Message From -Creasy 5 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Bangkok. He's got a drinking friend who has just been
transferred from A. P. Moller's office there to their new liaison office in Ho
Chi Minh city; which by the way used to be called Saigon."
    "Good.
So forget the sarcasm and give me the details."
    After
his meal and lavish compliments to Birgitte, he roughly calculated the time
difference between Copenhagen and South East Asia. It would be late evening in
Ho Chi Minh city. He looked up the international code and then dialled the
number.
    His
contact was at home, and obviously very happy to hear a Danish voice. After
establishing his credentials, Jens made his request. He gave the name of the Vietnamese
policeman and the date when he was shot. Then he hung up, put on his overcoat
and went to watch the football match between Brandby and OH, reflecting that it
was nice to have other people doing the legwork for a change.

Chapter 08
    "He
lived."
    "Who
did?"
    "Your
friend Van Luk Wan. He entered the hospital on December 19 1968 with a severe
gunshot wound. They operated immediately and he survived. He was discharged on
January 27 1969."
    Creasy
was in Guido's penzione in Naples, with the phone in one hand and a glass of
wine in the other. He was impressed.
    "How
did you find out?"
    In
Copenhagen, Jens chuckled down the line. "For a man like me it was very
simple. I chartered a plane to Saigon, managed an introduction to the head
nurse, took her to dinner at the Continental Hotel and plied her with
champagne; seduced her and persuaded her to break into the records of the
hospital that night and, using the Minox camera I supplied, she photographed
all the records during that period...I can tell you, Creasy, my expenses bill
is going to be spectacular."
    Creasy
chuckled. "I don't mind as long as it's less than ten bucks." He
thought for a moment, and then said: "The next thing is to find out
whether he's still in the city; and if so, what happened to him after the
communists took over."
    "You
want me to get on with that and sniff around?"
    Again
Creasy paused for thought, then said: "Give me a couple of days. I know he
was in San Diego recently. Maybe he got to the US as a refugee. I can probably
check that out. I'll get back to you...Thanks, Jens. It was good work."
    He put
down the phone and walked out of the kitchen onto the broad terrace. It was one
of his favourite spots on earth, high on the hills above the city with the wide
sweep of the bay below.
    Sitting
at the solitary table was his closest friend. He and Guido Arrellio had first
met in the French Foreign Legion during the Algerian war of independence in the
early sixties. They were in the second R.E.P., and had been kicked out after
their battalion had joined the Generals' Putsch. Fighting was all they knew, so
they had teamed up as mercenaries and fought in a series of wars in Africa and
the Far East. Finally Guido had met a Maltese girl, married her and bought the
Pensione Splendide in Naples. He and Creasy had gone their separate ways until
Guido's wife died in a car crash. In his turn Creasy had married her younger
sister, who had also died tragically. That shared bond drew them even closer.
    Neither
of them made friends easily, and the casual observer would have found it
impossible to see their closeness. They were not men who showed affection or
emotion; but they had served together for many years, and Creasy had come to
Naples to discuss the mysterious dogtag and the man who had delivered it in San
Diego.
    He sat
down, saying: "That was Jens from Copenhagen. He discovered that the man,
Van Luk Wan, survived the shooting."
    "What
was the range?" Guido asked.
    "About
five metres."
    Guido
glanced at his friend and raised an eyebrow. "You missed him at five
metres?"
    "I
didn't miss. He went down like he was poleaxed. I had no time to make
sure."
    Guido
looked out across the bay. An American frigate was swinging slowly at anchor.
That night the sailors would be drunk and brawling in Naples' red light
district. Some