The Son (12 page)

While waiting I tried to clean up the mess. I managed to close the venetian blinds – I didn't want curious looks from across the street the next morning – but moving about was too painful, and after righting a couple of chairs I turned the lights out and sat down again on the floor. I wanted to sleep. But I forced myself to think.

There had been three of them. Three dark shapes, their faces covered in scarves or handkerchiefs, dimly glimpsed in Vivien's darkened office before they struck me down. I wouldn't be able to identify them, but I knew by their shape and their way of walking that they were Vietnamese, and the accent in those words had left no doubt. Perhaps one of the young men at Eric's house had been among them. They must have come in earlier, before the front door was locked, and waited on one of the floors, or in the toilet.

I also knew that none of them had been Eric, and was grateful for that small mercy. I was getting tired of him and his problems, but that would have been too much to take.

I dozed off a little, thinking of Rachel, and when she was next due up on her holidays. That helped take my mind off the pain. The lift brought me back to the present. A moment later Hao stepped into the room. She fumbled round until she found the switch. Then she caught her breath and stood still.

‘My God! Paul! What on earth–'

‘Sorry for the mess,' I said, and managed a lopsided smile. I had to tilt my head back to see her. She had dressed hurriedly, in dark slacks and sweater and plain shoes, her hair pulled back in a pony-tail. She wore no make-up and her face was pale and strained. She looked like a million dollars.

She knelt on the floor and took my hand in hers. I flinched and she saw the state it was in.

‘Who did this to you? Was it Eric?'

‘No. Not Eric. Tell you later. Can you help me get home?'

‘You need a doctor! You need to go to a hospital. Let me call an ambulance.'

‘No. No doctor. No ambulance. Just take me home. I'll be alright.'

‘But you can't–'

It took a moment to dissuade her.

‘Please. For Eric. No hospital. No police. Can you drive?'

‘Yes. I have a car in Leeds.'

‘Ring Quang. The man I told you about. Number in my coat pocket. He'll know what to do.'

She looked round at the mess, dismay and incredulity on her face.

‘Paul, I'm so sorry about this.'

‘Dear sweet Hao. I don't think I could have made it to the airport tomorrow.'

I felt absurdly happy.

The rest of the night went by like a bad dream. I was too stiff to move and Hao had to help me down to the basement car park, and at the other end practically carried me up the stairs to the flat. She led me straight to bed and made me lie down on my side. She put a blanket tenderly over me and went out to ring Quang.

‘He's coming,' she said. ‘He's bringing someone.'

In an awful parody of some secret dream she helped me undress. She hissed quietly when she saw the state of my back, but she set about cleaning it and applying antiseptic with calm efficiency. People who had survived refugee boats had seen worse. She gave me painkillers from the bathroom cabinet and I dozed off.

Later there was Quang, looking down at me with anguish in his eyes.

‘I told you these people were rough,' he said with a wan smile.

‘I didn't expect them to get quite so rough,' I mumbled. My face was too stiff to smile back. He too wanted me to go to hospital, but understood when I refused.

‘Because of that young man?'

‘It wasn't him who did this. But I don't want him involved. If the police come in he'll only get into trouble.'

Quang's friend was an elderly Vietnamese with a shock of white hair on a large round head, who smiled at me and looked me over. He took my pulse, shone a light into my eyes, gave me a couple of shots. He carefully explored my hand, my back and my rib-cage. He had gentle hands, and I went to sleep before he'd finished.

When I woke up again it was broad daylight and Hao was dozing in an armchair near the bed. My chest was strapped up and my right hand in a splint, and my head felt full of cotton wool. I made a sound and she looked at me in alarm.

‘You'll miss your plane,' I said. I had no idea of the time.

‘I've already missed it.'

‘Oh God! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to be such a nuisance.'

‘It was my fault. I should have listened to you.'

‘What are you going to do? What about your job?'

‘I rang them. I used your phone, I hope you don't mind. They said they'll try to keep it open. But I don't really care. I can find another.'

She wore the same clothes as the night before. Even in my doped-up state I could see she looked exhausted.

‘Can I take up your offer? Stay here for a few days, until you get better?'

‘Of course.' As if I'd say no.

She fed me more tablets and I drifted back to sleep, to be woken again when Quang returned with his friend. Quang also looked as if he hadn't slept much, but his friend smiled when he saw I was awake. I took a closer look at him. He was a short, sturdy man in his early sixties, with the lined face of someone who had seen a lot of hardship, but a patient, understanding look in his eyes. His English was barely comprehensible and Quang had to interpret.

‘He doesn't think your hand is broken – just badly bruised. And your ribs should be alright if you lie still for a few days. It's probably just a bruise, or at worst a cracked rib. But if it doesn't improve you should go to a hospital.'

‘Then I'll just have to get better, won't I.'

The friend shone his torch again into my eyes, took my pulse, made me count his fingers.

‘How's your head?'

‘Sore. And I get headaches.'

‘You'll have to stay in bed for a few days anyway. In case you have concussion.'

‘What about my office? I need to ring my assistant–'

‘I'll do that,' Hao said. ‘You just rest.
Anh
Quang, we shouldn't tire him too much.'

‘Don't worry,
Em
, I won't let him get tired.'

Anh
Quang, she had called him, Big Brother Quang, and
Em
, he had replied, Little Sister. Quang gave me a roguish smile.

‘Why didn't you tell me she was your friend?'

‘Do you know her?'

‘I knew her family in Saigon. I met her father a few times. A good man, if a little impractical. I was sorry when he died.'

‘And her husband? Did you know him?'

He gave me a bland look. ‘Yes. I knew him too. You're in good hands with her, Mr Paul. I can see now why you're so concerned about her nephew.'

It seemed I was in good hands with his friend too. According to Quang he'd been one of the best army surgeons in Vietnam in his day. And he knew the communists too – six years in the camps, before they let him out. He wasn't allowed to practise in Australia. His English was too poor, and he couldn't be bothered requalifying. ‘So please don't tell anyone. He only came because I insisted.'

Quang sat down. ‘I can't stay long. But this is serious, Paul. It's the first time they've attacked a non-Vietnamese. You're sure you don't want to go to the police?'

‘Absolutely. But now I really want to find out more about them. When's that friend of yours coming out? The politician from Vietnam?'

‘Loc? Soon. I haven't tried to contact him yet. I want to find out more about what they're planning. There's something I don't like about all this, Paul. Vo Khanh, and that Mr Bach. Something doesn't feel right.'

‘Be careful. You've seen what they did to me.'

I was exhausted when he left. Hao stuck her head in briefly, asked if she could borrow the car.

‘Of course. But I need to see Eric.'

‘I've rung him. He'll be here later. You need more rest first.'

Eric came late that afternoon. I heard Hao's voice sharp in the sitting room, and then she came in, looking angry.

‘Eric's here,' she said. ‘Are you fit enough to see him?'

‘Yes. But Hao – it might be best if I talk to him alone.'

She seemed about to argue, then nodded and walked out. Eric came in, looking chastened and uncomfortable. I guessed she'd given him a good talking to.

‘It was your friends who did this, wasn't it?' He nodded glumly. ‘I thought I recognised one of them. The young man at your place, who had a tattoo on his arm.'

‘I didn't mean this to happen. I'm sorry.'

‘Are you?'

‘Yes. I never thought they'd go so far. I told them you were bothering me, asking questions about the Mad Buffaloes, going round to the restaurant, and they said they'd fix it, they'd scare you off – but they didn't tell me they were going to beat you up like this.'

‘Well, now you know what kind of people they are.'

‘My aunt said you don't want to go to the police.'

‘That's right.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because I don't want to get you into trouble. You've already been questioned once, if the police bring you in again on something like this they may well try to have you sent back to Britain, and I don't want that to happen. But they have to be stopped.'

He stared down at me. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, except that he didn't seem to be enjoying it.

‘For that I need your help.'

‘How?'

‘By telling me everything you know about them.'

He didn't say anything, looking down at me with his dark serious eyes. I let him stew in his silence for a while.

‘Come on,' I said. ‘Sit down, and let's talk about this.'

He pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed, still looking at me.

‘You're asking me to rat out on my friends,' he said. ‘I know what they did was wrong, but you're asking me to betray my friends.'

‘It's not your friends I'm worried about. It's the people behind them. People like Vo Khanh, and Mr Bach. Think about it, Eric. I'm not trying to get your friends into trouble. But if this is what they do to someone who simply asks questions, what will they do to their real enemies? Next time someone could get killed. And it could be someone like your aunt. So I want you to tell me all about them. Who they are, and what they're up to. And I don't want you to tell them. Do you think you can do that?'

Still he didn't answer, and I used my trump card.

‘It's not an easy thing to do, Eric. It takes courage, and a sense of what's right and wrong. Your father had courage, and so did your mother, and I know they'd be saying the same thing to you. So go away and think about it. And come back when you're ready. And Eric?'

‘Yes?'

‘Let's keep your aunt out of it. This is between us.'

He nodded, and left soon after, still looking sombre. Hao came back.

‘What have you said to him?' she asked. ‘I've never seen him so grim.'

‘We've just had a good talk. Can you pass me the phone? I need to ring Viv. Otherwise she won't know what's hit her when she walks in on Monday.'

‘I've already rung her. We've been round and cleaned up the mess.'

‘You went to the office?'

‘I didn't think it was fair to leave it to her. She wanted to come and see you but I told her you were still under sedation. She's coming this evening.'

‘You're a bit of a wonder,' I said. ‘I can see why they want you back in Leeds.'

By Tuesday I was starting to get about. I wanted to be back on my feet before then but Hao and my personal physician both insisted I needed more rest, and practically forced me to stay in bed – and later sit fretfully in an armchair – while Hao cosseted me and people dropped in with expressions of concern: Vivien of course, several times, to report on progress at work, Cathy down from the Hunter Valley as soon as Vivien had rung her, Jack Lipton and Sen, alerted by Hao, the people next door. Vivien had also phoned Rachel, who rang back at once. She had tests on that week, but she said she'd be up on the Friday.

‘Dad, who was that who answered the phone?'

‘That? Oh. Just a friend, who's helping to look after me. Maybe she'll still be here when you come.'

‘She sounded foreign.'

I'd have some explaining to do.

To each of them I gave the same story: a random attack in the street, by some yobs who had objected when I'd tried to stop them breaking into my car. Only Vivien knew the real story, and not much of that either: that it was the work of some Vietnamese thugs, angry that I'd been sticking my nose into their private affairs. She had agreed to keep quiet, for fear of getting Hao's nephew into trouble – I assured her he wasn't involved – but she was shocked and outraged by what she saw as an affront to civilisation. Not everyone would have been so understanding.

Even with Hao I was economical with the truth. She knew of course that it was members of Eric's group who had attacked me, and she was very angry with him – he had the sense to lie low most of that week – but she accepted my explanation that it wasn't his fault; and while she knew by now that Quang was conducting his own investigation into their activities, and I'd told her about the farm, I'd made no mention of Loc, nor of firearms, nor of my request to Eric. There'd be time for that when I knew more myself. I saw no point in alarming her unduly.

Our relationship was slowly changing. From patient to nurse, to something more like friendship, and perhaps deeper still. We didn't talk about it, but I sensed she was aware of it too. When she looked at me sometimes I thought I detected a softness in her eyes. At other times she seemed to be quietly assessing me, as if she had yet to reach a decision. I kept my distance. It was a long time since I'd shared my living quarters with a woman, other than Rachel when she came to visit, and as I started to mend I felt once again that familiar stirring in the blood. But this time I wasn't going to rush things. I'd already spooked her once, I didn't want to lose her a second time, however tenuous the link still between us.