What the hell. Hed give it one more try.
He shoved to his feet and strode across the rooftop.
Willy sensed his approach but didnt bother to look up, even when he grabbed a chair, sat down and leaned across the table.
I still think we can work together, he said.
She sniffed. I doubt it.
Cant we at least talk about it?
I dont have a thing to say to you, Mr. Barnard.
So its back to Mr. Barnard.
Her frigid gaze met his across the table. I could call you something else. I could call you a
Can we skip the sweet talk? Look, Ive been to see a friend of mine
You have friends? Amazing.
Nate was part
of the welcome-home team back in 75. Met a lot of returning POWs. Including the men from Tuyen Quan.
Suddenly she looked interested. He knew Luis Valdez?
No. Valdez was routed through classified debriefing. No one got near him. But Valdez had a cellmate in Tuyen Quan, a man named Sam Lassiter. Nate says Lassiter didnt go home.
He died?
He never left the country.
She leaned forward, her whole body suddenly rigid with excitement. Hes still here in Nam?
Was a few years ago anyway. In Cantho. Its a river town in the Delta, about a hundred and fifty kilometers southwest of here.
Not very far, she said, her mind obviously racing. I could leave tomorrow morningget there by afternoon
And just how are you going to get there?
What do you mean, how? By car, of course.
You think Mr. Ainhs going to let you waltz off on your own?
Thats what bribes are for. Some people will do anything for a buck. Wont they?
He met her hard gaze with one equally unflinching. Forget the damn money. Dont you see someones trying to use both of us? I want to know why. He leaned forward, his voice soft, coaxing. Ive made arrangements for a driver to Cantho first thing in the morning. We can tell Ainh Ive invited you along for the ride. You know, just another tourist visiting the
She laughed. You must think I have the IQ of a turnip. Why should I trust you? Bounty hunter. Opportunist. Jerk.
Lovely evening, isnt it? cut in a cheery voice.
Dodge Hamilton, drink in hand, beamed down at them. He was greeted with dead silence.
Oh, dear. Am I intruding?
Not at all, Willy said with a sigh, pulling a chair out for the ubiquitous Englishman. No doubt he wanted company for his misery, and she would do fine. They could commiserate a little more about his lost story and her lost father.
No, really, I wouldnt dream of
I insist. Willy tossed a lethal glance at Guy. Mr. Barnard was just leaving.
Hamiltons gaze shifted from Guy to the offered chair. Well, if you insist. He settled uneasily into the chair, set his glass down on the table and looked at Willy. What I wanted to ask you, Miss Maitland, is whether youd consent to an interview.
Me? Why on earth?
I decided on a new focus for my Saigon storya daughters search for her father. Such a touching angle. A sentimental journey into
Bad idea, Guy said, cutting in.
Why? asked Hamilton.
Ithas no passion, he improvised. No romance. No excitement.
Of course, theres excitement. A missing father
Hamilton. Guy leaned forward. No.
Hes asking me, Willy said. After all, its about my father.
Guys gaze swung around to her. Willy, he said quietly, think.
Im thinking a little publicity might open a few doors.
More likely itd close doors. The Vietnamese hate to hang out their dirty laundry. What if they know what happened to your father, and it wasnt a nice ending? Theyre not going to want the details all over the London papers. Itd be much easier to throw you out of the country.
Believe me, said Hamilton, I can be discreet.
A discreet reporter. Right, Guy muttered.
Not a word would be printed till shes left the country.
The Vietnamese arent dumb. Theyd find out what you were working on.
Then Ill give them a cover story. Something to throw them off the track.
Excuse me Willy said politely.
The matters touchier than you realize, Hamilton, Guy said.
Ive covered delicate matters before. When I say somethings off the record, I keep it off the record.
Willy rose to her feet. I give up. Im going to bed.
Guy looked up. You cant go to bed. We havent finished talking.
You and I have definitely finished talking.
What about tomorrow?
What about my story?
Hamilton, she said, if its dirty laundry youre looking for, why dont you interview him? She pointed to Guy. Then she turned and walked away.
Hamilton looked at Guy. What dirty laundry do you have?
Guy merely smiled.
He was still smiling as he crumpled his beer can in his bare hands.
LORD, DELIVER ME FROM THE jerks of the world, Willy thought wearily as she stepped into the elevator. The doors slid closed. Above all, deliver me from Guy Barnard.
Leaning back, she closed her eyes and waited for the elevator to creep down to the fourth floor. It moved at a snails pace, like everything else in this country. The stale air was rank with the smell of liquor and sweat. Through the creak of the cables she could hear a faint squeaking, high
in the elevator shaft. Bats. Shed seen them the night before, flapping over the courtyard. Wonderful. Bats and Guy Barnard. Could a girl ask for anything more?