“But I have to try. I have to go to Hanoi.”

Minister Tranh gazed at her, his eyes glowing with a strange black fire. She stared straight back at him. Slowly, a benign smile formed on his lips and she knew that she had won.

“Does nothing frighten you, Miss Maitland?” he asked.

“Many things frighten me.”

“And well they should.” He was still smiling, but his eyes were unfathomable. “I only hope you have the good sense to be frightened now.”

LONG AFTER THE TWO Americans had left, Minister Tranh and Mr. Ainh sat smoking cigarettes and listening to the screech of the cicadas in the night.

“You will inform our people in Hanoi,” said the minister.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to cancel her visa?” said Ainh. “Force her to leave the country?”

“Easier, perhaps, but not wiser.” The minister lit another cigarette and inhaled a warm and satisfying breath of smoke. A good American brand. His one weakness. He knew it would only hasten his death, that the cancer now growing in his right lung would feed ravenously on each lethal molecule of smoke. How ironic that the very enemy that had worked so hard to kill him during the war would now claim victory, and all because of his fondness for their cigarettes.

“What if she comes to harm?” Ainh asked. “We would have an international incident.”

“That is why she must be protected.” The minister rose from his chair. The old body, once so spry, had grown stiff with the years. To think this dried-up carcass had fought two savage jungle wars. Now it could barely shuffle around the house.

“We could scare her into going home-arrange an incident to frighten her,” suggested Ainh.

“Like your Die Yankee note?” Minister Tranh laughed as he headed for the door. “No, I do not think she frightens easily, that one. Better to see where she leads us. Perhaps we, too, will learn a few secrets. Or have you lost your curiosity, Comrade?”

Ainh looked miserable. “I think curiosity is a dangerous thing.”

“So we let her make the moves, take the risks.” The minister glanced back, smiling, from the doorway. “After all,” he said. “It is her destiny.”

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO TO Hanoi,” said Guy, watching Willy pack her suitcase. “You could stay in Saigon. Wait for me.”

“While you do what?”

“While I do the legwork up north. See what I can find.” He glanced out the window at the two police agents loitering in the walkway. “Ainh’s got you covered from all directions. You’ll be safe here.”

“I’ll also go nuts.” She snapped the suitcase shut. “Thanks for offering to stick your neck out for me, but I don’t need a hero.”

“I’m not trying to be a hero.”

“Then why’re you playing the part?”

He shrugged, unable to produce an answer.

“It’s the money, isn’t it? The bounty for Friar Tuck.”

“It’s not the money.”

“Then it’s that skeleton dancing around in your closet.” He didn’t answer. “What are you trying to hide? What’s the Ariel Group got on you, anyway?” He remained silent. She locked her suitcase. “Never mind. I don’t really want to know.”

He sat down on the bed. Looking utterly weary, he propped his head in his hands. “I killed a man,” he said.

She stared at him. Head in his hands, he looked ragged, spent, a man who’d used up his last reserves of strength. She had the unexpected impulse to sit beside him, to take him in her arms and hold him, but she couldn’t seem to move her feet. She was too stunned by his revelation.

“It happened here. In Nam. In 1972.” His laugh was muffled against his hands. “The Fourth of July.”

“There was a war going on. Lots of people got killed.”

“This was different. This wasn’t an act of war, where you shoot a few men and get a medal for your trouble.” He raised his head and looked at her. “The man I killed was American.”

Slowly she went over and sank down beside him on the bed. “Was it…a mistake?”

He shook his head. “No, not a mistake. It was something I did without thinking. Call it reflexes. It just happened.”

She said nothing, waiting for him to go on. She knew he would go on; there was no turning back now.

“I was in Da Nang for the day, to pick up supplies,” he said. “Got a little turned around and wound up on some side street. Just an alley, really, a dirt lane, few old hootches. I got out of the jeep to ask for directions, and I heard this-this screaming…”

He paused, looked down at his hands. “She was just a kid. Fifteen, maybe sixteen. A small girl, not more than ninety pounds. There was no way she could’ve fought him off. I-I just reacted. I didn’t really think about what I was doing, what I was going to do. I dragged him off her, shoved him on the ground. He got up and swung at me. I didn’t have a choice but to fight back. By the time I stopped hitting him, he wasn’t moving. I turned and saw what he’d done to the girl. All the blood…”

Guy rubbed his forehead, as though trying to erase the image. “By then there were other people there. I looked around, saw all these eyes watching me. Vietnamese. One of the women came up, whispered that I should leave, that they’d get rid of the body for me. That’s when I realized the man was dead.”

For a long time they sat side by side, not touching, not speaking. He’d just confessed to killing a man. Yet she couldn’t condemn him; she felt only a sense of sadness about the girl, about all the silent, nameless casualties of war.

“What happened then?” she asked gently.

He shrugged. “I left. I never said a word to anyone. I guess I was scared to. A few days later I heard they’d found a soldier’s body on the other side of town. His death was listed as an assault by unknown locals. And that was the end of it. I thought.”

“How did the Ariel Group find out?”

“I don’t know.” Restless, he rose and went to the window where he looked out at the dimly lit walkway. “There were half a dozen witnesses, all of them Vietnamese. Word must’ve gotten around. And somehow the Ariel Group got wind of it. What I don’t understand is why they waited this long.”

“Maybe they only just heard about it.”

“Or maybe they were waiting for the right chance to use it.” He turned to look at her. “Doesn’t it bother you, how we got thrown together? That we happened to meet in Kistner’s villa? That you happened to need a ride into town?”

“And that the man you’ve been asked to find just happens to be my father.”

He nodded.

“They’re using us,” she said. Then, with rising anger she added, “They’re using me.”

“Welcome to the club.”

She looked up. “What do we do about it?”

“In the morning I’ll fly to Hanoi, start asking questions.”

“What about me?”

“You stay where Ainh can watch you.”

“Sounds like a lousy plan.”

“Have you got a better one?”

“Yes. I come with you.”

“You’ll only complicate things. If your father’s alive, I’ll find him.”

“And what happens when you do? Are you going to turn him in? Trade him for silence?”

“I’ve given up on silence,” Guy said quietly. “I’ll settle for answers now.”

She hauled her packed suitcase off the bed and set it down by the door. “Why am I arguing with you? I don’t need your permission. I don’t need any man’s permission. He’s my father. I know his face. His voice. After twenty years, I’m the one who’ll recognize him.”

“You’re also the one who could get killed. Or is that part of the fun, Junior, going for thrills? Hell.” He laughed. “It’s probably written in your genes. You’re as loony as your old man. He loved getting shot at, didn’t he? He was a thrill junkie, and you are, too. Admit it. You’re having the time of your life!”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I’m not in this for thrills. I’m in it because I had to be. Because I didn’t have a choice.”

“Neither of us has a choice!” She turned away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. He was standing so close it made her neck ache to look up at him.