Page 181 of Cry Havoc
“Another, please,” he said, breathing in the fragrances rising with the steam.
She took it without a word and returned moments later with his second round, knowing that he had no idea he had just been drugged.
Leaving him alone to unwind, she went to the kitchen to prepare a meal of pho—beef broth and rice noodles—withbanh xeo—crispy crepes filled with shrimp.
When all the ingredients were prepared and the beef broth was warming on the stove, she made a third stiff scotch, adding more sodium amytal, and delivered it to Eldridge in the tub. As he drank, she poured more warm herbal water over his shoulders. She then set down the ladle and rubbed his tense neck, working the oils from the water into his skin and relieving built-up stress.
“That’s so nice,” Eldridge said, eyes closed, his speech starting to slur.
She continued to massage his arms and upper back until he finished his drink. She then added additional warm water to the bath.
“I need to check on dinner,” she said.
“Thank you. Another scotch, if you would.”
His eyes were still closed, the herbal blend, alcohol, sodium amytal, and the gentle touch of her fingers allowing him to leave the stresses of the outside world behind.
She stirred the pho and set a pan on the stove in which she would make the crepes. She then poured him another drink over the top of the white crystalline powder that she usually used in much smaller quantities.
Today she had a different mission.
She walked back into the bathroom and noticed that Eldridge had slipped beneath the surface. She thought for a moment that he might just be rinsing his hair or relishing a complete immersion in the herbal mixture, but the longer she stood in the doorway, the less likely it became.
She turned and walked to her balcony that overlooked a pond, a small vestige of tranquility in an otherwise chaotic city. The rain was still falling, though lighter now, and the frogs had begun their nightly ritual, their chorus of croaks echoing off the walls of the surrounding buildings. She listened for a few minutes before returning to the bath.
Eldridge had still not surfaced. She could see his black hair suspended in the liquid, as if it were impervious to the effects of gravity. She wondered for a moment why he had done it, why he had betrayed his country. Then she realized that it didn’t really matter.
She returned to the kitchen and opened a drawer. She looked down at the hypodermic syringe, spoon, lighter, rubber band, and small bag of China White. She would not be needing them. She wondered if she should sell the heroin given to her by the man who had visited her ten days prior. Maybe. She could always get more. China White was easy to come by in Saigon. One could find anything in Scag Alley, just off Congly Street where more and more American soldiers were buying themorphine derivative. Lan supposed the soldiers used it as a way to cope, a way to try and forget. Deaths from heroin overdoses were on the rise, and Eldridge was supposed to become a statistic.
The man who came to visit her was much more sure of himself than Eldridge. He was tan with jet-black hair and had the lightest blue eyes she had ever seen. He spoke Vietnamese in a deep voice with an accent she found to be quite humorous, though she did not show it. They had talked for close to four hours. He did not try to sleep with her or extort her in any way. Instead, he offered her a job.
He knew all about the doctor and told her that she should keep her appointments with him. At some point, he might pass her information, but for now she could continue to collect her payments. This new man said he would pay her too. He had given her an envelope containing more money than the doctor’s envelopes ever had. Lan had been trained to extract information after all. She could be useful to the Americans.
Her first assignment required her to inject a man with heroin, to end his pain.
Could she do that? he had asked.
It was clear that Eldridge was going to be killed one way or another. She might as well profit from it. That was how things worked in Vietnam.
She closed the drawer that contained the heroin and looked in on Eldridge one last time. She had seen dead people in rivers before and wondered how long it would take for his body to bloat and float to the top of the tub.
She would alert the authorities soon and tell them the truth, that she had made dinner while her guest had a scotch and took a bath. When she had gone to check on him, he had already drowned. Too much alcohol could do that.
She would be able to summon the right amount of emotion. Eldridge had been kind to her. She might even miss him.
The American who had visited her would be pleased. For her, anaccidental drowning was much less of a hassle than a heroin overdose. There would be fewer questions.
She wondered what the new American would ask of her in the future.
Would she do it?
Lan knew she would. She was a survivor.
She took a final look at the dead man in her bath and returned to the kitchen to make herself a crepe.
CHAPTER 68
GRU Headquarters
