Killing Grace by Peter Prichard

Author:Peter Prichard [Prichard, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: River Grove Books

25

THE AFFAIR

24 DECEMBER 1967

His driver was too cautious. On Sunday nights Francois was always in a hurry, trying to get to Mai’s villa outside Vung Tau as soon as humanly possible. Traffic was horrendous at any hour but tonight was an even bigger tangle—it was Christmas Eve, and thousands of Catholics were rushing to their ancestral homes for the holiday. The one-lane road that led to Mai’s house was jammed with minibuses, cyclos, and the occasional wandering water buffalo, slowing progress to a crawl.

“Can’t you go around them?” Francois demanded, but his driver shook his head. Perhaps I need a new driver, he thought.

He wished he could command a helicopter, like Prime Minister Manh, who happened to be Mai’s husband. Francois hated wasting time in the car; it was hard for them to be together now that she was in the papers all the time. Photos of Mai and the minister were even showing up in the Western magazines.

Reporters couldn’t resist fawning over the dashing couple that was supposedly going to transform South Vietnam. Some writers had started comparing them to the Kennedys—journalists could be so stupid. But thankfully, Mai was often alone in the beach house. The minister had his regular meetings on Mondays in Saigon, and he traveled frequently around the country to inspect ARVN units and meet with province chiefs.

The minister loved visiting the provinces in person—that was the best way to collect the necessary bribes. Necessary, because the ministerial lifestyle was not cheap. There was a lot to look after: the big villa in Saigon, the Vung Tau hideaway, a rubber plantation, and thousands of hectares of prime rice-growing land in the Delta, all purchased by his dummy corporations. Francois found it surprising that the minister hadn’t tried (at least not yet) to make an “investment” in Francois’s off-the-books operation. Minister Manh had to know how much money “the Eel” was making—the arms trade was another potential honeypot to siphon. It was probably just a matter of time.

As soon as her husband left on Sundays to fly to the city, Mai would dismiss the servants and prepare for her lover. The anticipation was hard for Francois to take; his body ached thinking about her. He always brought a gift; this time a pair of delicate earrings, gold with rose-cut diamonds, fashioned by French jewelers in an antique style. He knew Mai would love them. They had a routine. They would share a light supper and a good bottle of wine—the minister had an excellent cellar—and retire to the second floor bedroom with the long view of the sea and the islands.

Francois loved watching the light play on the big statue of the Virgin Mary that rose over the harbor. He never tired of studying Vung Tau’s hilly coastline. And then there were the long, languorous nights, when they couldn’t get enough of each other. These moments with Mai were the only times Francois ever relaxed. He needed these little breaks;things were always so tense in town. Especially lately, he’d been under such pressure.

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