Monkey on a Chain (21 page)

There was nothing I could do. I continued up the hill, parallel to the path and about six yards from it. After ten minutes, I heard a faint crying. April. With a small group of men, no more than three. I made my way slowly toward them.

She was moving awkwardly in the dark, stumbling often, and making a lot of noise. I took a chance and ran ahead of them. I sounded like a herd of water buffalo, at least in my own ears, but they were preoccupied.

I took a position a yard to the left of the path, under a large fern. My eyes were fairly well adjusted to the dark. I could see them approach from fifteen yards away. The lead man had a flashlight pointed at the ground in front of him. I smiled, checked my safety, and waited.

Pete Number Two was walking point. The girl was two yards behind him, closely followed by two men. They carried their weapons at port arms and walked clumsily. The shadows from the flashlight were confusing them. When April was even with me, I took out both the men following her with one long burst and then screamed, “Holly!” I jumped against her, knocking her off her feet and off the path. I rolled once and came up in firing position.

Pete Number Two dropped the light and spun around. He tried to pull his rifle into firing position, but he was way too inexperienced and way too slow and probably couldn’t see a damned thing. I blew him away with a burst of three rounds into the center of his chest and then rolled into a crouch above April.

I waited, listening carefully and trying not to breathe. She was crying softly. I was grinning from ear to ear and my breath came in harsh sobs. I put my hand over her mouth and held it there until she was quiet. I heard some shouting from down the hill, then the sounds of another firefight. We probably had a few minutes. I set the safety and slung the M16 over my shoulder, then I scooped April up and carried her about thirty yards farther off the path, where I lay her gently on the ground.

She still had the goddamn wire on her wrists. I pulled it off and threw it away, then held her close to me. My hands ran up and down her back, over her ass and her legs and her shoulders, feeling for wetness, for bones that didn’t move right, waiting for a scream. Her heart was like a drum against my chest. Her cheeks were wet, and then I realized my cheeks were wetting hers. “Holly,” I said. “God damn it, Holly.”

She put her arms around me and said, “Ruh, Ruh, Ruh…”

We were on our knees facing each other, clinging to each other. She started saying it again. “Ruh, Ruh, Ruh…”

I had to stop her. I couldn’t stand the sound. I put my mouth over hers and kissed her hard. She began to claw at my back, but she was trying to pull me into her, and her body began to relax against mine. “Rainbow,” she said.

“God damn it, Holly.” I ground my hips against her.

She bit my neck and dropped her arms and fumbled at my pants. I lost control completely. I kicked my pants down and pulled at hers.

I tore into her like a lost man, and she met my desperation like she thought she could save me, matching me thrust for thrust. We ground away at each other for an eternity, and in the end, she did save me. We saved each other. She cried out and I groaned into her ear and collapsed on top of her. We clung together like that and listened to the shooting. We moved slowly against each other, inside each other and surrounding each other, and savored the sweetness of the moment until it dwindled and was gone. I stirred and lifted my weight off her, kissed her ear, and began to pull out of her. She stopped me, hugged me tightly with her arms, and pulled me back into her with her legs.

“That wasn’t me,” she breathed in my ear. “That was Holly. You couldn’t have done that with me.”

I nodded without agreeing. It was Holly with me in the forest. But April was there too. Even Miss Phoung had been there. But I could never tell her that.

We separated, stood, and retrieved our clothes. I found April’s face with my hand and brought her close to me. I asked if she was strong enough to be alone for a while. She asked why.

“I have a favor to do,” I told her, “for an old friend.”

“And I can’t come?”

“You wouldn’t want to.”

“Should I wait here?”

“No.” I led her back to the path above the bodies. I left the M16 with her and told her to shoot anyone who didn’t smell like me. She said that would be easy.

I went back to the bodies and carried Pete’s ears back to the clearing and left them with Freddy’s son. I figured Freddy would feel a little better about it, and Pete didn’t need them anymore. Then I went back to April and led her up the path. We stopped just off the road.

There were two guards by the van, staring nervously into the jungle. They were completely exposed in the moonlight. They were easy. I took a firing position and aimed. Behind me, April dug her nails into the muscle between my shoulder and my neck. She whispered, “No. No.” I ignored her and squeezed the trigger. Two short bursts and they were both down.

We took the long way back, along the coast. I left the weapon in the sea before dawn. The sun had been up an hour by the time we reached Baguio. I hated returning to the hotel, but the passports were there. Our only hope was that Yabut wasn’t aware anyone had escaped his trap.

We spent an anxious ten minutes packing, then took the jeepney into Manila and turned it in at the airport. There were no flights available, but a thousand dollars a seat persuaded a Chinese couple from Taiwan to postpone their departure a day. The last thing I did in Manila was post a check to Paul Roxas.

Chapter 7

WASHINGTON, D.C.

We were in and out of Taiwan and in and out of Tokyo before the sun set. We flew from Tokyo to Vancouver and cleared Canadian customs there, then rented a car and drove into the states. Customs was not a problem. They didn’t even open our bags. Perhaps they would have if we had had to show passports, but the agent just asked our citizenship and waved us through. The right accent will take you anywhere.

We drove down to Seattle, turned in the car at the airport, and took a cab to the Hilton, where we registered as John and Stephanie Nickles. It was almost nine in the morning of the same day we fled the Philippines, but twenty-four hours later. We had spent most of the time in the air, unable to talk about the only thing on our minds. And we had been too tired to talk when we got in the car. We just drove until we were ready to collapse, then found a bed and collapsed.

Seattle is a good place for the spirit, and we both needed a rest. We slept until early the next morning and woke up ravenous. April grabbed the bathroom first and I ordered breakfast from room service. Eggs Benedict, lots of coffee. It arrived while I was dressing. We sat on the bed and ate without speaking. Some conversations are hard to start. I didn’t begin this one well. I said, “Holly…”

“April.”

“What?”

“April. My name is April. You called me Holly.”

“Sorry.” I felt silly. “I’m still tired, I guess.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll answer to anything. You can call me Phoung if you like.”

“I don’t like. I know who you are.”

“Forget it.” She spoke listlessly. “Was it worth it?”

“What do you mean?” I thought she was talking about what happened between us, and I didn’t see how she could ask if it had been worth it.

“The killing. Was it worth it?”

“They had you. I had to get you back.”

“What about the men at the van? They didn’t have a chance.”

I shrugged. “They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They had seen the van. I couldn’t tolerate a trail back to us, so they had to die. We might have met Yabut again. We were lucky we didn’t.”

“So it’s just luck? We’re alive and they’re dead and it’s just luck?”

“Luck and brains. They were stupid. They shouldn’t have been in the open like that. The moon was out. I could see them and they couldn’t see me.”

“Maybe they were afraid of the dark?”

“You can’t be afraid of the dark, April. Things in it can hurt you. You have to go into the dark if you want to be safe.”

“Are we safe now?”

“Safer, anyway.”

She sighed, lay back on the bed, and looked at the ceiling. “I have a question,” she said slowly. Her tone disturbed me. I sat beside her and waited quietly. She spoke hesitantly, “Why did Roy hire you? I mean, he already had Sissy. And Johnny Walker. There were thousands of men over there. So why you?”

She had finally gotten around to it. “He needed me, or someone like me.”

“For what?”

“He was a businessman. He bought and sold things. He made contracts with people. Of course, when there was a dispute over a contract, he couldn’t go to court. So there had to be another way. Usually, it was just a matter of negotiation. A little more cash, a change in currency, push back a delivery schedule, maybe an introduction to a man in another line of business… Everybody was out to make money. Very few people were out to make trouble. But for those few who were, he had to have a credible threat. That was me. I was the credible threat.”

She looked me over skeptically. “I’ve seen bigger men.”

“Sure. Everybody has.” I smiled at her.

“So?”

“I had a quality Roy liked, April. I can control myself, even when I’m out of control.”

“Like in combat, you mean?”

“Then, yes.”

She was watching me carefully. “And in the jungle,” she asked, “when you made love to me?”

“Then too.”

“But if you didn’t lose control, if you wanted that to happen, or let it happen, what was your problem before? Why wouldn’t you make love to me before?”

“I couldn’t. You’re Phoung’s daughter.”

She looked away from me. “I thought you might be afraid that I was your daughter, too.”

“I knew you weren’t, April. But I wished that you were.”

“That changed in the jungle?”

“It changed. It wasn’t the jungle though. It was you.”

She sighed. “Some good came of it then.”

I was surprised. “A lot of good came of it. I talked to Freddy. Not for long, but long enough. Some things are beginning to make sense.”

She seemed to welcome the change of subject. “What did he say?”

“There was a shortage in the accounts. Two shortages, depending on how you count them. When Sissy took Walker’s place on the Celestina for the July delivery, he was carrying everything we had accumulated for Max’s payoff. It was going to one of the accounts in Manila. It was in the form of stones. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and other stones. We assumed it was lost during the firefight, or that the Huks took it from Sissy’s body. But he didn’t die. He was shot, but he lived.”

That got her attention. “He’s alive!”

“He was,” I said, “but there’s more. Apparently the third delivery was made after all. The one scheduled for December. I think that’s why Roy stayed in-country after he resigned his commission. The son of a bitch stuck around long enough to make the final delivery. And he pocketed the payoff.”

“This changes things,” she said slowly.

“Yes.”

“If Roy kept the money from the last delivery, wouldn’t he be afraid you might find out and want some of it?”

“He might have decided the final delivery was outside the operation. None of our concern. After all, he did it on his own. We weren’t involved. Besides, that happened twenty years ago. Why should it come up now? I wouldn’t have cared, and I don’t think Walker or Toker would have either. We were happy with what we had. Anyway, it was Toker who was killed, not Roy. And Toker never saw any of the money.”

“Somebody searched my house.”

“But not for that. If Roy got his hands on it, it was gone for good.”

“The other, then? The jewels?”

“Toker didn’t have them, either. And there’s still the time factor. What happened to start all this shit?” I didn’t know what to make of it. I had a couple of pieces of the puzzle at last, but they didn’t seem to fit anywhere.

“So what do we do now?”

“We talk to them. All of them. Roy and Sissy and Max.”

“Why Max?”

“Because I’m curious about him. He set up the operation. He was around all the time. He was the sort of man who would have used a Claymore to kill Toker. Roy wasn’t. Sissy wasn’t. But Max would have liked the idea. And he ran a number of operations for the agency while he was in-country. He would know about booby traps.”

“So you’re suspicious of him?”

“That’s right. I don’t understand where he fits in, and I’m suspicious.”

“What about Roy and Sissy?”

“Same thing. I’m suspicious. They each wound up with a big piece of change off the books. Why? And what happened to it?”

“Roy is in Mexico,” she said slowly. “Where’s Sissy?”

“I have no idea, but his hometown is the logical place to start. Santa Fe.”

“So we go there next?”

“Not yet. We don’t know if he’s still alive. Roy could have taken him out on the road to Manila. And even if he is around somewhere, we don’t know that he wound up with the bag. Max is the next step. He had the technique for the killing, but he didn’t have a motive. Let’s see if we can find a motive.”

“What if Max didn’t have a motive?”

“Then we’re down to Roy and Sissy.”

“I don’t want it to be them.”

“No.”

“One of them was my father,” she said. “No, I want it to be Max.”

“Then let’s go get him.”

We found a photographer for a couple of passport shots, then bought tickets to Washington, D.C., under the Nickles names. We had an hour to kill and smothered it with french fries and onion rings at what passed for an airport restaurant. While we waited, I asked April to pick her new name.

“You choose,” she said, “but don’t change Holly. I want to keep that.”

“Why?”

“Because of the mountains. And you called me Holly this morning.”

I settled on Holly Anderson for her and Roger Bacon for myself, called my man in Albuquerque with the particulars, then mailed the photos to him. He’d mail us the new documents in care of General Delivery, Washington, D.C.

Our flight arrived late and it was hard to find a hotel. We finally wound up at an all-suites place over the river in Virginia. It had a kitchenette, sitting room, bath, and two bedrooms. I wasn’t sure that I liked it. I’d gotten used to having April by my side.

I needn’t have worried. She completely ignored the second bedroom. She slipped in with me and laid her head on my chest and put her hand on me.

“April,” I said.

“Holly.”

“That only worked once, April.”

“It can work again. It’s already working.”

“April, we need to talk about what happened in Luzon.”

“When you rescued me.”

“After I rescued you.”

“Do I want to hear this?”

“No.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

“You’re forcing me.”

She took her hand away. “It’s about me?”

“No.”

“Vietnam, then. My mother?”

“No. Why I took Roy’s deal. Why I didn’t want to go back into the field.”

She propped herself up on an elbow, leaning over me, and looked down in my face. She was beautiful. “Then tell me.”

“Do you remember how I was, when I took you in the forest?”

“You were excited.”

“Yes.” I hesitated. “Very excited,” I said. “Before I took you. Before.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think about it.”

She thought. Her eyes slowly widened. Then she rolled off me and went to the other bedroom. I lay awake a long time thinking of all the reasons I shouldn’t have told her. But she was acting like a woman in love. She deserved to know what she loved.

The next morning I was up early. April’s bed was empty. I lay in it for a few minutes, feeling sorry for myself. Then I cursed and went out for breakfast.

I spent the day on the phone. Roy created the Saigon operation and the four of us ran it, but there were others involved. We were a sort of board of directors. Our payroll was large. American and Vietnamese civilians and military personnel ranking from private all the way up to one lieutenant colonel ate from our table. Some of them ate well. All of them owed me, and most wanted to forget it. So I had leverage, if I could find a fulcrum.

It took only three calls to get a lead on a man who was still in the service, a man who had been a sergeant in the military police at Long Binh. He was a senior master sergeant now, stationed at the Pentagon. But he was hard to reach. I finally got him at home just before suppertime. April still hadn’t showed.

Sergeant Foster wasn’t exactly happy to hear my voice. “What do you want, Porter?” he demanded.

“A name.”

“Whose?”

“Someone from the old days. Someone in the intelligence community now. Someone who remembers what he owes me.”

“Everyone owed you, you son of a bitch.”

“You, too, Foster. Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t.”

“Then give me a name. I need someone from Military Intelligence, or maybe Air America.”

“The agency?” He sounded worried. “What the hell kind of game are you playing?”

“Twenty questions,” I told him, “but not with you. I need to know about a man who was over there around then. Maybe records would work. But someone in operations would be better. The only thing is, he has to talk. I have to be able to make him talk.”

He was silent a long time. I waited him out. When he spoke, the name he gave was perfect. “Pauley,” he said. “Sam Pauley. He’s a colonel now, waiting for a star and retirement. He should do.”

“What’s his assignment?”

“M.I., the records section.”

He gave me a work number. It wouldn’t be good until the morning. I said goodbye and he hung up without a word. He didn’t ask me not to call him again. I would if I had to, and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

April still wasn’t home. I checked the phone book, but Pauley wasn’t in it. I skipped supper and sat in the dark. Waited.

April finally came in around ten. She was drunk.

She glanced at me when she entered, then went into her room. I waited. When she came out, she was wearing the Montezuma T-shirt. She had the monkey pendant in her hand. She threw it at me. It hit my chest and fell on the floor. I let it lie.

“What did you do today?” I asked.

“Walked around. Took a cab to the Smithsonian. Had a couple of drinks.” She spoke carefully, as though she were afraid of slurring. “And?”

“And I spent some time thinking,” she said. “About us.”

“What did you decide?”

“Decided not to decide. You decide. If you want me you can have me.”

“I want you, April.”

“Then take me.” She held her arms out. I picked her up and carried her into her room, laid her on the bed.

“You trying to confuse me?” she asked.

“I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“Hurt me. Don’t care.” Her eyes were closing. “Don’t care,” she repeated.

I pulled the blankets over her. I found the monkey and put it on her bedside table, then put out the light and sat with her until she fell asleep. Then I was hungry.

There was a place called the Bamboo House down the street. Chinese food with a dimly lit lounge. I picked up a menu and sat at the bar, trying to decide what I wanted. Mongolian chicken or April. The bartender was a Chinese girl in her late twenties. She poured me a Johnny Walker and left me alone with the menu. I stared at it for a while, then set it aside and ordered another Black Label. When I finished the drink, I ordered another. I started to feel good, so I went home and put myself to bed. I didn’t much feel like feeling good.

April was in a quiet mood the next morning. I took her to a House of Pancakes where we both drank a lot of coffee and pushed eggs around our plates.

“About last night…” April began.