What would you call it?
A cover-up.
Ainh shuffled uneasily. Turning, he exchanged a few words in Vietnamese with the guard. Then he gave Willy a polite bow. The police say you are free to leave, Miss Maitland. On behalf of the Vietnamese government, I apologize for your most unfortunate experience. What happened does not in any way reflect on our high regard and warm feelings for the American people. We hope this will not spoil the remainder of your visit.
Guy couldnt help a laugh. Why should it? It was just a little murder attempt.
In the morning, Ainh went on quickly, you are free to continue your tour.
Subject to what restrictions? Guy asked.
No restrictions. Ainh cleared his throat and made a feeble attempt to smile. Contrary to your government propaganda, Mr. Barnard, we are a reasonable people. We have nothing to hide.
To which Guy answered flatly, Or so it seems.
I DONT GET IT. First they run you through the wringer. Then they hand you the keys to the country. It doesnt make sense.
Willy stared out the taxi window as the streets of Saigon glided past. Here and there, a lantern flickered in the darkness. A noodle vendor huddled on the sidewalk beside his steaming cart. In an open doorway, a beaded curtain shuddered, and in the dim room beyond, sleeping children could be seen, curled up like kittens on their mats.
Nothing makes sense, she whispered. Not this country. Or the people. Or anything thats happened
She was trembling. The horror of everything that had happened that night suddenly burst through the numbing dam of exhaustion. Even Guys arm, which had magically materialized around her shoulders, couldnt keep away the unnamed terrors of the night.
He pulled her against his chest, and only when she inhaled that comfortable smell of fatigue, felt the slow and steady beat of his heart, did her trembling finally stop. He kept whispering, Its all right, Willy. I wont let anything happen to you. She felt his kiss, gentle as rain, on her forehead.
When the driver stopped in front of the hotel, Guy had to coax her out of the car. He led her through the nightmarish glare of the lobby. He was the pillar that supported her in the elevator. And it was his arm that guided her down the shadowed walkway and past the air-conditioning vent, now ominously silent. He didnt even ask her if she wanted his company for the night; he simply opened the door to his room, led her inside and sat her down on his
bed. Then he locked the door and slid a chair in front of it.
In the bathroom, he soaked a washcloth with warm water. Then he came back out, sat down beside her on the bed and gently wiped her smudged face. Her cheeks were pale. He had the insane urge to kiss her, to breathe some semblance of life back into her body. He knew she wouldnt fight him; she didnt have the strength. But it wouldnt be right, and he wasnt the kind of man whod take advantage of the situation, of her.
There, he murmured, brushing back her hair. All better.
She stirred and gazed up at him with wide, stunned eyes. Thank you, she whispered.
For what?
For She paused, searching for the right words. For being here.
He touched her face. Ill be here all night. I wont leave you alone. If thats what you want.
She nodded. It hurt him to see her look so tired, so defeated. Shes getting to me, he thought. This isnt supposed to happen. This isnt what I expected.
He could see, from the brightness of her eyes, that she was trying not to cry. He slid his arm around her shoulders.
Youll be safe, Willy, he whispered into the softness of her hair. Youll be going home in the morning. Even if I have to strap you into that plane myself, youll be going home.
She shook her head. I cant.
What do you mean, you cant?
My father
Forget him. It isnt worth it.
I made a promise
All you promised your mother was an answer. Not a body. Not some official report, stamped and certified. Just a simple answer. So give her one. Tell her hes dead, tell her he died in the crash. Its probably the truth.
I cant lie to her.
You have to. He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. Willy, someones trying to kill you. Theyve flubbed it twice. But what happens the third time? The fourth?
She shook her head. Im not worth killing. I dont know anything!
Maybe its not what you know. Its what you might find out.
Sniffling, she looked up in bewilderment. That my fathers dead? Or alive? What difference does it make to anyone?
He sighed, a sound of overwhelming weariness. I dont know. If we could talk to Oliver, find out who he works for
Hes just a kid!
Obviously not. He could be sixteen, seventeen. Old enough to be an agent.
For the Vietnamese?
No. If he was one of theirs, whyd he vanish? Why did the police keep hounding you about him?
She huddled on the bed, her confusion deepening. He saved my life. And I dont even know why.
There it was again, that raw edge of vulnerability, shimmering in her eyes. She might be Wild Bill Maitlands brat, but she was also a woman, and Guy was having a hard time concentrating on the problem at hand. Why was someone trying to kill her?