.e.l.ls into the pro-Diem navy frigates moored in the Saigon River and when her frightened driver bolted unexpectedly, Naomi herself drove the car to the Majestic at the foot of the old Rue Catinat so that Jock could cover this fierce battle between the Vietnamese navy and air force from the hotel roof. While it was in progress she did a brief filmed commentary standing by the parapet, pointing out that although it was not apparent in the confusion, the insurgent generals were slowly tightening their ring of steel around the Ngo Dinh brothers trapped in their palace.

As soon as the brief river battle ended, Naomi called Guy Sherman's number at the emba.s.sy to try to check on what was really happening behind the scenes - but a brusque American voice told her that Mr. Sherman was "not available." When she asked at what time she would be able to contact him, the voice told her even more brusquely that Mr. Sherman would be taking no calls at all for the rest of that day.

At that moment, Guy himself was reporting in by telephone to the CIA acting chief of station, who was seated in an adjoining office in the emba.s.sy. Over a secure line from the headquarters of the ARVN Joint General Staff close to Tan Son Nhut airport, he was giving details of the rebel battle order that had just been handed to him on a typewritten sheet of paper by Major General Duong Van Minh.

"Two Marine battalions, two battalions of Airborne troops and two battalions of the Fifth Division are all now deployed downtown under the command of junior officers," said Guy, speaking in a calm voice. "They started moving into the city three-quarters of an hour ago behind forty tanks and armored cars. The airport was secured before the armor began rolling, and additional units have been deployed to block and defend against any counterattack by forces loyal to Diem from outside Saigon. First reports from the unit commanders indicate all objectives are being seized against minimal resistance Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Guy covered the mouthpiece and turned to find one of Big Minh's aides beside him.

"Come quickly, Monsieur Sherman," whispered the Vietnamese officer in French. "The staff meeting is a.s.sembling."

Guy nodded and turned back to the telephone, lowering his voice. "The launching of the coup was timed to coincide with the regular Friday luncheon meeting of all senior staff officers here," he said quietly. "Those officers not involved in the planning are about to be told what's happening - I'll report again in half an hour."

Guy replaced the receiver and hurried in the wake of the aide to the crowded conference room. Big Minh was already on his feet on a dais at one end, and as Guy entered he saw him set the spools of a big tape recorder spinning. Many of the officers present looked tense and pale, and their uneasy expressions deepened at the sight of an American civilian. The moment Guy seated himself un.o.btrusively at the back of the room Minh began speaking.

"The day the people have been waiting for has come," he announced in a ringing voice. "For eight years the people of Vietnam have suffered under the rotten, nepotistic Diem regime but now the armed forces have come to their rescue. While we were taking luncheon today Marine and Airborne battalions have moved into Saigon to surround the palace. All police stations, the radio stations, the Ministry of the Interior and other strongpoints are already in the hands of our forces As he was speaking, doors at either end of the conference room opened to admit two dozen armed troops in full battle order, carrying American M-i6 automatic rifles. They ranged themselves quietly around the walls, and many of the senior staff officers blanched visibly at the sight of them.

"The aim of myself and those officers who have planned this coup with me," continued Minh, "is to depose Ngo Dinh Diem and his brothers and set up a military council which will govern in their place until democratic civilian rule can be restored. I shall act as interim president. Some of you have already sworn your allegiance to us, but others among you have yet to make up your mind. To those I would say that we have made this move today because, to cap the long catalogue of crimes committed by the Diem government, Supreme Counselor Nhu has recently begun secret negotiations with Hanoi. This cra.s.s betrayal of everything we're fighting for was the final straw which goaded us into action. And we trust all of you here will have the good sense to join with us He paused and let his gaze roam meaningfully around his audience. "Perhaps I should inform you, gentlemen, at the outset that the commander of the navy was told about this coup while on his way here today under armed escort. But he refused to forswear his allegiance to Ngo Dinh Diem, and was promptly executed by his escort on my orders. Other officers whose loyalty we are doubtful about are at this moment under close arrest in the bas.e.m.e.nt of this building. They include the commanders of the air force, the Airborne Brigade, the Marines and Minh paused once more to heighten the impact of his words. ". . . and Colonel Le Quang Tung, the commanding officer of the Special Forces."

A ripple of astonishment greeted the mention of Colonel Tung's name; the Special Forces, financed and trained directly by the United States, had been withdrawn from the war against the Viet Cong six months earlier by an increasingly jittery President Diem; since then the elite troops had been deployed purely as a presidential bodyguard, and the news that their own commander was already in the hands of the coup leaders seemed to seal the fate of the president and his brother. Before the commotion among the staff officers died away, Minh held up his hand and pointed towards the silently spinning spools of the tape recorder.

"Now all of you here are to be offered the opportunity to declare your support publicly for our cause. I want every officer present to step up to this microphone, announce his name, rank and command and pledge his loyalty in his own words, We shall begin broadcasting this recording over the captured radio networks later this afternoon." He stopped speaking and his round face broke into a smile. "Who will be first?"

Without hesitation General Tran Van Don, chairman of the Joint General Staff, came forward and spoke his name into the microphone. "I swear to dedicate myself to the overthrow of the corrupt Diem regime," he said slowly, "and pledge my most loyal support to the Military Council headed by Major General Duong Van Minh He turned and sat down as quickly as he had risen, and one by one the other tense-faced generals, brigadiers and colonels stepped up onto the platform and made similar declarations. Guy Sherman jotted down each name carefully in his notebook, and after they had finished he hurried from the room to the secure telephone that had been set up in the adjoining office; when the acting chief of the Saigon CIA station came on the line again, Guy read him the complete list of names. Half an hour later radio sets all over the capital began broadcasting this same dramatic roll call, which for better or for worse publicly committed the majority of South Vietnam's senior military officers to the overthrow of their government; a long monotonous tally of individual voices that were clearly recognizable to the listening Vietnamese population, it was broadcast over and over again, sounding through the embattled city like a mournful dirge composed specially in preparation for the pa.s.sing of Ngo Dinh Diem's regime.

14.

in his ornately furnished office on the second floor of the Gia Long Palace, Ngo Dinh Nhu, Supreme Counselor and brother to President Diem, smiled patiently as he listened to the excited jabbering of a Vietnamese voice coming through the earpiece of his telephone. Leaning back in his chair he put his feet up on his black lacquer desk and blew a fine stream of cigarette smoke towards the ceiling.

"Yes, yes, of course I understand clearly, my dear captain," he rasped, his smile broadening. "Armored cars and men of the Marine Corps are surrounding your police station - that's quite natural. They're doing that because I planned that they should. Try to calm down and don't worry. Pretend you're surprised when they come in and just let them take over."

Nhu dropped the telephone back onto its cradle, still smiling, and flicked a tiny speck of ash from one leg of his immaculately creased black trousers. For a moment he sat listening to the intermittent sound of gunfire coming from outside the palace windows, then he opened the tortoisesh.e.l.l box on his desk and lit a fresh cigarette from the glowing stub of the old one. As he did so the door of the office burst open and the short, rotund figure of President Diem appeared; he was dressed in one of his favorite suits of dark blue sharkskin. but the comic eccentricity of his rolling gait was exaggerated by his haste, and his brother's brittle smile returned as he watched him waddle across the broad expanse of carpet dotted with stuffed hunting trophies. But Diem did not return the smile; he was panting for breath when he stopped in front of the wide desk, and his chubby face was perspiring freely in his anxiety.

"What exactly is going on out there, Nhu? What have you done this time? Please explain yourself."

"Nothing's changed since we spoke on the telephone fifteen minutes ago," replied Nhu with an amused shrug. "There was no need to upset yourself and come rushing downstairs like this. You've said often enough you don't wish to concern yourself with what methods 1 use to achieve our ends. Everything happening out there in the street is part of my plan."

The roar of one of the palace tanks firing rattled the window frames suddenly, and Diem turned and peered anxiously into the ornamental gardens through each of the windows in turn. The dark outlines of rebel tanks and armored cars squatting in the shade of the boulevard trees were distantly visible through the palace railings, and as the president watched, a slow-moving Air Force C-47 lumbered across the distant rooftops, showering leaflets into the streets.

"If this really is part of some harebrained scheme of yours, I don't approve of it," said Diem turning angrily on his brother once more. "Where precisely is it leading?"

"To the defeat of all our enemies at one fell swoop!" Nhu flourished his cigarette in a theatrical fashion as if to indicate he found explaining his ingenious maneuvers tiresome. "Because it was obvious some kind of coup would be mounted against us sooner or later, I decided to get in first - that's all there is to it."

Diem stared at his inanely grinning brother. "What do you mean 'get in first'?"

"With our own 'coup' of course." Nhu laughed abruptly. "It even has a code name - Bravo Two. At the end of it the likes of 'Fat Boy' Minh and the treacherous Tran Van Don will find themselves shackled in irons."

Diem drew a long breath, fighting to control his anger. "Those tanks out there with their gun barrels pointing at us look very real to me."

"Of course they do, my dear brother, of course they do. That's the whole point. It's got to look like a real coup against us. Those troops out there are from General Dinh's Fifth Division. I ordered him to move four battalions against the palace to make it. look as if they are genuinely trying to overthrow us. I even ordered four of our Special Forces battalions out of Saigon to make it look more convincing Diem's face turned pale. "You've sent four battalions of the Presidential Guard out of the city? That means we have only one battalion protecting the palace!"

"Please relax," said Nhu in a chiding voice. "General Dinh is awaiting my orders to drive off the attackers with other units of the Fifth Division. But we've got to let them appear to succeed for a time - then you and I will reemerge victorious from the beleaguered palace. If we're seen by the world to put down a rebellion and identify Minh and Tran Van Don as the chief culprits, our position will be strengthened and our enemies will be in disarray, don't you see?"

Diem's anxious expression relaxed slightly. "But how do you know that General Dinh can be trusted to come to our rescue?"

"You know as well as I how conceited and ambitious the military governor of Saigon is. I promised him promotion and a post in the government as a reward - he'll do anything I say.

Diem took a folded white handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopped his brow distractedly.

"You should have learned by now to trust me," continued Nhu reproachfully. "I got us out of trouble when they dive-bombed Doc Lap Palace in 'fifty-nine, didn't I? And didn't I find a way of blocking the paratroopers' coup a year later? Each new attempt to unseat us, don't you see, requires a different response a different brand of genius." A telephone began ringing on his desk, but the grinning Nhu ignored it. "We must let them lay siege to the palace for a few hours to allow time for the attention of the country and the outside world to focus on us - then we'll move to crush the rebellion with great speed!"

Diem gazed dubiously into his brother's raddled face, then turned and walked slowly back towards the door. Nhu Picked up the phone and listened without speaking; then he cupped his hand over the mouthpiece. "It's for you," he called to his brother. "Fat Boy Minh has something important to say that he won't impart to me."

The president's face registered his disquiet as he returned to take the telephone, and as soon as he identified himself, Big Minh launched into a prepared speech.

"As commander in chief of all the military forces besieging the Gia Long Palace, I call on you and your brother to surrender to us," he said in a belligerent tone. "The people of Vietnam have suffered long enough - now, under the leadership of the Joint General Staff, the armed forces have come to their rescue."

The president drew a sharp breath. "You are bluffing. I order you, General Minh, and all senior officers to report to the palace at once."

"You must surrender - or we cannot guarantee your safety," retorted Minh coolly. "The time has pa.s.sed when you can give me or anybody else orders."

"You will be shown no mercy when this is over, general," said the president in an icy voice. "General Dinh and the Fifth Division are at this moment preparing to counterattack the forces around the palace. When they've been driven off, you and your co-conspirators will be dealt with most severely."

"General Dinh is here with us at the headquarters of the Joint General Staff," said Minh's voice smoothly. "We offered him the post of minister of the interior in a new government, and he has come over to our side. The great majority of the staff officers have also sworn a joint oath to drive you from power."

"You lie!" Diem's voice rose angrily. "1 don't believe you."

"Even Colonel Tung is with us - the commander of the Special Forces that protect you and your evil brother."

"Colonel Tung would never betray us!"

"Perhaps not," said Minh in a matter-of-fact voice. "But we aren't giving him any choice. As proof that he's here, I shall allow him to speak to you briefly-after that he will be dealt with as we see fit. Hold the line, please."

Diem turned an anguished face to his brother. "They say Dinh has joined them and they've taken Colonel Tung prisoner."

Nhu's raddled features flexed suddenly into an angry grimace and he s.n.a.t.c.hed the telephone receiver from his brother. "Allow me to speak to Colonel Tung," he demanded in an imperious voice.

A moment later the nasal tones of the widely feared Special Forces commander who'd led the raids on the Buddhist paG.o.das, echoed in the earpiece of the telephone. "I'm being held here against my will, supreme counselor," he said, speaking with difficulty. "I was tricked into coming and have taken no part in the proceedings. They held a gun at my head and forced me to order all Special Forces troops at our headquarters to surrender "Rest a.s.sured the uprising will soon be crushed," yelled Nhu suddenly, his voice high-pitched and hysterical. "You'll be freed unharmed, Colonel Tung, never fear."

"I repeat my demand that you and your brother surrender immediately!" The voice of Big Minh cut in again, as calm and controlled as before. "And if you don't believe the whole army is against you, I suggest you turn on your radio." - The line went dead abruptly, and after staring wild-eyed at his brother for a second or two, Nhu hurried across to switch on a radio standing on a side table; he gazed unseeing at the voluptuous life-sized portrait of his wife on the wall before him as the sound of the staff officers declaring allegiance to the rebel cause filled the room. Both men listened intently for several minutes, then when General Ton That Dinh's voice finally denounced them, Nhu switched off the set with a m.u.f.fled curse. "We'd better go down to the communications center," he said, his voice unnaturally calm again. "Once we contact My Tho, it won't take long for the Seventh Division to enter Saigon and rout the Fat Boy's treacherous lackeys!"

In a corridor at the Tan Son Nhut headquarters of the Joint General Staff, Guy Sherman watched impa.s.sively as armed troops hustled Colonel Tung away from the telephone which had been used to call the Gia Long Palace. Still wearing camouflage battle dress, his hands were already manacled behind his back and his ankles were hobbled with ropes. He struggled and dragged his feet as the troops forced him along the corridor towards stairs that led down to a walled courtyard, and Guy stepped aside to let the group pa.s.s. As the Special Forces colonel drew abreast of him, his eyes met Guy's and his narrow features twisted into a sneer.

"I should have known you filthy American motherf.u.c.kers were behind these cowardly traitors," he screamed in English and loosed a stream of spittle that splashed across the CIA man's cheek before he could turn aside. One of the soldiers clubbed Tung with the b.u.t.t of his M-16 and he stumbled and almost fell; half carrying him they bundled him down the stairs, and Guy moved to a window, wiping his face with a handkerchief, and saw the escort drag him into the courtyard below. There Tung stood looking dazedly around the yard, trying to watch a number of exits at once, but he didn't notice the grim-faced ARVN captain who suddenly hurried from a corner door, drawing his revolver as he came. At the last moment the Special Forces commander turned his head and caught sight of him, but the captain placed the gun against Tung's temple without difficulty; the instant the trigger was pulled he fell limp in the arms of his captors, and they quickly dragged his lifeless body away through an open archway.

In the underground communications center beneath the palace the president and his brother worked frantically in their shirtsleeves for the next hour, operating the telephones and radio transmitters themselves behind bolted steel doors. They made repeated efforts to contact those provincial leaders and unit commanders who were based within reach of Saigon, but each time they found they were able to raise only low-ranking aides. After a dozen unsuccessful attempts, Ngo Dinh Nhu made contact with the headquarters of the Seventh Division at My Tho, forty miles south of Saigon, and the president stood by anxiously as his brother listened to the voice crackling into his headphones; but although Nhu screamed arid ranted, threatening and cajoling by turns, he finally broke the radio link without issuing any coherent order and slumped back listlessly in his seat.

"What is it?" demanded Diem in frightened voice. "What's happened there?"

"The top commanders have been made prisoners," he said dully. "Our enemies have withdrawn all the river-crossing craft to the Opposite bank of the Mekong - the Seventh Division's out of action."

A minute later there was a flurry of knocking on the steel door, and when the president opened it, a fl.u.s.tered aide entered. "The rebels are surrounding the barracks of the Presidential Guard," he gasped. "They're moving up artillery and mortars - they obviously intend to begin a sustained bombardment soon."

The nervous aide's hands shook as he handed a typewritten version of the message to the president, but Diem's face became thoughtful as he locked the door again. "There's only one last avenue left open to us now," he said quietly and seated himself beside a telephone once more. Glancing at his wrist.w.a.tch he noticed that it was four-thirty P.M., and taking out a small private address book, he looked up the home telephone number of the United States amba.s.sador, Henry Cabot Lodge. As soon as he'd dialed, a Vietnamese servant answered, and both men waited tensely until the clipped American voice of the amba.s.sador came on the line.

"This is the president speaking," said Diem in English, struggling to disguise the rising anxiety he felt. "Some units of the army and the air force have made a rebellion, and I want to know what is the att.i.tude of the United States."

The amba.s.sador didn't answer immediately, but when he spoke his patrician voice was haughty and formal. "I don't feel well enough informed to be able to tell you. I've heard the shooting, but I'm not acquainted with all the facts. Also it's four- thirty AM. in Washington, and the U.S. government cannot possibly have a view."

"But you must have some general ideas!" The voice of the president took on an incredulous, plaintive tone. "After all, I am a chief of state. I've tried to do my duty and I want to do now what duty and good sense require." He hesitated, summoning a note of pride. "I believed in duty above all."

There was an even longer pause at the amba.s.sador's end of the line. "You've certainly done your duty - I admire your courage and your great contribution to your country. No one can take from you the credit for what you've done. Now I'm worried about your physical safety. I have a report that those in charge of the current activity offer you and your brother safe conduct out of the country if you resign. Had you heard this?"

The president absorbed the shock slowly: the amba.s.sador's use of the term "current activity" made it clear beyond all doubt that the backs of his chief sponsors were 110w turned finally against him. "No," he said at last, drawing out the word in dismay, "I hadn't heard that." Another long pause followed, then he added lamely: "You have my telephone number?"

"Yes," replied the amba.s.sador, and a further embarra.s.sing silence ensued. Then, in case he had not made it clear enough, Henry Cabot Lodge labored his point once again. "If I can do anything for your physical safety, please call me."

The Vietnamese felt his anger rise as he contemplated the humiliating offer that was being made to him - shelter in the very emba.s.sy where, he realized now, his overthrow must certainly have been connived at. Suddenly all the stubborn, defiant pride for which he was renowned, and even a trace of scorn, flashed back into his voice: "I shall continue my efforts to restore order," he said fiercely - and as soon as he'd spoken, President Ngo Dinh Diem broke off his last contact with the United States of America.

15.

Like all the other foreign journalists covering the coup, Naomi Boyce-Lewis spent the tense afternoon and early evening hours trying desperately to penetrate the confusion that cloaked Saigon like a dense fog; attempts to count up and codify units loyal to the palace or the plotters always came Out inconclusive because of insufficient information, and there was no sure way of testing the repeated claims of the rebels that their uprising had already succeeded. About six o'clock in the evening they unleashed a ma.s.sive artillery and mortar barrage against the Presidential Guard encampment a few blocks from the Gia Long Palace, and the buildings were reduced rapidly to ruins; but although the sound and fury of the destruction provided dramatic pictures and copy for Naomi and the rest of the press corps, its effect was minimal, since most of the troops billeted there were already deployed inside the palace grounds. Over the radio, General Minh's tape-recorded voice continued to proclaim that the armed forces had rescued the people from eight years of misrule, and crowds of cheering Vietnamese emerged to cl.u.s.ter around the rebel tanks and armored cars whenever there was a pause in the action. There was even some celebratory looting of shops, but with the palace and its defenders still holding out defiantly, an atmosphere of nervous uncertainty spread through the city as the evening wore on.

Naomi and her camera crew positioned themselves in a deep doorway within sight of the palace gates, but long hours of waiting produced little reward; occasionally they saw one of the loyalist tanks rumble into the palace forecourt and lurch through the soft flower beds to fire its cannon at the ring of attackers entrenched in the surrounding streets; machinegun fire spurted sporadically from the windows between the ornate pillars of the palace's cream-colored stone facade amid from time to time a voice that sounded like President's Diem's attempted to rally the troops over a public-address system with vague promises that loyal Units were racing to the rescue. But gradually it became clear that a lull was developing, and as the dusk deepened a fine, warm drizzle of rain began to drift down onto the city. A seven P.M. curfew was declared over the radio, and rumors began to spread that the coup leaders had got cold feet and were divided on whether they should launch an all-out attack on the palace or not.

Naomi returned twice to her hotel room to try to contact Guy at the emba.s.sy, but each time she received the same curt response - he was "not available." As she replaced the telephone the second time, she heard a soft footfall in the corridor outside her room and looked up to see a white envelope slide beneath the door. When she opened it, she found a note inside written in spidery letters which said simply: "Relax and get some sleep until three-thirty A.M. Guy."

The note was obviously not in Guy's handwriting, and she tore open the door to see a Vietnamese waiter disappearing silently along the corridor. When she called him back, he explained that he had taken down the message by telephone from "an American gentleman" who had not given his name. Naomi thanked the waiter and gave him five hundred piastres then hurried back to the Street to tell her camera crew to get some rest. She drank a large whisky herself before climbing Into bed for a few hours, and when she awoke with the ringing of her alarm clock at three AM., she roused her crew and they hurried into the streets again to find that an unnatural hush had fallen over the city.

The moist air was stifling at that hour, but the pre-dawn darkness was relieved by the glare from several burning tanks and an occasional building that had suffered a direct hit. They dashed across Lam Son Square to the Caravelle Hotel, and when they reached the roof they found it crowded with a dense throng of people who had been trapped there by the curfew. In the light of the fires they saw then that Saigon's other rooftops and balconies were crowded too, and thousands of silent faces were watching and waiting like spectators in a giant grandstand for the climax of the drama. From time to time a magnesium parachute flare blossomed in the dark sky above them, and whenever a plane appeared, ted globular tracers arced upwards from the Gia Long Palace.

On the Caravelle roof terrace, white-jacketed waiters still moved among the crowd, serving refreshments, and Naomi noticed that some of those present - diplomats, correspondents, visiting businessmen and hotel workers - were somewhat the worse for drink. They had been watching the grim spectacle for many hours on end, and to some it seemed to have become an entertainment. Somewhere a radio was playing a twist and cha-cha music; the rebels had begun to intersperse their repeated communiques with this music during the night because it had been previously banned by Madame Nhu, and a group of junior American Emba.s.sy staffers and female secretaries were dancing exaggeratedly to the radio, bursting into noisy laughter at frequent intervals. But at three-thirty AM. precisely, their sounds of hilarity were suddenly drowned by an ear-numbing torrent of noise. The deep boom of 75-millimeter tank guns, the thud of mortar and artillery sh.e.l.ls and the stutter of 50-millimeter machine guns all combined to produce an unbroken roar that obviously signaled the beginning of the final a.s.sault on the palace. Shot and sh.e.l.l poured down every boulevard leading to Gia Long, and the building's already-pitted facade splintered and cracked under the onslaught. Soon the few loyalist tanks, the heavy machine guns behind the rooftop bal.u.s.trades and the mortar batteries dug in around the grounds were adding to the din, and from the Caravelle terrace the night seemed to be alive with a million muzzle flashes. As Naomi watched, the interior of the gla.s.s cupola on the palace roof was lit suddenly from inside by dancing flames, and she guessed that the upper floors had caught fire inside.