He was silent for a moment. I noticed that Luu’s hands were curled into fists. “I believe I told you that I was a scout for the American army. Sometimes we left calling cards in villages. One, I remember, was a skull and crossbones with the words When you care enough to send the very best. The Americans thought that was very funny.”
“What does the straw doll mean? Is it your calling card? Was it left at all the murder scenes? Or afterward at the soldiers’ homes?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps. You tell me, Detective. I wasn’t at the murder scenes.”
“What would this particular calling card mean? The straw doll?”
“Many things, Detective. Life is not so simple. Life is not merely sound bites and easy solutions. In my country, popular religion is flexible. Buddhism from both China and India. Taoism. Confucianism. Ancestor worship is the oldest and most indigenous belief throughout Vietnam.”
I tapped my finger on the jacket patch.
“Straw dolls are sometimes burned or floated away on a river as part of rituals honoring the dead. Evil spirits are the ghosts of those who were murdered or who died without proper burial. The straw doll is a threatening message reminding the offending person it is they who should rightfully be in the doll’s place.”
I nodded. “Tell me what I need to know. I don’t want to have to come back here.”
“Nor should you. I don’t have any need for confession. That’s more a Western concept.”
“You don’t feel any guilt about what’s happened? Innocent people have died.”
“And will continue to. What is it that you really want to know? Do you believe I owe you something because of your crackerjack detective work?”
“You admit that you used me?”
Luu shrugged. “I don’t admit anything. Why should I? I was a guerilla fighter. I survived in the jungles of An Lao for nearly six years. Then I survived in the jungles of California and New York. I use whatever is provided to me. I try to make the most of the situation. You do the same, I’m sure.”
“Like at this prison?”
“Oh, especially in prison. Otherwise, even a reasonably bright man could go mad. You’ve heard the phrase ‘cruel and unusual.’ A cell that is seven by twelve feet. Twenty-three hours a day in it. Communication only through a cell slot in the door.”
I leaned across the table, my face close to Luu’s. Blood was pounding inside my head. Tran Van Luu was Foot Soldier. He had to be. And he had the answers that I wanted. Was he also responsible for all these murders?
“So why did you kill Sergeant Ellis Cooper? The others? Why did they have to die? Is it all just revenge? Tell me what the hell happened in the An Lao Valley. Tell me and I’ll go away.”
He shook his head. “I’ve told you enough. Go home, Detective. You don’t need to hear any more. Yes, I am Foot Soldier. The other answers you seek are too much for the people in your country to hear. Let this murder case go. Just this once, Detective, let it go.”
Chapter 107
I MADE NO move to get up and leave.
Tran Van Luu stared at me impassively, then he smiled. Had he expected this? Stubbornness? Obtuseness? Was that why he’d involved me in the first place? Had he talked to Kyle Craig about me? How much did he know? Everything, or just more pieces of the puzzle?
“Your continuing journey is interesting to me. I don’t understand men like you. You want to know why terrible things happen. You want to make things right, if only occasionally.
“You’ve dealt with vicious killers before. Gary Soneji, Geoffrey Shafer, Kyle Craig, of course. Your country has produced so many killers, Bundy, Dahmer, all the others. I don’t know why this happens in such a civilized country. A place with so many blessings.”
I shook my head. I really didn’t know either. But Luu wanted to hear what I had to say on the subject. Had he asked Kyle the same questions? “I’ve always felt it has something to do with high expectations. Many Americans expect to be happy, expect to be loved. When we aren’t, some of us go into a rage. Especially if it happens to us as children. If instead of love, we experience hatred and abuse. What I don’t understand is why so many Americans abuse their children.”
Luu stared at me, and I could sense his eyes probing into mine. Was he a strange new kind of killer — a lord executioner? He seemed to have a conscience. He was philosophical. A philosopher-warrior? How much did he know? Did the case end here?
“Why did someone orchestrate the murder of Ellis Cooper?” I finally asked. “Simple question. Will you answer it for me?”
He frowned. “All right. I will do that much. Cooper lied to you and your friend Sampson. He had no choice but to lie. Sergeant Cooper was in the An Lao Valley, although his records don’t say so. I saw him execute a girl of twelve. Slender, beautiful, innocent. He killed the girl after he had raped her. I have no reason to lie about that. Sergeant Cooper was a murderer and rapist.
“They all committed atrocities; they were all murderers. Cooper, Tate, Houston, Etra. Harris, Griffin, and Starkey too. The Blind Mice. They were among the worst, the most bloodthirsty. That’s why I chose them to hunt down the others. Yes, I was the one, Detective. But I’m already condemned to death here. There’s nothing more you can do to me.
“Colonel Starkey was never told why the murders were taking place in the U.S. He didn’t know my identity. He was an assassin; he never asked. He just wanted his money.
“I believe in rituals and symbolism, and I believe in revenge. The guilty have been punished, and their punishments fit the crimes. Our unburied dead have been revenged, and their souls can finally rest. Your soldiers left their calling cards, and so did I. I had plenty of time to think about it in here, plenty of time to make my plans. I hungered for revenge, and I didn’t want it to be simple or easy. As you Americans say, I wanted payback. I got it, Detective. Now I am at peace.”