Covert Operation - Vietnam Style

OPERATION “STING”

Vietnam, Operation Sting – Some backround information is necessary for this part of the journey. The ‘backround’ info will be fully explained in due course!

It began on 15 March.. The last day of our 10 day motorbike adventure through the northernest Vietnamese province of Ha Giang (pronounced Ha Zang). We had set off at 6:30am to get to return our bikes to Sa Pa, and then get back down to Lao Cai for the overnight train to Hanoi. A day where it took us 6 hours to do 41kms, we had to endure torrential downpours, freezing cold, blinding fog – it pushed us to breaking point. Needless to say, the overnight train was booked just in time, after nearly 10 hours on the bikes.

Exhausted, we collapsed into our sleepers for the 7 hour trip. 6am, arrive in Hanoi – still freezing cold due to the Winter monsoon bringing ice winds down from China. Snowed in Sa Pa that night, first time in 3 years. Got to love mother nature. Whisked away by taxi to the north east bus station to organise a 3 hour bus ride to Ha Long Bay. As is usual with the Vietnamese, we got harassed at the station by in-your-face hawkers everywhere trying to get you onto their bus at an overpriced rate. The bastard ticket booth operators are always mates with the bus owners, and so don’t offer tourists the actual rate. We were in no mood for bargaining and heckling, so accepted a slightly expensive ticket, onto what turned out to be a slightly inferior bus. Small, cramped, uncomfortable, cold. We knew this was going to be a long ride.

Long, turned out to be 5 hours instead of 3 due to the amount of stops we made. Literally every couple kms (or in the towns every cross road), the bus driver would slow down , and the hustler would open the doors and yell “ GA GO BA MA AAAHH AHH YA YA”, or something to that effect, to try and get more people on the bus. A non-full bus is not an option, not at any stage of the trip.

So it was icy-cold hell. Then, when we got to Ha Long City, the operators wanted to drop us off on the side of the road, and catch a xe om (motorbike taxi drivers that will rape you for every penny you have) the rest of the way. Now we had our 2 big bags in the boot, and 3 smaller rucksacks, 2 yoga mats, and a packet of food on the bus with us, so there was no ways we were getting on motorbikes.

An argument ensued (with no one understanding a word), and eventually they carried on and dropped us off at a more convenient location. We walked to the nearest hotel, bargained a cheap room, and went upstairs. Opened our bags, and realised – adding insult to the injury that was the shit awful bus ride, that my waterproof bag containing all my NB luggage (harddrive, Brit passport, camera and cellphone charger, ipod, 10000 Baht = R2500, and other nb bits and pieces) had been removed from the rucksack which was stored under my feet/seat by someone on the bus! Big panic stations – went and reported it to the police who had to get immigrations and everything – took about 5 hours to create a police report.

Lessons learnt:

• 1.       Be extra vigilant if you are tired and fatigued and on the move – extra locks, extra red bull, anything that helps you not look like an easy target
• 2.       Don’t carry so much luggage around, it becomes too much to keep an eye on everything. 1 main bag, 1 small bag, and maybe 1 other miscellaneous item, that’s it.
• 3.       LOCKS LOCKS LOCKS. My fault for being complacent. LOCK EVERYTHING, ALWAYS.
• 4.       Keep your important documents and items that are REALLY important on your person or not out of your sight at all times (thank you Dad for this one).
• 5.       Don’t go to South East Asia if you are over 6 feet tall or else you won’t fit in bus seats, or anywhere for that matter.

So anyway, it was shit, shouldn’t have happened, but did, and that is how you learn.

Then, on 19 March, the first day of sunshine we had experienced in 20 days of being in Vietnam, after an awesome 4 hour boat ride through the limestone karsts of Ha Long Bay, I received a phone call from some dude speaking Vietnamese. What I did hear though, was “passport”. Thinking it was the police, we managed to locate a local at a coffee shop who could speak English. Turned out, it was some random guy who said he had my passport, and that he would return it to me for 10 million Dong (about R3000). But, of course, that was negotiable. After a few backwards and forwards phone calls, lots of arguing and deciphering, we were left wondering what to do. Sick and tired of this, refusing to be extorted, and with some advice from another local, we wrote the scenario down, with the guy’s number, got the helpful local to translate it, and went off to the police to see what could be done about it.

This was about 2pm. We sat at the police station for a good hour, they really don’t speak any English, and I was getting majorly despondent. To our surprise, the next thing an interpreter who works as the concierge at a nearby hotel arrives to help explain. Then the immigration officer rocks up. Then 4 plain-clothes, rough looking, loud speaking, cigarette chaining, tea drinking detectives arrive, and things start to get a little more interesting.

Together, they hatched a plan to nab the crook. The thing was – there was no ways he could have had our number, unless he had all my stuff which had the sim card pack inside, with the Viettel number on it. So Romes and I were certain he had to be the thief. The detectives, using the interpreter, phoned the guy to try and set up a meeting, find out exactly what he had, how much he wanted, and where to do the swap.

We put him on speaker phone for the detectives to hear, and a long conversation ensued between the concierge and the suspect. After the phone call, and even more intense conversation occurred between all the detectives – lots of shouting scheming and smoking. All this time, Romy and I were just sitting there… Just sitting, not knowing what was going on!

The concierge eventually spoke to us and said that the detectives would take us to meet the suspect, and that an agreed price of 3 000 000 VND had been settled upon (about R1200), but he couldn’t tell us whether we would get the money back?! Next thing, more intense conversing and cigarette smoking going on outside, the one mean looking detective (think Viet Cong army general out of Rambo 4), started changing his number plates on his pimped out black, with blacked out tinted windows, new Honda Civic. A while later, we were asked to get into the vehicle, accompanied by General and his associate.

Off we went. Romy in the front passenger, myself and Associate in the back, General driving (and smoking). Wishing we had been informed of what the hell was actually going to happen. Was I really going to have to pay 3’000’000 VND for my passport? Was this just the way things were done in Vietnam? Corruption and coercion being the norm? Would it be a set up like in the movies? Me walking away with my cash and things? So many questions – no answers at this stage.

 Ha Long city is split into 2 halves across the bay, joined by a large suspension bridge. We headed for the northern side. This wouldn’t have stressed us out had we known where we were going and what was actually going to happen. Obviously at this stage we knew that a setup was taking place – we just didn’t know how it was going to end – or even if the cops were good cops or bad cops. I won’t lie – I had pictured things going horribly wrong, 2 unknown tourists, stepping into an unmarked car, on our way to who knows where.. The imagination can be a terrible thing!

Next, we pulled over on the side of the road to where another unmarked car was parked – this time a black Toyota Corolla. Associate sitting in the back with me hopped out, words were exchanged between him and General, and he jumped into the next car which was occupied by another dodgy looking detective. The trip resumed, no words being exchanged (none would have been understood in any case), in the black Civic, yet Romy and my minds racing. After another 15 or so minutes, driving into the unknown, we pulled over next to an ATM for me to make the VND 3000000 withdrawal. Back up Corolla nowhere to be seen. Literally waiting for me and helping me across the road was well groomed chap in a suit jacket. “Now who the hell is this?” I thought. He jumped into the back of the car with me, so clearly he was another official – turned out to be the immigration officer who spoke fairly decent english.

We drove up the road, and eventually pulled over. On the sidewalk, this sketchy looking character shuffled up to the car. It was him, the dodgy looking dude on the bus wearing a Viet Cong hat and a pink fluffy scarf (Romy had “your team’d” him to me)!! He stared into the front, and clearly recognised Romy. So now what?! He had nothing on him. “This is the guy!” I exclaimed. He came to the back door, which the immigration officer opened for him. He peered in and asked (in Vietnamese) where the money was. I pulled the cash out of my pocket and showed it to him (like in the movies – I fanned the notes out), and said “bring the bag, otherwise no cash”. Off he disappeared up the street for a minute or two, then he came back down with a black plastic bag. At this point, we still had no idea what exactly was supposed to happen, and were just praying that justice would prevail!

The door was opened for him, and we asked him to put the bag on the floor of the car, then I’d hand over the cash. I identified a few things in the packet. Next thing, 2 detectives suddenly pulled up out of nowhere, gripped the thief around the neck from behind, and tag-team tackled him to the floor. Romy and I just sat in the car gobsmacked. I just grabbed the packet and kept it close to me and stuffed the cash back into my pocket! A scuffle ensued which resulted in the thief being thrown into the back of the Civic with me. I jumped out as I was like “nought”, but got told to get back in. here I had to confirm that the items were mine in front of the thief, who by now had a few bruises, had lost his shoes, and was firmly handcuffed. He was then yanked and thrown into the Corolla, and we all sped off back to the police station. It all happened so fast. It happened how I could have assumed it should happen. And had someone just gave us the low down, the nerves would have been far less frayed!

On the way back, there was silence. Romy and I just thinking to ourselves, “did that just happen??” Felt like straight out of the movies – these guys have clearly watched The Soprano’s, Law and Order, CSI: Miami (yes, General, the chaining-Vietnamese Horatio “WAAAAAAAHHHH”).Got my passport back (big relief), and a couple plug adaptors – but all the electronic stuff was nowhere to be found.

Back in the police station (it was now around 7pm), a lengthy process of writing statements and having them translated was undertaken. Guess all the smokes and tea are the only things that gets the cops through the paperwork! The last wacked incident in this whole scenario was being invited to eat supper with the detectives in the main boardroom. In we go, joining 6 of them, plus the thief – sitting handcuffed to a chair, shoeless, battered, bruised, defeated. As if to rub salt into his wounds, we all had a merry old feast: Rice, soup, veg, meat, prawns, followed by rounds of tea and cigarettes. Yes, cigarettes – it seemed as good a time as ever to relapse. After all, it had been one LONG, crazy day, and saying no to General Horatio after all his hard work, the fear and exhilaration he had created in us, just seemed plain impolite.

And around 10.30pm, that was that. We all shook hands, exchanged numbers in case they should recover any more info leading to my stuff from the thief, said our goodbyes, and caught a taxi back to our hotel. And that was that.

PS - Due to not wanting to cross over to the other side of the law, no photo's were taken, not even sneaky ones, so you'll have to take my word for all the above.