But now youre willing to work with me. Why?
She looked down at her lap and sighed. Reluctantly she opened her purse and pulled out a slip of paper. I found this under my door this morning.
He unfolded the paper. In a spidery hand was written Die Yankee. Just seeing those two words again made her angry. A few minutes ago, when shed shown the message to Mr. Ainh, his only reaction was to shake his head in regret. At least Guy was an American; surely hed share her sense of outrage.
He handed the note back to her. So?
So? She stared at him. I get a death threat slipped under my door. The entire Vietnamese government hides at the mention of my name. Ainh practically commands me to tour his stupid lacquer factory. And thats all you can say? So?
Clucking sympathetically, he sat down beside her. Why does he have to sit so close? she thought. She tried to ignore the tingling in her leg as it brushed against his, struggled to sit perfectly straight though his weight on the mattress was making her sag toward him.
First of all, he explained, this isnt necessarily a personal death threat.
It could be merely a political statement.
Oh, is that all, she said blandly.
And think of the lacquer factory as a visit to the dentist. You dont want to go, but everyone thinks you should. And as for the elusive Foreign Ministry, you wouldnt learn a thing from those bureaucrats anyway. Speaking of bureaucrats, wheres your baby-sitter?
You mean Mr. Ainh? She sighed. Waiting for me in the lobby.
You have to get rid of him.
I wish.
We cant have him around. Rising, Guy took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Not where were going.
Where are we going? she demanded, following him out the door.
To see a friend. I think.
Meaning he might not see us?
Meaning I cant be sure hes a friend.
She groaned as they stepped into the elevator. Terrific.
Down in the lobby, they found Ainh by the desk, waiting to ambush her. Miss Maitland! he called. Please, you must hurry. We have a very busy schedule today.
Willy glanced at Guy, who simply shrugged and looked off in another direction. Drat the man, he was leaving it up to her. Mr. Ainh, she said, about this little tour of the lacquer factory
It will be quite fascinating! But they do not take dollars, so if you wish to exchange for dong, I can
Im afraid I dont feel up to it, she said flatly.
Ainh blinked in surprise. You are ill?
Yes, I She suddenly noticed that Guy was shaking his head. Uh, no, Im not. I mean
What she means, said Guy, is that I offered to show her around. You know he winked at Ainh a little personal tour.
P-personal? Flushing, Ainh glanced at Willy. But what about my tour? It is all arranged! The car, the sightseeing, a special lunch
I tell you what, pal, said Guy, bending toward him conspiratorially. Why dont you take the tour?
I have been on the tour, Ainh said glumly.
Ah, but that was work, right? This time, why dont you take the day off, both you and the driver. Go see the sights of Saigon. And enjoy Ms. Maitlands lunch. After all, its been paid for.
Ainh suddenly looked interested. A free lunch?
And a beer. Guy slipped a few dollars into the mans breast pocket and patted the flap. On me. He took Willys arm and directed her across the lobby.
But, Miss Maitland! Ainh called out bleakly.
Boy, what a blast you two guysre gonna have! Guy sounded almost envious. Air-conditioned car. Free lunch. No schedule to tie you down.
Ainh followed them outside, into a wall of morning heat so thick, it made Willy draw a breath of surprise. Miss Maitland! he said in desperation. This is not the way it is supposed to be done!
Guy turned and gave the man a solemn pat on the shoulder. That, Mr. Ainh, is the whole idea.
They left the poor man standing alone on the steps, staring after them.
What do you think hell do? whispered Willy.
I think, said Guy, moving her along the crowded sidewalk, hes going to enjoy a free lunch.
She glanced back and saw that Mr. Ainh had, indeed, disappeared into the hotel. She also noticed they were being followed. A street urchin, no more than twelve years old, caught up and danced around on the hot pavement.
Lien-xo? he chirped, dark eyes shining in a dirty face. They tried to ignore him, but the boy skipped along beside them, chattering all the way. His shirt hung in tatters; his feet were stained an apparently permanent brown. He pointed at Guy. Lien-xo?
No, not Russian, said Guy. Americanski.
The boy grinned. Americanski? Yes? He stuck out a smudgy hand and whooped. Hello, Daddy!
Resigned, Guy shook the boys hand. Yeah, its nice to meet you too.
Daddy rich?
Sorry. Daddy poor.
The boy laughed, obviously thinking that a grand joke. As Guy and Willy continued down the street, the boy hopped along at their side, shooing all the other urchins who had joined the procession. It was a tattered little parade marching through a sea of confusion. Bicycles whisked by, a multitude of wheels. And on the sidewalks, merchants squatted beside their meager collections of wares.
The boy tugged on Guys arm. Hey, Daddy. You got cigarette?