The Son (20 page)

By an ironic coincidence the dinner I went to that evening was at the house of a former girlfriend, a gentle and perceptive academic and fellow divorcee with whom I'd had a brief but passionate fling two years previously. She had remarried since, without, as far as I knew, telling her husband about our past liaison, but we had remained friends. Much as I liked her I could have done without it. All I could think about was that unfinished conversation. I did my best to be sociable, and my fading bruises attracted some interest, but my heart wasn't in it and Liz – that was my friend – couldn't help noticing.

‘What's the matter, my love,' she asked quietly, when no one was listening. ‘I've never seen you so worried.
Chagrin d'amour
?'

I shook my head. ‘Don't ask,' I said darkly. ‘I'm just hoping I haven't fucked up my life.'

‘You Paul? Surely not you!' It didn't sound much like a compliment. But she looked concerned, and she didn't ask any more questions, and I was grateful to her for that.

Saturday was largely a waste of time. With nothing else to do I spent it mostly thinking, and waiting. But that evening Hao rang again as promised. This time she called from a phone booth, kitchen noises replaced by the sound of traffic.

‘I'm sorry about last night,' she said. ‘I wanted to talk longer but I couldn't.'

‘I guessed you were having some problem. Is everything alright with the cousins?'

‘Not really. I don't think they like me very much. Paul, you're quite sure about what you said last night? That I can stay longer?'

‘Absolutely! My friend rang me specially to tell me. Why, is that what you've decided?'

‘That's what I need to talk to you about. Could I come back, and stay with you again? Please? I'm sorry to be such a nuisance–'

‘Don't be silly. Of course you can! Do you want to come now? I can come and get you.'

‘No, I'd better wait until tomorrow. I have to pack, and I'm very tired. I've been in the shop all day. You're sure you don't mind? It's not just the cousins, you know. I really want to see you.'

‘Of course I don't mind! Do you think I'd turn you away? Listen. I want to apologise for last Monday.'

‘You don't have to.'

‘Yes I do. I did and said some stupid things and I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. If it's any consolation I've been kicking myself ever since.'

I took a deep breath. ‘But I meant what I said, Hao. I love you. It may not be what you want to hear right now, but it's the truth. So when we talk, tomorrow night or whenever, can you tell me the truth too? Tell me what you feel? I know we haven't known each other very long, but there have been times when I felt we were getting very close. At other times I wasn't so sure. Now I'm confused. There's too much that hasn't been said between us. So will you do that please? Tell me honestly what you feel? And after that I promise I won't bother you again if that's what you want. But I need to know.'

I stopped, aware I was talking too much. There was silence, while I listened to my breathing. Then she spoke.

‘Yes. I will. You're right. There are things that – that need to be said. I can't talk about them now, but I will tell you. I promise.'

‘Thank you. That's all I ask.'

When we hung up a few minutes later for the first time I felt hope.

On Sunday morning I was up bright and early myself. I'd told Eric I wanted to make sure he wasn't followed, and for that I had a simple plan. By seven thirty I was parked up the road from Marrickville station, watching as he walked towards me.

He followed my instructions exactly. Half way up he crossed over, without looking at me, and turned left at the next corner. I stayed where I was, watching the road. No one crossed after him, or seemed to be following him. I drove off, took up a similar position two streets away, where we repeated the process, with the same result. It was at best a basic precaution, which wouldn't have fooled experienced surveillants, but if he was being followed, which I doubted, I didn't think it would be very professional. The Mad Buffaloes didn't have that kind of resources. For good measure we went through it all again a third time nearer the cousins' house. Then, when I was satisfied that he had come alone, I drove off again, circled round and picked him up as he entered their street.

‘Real spy stuff,' he said, grinning happily. He looked alert and excited, as if it was all a game. He had taken my words to heart: he wore near-new jeans that had been recently washed, a polo shirt with a collar and a canvas jacket that for once fitted him. He'd even taken his ear-ring off, though he still had his hair long. He looked like a kid dressed up to visit the relatives.

‘Everything go OK this morning?' I asked. ‘You had no problem getting away?'

‘No. Everyone was still in bed. I told them last night I'd be spending the day with my aunt, but no one was interested. In any case we don't always tell each other where we're going. Did you talk to her?'

‘Yes. Everything's fine. In fact she's coming back to stay with me for a few days. We'll be seeing her tonight, if you have time.'

‘Sure. I don't have to be back early.'

He didn't say anything else, but I could see he was even happier.

I drove quickly out of Marrickville, and soon we were on the M5, heading for Goulburn and Canberra. This time I didn't try to break the sound barrier. Instead I used the time to catch up on some details.

‘Tell me what they said about Loc,' I said. I was more interested in that than in their weapons training, significant though that was. What I wanted to know was what they'd revealed of their plans.

It had been skilfully done.

The discussion on the Wednesday evening had stuck to generalities, along the lines of their regular meetings in town, with the usual anti-communist themes. Binh had repeated that they'd been selected because they were the best in the group. Then he had announced that the leadership was planning a ‘special operation', as he called it, against Loc. All he would say about it was that it was very secret, but he asked if they were prepared to take part in it. They all said yes, though Nghia had seemed nervous.

The next morning early Vo Khanh had taken them on their weapons training. He took this role seriously, as befitted a former Marines officer, whereas the more intellectual aspects of the job seemed to fall to Binh. This reinforced my feeling that somehow Bach Ho was involved.

Afterwards Binh had taken them for a second talk. This time he'd been more specific, though still short on detail. He'd described Loc as a top Viet Cong leader, one of the architects of the war and the repression which followed, and said his removal would strike a great blow for the resistance. Now he said they were trained guerrilla fighters, and like guerrillas they must strike at the enemy whenever an opportunity arose. Loc's visit was giving them that opportunity. He asked again if they were willing to play their part.

Again they all said yes, though Nghia's reluctance was more evident, and later he asked to withdraw. He returned to Sydney separately with Vo Khanh, after being sworn to secrecy.

Finally before leaving the farm Binh had taken Lam and Eric aside for one last talk, one at a time. Eric didn't know what he'd said to Lam, but to Eric he'd been pretty clear: was Eric prepared to avenge his parents' death and strike a decisive blow for the liberation of Vietnam? The word assassination wasn't mentioned, but there was no doubt what was meant. Eric had asked if it would be dangerous. Binh had assured him they were working on a plan that was virtually foolproof, and he would be protected and supported throughout. Eric had then confirmed he'd do it.

Binh had congratulated Eric, said he'd give him more details later. In the meantime he wasn't to discuss it with anyone other than himself or Vo Khanh.

‘What about Quang?' I asked. ‘Did anyone mention him?'

‘No. And I didn't want to ask directly. But when we were talking at the end, I asked Binh if he'd ever killed anyone. He gave me a look, and said that's not a question you should ask. But then he said he'd never ask anyone to do something he couldn't do himself. That's when I said I could do it.'

I was impressed. Eric had conducted himself with great coolness throughout. I wanted to ask how he felt about deceiving his friends in that way, but thought I'd better not rub his face in it.

Instead I decided to come clean.

‘Thanks, Eric. I think you've done a great job. Now it's my turn to tell you a secret. But this time it's really secret. You must promise not to tell anyone. Not even your aunt at this stage. Promise?'

‘Yes.'

‘It's about the people we're going to see. It's also about your father, and me too in a way.'

He listened in grave silence as I told him about the Agency, and what David and I had done for a living.

‘So you were a spy after all,' he said with a touch of awe in his voice.

‘Don't let it go to your head. And don't tell the people we're meeting either. They'll want to tell you themselves. And they'll probably get you to sign your life away first.'

Roger had given me an address, a safe-house in Downer, one of Canberra's northern suburbs. They were already there when we arrived, Samantha looking sharp and sexy in a sweat shirt and stretch jeans. Coffee and juice were laid on and Roger democratically poured while I did the introductions. I felt like a horse-owner parading a new colt in the ring, but they must have been satisfied because Roger soon moved on to the next step. As I expected, the first thing he did was get Eric to sign some papers.

‘I'm going to tell you something very sensitive, Eric. It concerns our national security, and we only tell people when we have to. It's called need-to-know. Do you understand that?'

‘Yes.'

‘Good. So before anything else I want you to read this form and sign it. Ask me any questions you want. But we don't go any further until you've done that. Is that OK with you?'

‘Of course. Thank you.'

Eric started to sign but Roger stopped him.

‘Read it first. Make sure you understand it.'

‘Yes. Sorry.' Eric nodded, a little chastened, read the form more carefully, then signed it. Roger witnessed it and put it away in his briefcase.

‘Now for the exciting part,' he said. ‘I don't know what Paul has told you, but we are the agency that looks after foreign intelligence for Australia. We're spies, in other words.'

He proceeded to give Eric the beginner's guide to the Agency: what they were, what they did, who they worked for. This was less than I'd already told him, but Eric sat through it with rapt attention, giving no sign that he'd heard any of it before.

‘We all belong to it here – Sam and Keith and I – and so did your father, and Paul here until ten years ago. In fact I knew your father, we did our training together. I was very sorry when he died. He was a good officer. He'd probably be in my shoes if he were still alive.'

As Roger had said the same thing about me at our last meeting I took that with a grain of salt. But Eric was impressed. There was none of his provocative flippancy about him, he looked grave and sober and totally reliable.

‘Now we've got a lot to cover today, so I won't waste too much time talking. But first I want to say a few things, to make sure we're all on the same page.'

‘The reason we're having this meeting is because you got yourself involved with a group of people in Sydney who look as if they might be up to no good. The Mad Buffaloes, as they call themselves …'

Roger had prepared well for his talk with Eric. Whatever annoyance he felt at the way I'd cornered him into it he kept well hidden. Starting with what had attracted Eric to the Mad Buffaloes in the first instance, he took him gradually through the process which had brought him to the meeting. He was careful to show sympathy and understanding for Eric's motives, and he watched Eric as he spoke, gauging the effect of his words.