Two Songs This Archangel Sings

'I'm not sure. Although I consider Veil Kendry my friend, much of his life has been kept a secret from me, as well as from others. I need all the information you can give me about what Veil did in Laos, every detail you or anyone else can remember. It could provide the key to where he's gone, who's after him, and why.'

'Who are you?'

'My name's Frederickson.'

'I apologize for your… reception, Mr. Frederickson. I will tell you all I remember, and do anything else I can to help; I believe that you are Archangel's friend. But, please; you will come to my home for dinner.'

The invitation caught me by surprise; I wasn't certain I should even take the gun away from the man's neck, much less agree to sit down and eat with him. Under the circumstances, specifically considering Loan Ka's smashed car windows and slightly damaged sons, it seemed a rather bizarre invitation-too bizarre to be anything but sincere. Still, I hesitated; the two youths sitting across the street represented a lot of muscle.

'I'm not sure we know each other that well,' I said. 'We'll talk here.'

'All the things you need to know will take time to tell, Mr. Frederickson. You say you are a friend of the American's, and I believe it is true. That makes you my friend.' The Hmong paused, shuddered, then looked at me with a strange expression on his face, as if he were ashamed of what he was about to say. 'Also, quite frankly, I am cold. Peter and Jimmy may need medical attention, and I am concerned abut their health. It is very difficult for me to speak under these circumstances.'

'Peter and Jimmy?'

'We are Americans, and those are my sons' American names. Will you come to my home, Mr. Frederickson? You have nothing more to fear from me or my sons.'

Loan Ka wasn't the only one who was cold; night daggers of arctic air were jabbing through the open spaces of the car which I'd just about managed to turn into a convertible. Still keeping my gun trained on Loan Ka's head, I got out, then slid into the backseat.

'Tell your boys to squeeze into the front with you,' I said through chattering teeth. 'And remind them that I have a gun.'

'You won't need your gun, Mr. Frederickson.'

'We'll see about that. It's a good thing for you people that I'm hungry.'

8

'Many of the ethnic and national enmities in our part of the world go back centuries, Mongo. Not a few of these hatreds predate not only America's decision to go to war there, but even America's birth as a nation. This is a fact about Southeast Asia I find my new countrymen still find it difficult to grasp.'

Sometime during the course of the evening Loan Ka, his family, and myself had gotten on a first-name basis. Although I'd kept my Beretta trained on the Hmong and his two sons during the short ride to his home, it had gone into my pocket when we had pulled into the driveway of Loan Ka's modest, two-story frame house on a quiet residential street near the perimeter of the Hmong enclave. Loan Ka's wife, Maru Tai, and an older woman I assumed was a grandmother had been waiting anxiously at the door, and the two women had reacted with some distress to the sight of the car with its shattered window, two sons with bleeding heads, and a decidedly strange stranger in the backseat. I never knew what Loan Ka told the two women, for the hurried family conference had been held in hushed tones, in Hmong. However, after the conference the two boys were led away by their grandmother to have their heads tended to, while Maru Tai began the preparation of a simple but delicious meal of fish and seasoned rice garnished with Laotian sauces and surrounded by braised vegetables. Now Loan Ka and I sat in a small den off the living room, drinking heavy Laotian liqueur and smoking cigars.

'The Pathet Lao were our enemies,' the Hmong continued as he tapped the ash off his cigar into a heavy glass ashtray situated between us. 'While it is true that we served the Americans' interests by fighting against the Communists, it is also true that the Americans served our interests by providing us with automatic weapons, advisets to train us in their use, and ammunition. But the American-Veil Kendry, as you call him-was always much more than just an adviser. First, he had gone to the not inconsiderable trouble of learning the rudiments of our language before coming to us, and he became very fluent during the four and a half years he stayed with us. There had been other Americans, of course, but this one was different from all others. He became our leader, not because he was an American, but because he was by far the best warrior among us. Archangel was afraid of nothing. The Pathet Lao, though, came to fear him very much, to the extent that they put a very large price on his head; any Hmong who killed him, or who helped to trap him, would be paid the bounty. Needless to say, the reward was never collected.'

'I assume the Pathet Lao wanted to kill all the Americans.'

'Of course, but not as badly as they wanted to kill this one. Archangel was the only American they ever put a bounty on.' Loan Ka paused, studied the end of his glowing cigar as he rolled it between his thumb and index finger. 'Could anything I say get the American into any more trouble than he's already in?'

'Nothing you can say to me will hurt him. And I won't repeat anything you say to anyone else who might hurt him.'

The Hmong thought about it as he puffed on his cigar. 'I wouldn't want anything I say to be misunderstood,' he said at last.

'It won't be.'

'I believe that Archangel was quite mad,' Loan Ka said through a thick cloud of pungent, blue cigar smoke which lent his words a surreal, disembodied air. 'He seemed to have a terrible and almost insatiable need for violence, as others have a need for food, water, and rest. I will not say that he loved to kill; it may be true, but I am not certain. I do know that he loved to fight; he seemed to need to be near death, his own or others'. If more than three or four days would go by without contact with the enemy, he would become very restless and irritable. Then he would go out alone, at night, and hunt the enemy himself, armed only with his bare hands, perhaps a knife or martial arts weapons designed for silent killing. Sometimes he would be gone for as long as a week, and we would think that he was dead. But he always returned, usually reeking and filthy, covered with dirt and caked blood. I do not know what he did to his victims and did not want to know even then. I suspect he was even more savage than the Pathet Lao, and the acts he committed led to their fear of him and the bounty they placed on his head. In any case, after these lone hunting forays he would be all right for a time-relaxed, the wildness gone from his eyes, seemingly once again at peace with himself. But then the tension in him would begin to build again if there was a prolonged period without combat. Always, if the enemy did not come down the trails or through the jungle to us, he would go out after them. Archangel was the most savage and awesome warrior I have ever known. He became a legend, Mongo, as hated and feared by the Pathet Lao as he was respected and revered by us.'

'When did he first come to you?'

'In early 1968, soon after the Tet offensive.'

'How did he come to you? Did he just walk into your village out of the jungle?'

Loan Ka shook his head. 'No. As I said, there were Americans before him. A mile or so from the village there was a clearing which was used as a helicopter landing site. That was how our supplies were brought in, and how American personnel were shuttled in and out.'

'What about communications?'

'Archangel, like the others, had a shortwave radio, but its use was always kept to a minimum. There were regularly scheduled meetings twice a month between Archangel and his superiors, and Archangel would always go to the landing site at a prearranged time, unless he'd received a radio message instructing him not to.'

'Did you ever see any of the men who came to meet with Veil Kendry?'

'On occasion, but only when the helicopter was bringing in supplies; then we would go to carry back the munitions. However, we were not allowed to go along when the meetings took place; Archangel was supposed to go alone. We ignored this restriction after the Pathet Lao put a price on the American's head. After that we always accompanied him, despite his objections. Six of us would escort him to the landing site, then remain a distance away.'

'Were you close enough at these times to see the landing site when the helicopter came in?'