NOMINATION

Part VI

March 19, 1968-June 9, 1968

(Saigon, 3/19/68)

You're back.

It's vivid. It's vicious. It's Vietnam.

See the troop swarms. See the displaced slopes. See said gooks talking let. See the boarded temples. See the truck convoys. See the antiaircraft guns.

You're back. Dig it. Saigon '68.

The cab crawled. Trucks hemmed it in. Gun trucks/food trucks/troop trucks. Tailpipe fumes windshield-high. Fume grit in your eyes.

Pete watched. Pete smoked. Pete chewed Tums.

He breached the truce. He flew overnight-Frisco/Tan Son Nhut. He lured Barb to Frisco. He pitched it as romance. He cloaked his truce override.

She nailed him. She said you're going back-I know it. He copped out. He said let me go. He said let me brace Stanton.

She said no. He said yes. It went waaaay bad. They yelled. They threw shit. They gouged walls. They scared the desk clerks. They scared the bellboys. They scared the hotel staff.

Barb split to Sparta. He roamed San Francisco. The hills bonked his heart. He drove to the airport. He sat in the bar. He saw some Carlos cats: Chuck "the Vice" Aiuppa and Nardy Scavone.

They hailed him. They bought him drinks. They got tanked and bragged. They said they clipped Danny Bruvick. It was a twosky. They clipped Danny's ex Arden-Jane. They supplied details. They supplied sound effects.

Pete walked out. Pete caught his plane. Pete ate Nembutal. He slept. The plane pitched. He saw vices snap heads.

The cab crawled. The driver grazed monks. The driver monologued: Tet kill many. Tet fuck things up. Tet kill GIs. Victor Charles naughty! Victor Charles evil! Victor Charles _baaad!_

The cab pitched. The cab lurched. Pete gagged on truck fumes. Pete's knees bumped his head.

There's the Go-Go. It's still gook graffitied. You're back. It's still ARVN-guarded. There's two Marvs door-posted. You're back.

Pete grabbed his duffel. Pete grabbed Wayne's satchel-beakers and test tubes prewrapped. Drop them off/check the lab/hit Hotel Catinat.

The driver braked. Pete got out and stretched. The Marvs snapped to. Said Marvs knew Pete-_le frog grand et fou_.

They saluted. Pete walked in the Go-Go. Pete smelled white horse residue. Piss and sweat/stale excrement/cooked dope residue.

The niteclub was _mort_. The niteclub was a dope den. It was groundfloor Hades. It was the river Styx boocoo.

Slopes on pallets. Tube tourniquets. Lighters. Cooking spoons. Dope balloons. Spikes. Fifty junkies/fifty dope beds/fifty launch pads.

Slopes cooked horse. Slopes tied off. Slopes geezed. Slopes swooned. Slopes grinned wide. Slopes sighed.

Pete walked through it. Marvs and Can Laos sold balloons. Marvs and Can Laos sold spikes. Pete walked upstairs-dig it-there's the river Styx revived.

More slopes on pallets. More tube ties. More needles. More toe-crack injections. More arm and leg pops.

Pete walked upstairs. Pete hit the lab door. Pete saw a Can Lao cat. He saw Pete. He knew Pete-_le frog fou_.

Pete dropped the satchel. Pete talked Anglo-gook:

"Equipment. From Wayne Tedrow. I leave with you."

The Can Lao smiled. The Can Lao bowed. The Can Lao reached and grabbed.

Pete said, "Open up. I check lab now."

The Can Lao bristled. The Can Lao blocked the door. The Can Lao pulled a belt piece. The Can Lao snapped the slide.

The door popped open. A gook stepped out. Pete caught a view: trays/sorting chutes/bindles prepacked.

The gook bristled. The gook slammed the door. The gook blocked Pete's view. The gook braced the Can Lao. They jabbered _en gook_. They eyed _le frog fou_.

Pete got goose bumps. Pete hinked out. Pete hinked out boocoo.

They sold balloons downstairs. They packaged two ways upstairs. They sold bindle pops too. That implied wiiiiide distribution. That implied upscale use.

The gook walked downstairs. The gook walked fast. The gook slung a duffel bag. The Can Lao re-bristled. Pete bowed and smiled. Pete pidgingooked:

"Is alright. You good man. I go now."

The Can Lao smiled. The Can Lao de-bristled. Pete waved bye-bye.

He walked downstairs. He held his nose. He grazed pallets and squashed turds. He walked outside. He looked around. He saw the gook.

He's on the street. He's walking south. He's got that duffel bag.

Pete tailed him.

The gook walked the dock. The gook cut inland. The gook walked Dal To Street. It was hot. The street teemed. It's a slopehead ant farm run amok.

Pete stood out. Pete duck-walked low. Pete shaved half his height. The gook walked fast. The gook plowed monks. Pete huffed keeping up.

The gook cut east. The gook bopped down Tam Long. The gook swung down a warehouse block. The sidewalk narrowed. Foot traffic thinned. Pete saw Can Laos straight up.

Can Lao classics-goons in civvies-perched outside a warehouse. Cabs out front-good numbers-cabs perched down the block.

The gook stopped. A Can Lao checked his duffel. A Can Lao got the door. The gook walked in the warehouse. A Can Lao slammed the door. A Can Lao double-locked.

Six buildings down. Side alleys between each one. One connecting alley in back.

Pete walked.

He cut sideways. He hit the back alley. He cut down six buildings. He walked half a block.

Six warehouses/all glazed cement/all three-story jobs.

He cut back streetside. He saw first-floor windows. He heard the Can Laos out front. The windows were covered/mesh over glass/burglar-proof stuff.

Pete checked a window. Pete saw light through glass.

He took a breath. He grabbed the mesh. He pulled it back. He made a space. He made a fist. He punched the glass out.

He saw pallets. He saw tourniquets. He saw white arms tied up. He saw GIs buy bindles. He saw GIs cook horse. He saw GIs shoot up.

o o o

He slept bad. He slept weird. Jet lag plus Nembutal. He dreamed bad. He saw vices and crossbars. He saw white kids geezing up.

He woke up. He got some focus. He de-raged. He called John Stanton. He said I'm fried. I can't see straight. Let's meet tomorrow night. Stanton laughed. Stanton said why not?

Pete sedated. Pete reslept. Pete roused and jumped up. Dream shots reran wide awake-all broken-glass shots.

That boy with the tattoos. That boy with the gone eyes. That boy with the spike in his shvantz.

o o o

Pete hired a cab. Pete hunkered low. Pete ran tail ops. Cab stakeout by Hotel Montrachet-John Stanton's billet-drop.

He got more focus. The sleep helped. He totaled it all up. One GI dope den/_one at least_-kadre kode breach.

Don't sell to GIs. It's sacrilege. Sell and die hard. Stanton knew it. Stanton cosigned it. Stanton said Mr. Kao agreed. Ditto all the Can Lao.

Stanton assured Pete. Stanton assuaged Pete. Stanton puffed and mollified.

Mr. Kao ran dope Saigon-wide. Mr. Kao ran the Can Lao. Stanton knew Kao. Stanton quoted Kao: Me no push to GIs!

He had that much. That to start. "That" could go wide.

It was hot. The cab broiled. A dash fan swirled. It stirred hot air. It stirred gas fumes. It stirred tailpipe farts.

The Montrachet boomed. The MACV brass loved it. Dig the bay windows with grenade nets.

Pete watched the door. The driver ran the radio. The driver played Viet rock. The Bleatles and the Bleach Boys-all gook redubbed.

9:46 a.m. 10:02, 10:08. Fuck, this could go on-

There's Stanton.

He's walking out. He's got a briefcase. He shags a cab quick. Pete nudged his driver-tail that cab quick.