Chapter 14 Chapter Twelve

1 On the way to the Mito marina, I met several ambulances coming from the embankment, heading towards Rue Garnier.From the faces of passers-by on the street, you can almost estimate the pace of the rumors.They looked at me at first with hope and suspicion, for I had come from the Rue Garnier.But by the time I got to the embankment, I was already ahead of the news: life on the embankment was still busy, normal, undisturbed, and no one knew what was going on. I found Mr. Zhou's warehouse and walked to his residence.Everything is the same as it was on my last visit.The hound and the dog jumped from the ground onto the box and onto the suitcase, like two horses wrestling with no opponent in chess.The doll was crawling on the ground, and the two old men were still playing mahjong there.It's just that those young people were not there.As soon as I showed up at the door, a woman poured me a cup of tea.The old lady sat on the bed and looked at her little feet.

"Is Mr. Hang here?" I asked.While shaking his head, he said that there is no need to pour tea: I will) [But I am not in the mood to taste the irrelevant bitterness slowly. "I if autabsolu-mentque Jevole MonsieurI Ieng." I seem to have no way to express my impatient mood to them, but maybe my refusal to drink tea so abruptly caused them some anxiety.Or maybe, like Pyle, I have blood on my shoes. Anyway, it didn't take me long before a woman ushered me out of the room, down the stairs, and down two bustling, banner-lined streets, eventually leading me to what in the country of Pyle is probably called The "funeral parlor" just left me behind.The place was full of stone urns, and after the Chinese died, the bones were placed in those stone urns. "Mr. Hang," I said to an elderly Chinese man at the door, "Mr. Hang."This seemed like a suitable resting place.During the whole day, I first went to see the pornographic collection of the rubber plantation owner, and then I saw the massacred corpses in the square.Someone yelled from a back room, and the Chinese stood aside quickly and let me in.

Mr. Hang came out in person very kindly, and led me into a small room inside.On both sides of the room were black carved chairs, which were very uncomfortable.This is what you see in every Chinese living room, and it's neither common nor flattering.But this time I had the feeling that these chairs had just been sat on, because there were still five small teacups on the table, two of which had tea in them. "I interrupted your meeting," I said. "Business," said Mr. Hang evasively, "nothing important. I'm always happy to see you, Mr. Fowler." "I've just come from Rue Garnier," I said.

"I've thought that was the case." "You've heard..." "Someone called me. They thought I'd better avoid Mr. Zhou's house for a while. The police will be active today." "But you have nothing to do with it." "The job of the police is to catch criminals and give them an answer." "Pyle did it again this time," I said. "good." "It's a horrible thing to do." "General Tai is not a very reserved character." "And plastic bombs aren't something that boys from Boston can play with. Who's Pyle's boss, Mr. Hang?"

"I have the impression that Mr. Pyle is in complete control of himself." "What's his job? Is he from the O.S.S.?" "These acronyms are not very important." "What can I do, Hang? Must stop him." "You can put the truth in the papers. Or maybe you can't?" "My newspaper isn't interested in General Tay. They're only interested in your people, Hang." "Do you really want to stop Mr. Pyle, Mr. Fowler?" "Wish you could see him just now, Hang. He stood there and said it was all a regrettable mistake, and there was supposed to be a parade. And he said he had to wipe the blood off his shoes Clean, so I can go to see the envoy."

"Of course, you can tell the police all you know." "They're not interested in General Tay either. Do you think they dare touch an American? He has diplomatic privileges. He's a graduate of Harvard University. The Minister likes Pyle again. Hang, there was a woman in that square earlier, Her baby—she covered the dead baby with her straw hat. I can't get that scene out of my mind. In Fa Diem, there was a scene like this." "You've got to keep as calm as you can, Mr. Fowler." "What's he going to do next, Hang?" "Are you going to help us, Mr. Fowler?"

"He came in ignorantly, and people died for nothing because of his mistake. May your men kill him that time on the river in Nam Dinh. Then many people would not die in vain." "I agree with you, Mr. Fowler. He needs to be restrained a little. I have a suggestion." Someone coughed softly from behind the door, then spit loudly.He said, "How about taking him to supper at the Old Mill to-night? Between eight-thirty and nine-thirty." "Then what good is it...?" "We'll talk to him on the road," Hang said. "He may not be free tonight."

"Perhaps it would be better if you asked him to come to you first--at six-thirty. He would be free then: he would certainly come. If he had time to dine with you, then you would." Take a book and go to the window, as if you want to look at something by the light of the window." "Why at the old mill?" "That hotel is just over the bridge to Darko - I think we can find a place to talk without being disturbed." "What are you going to do?" "You don't need to know that, Mr. Fowler. I promise you, however, that we will take the mildest course of action that circumstances permit."

Hang's invisible friends were scurrying like mice over the wall. "Can you do this for us, Mr. Fowler?" "I don't know," I said. "I have no idea." "Sooner or later," said Hang, and I thought again of Captain Trune, who said the same thing in the opium den, "a man has to take sides. If he's going to stay a man." 2 I left a note at the American Legation telling Pyle to come find me and walked down the street to the Continental for a drink.The remnants of the explosion have been completely removed and the fire brigade has washed the square with water.It never occurred to me then that that time and that place would matter.It even occurred to me to sit there all night and skip my appointment to meet Pyle.Then it occurred to me that maybe I could frighten Pyle out of his activities and warn him that he was in danger--whatever that was, so I went home as soon as I had my beer.

When I got home, I began to hope that Pyle wouldn't be there.I tried to read books, but there wasn't a single book on my shelf that appealed to me.Maybe I should take a bag of cigarettes, but there is no one to burn opium for me.I reluctantly listened for footsteps, and finally heard footsteps approaching.Someone knocked on the door.I opened the door and it was only Dominguez. I said, "What's the matter with you, Dominguez?" He looked at me in surprise. "What's the matter?" He looked at his watch. "This is one of my regular times. Do you have any telegrams to send?"

"I'm sorry—I forgot. No telegram to send." "How about a follow-up to the bomb incident? Aren't you going to send something back?" "Oh, you put together an article for me, Dominguez. I don't know how it happened either—I was there, and maybe I was a little bit shocked. I still have it in my head It was too messy to write a newsletter." A mosquito was buzzing in my ear, and I reached out to strike, and Dominguez flinched instinctively. "It's nothing, Dominguez, I didn't hit it." He grinned wryly.He didn't take pleasure in killing casually, but he couldn't justify a practice that didn't hurt even the mosquitoes: after all, he was a Christian—a man who learned from Nero to make the human body into candles. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.He doesn't drink, doesn't eat meat, doesn't kill - I envy his kindness. "It's nothing, Dominguez. Just leave me alone tonight." I watched him from the window as he walked across Catina Street and went the other way.A tricycle was parked on the sidewalk across from my window, and Dominguez tried to hail one, but the driver shook his head.Maybe he was waiting for a customer in the shop, because this is not the place to park a tricycle.When I looked at my watch, it was strange to say that I had only waited for about ten minutes.When Pyle knocked on the door, I didn't even hear his footsteps. "Come in." But, as usual, the dog came in first. "I'm glad to have your note, Thomas. I thought you were mad at me this morning." "Maybe I'm mad. That's not a pretty sight." "Now that you know so much, it doesn't matter if I tell you more. This afternoon, I saw General Tai." "See him? Is he in Saigon? I assume he's here to see how his bombs are doing." "It was a private meeting, Thomas. I dealt with him very hard." He said it with the way a school team captain finds out that one of his guys broke a practice rule.Even so, I asked him with some hope, "Did you abandon him?" "I told him that if he staged another demonstration of his own accord, we would cut off all ties with him." "Haven't you cut all ties with him by now, Pyle?" Meanwhile his dog was sniffing around my ankles, and I pushed him away impatiently. "I can't cut him off. (Sit down, duke.) In the long run, he's our only hope. If he ever comes to power with our help, then we can count on him..." "How many more people have to die before you realize...?" I can tell you though that this is a hopeless argument. "Recognize what, Thomas?" "Recognize that there is no such thing as gratitude in politics." "At least they won't hate us like they hate the French." "Are you sure? Sometimes we have a love for our enemies and a hatred for our friends." "You talk like a European, Thomas. People here aren't that sophisticated." "Is that what you've learned in a few months? Next time, you'll say they're like kids." "Oh... from a certain point of view, the same can be said." "Please find me a simple child, Pyle. We were all very complicated minds when we were young. The older you get, the simpler you become. "But what's the use of telling him? There was an unreality in both of our debates. I was a newspaper commentator before I took office. I got up and went to the bookshelf. . "What are you looking for, Thomas?" "Oh, nothing, just an article I used to love. Can you join me for dinner, Pyle?" "Very well, Thomas. I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore. I know you don't agree with me, but a friend is a friend despite a difference, isn't it?" "I don't know. I don't think so." "At the end of the day, Feng'er is much more important than that." "Do you really think so, Pyle?" "Yo, she's the most important thing right now. To me. To you, Thomas." "Not anymore for me." "It was a dreadful adventure today, Thomas, but you'll find in a week's time that we've forgotten about it. We've got to take care of the relatives of the dead." "us?" "We have wired to Washington. We want permission to spend some of our funds." I cut him off. "How about dinner at the Old Mill? Nine to nine-thirty." "You can go wherever you like, Thomas." I went to the window.The sun had gone behind the roof.The tricycle driver was still waiting for the fare.I looked down at him and he raised his face to me. "Who are you waiting for, Thomas?" "I don't wait for anyone. I just want to find something." In order to cover up my actions, I picked up the book and read to the last bit of light: Drive through the street and care nothing, Everyone stares, wondering who I am, In case a fool is knocked over, If it's too bad to pay, I'll pay. How nice it is to have money! How nice it is to have money. "It's a ridiculous poem," said Pyle with disapproval. "It's the work of an old nineteenth-century poet. There aren't many poets like him." I looked down the street again.The tricycle driver has left. "Have you run out of wine?" Pyle asked. "No, but I thought you didn't..." "Maybe I'm starting to be reckless," Pyle said. "It's your influence. I think you're good for me, Thomas." I fetched the bottle and glass - forgot the first time, missed a glass, then had to go back to get water, and it took forever for me to do anything that night.He said, "You know, I've got a great family, but maybe my parents were a little stricter. We had one of those old houses on Chestnut Street, up the hill, and it's on the right. My mother kept Glassware. My father—when he's not washing his few old rocks—collects all the Darwin manuscripts and rare manuscripts he can. You see, they live in the past. Perhaps this is Why did York impress me so much. He seemed to let me see the modern day somewhat. My father was an isolationist." "Maybe I'd like your father a lot," I said. "I'm also an isolationist." Pyle was a quiet man, but that night he was quite talkative.I didn't listen to anything he said, because my mind was on other things.I tried my best to convince myself that Mr. Hang had other ways than resorting to straightforward and brutal methods.But in a war like this, I knew, there was no time for hesitation: use whatever weapon was at hand-napalm for the French, bullets or a knife for Mr. Hang.I said to myself, I wasn't born to be a referee, but it was too late—I'm going to let Pyle talk for a while before I warn him.He can stay with me that night.They're not likely to rush in here.I think he was talking about one of his old nanny - "She's actually more important to me than my mother, and besides, those blueberry pies she used to make!" at which point I cut him off . "Have you got a gun with you—since that night?" "No. We have orders in our legation..." "But you're on a special mission, right?" "It's no use having a gun - if they want to kill me, they can do it anytime. I'm like a coot, I can't see anything. In college they called me a bat - because I was in Visible in the dark, just like them. We all hung out together once..." He started babbling again.I went to the window again. A pedicab driver was waiting across the street.I can't be sure - they all look alike, but I don't think he's the previous one.Maybe he really had a guest waiting for him.I figured Pyle was safest in the embassy.Since I sent the signal, they must have planned this late-night affair, a plan to do with Darko's bridge.I couldn't understand why it was there, or how they'd do it: Pyle certainly wasn't stupid enough to drive past Darko after sunset.That bridge is always guarded by armed police on our side. "I was the only one talking," Pyle said. "I don't know what it is, but tonight somehow..." "Just say," I said, "I'm in a very peaceful mood today, that's all. Maybe we'd better have dinner together some other day." "No, don't cancel. I've always felt like I'm at a distance from you since...hey..." "Since you saved my life," I said, unable to hide my displeasure at the trauma I had imposed on myself. "No, I'm not talking about that. We had a good time talking that night though, didn't we? It was like it was the last time we talked. I know a lot about you, Thomas. I don't agree with you. Opinion never mind that, but to you, maybe that's right—to not get involved. You've kept that attitude, even after you broke your leg, and you've stayed neutral." "There's always a moment of change," I said. "A moment of emotion..." "You're not there yet. I doubt you'll ever get there. And I'm unlikely to change—unless I die," he added briskly. "Doesn't something like this morning change? Doesn't that change a man's opinion?" "Those people are just casualties of the war," he said. "It's a pity, but you can't hit the target every time. They died for justice anyway." "Would you say the same thing if it was your old nanny who knew how to make blueberry pie?" He ignored my easy-to-understand reasoning. "You could also say at a certain speed, they were sacrificed for democracy," he said. "I don't know how to translate this sentence into Vietnamese." I suddenly felt very tired and wanted him to go away and die.Then I could start life again - from before he broke in. "You're never going to take my words seriously, are you, Thomas?" he grumbled, with schoolboy gaiety.On that night, he seemed to be so happy all the time. "Listen to me—Feng'er is watching a movie right now—how about you spending the whole night with me? I have nothing to do right now." It was as if someone was guiding him outside, Teach him how to choose words and sentences, so that I have no possibility to evade.He went on, "Why don't we go to the country pub? I haven't been there since that night. The food is as good as at the Old Mill, and there's music." I said, "I'd rather not think about that night again." "I'm sorry. I'm such a fool sometimes, Thomas. How about going up to the Embankment and having a Chinese meal?" "For a good meal, you've got to book ahead. Are you afraid of going to the Old Mill, Pyle? There's a good barbed wire there, and there's always a policeman on the bridge. You ain't stupid enough to drive through Darko ,right?" "Not really. I just thought it would be fun tonight if we had a good night." He made a movement, knocked the glass over, and smashed it to the ground. "Lucky omen," he said dryly. "I'm sorry, Thomas." I picked up the broken glass and put it in the ashtray. "How's it going, Thomas?" The broken glass reminded me of the many bottles that spilled from the Bower Bar. "I warned Feng that I might go out with you." What a poor choice of word "warning."I picked up the last piece of broken glass. "I have an appointment with someone at Majestic," I said, "and I'm not free until nine o'clock." "Well, I guess I'll have to go back to the office. But I'm always afraid that I won't be able to leave." There was no harm in giving him such a chance. "It doesn't matter if you come later," I said. "If you really can't go, then come up here a little later. I'll be back at ten, and if you don't make it to supper, I'll come home and wait for you." "I'll let you know..." "Don't worry about it. You'll go to the old mill—or you'll come to me here." I leave the decision to a God I don't believe in: meddle if you like: he works A telegram on the table: a message from the minister.You wouldn't exist unless you had the power to change the words of the future. "Now, you go, Pyle. I have some things to do." Feeling strangely tired, I heard him go, his dog's paws pattering low on the ground. 3 When I went out, there were no tricycles nearby, so I had to go to Rue d'Orme.I went down the street to the Majestic Hotel and stood there for a while to watch them unload those American bombers.The sun had already set and they were working by the arc lamps.It wasn't on my mind to create an excuse that I wasn't there when it happened, but since I'd told Pyle I was going to the Majestic, I had an irrational aversion to telling more unnecessary lies. "Good night, Fowler." It was Wilkins. "Good night." "How's your leg?" "It's much better now." "Another brilliant newsletter?" "I let Dominguez do it." "Oh, they told me you happened to be there." "Yes, I'm there. But the pages are tight these days. They don't need many manuscripts." "It's a boring business, isn't it?" Wilkins said. "We were back in the days of Russell and the old Times. Press releases in light balloons. Back then, you still had time to write some pretty good stuff. Hey, he'd even write an entire Column. Luxurious big hotels, bombers, the fall of night. Now, night will never fall again, will it, such a telegram of a few dollars and one word." Far up in the sky, you can faintly hear the laughing VOICE ONE: Someone broke a glass, like Pyle did earlier.The sound came to us like icicles. "The light shines on the fair and the brave," Wilkins quotes maliciously. "What's up tonight, Fowler? Would you like to go somewhere for dinner?" "I'm going to supper. Go up to the old mill." "Hope you enjoyed your meal. Granger's there too. They should do an ad: Granger's Special Night." For those guests who prefer a background of noise. " I said goodbye to him and went into the movie theater next door - Errol Flynn, maybe Taylor Bauer (I couldn't tell who was who when they were both in bodysuits ), hanging from a rope, jumping from a balcony, riding a bare horse, galloping towards the colorful dawn.He rescued a girl, killed his enemy, and lived a happy life.It was a so-called film for lads, but showing them Oedipus running from the palace of Thebes with blood in his eyes would certainly be a better education for modern life .No life is as if magically sheltered.Pyle has been very lucky on the road back from Xinyuan in Fayan, but the luck will not last forever.People have two hours to see, and none of the spells are magic.A French soldier sat next to me with his hand on a girl's lap. I envy his simplicity, regardless of whether he is happy or painful.Before the movie finished, I walked out and called a tricycle to the old mill. The hotel is surrounded by barbed wire to prevent grenade attacks, and two armed policemen stand guard at the bridgehead.The owner of the shop, who had grown fat from his rich Burgundy diet, personally let me go inside the barbed wire. It was a sweltering night and the hotel smelled of fat chicken and melted butter. "Are you coming to M. Grandyard's banquet?" he asked me. "no." "Want a table for one?" That's when I thought for the first time about the days ahead and the questioning I might have to answer. "For one person," I said.It was almost as if I had said out loud that Pyle was dead. The hotel has only one lobby, Granger and the others occupy a large table at the back of the hall, and the owner gave me a small table closest to the barbed wire.There is no glass on the windows, for fear that the glass fragments will fly around.I know a few of Granger's guests.I hail them before I sit down: Granger himself looks away.I hadn't seen him in months—only once since the night Pyle fell in love.Maybe something I said that night offended him through the fog of alcohol, because he was sitting at the head of the table in a huff, only Madame Despley, the wife of the director of public relations, and the press office Captain Deepak greeted me with a nod.There was also a big man, probably a hotel owner from Phnom Penh, a French girl whom I had never seen before, and two or three faces I had only seen in bars.This time it seemed to be a quiet banquet. I ordered a glass of cinnamon because I wanted to give Pyle a little time to come up here - their plan failed.As long as I don't start dinner, it's as if I still have time to hope.I don't know what to expect next.Hope O． S, or whatever his gang is called, is it smooth sailing?Long live plastic bombs and General Tay?Or am I - it's me - hoping for some miracle: isn't one of the methods of discussion Mr. Hang arranged to just die?If the two of us were all killed on the road back from Xinyuan, how much easier it would be.I drank my glass of herbaceous wine for twenty minutes before I ordered dinner.It was almost nine-thirty by then: he wouldn't be coming now. I didn't want to hear it, but I was listening again: What are you listening to?A scream?A gunshot?Some kind of action by the police outside?But, anyway, I probably won't hear anything, because Granger's party is getting lively.The innkeeper had a beautiful, untrained voice, and he began to sing.Another bottle of champagne was opened, and the rest of the guests joined in singing, except Granger.He sat there, glaring at me across the hall with angry eyes.I don't know if it's going to be a fight: I'm no match for Granger. They were singing a sentimental song.I'm sitting here, not at all hungry, feeling sorry for a Duc de Shire.At this moment, I almost thought of Feng'er for the first time.I knew she was safe and well.I remember Pyle saying, sitting on the floor, waiting for the Viet Minh to arrive, "She's as bright as a flower." I replied flippantly, "Poor flower." Now, She would never see New England again, nor would she know the secrets of playing canasta.Maybe she will never get a sense of security in her life: what right do I have to regard her as less valuable than those dead bodies in the square?Pain does not multiply with numbers: one body can contain as much pain as the whole world will feel.I've been judging by numbers like a journalist, I've betrayed my own principles, I've gotten as involved as Pyle.In my opinion, any decision will never be simple again.I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to ten.Maybe, he was really stuck in something, and maybe the "god" he believed in had acted for him.He was sitting in his office at the legation, worrying over a coded telegram that needed to be deciphered.Soon he would be plodding up the stairs to my room in Rue Catina.I thought, "If he does go, I'll tell him all about it." Granger stood up suddenly and walked from his desk to me.There was a chair in the path that he didn't even see.He tripped over a chair and put one hand on the edge of my desk. "Fowler," he said, "go outside." I put down enough bills to pay for the meal and followed him out.I wasn't in the mood to fight him then, but back then, I didn't care if he knocked me unconscious.There are not many ways we can alleviate our feelings of guilt. He leaned on the bridge railing, and the two policemen watched him from a distance.He said, "I've got to talk to you, Fowler." I got within range of him hitting me and waited.He didn't move.He was like a symbolic statue now, representing everything in America I thought I hated—as badly designed and as meaningless as the Statue of Liberty.Without moving his body, he said, "You thought I was drunk. You are wrong. " "What's the matter, Granger?" "I've got to talk to you, Fowler. I'm not going to sit there with those Frenchies tonight. I don't like you, Fowler, but you speak English.a kind of english. "There he leaned, in the half-light, a plump mass, a continent unexplored. "What do you want, Granger?" "I don't like Brits," Granger said. "I don't know why Pyle put up with you. Maybe because he's from Boston and I'm from Pittsburgh and proud of it." "Why not?" "Look, here you go again." He tried slightly to imitate my British accent. "You guys talk like you're blowing. You're all unbearably tall. You think you know it all." "Goodbye, Granger. I have an appointment." "Don't go, Fowler. Don't you have a heart? I can't talk to those Frenchies." "you're drunk." "I had two glasses of champagne, that's all. Would you be drunk if you drank that much? I've got to go up north." "What's wrong with that?" "Oh, I didn't tell you, did I? I always thought everybody knew it all. I got a telegram from my wife this morning." "How about it?" "My son has polio. It's very bad." "I'm sorry to hear that." "You needn't be sorry. It's not your child." "Can't you fly home for a trip?" "Can't go. They want a report on some fucking mop up around Hanoi, and Connolly's sick again." (Connolly was his assistant.) "I'm sorry, Granger. I wish I could be of help." "Tonight is his birthday. He will be eight years old at 10:30 tonight. This is according to our time in the United States. It is for this reason that I invited this group of people to drink incense. Didn't know he was sick. I had to tell a guy, Fowler, and I couldn't tell these Frenchies." "Doctors are very good at treating polio now." "Even if he's lame, I don't care, Fowler. As long as he's alive. Me, I'm broke, but he's got brains. You know what I'm doing there when that son of a bitch sings Is it? I'm praying. I thought to myself, maybe if God wants a life, he can take mine. " "So, do you believe in God?" "Wish I believed it," Granger said.He wiped his large hand over his lids as though he had a headache, but the gesture was to disguise the fact that he was wiping away tears. "I'd drink it if I were you," I said. "No, I have to stay sober. I don't want to look back and think that I was drunk the night my son died. My wife can't drink, can she?" "Can't you tell your newspaper...?" "Connolly's not really sick. He went to Singapore after a woman. I'll have to cover it up for him. If the newspaper knows the truth, he'll be fired." His bloated body pulled itself together. "I'm sorry I took you so long, Fowler. I just wanted to talk to someone. Gotta go in and toast those guys now. How funny you hate me for being rude and I'm coming to you talk." "I'd like to write that story for you. I can pass it off as Connolly." "Your characteristics can't be mixed." "I don't dislike you, Granger. I've been in the dark about a lot of things..." "Oh, you and I, we don't get along. Thank you for your sympathy, though." Am I very different from Pyle, I wondered?Do I also have to put one foot into the plight of life to see the pain?Granger went back in, and I could hear many voices calling him in unison.I found a tricycle and pulled me home.There was no one at home.I sat down and waited until midnight.Then, without hope, I went downstairs and found Feng Er standing in the street.