"Tell me."

"I can't. I can't lie to you, so I can't say anything."

"Let's try again. What do you know about this?"

She took a sip of beer, cleared her throat, and said, "I don't know what your purpose here is, but I think the CIA does. They certainly weren't going to tell me. I think everyone has little pieces of this, and no one is telling anyone else what they know."

That was probably true. I wondered if even Karl had the whole picture. I said to Susan, "Meet and greet doesn't quite cut it."

"Well, obviously there was more to it. I was asked to brief you about the country without it sounding like I was briefing you. More like acclimating you and making sure you were good to go." She added, "You figured that out."

"Okay, aside from the resident CIA guy in Saigon, did you speak to anyone from the American emba.s.sy in Hanoi?"

"Yes, I did. The American military attache. Colonel Marc Goodman. He flew to Saigon and spoke to me."

"About what?"

"He just wanted to be sure I had the right stuff."

"To do what?"

"To... win your confidence."

"I'm not getting a clear picture."

"You're putting me on the spot."

"My life is on the spot, lady. Talk to me."

"I wasn't supposed to travel with you. But I was supposed to offer to meet you here in Hue, to tell you I had to go there anyway on business or whatever. Then I was to say I would meet you again in Hanoi."

"What if I didn't like you?"

"Most men like me."

"I'm sure. And what was the point of you meeting me here in Hue?"

"To see if I could help you, to report on your health, your att.i.tude, any problems with the police, the outcome of your rendezvous, and so forth. You know that."

"Okay. Did this military attache guy, Colonel Goodman, and the CIA guy talk to each other in Saigon?"

"They did. But I wasn't there for that meeting."

"You understand that a military attache is actually Military Intelligence?"

She nodded.

"Who's the CIA guy in Saigon?"

"I can't tell you."

Apparently everyone was in on this, but me. Army Intelligence and the CIA were talking to each other about a CID/FBI case that they weren't supposed to know anything about; but obviously they did. What was the connection? Actually, the more I thought about Mr. Conway at Dulles, the more he seemed less FBI and more military; but they wanted to give the appearance of FBI involvement so that it seemed more like a homicide case and less like an international problem. Not only was Colonel Mang running around pa.s.sing himself off as one thing when he was another, but so was Mr. Conway. And so was Susan. By this time, I wouldn't have been surprised to discover that I was working for Colonel Mang.

"Paul?"

"What?"

"Are you angry with me?"

"Not yet. Okay, so when they motivated you to use your many charms to win my confidence, what did they tell you to motivate you?" you?"

"National security. My patriotic duty. Stuff like that."

"What else?"

"Do you still love me?"

"More than ever. What else?"

"I've already told you a few times. It has to do with the emerging relationship between America and Vietnam. Business. Oil. Trade. Cheap labor. They don't want it screwed up. Neither do I."

"Who's trying to screw it up?"

"I told you that, too. The hard-liners in Hanoi, and maybe in Washington."

"And did they tell you that my mission was going to help or hurt that cause?"

"They indicated that you could help."

"I guess they did, or you'd have already pushed me off the roof of the Rex."

"Don't be silly. I was told to help you."

"If I told you what I was doing here, do you think that my little piece of the puzzle and the little piece of the puzzle that you have might fit together?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to swap pieces of the puzzle? You go first."

"I have no need to know why you're here, and no desire to know."

"Or, you already know."

"I don't. Are you p.i.s.sed off at me?"

"Not yet."

"Still love me?"

"More than ever."

"Good. Can I have a cigarette?"

"Sure. Fire away."

She pulled a pack out of her purse and lit up. She took a long drag and exhaled, then sat back and crossed her legs. She said to me, "It has to do with Cam Ranh Bay."

"Okay."

"We built it, we want it back."

"I know that."

"The Philippines has kicked us out, and the j.a.panese are moving to reduce our presence. The Russian lease on Cam Ranh Bay expires in a few years, and they're paying rent under the old 1975 lease price in new rubles, which are almost worthless. Hanoi wants them out."

"Real money talks English."

"Right. We're talking about billions billions of greenback dollars to Hanoi for a long-term lease." of greenback dollars to Hanoi for a long-term lease."

"Go on."

"The Viets hate and fear the Chinese. Always have. The Americans fear the Chinese. Strategic Pentagon projections show us at war with Red China within twenty years. We're short on military bases in this area. Plus, there's a lot lot of offsh.o.r.e oil here." of offsh.o.r.e oil here."

"So, this isn't about coffee, rubber, or betel nuts?"

"No. Oil and military bases."

"Got it. Continue."

"The Pentagon and others in Washington are very excited about this. The present administration is not. They don't want to p.i.s.s off the Chinese, who would go totally ballistic if we set up a military base at Cam Ranh Bay."

I nodded. I now had a little piece of the puzzle, but it didn't fit my piece. I mean, it must, but there was another piece in between.

Susan continued, "Hanoi is willing to sign Cam Ranh Bay over to us, despite some hard-line opposition from the old Reds who still hate us. But it's the present American government who doesn't have the b.a.l.l.s to go for it, despite nearly everyone in the Pentagon and the intelligence community saying go for it. It's crucial in case of a future war. It's good for us, and good for the Vietnamese."

I didn't reply, but the thought of American soldiers, sailors, and airmen back on Vietnamese soil was mind-boggling.

She sipped her beer and lit another cigarette. She said to me, "You surprised me when you asked Captain Vu about American warships in the area."

"This is not rocket science. It's Political Science 101. Some of it's been in the news."

"Give yourself more credit, Paul."

"Okay. Let me guess how you know all this. You're the CIA station chief."

She smiled. "No. I'm just a kid, a spoiled, upper-cla.s.s MBA expat, looking for adventure." She put her cigarette in the ashtray and without looking at me said, "The CIA station chief in Saigon is Bill Stanley. Please don't tell anyone I told you."

We made eye contact, and I asked her, "Does Bank of America know about that?"

"He doesn't work for Bank of America. You arrived in Saigon on a weekend so you couldn't check things out, but I did take you to my office."

"Yes, you did. And are you and Bill... involved?"

"That part is true. Was true."

"Are you having fun?"

"Not if you're angry at me."

"Me? Why should I be angry at you?"

"You know. Because I lied to you about some things."

"Really? Are you still?"

"I've told you everything I know. They're going to fire me."

"You should be so lucky. Tell me why I'm here."

"I really don't know."

"Does Bill know?"

"He must know something."

"But he didn't share that with you?"

"He did not."

"Why were you supposed to meet me in Hanoi?"

"I'm not sure. They said you might need someone to talk to in Hanoi that you could trust. Not an emba.s.sy person. They said if you returned from your mission, you might be... upset by what you discovered." She added, "I'm supposed to tell the emba.s.sy your state of mind, what you're thinking."

"And you just let that statement slide by?"

"I understand that the less I know, the better."

"Where did you get the gun?"

"From my company safe. That was the truth."

"Do you realize that about half of what you've said to me over the last week has been lies, half lies, and bulls.h.i.t?"

She nodded.

"So? Why should I believe anything you say now?"

"I won't lie to you anymore."