lied to me. You scum, you were using me!”
The look on his face was the only answer Willy needed. It was written there clearly; the acknowledgment, the guilt.
“You knew about Friar Tuck. About the bounty. You weren’t after just any ‘live one,’ were you? You were after a particular man—my father!”
Guy gave a shrug as though, now that the truth was out, it hardly mattered.
“How was this ‘deal’ with me supposed to work?” she pressed on. “Tell me, I’m curious. Were you going to turn him in the instant we found him—and my part of the deal be damned? Or were you going to humor me awhile, give me a chance to get my father home, let him step off the plane and onto American soil before you had him arrested? What was the plan, Guy? What was it?”
“There was no plan.”
“Come on. A man like you always has a plan.”
He looked tired. Defeated. “There was no plan.”
She stared straight up at him, her fists clenching, unclenching. “I bet you had plans for that two million dollars. I bet you knew exactly how you were going to spend it. Every penny. And all you had to do was put my father away. You bastard.” She should have slugged him right then and there. Instead, she walked away.
“Sure, I could use two million bucks!” he yelled. “I could use a lot of things! But I didn’t want to use you!”
She kept walking. It took him only a few quick strides to catch up to her.
“Willy. Dammit, will you listen?”
“To what? More of your lies?”
“No. The truth.”
“The truth?” She laughed. “Since when have you bothered with the truth?”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Since right now.”
“Let me go.”
“Not until you hear me out.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Look, I admit it. I knew about Friar Tuck. About the reward. And—”
“And you knew my father was on their list.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“I would have. I was going to.”
“It was all worked out from the beginning, wasn’t it? Use me to track down my father.”
“I thought about it. At first.”
“Oh, you’re low, Guy. You’re really scraping bottom. Does money mean so much to you?”
“I wasn’t doing it for the money. I didn’t have a choice. They backed me into it.”
“Who?”
“The Ariel Group. I told you—two weeks ago they showed up in my office. They knew I was headed back to Nam. What I didn’t tell you was the real reason they wanted me to work for them. They weren’t tracking MIAs. They were tracking an old war criminal.”
“Friar Tuck.”
He nodded. “I told them I wasn’t interested. They offered me money. A lot of it. I got a little interested. Then they made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Ah,” she said with disdain.
“Not money…” he protested.
“Then what’s the payoff?”
He ran his hand through his hair and let out a tired breath. “Silence.”
She frowned, not understanding. He didn’t say a thing, but she could see in his eyes some deep, dark agony. “Then that’s it,” she finally whispered. “Blackmail. What do they have on you, Guy? What are you hiding?”
“It’s not—” he swallowed “—something I can talk about.”
“I see. It must be pretty damn shocking. Which is no big surprise, I guess. But it still doesn’t justify what you tried to do to me.” She turned and walked away in disgust.
The road shimmered in the midmorning heat. Guy was right on her heels, like a stray dog that refused to be left behind. And he wasn’t the only stray following her. The slap of bare feet announced the reappearance of Oliver, who skipped along beside her, chirping, “You want cyclo ride? It is very hot day! A thousand dong—I get you ride!”
She heard the squeak of wheels, the wheeze of an out-of-breath driver. Now Oliver’s uncles had joined the procession.
“Go away,” she said. “I don’t want a ride.”
“Sun very hot, very strong today. Maybe you faint. Once I see Russian lady faint.” Oliver shook his head at the memory. “It was very bad sight.”
“Go away!”
Undaunted, Oliver turned to Guy. “How about you, Daddy?”
Guy slapped a few bills into Oliver’s grubby hand. “There’s a thousand. Now scram.”
Oliver vanished. Unfortunately, Guy wasn’t so easily brushed off. He followed Willy into the town marketplace, past stands piled high with melons and mangoes, past counters where freshly butchered meat gathered flies.
“I was going to tell you about your father,” Guy said. “I just wasn’t sure how you’d take it.”
“I’m not afraid of the truth.”
“Sure you are! You’re trying to protect him. That’s why you keep ignoring the evidence.”
“He wasn’t a traitor!”
“You still love him, don’t you?”
She turned sharply and walked away. Guy was right beside her. “What’s wrong?” he said. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“Why should I care about him? He walked out on us.”
“And you still feel guilty about it.”
“Guilty?” She stopped. “Me?”
“That’s right. Somewhere in that little-girl head of yours, you still blame yourself for his leaving. Maybe you had a fight, the way kids and dads always do, and you said something you shouldn’t have. But before you had the chance to make up, he took off. And his plane went down. And here you are, twenty years later, still trying to make it up to him.”
“Practicing psychiatry without a license now?”
“It doesn’t take
