Up Country by NELSON DEMILLE

Author:NELSON DEMILLE
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Tags: Vietnam War, War stories, Detective and Mystery Stories, Vietnamese Conflict, Mystery & Detective, Americans - Vietnam, FIC000000, Fiction, 1961-1975, Mystery fiction, Vietnam, Suspense, Americans, Military, Large type books, General, War & Military, Government Investigators, History
ISBN: 9780446516570
Publisher: Warner Books
Published: 2002-01-15T04:37:32+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

I spent the next few hours sightseeing with my guidebook in hand, snapping photos, taking cyclos and taxis, doubling back on streets, and generally making life miserable for anyone who was trying to follow me.

The crowds around the sights were thin because of the late celebration the night before, and I had the feeling that my contact might wait until 2 P.M., when there were more people around.

Almost everyone who was meandering about were Caucasians, so I didn’t stick out. Most of the morning sufferers, I noticed, were with organized tour groups but as the morning got later, I saw a few Viet families out for a stroll. The walls of the Citadel were over two kilometers on each side, and I stayed within the walls where most of the people were.

At 11:30 A.M., I left the walled city through a gate that put me back on the river walk. I headed south along the embankment where there were a good number of people strolling, and dozens of cyclos, which followed me wherever I went, the drivers yelling, “Hello! Cyclo? Hello! Cyclo?”

The cyclomen, as in Saigon and Nha Trang, looked like what was left of the losing side in the war. The winning side looked like the cop in the Immigration police station. It had been one of those wars where the vanquished looked slightly more well adjusted than the victors. The only hope I saw in this country was in the eyes of the children, and even those eyes didn’t always look hopeful.

I continued along the river and came to the main gates opposite the flag tower where Susan and I had been the night before. The gates were open to the public today, and I re-entered the walled city and crossed the ornamental bridge where dozens of tourists were snapping pictures. I was now in the Imperial Enclosure, formerly reserved for the Emperor and his court. The Emperor’s Palace was also open, and I entered the huge, dark structure. The entrance hall was red and black lacquered wood, with lots of gilded dragons, and green demons with glassy eyes, the sort of stuff that doesn’t help a hangover.

I exited the rear of the palace and directly in front of me was the Halls of the Mandarins, Number 32 in my guidebook.

This was another ornate building, which, according to my book, had been resurrected from the ashes of 1968, and it had that old/new look, like a Disneyland pavilion. I snapped a photo.

It was 11:45, and I had no idea where, exactly, I was supposed to meet this person. The Halls of the Mandarins was big, and like all buildings, it had an outside and an inside, but Mr. Conway had not been specific, though common sense would dictate inside if it was raining, which it wasn’t.

I walked around the perimeter of the building, and by now I was certain I wasn’t being watched or followed. TV shows to the contrary, it’s almost impossible to tail someone for three hours unless you’re on a treadmill, and then it’s easy to spot your tail.

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