The brothel was luxurious and high-end, the kind frequented by French business executives who were close to the regime and US officers. In order to get in, Berry and Krakauer had to put on some nice clothes and even though they weren’t crazy about the idea they did it anyway.
God willing, the two Baker Team members would have finally left for their leave back home the very next day.
As I said before, in the case that God was willing of course.
The two of them had been in there for a couple of hours, and it was about three in the morning already. It was late enough for the booze to get the upper hand over them both.
*
Berry was sitting beside a big four-poster bed, his shirt was unbuttoned and his tie undone as it hung off his neck while a Vietnamese girl slept soundly on his lap. He had a long pipe dangling from his mouth and there was a cloud of smoke right above him that was moving overhead practically in slow motion.
“Sure, being cool is cool,” he said.
“Still, I don't always understand why we smoke this shit.”
Krakauer, who sat in the chair just in front of him, didn’t seem to have heard a word he’d said. He was staring directly ahead, but his eyes were half closed, almost dream-like.
His girl was sitting at the foot of his chair, her head resting on his knees the way dogs slept next to their masters.
“I mean...” Berry began, taking a break to look at his pipe mysteriously.
“What I mean is that this stuff is totally the opposite of what we are. Not only of what we are but also what we do.”
Krakauer opened an eye as Berry continued his monologue.
“We went through hell trying to become the fastest, the smartest and at the readiest motherfuckers of all time. Fuck, what am I saying? We are the fastest and smartest motherfuckers in the whole universe. Then, as soon as were on our first day of leave, we fuck ourselves up beyond any recognition using this shit.”
Delmore Berry tried to get up on his feet but feeling the girl’s weight, quickly changed his mind.
“Fucking hell,” he said in a resigning voice.
He took the pipe from his mouth placing it next to him on the bed.
“You’re totally right, man,” said Krakauer.
Then he stretched a hand out to get the pipe and started smoking it instead.
Not long after, he said:
“We probably shouldn't fucking smoke this shit at all you know.”
Puff
Puff
Puff
Lawrence looked on with dreamy eyes under his half-closed eyelids.
“No I‘m serious – Delmore continued – all this effort to be the best, and then we ruin it all using this fucking shit. Think about the night after Black Spot. Don’t you remember? The night they attacked Dak To for the second time.
No, think about this instead. Imagine what would have happened if Johnny and Manuel were high that night when the VCs attacked, when they were on their own in there. Ortega nearly got fucking wasted, for Christ’s sake. Think what could have happened if they’d been fucked up 'because they were on a leave.’”
Berry inhaled deeply, but then coughed up phlegm.
“I'll tell you what the fuck would have happened, man.”
“Fuck do you ever talk a lot, buddy.”
“I know, I know. If Johnny and the boss had been fucked up on this shit when the VC attacked the brothel, they’d be dead.”
Berry spit phlegm right next to the bed and on top of a brass plate full of dirty handkerchiefs and used condoms.
And phlegm, of course.
“You’re such a ball breaker with this bullshit talk, Berry. Go get yourself a fuck or something.”
“I can't man. I think I pushed everything pretty much to the limit. I feel like puking and my dick fucking hurts, I fucked so much tonight. I need a break man, at least for a second.”
The voices downstairs seemed to get excited unexpectedly, and so did the excitement in Krakauer's eyes.
“Just give me half an hour, that’s all I need.”
“Sssshhh,” said Krakauer.
“Half an hour, and then I’ll take this lady for another spin.”
“Ssssshhhhh!”
Something was happening downstairs.
The voices were only a little agitated, and it was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
Krakauer was sure about it: the high pitch tone of their voices wasn’t fear.
It was excitement about something or other.
“What the fuck is happening down there?” said Krakauer.
“Nothing,” said Berry, but Krakauer got up and staggered to their room’s half opened front door regardless. He then took a quick look into the alley and added:
“Let's go check it out.”
“No, Krack. I can't even fucking stand.”
“Let's go!”
Krakauer gently pushed the girl away and Berry rose unwillingly from his chair.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he said buttoning his shirt up and doing up his belt.
*
It took a while for the two Baker Team soldiers to see the small figure at the centre of everyone's attention.
The girl was small and under age for sure, maybe not more than twelve. She was too small too skinny, so certainly undernourished and was crying in the middle of the living room.
Her nose dripped from all her crying, and she was frowning.
It took the two of them a moment to understand what was actually going on, but when they finally did, their blood turned ice cold.
It was an auction.
They were selling the child’s virginity to the highest bidder.
-
Krakauer’s eyes widened as his face turned redder. It was a telltale sign that Berry understood, so trouble was already on its way.
He knew his friend.
He knew him well enough by then to recognize that look in his eyes before a mission and while he was on it, Goddamn it. Not during the regular missions mind you, but when a full-scale shit storm was on its way.
Jesus fucking Christ – he thought as the adrenaline started pumping in his chest waking him from the opium's induced torpor.
Krakauer was obviously right about everything.
Auctioning off a twelve year old girl at an auction, held in a brothel really was weird shit.
What could the two of them possibly do to keep this from happening though?
Not to mention the fact they were both stoned.
Don’t forget to include that they were SOG as well, always, and no matter what. Getting attention was never a good idea for people like them, and looking for trouble was even worse. The way Krakauer was about to do for instance.
Berry could feel the incoming shit storm all the way up his backbone.
He could feel his friend’s rage fill the air the way radiation would after an atomic bomb went off.
Worst of all, he was dizzy, felt heavy, moved slowly and could hardly focus.
Had things really gone south, he couldn’t fight properly. Maybe, he wouldn’t even have reacted.
Maybe they could somehow end up saving that girl from that particular auction, but protecting her from that fucking country was considerably out of their reach. Not to mention that the guy selling her was probably her father in the first place. Of course it fucking was! No girl could end up in a brothel like that, if she wasn’t being sold out by her own fucking father No, everything was on the “up and up” so to say.
What a fucking asshole – Berry thought angrily.
Anyway, those kinds of things were routine in Vietnam just like they were in any other third world country. Meaning that for every life you save, thousands of others would meet the same fate the same day.
That’s why Delmore thought saving her was useless. Sooner or later, that girl would meet her destiny anyway. Either that or he was just too stoned to care. He wasn’t sure to tell the truth.
Being as high as he was at the time, he’d never know There was nothing more than a lot of confusion going on in his head.
On the other hand, you only needed one look at Krakauer to understand for him, it was a completely different matter.
The first costumers started to raise their hands to bid.
No matter what Krakauer wanted, fundamentally, they had a problem: neither he nor Berry could let anyone find out they spoke Vietnamese, because speaking Vietnamese in that place would have been like attaching a bull’s eye on their backs.
For an American, speaking Vietnamese meant you were either part of the Special Forces, or you were a military advisor. Enemy spies could be anywhere, and, in fact, they were everywhere.
Krakauer moved slightly closer to the little girl, in order to get a better look at her face.
There he goes – thought Delmore.
“Beautiful baby isn't it, giai?” said the man who was collecting the offers.
“You can't take her. You bid like all others! You not can take. You buy like everybody,” added an old woman beside of him.
Krakauer ignored her
He walked into the middle of the room and grabbed the girl by the arm.
Berry looked up.
“I’m not fucking paying for shit, Madame,” mumbled Krakauer.
Then he added:
“And if I ever find you doing something like this again, I will kill every single one of you the way we’d knock off Vietcong.”
“But she is old, giai. She looks young to you, but she is old, giai.”
“Bull fucking shit.”
Berry saw some of the men in the room move into position surrounding them.
Fuck – thought Barry feeling the adrenaline and fear start to clear up his head. Fucking insane, considering not even a moment before he was so stoned he could barely stand. Now he could probably recite the whole NATO alphabet, backwards.
All thanks to the adrenaline.
The old woman standing at the front suddenly put her hand up in the air however, and everything in the place seemed to stop. A seemingly innocent gesture, but one that had instantly blocked the men behind Barry and Krakauer exactly where they were.
“I don't want to discuss, giai, but don't forget that we cut your throats, throw you in alley and no one ever know. Then police ask many questions, but that’s all nothing else.”
“And you would undoubtedly succeed Madame, certainly. Then, one night, you’d get knocked right down to the ground by one of Uncle Sam's bombs.
We’re not alone, ma’am.
We never are.
We can go anywhere because everybody knows where we are wherever we go.
Once you’re dead, you won’t be able to sell your opium or your whores to anyone else.”
Two threats – thought Delmore.
Krakauer had just made a double threat.
“I no sell opium. I have nothing to do with none of this.”
“You don’t really think you can kill a couple of Americans and keep trafficking opium at the same time, do you? You work for Van Loc.”
The 'Madame' had suddenly became purple in the face.
Van Loc played both the role of being her boss and her main adversary when it came to drug trafficking, at the same time. Other than being up on the drug distribution chain, he was, even more importantly, the leader of the city’s self-defence forces. What this meant was, whatever 'Madame' got was nothing but leftover crumbs from Van Loc's trade, and only when he agreed to her taking it.
The key to Van Loc's power was his outright friendship with the Americans. In the case that Madame for one reason or another killed a couple of US soldiers, Van Loc wouldn't have had second thoughts about wiping her off the face of the earth and then taken over her businesses too.
Krakauer had threatened the woman, but in all actuality he had done much more than that.
He had clearly illustrated that he knew more than a 'normal' US soldier could ever know.
It was like admitting you were more than they thought you were, and ‘Madame’ and her men would have dealt with them accordingly. By them, I meant us, of course.
Krakauer took the young girl’s hand this time, and she started shaking in fear.
“Pay up,” Krakauer grunted to Berry.
“What?”
“Don't we have enough?” insisted Krakauer obviously referring to the money.
Considering the auction had come to a halt the way that it had, I’d say, it was quite likely that they had enough money.
They could probably get away with it too as long as nobody pulled out any guns unnecessarily.
That wasn’t exactly their biggest problem though.
The problem was that they were about to tip the intricately complicated balance of kickbacks, opium trade and favours' exchange that kept the city at peace. In other words, the balance of power Trautman had worked months on to create.
That poor girl's life wasn't worth that kind of risk, either.
Cynical as it may sound, one girl’s life wasn't worth the hundreds of deaths that tipping the scales would cause if the fighting started again.
If this situation was the cause, and it actually took place, it would be like betraying the Colonel outright.
Jesus fucking Christ – thought Delmore.
Please God, make them take the money.
Let us go without a hitch.
Berry dug deep into his pockets pulling out all the money he had, and counting it as he did.
Lucky for him, that night he’d brought plenty of money with him.
Krakauer for some reason had done the same.
Thus, the two of them made their offer, the Madame accepted and no one else dared to bid further.
In fact, most of the auctioneers had already vanished.
Delmore and Krakauer therefore made it out of the brothel with the little girl in hand.