UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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30

When Charlotte said that she’d consider going with him to Vietnam, that she’d give him a chance to convince her, the relief Guidry felt was such sweet thunder—the sky breaking open and the rain raking across parched fields. But he enjoyed the moment for exactly that long: a moment. By the time the elevator dropped him to the lobby and the doors rattled open, his stomach was clenched, his mouth dry.

First the hard part, now the harder part. Here we go.

He walked across the parking lot. Cold tonight, the wind slashing. What would Ed say when Guidry asked if he could bring Charlotte and the girls along to Saigon? Ed might say yes. He might shrug and say, Why the hell not? Because Ed was, let’s be honest, certifiably cuckoo. He might think it was a gas—Guidry in Saigon with June Cleaver and the two little Beaverettes. As long as Guidry did the job that Ed wanted him to do, as long as Guidry did it well. Sure, boychick, why the hell not? Ed would want to hear all the amusing details. He’d tune in every week.

Driving, Guidry prepared his case. Ed, I’ll do the job you want me to do. I’ll do it well.

Charlotte and the girls would be an advantage in Vietnam, not a vulnerability. Consider the angles. Guidry needed to make friends in high places. A lot of the Americans in Saigon—the lieutenant colonels and brigadier generals, the embassy officers and economic advisers, the procurers and suppliers—a lot of those men would bring along their own wives and kids. They’d trust a fellow family man. Cookouts and dinner-dances and sunbathing by the hotel swimming pool. Say, Jim, have you and Susie found a reliable babysitter yet?

Don’t you see, Ed?

Ed might see, if he let Guidry get that far. If Ed didn’t just laugh and shoot Guidry before he even got started.

But why worry? The time for that had passed. Guidry’s history was already written. He thought about what Leo had said: With every decision we create a new future. We destroy all other futures. Guidry had made his decision. He’d destroyed all futures but this one.

He turned off the highway and followed the winding drive to Ed’s house. The night couldn’t make up its mind. Black or bright? For a hundred yards, Guidry couldn’t see an inch past the reach of his headlights, but then the moon would punch free of the clouds. The saguaro rearing up, the red rock walls about to topple down on him.

He kept his window open. Freezing his ass off, but he didn’t want to start sweating.

Ed’s glass house was dark. In one far window, Guidry caught what might have been the tip of a cigarette glowing.

The front door had a heavy brass knocker that Guidry hadn’t noticed the first time. It was the mournful face of a gargoyle, eyes closed. When Guidry lifted the face to knock, he found a second face underneath. The same gargoyle, but grinning now, eyes open, staring back at him.

After a long minute, Leo opened the door. He’d traded his black Savile Row suit for a sport shirt and faded blue jeans and a pair of leather huaraches.

“Sorry,” Guidry said. “I was looking for my old pal Leo.”

Leo’s eyes twinkled. “Good evening, sir. Mr. Zingel is in the library. If you’ll follow me.”

They passed through the dark and empty living room. Through the dark and empty dining room. Not a sound, just their footsteps’ tap-tap-tap on the marble and the wind booming against the plate glass. Out over the desert, the moon blinked on, the moon blinked off. Guidry wished that Cindy and her friends were here, splashing in the pool or lounging on the zebra-skin rug. Ed’s lost boys and girls gave him the creeps, but this deserted house was worse.

“Where’s the gang tonight, Leo?” he said.

“Mr. Zingel sent them to the pictures in town,” Leo said.

A light at the end of the tunnel, the golden frolic of a fireplace, Ed’s library. Ed sat behind a big oak desk. Guidry took one of the club chairs in front of it. There wasn’t much on the desk. A telephone, a box of cigars, a manila envelope stuffed thick. Ed’s gun.

“Romantic, Ed,” Guidry said, “and I appreciate the effort, but turn on a lamp for God’s sake, will you?”

“I do my best deliberating in the dark,” Ed said.

The moon blinked on. Two walls of the library were nothing but glass.

Guidry nodded. “That’s better,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, boychick.”

“You’re still deliberating?”

“Not about this. Not about you.” Ed glanced at his watch. “I made up my mind minutes ago.”

Leo brought Guidry a glass of scotch, neat. Ed pointed to the manila envelope.

“The paperwork that’ll get you onto Nellis, out of Nellis, into Vietnam,” Ed said. “It’s all on the up-and-up, more or less. You toil in middle management for a company that has an army contract. Rain-suit parkas and combat trousers, lightweight, Limited Procurement Order 8901. Fletcher and Sons Fabric and Apparel, Holyoke, Massachusetts. It’s a real company, a real contract. I might even turn a profit.”

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get into pants.”

“You’re hitching a ride with a fine pilot and degenerate gambler by the name of Colonel Butch Tolliver. His bird flies tomorrow evening at seven sharp, a transport Cargomaster. I’m still working on a passport. Give me a few weeks. You won’t need one right away, since you’re flying into Tan Son Nhut. That’s the air base. Nguyen’s greased all the necessary wheels. So for the time being, you’re still Frank Guidry. Can you remember that?”

“I’ll do my best,” Guidry said.

“Leo, run downstairs and get us a bottle of the good stuff, will you?” Ed said. “The ’46 Macallan. We’re celebrating. Grab yourself a glass, too.”

Ed gave the manila envelope a flick of his finger. It spun across the polished wood to Guidry’s side of the desk. Guidry didn’t reach for it.

“What are you waiting for, boychick?” Ed said. “There’s no surprise twist. The surprise twist is that there’s no surprise twist. You’re going to have a long and fruitful life. We’re going to have a long and fruitful partnership.”

“I’ve a favor to ask, Ed.”

Ed had been about to clip the end off a cigar. He put down the cutter. He put down the cigar. “Another favor, you mean.”

“You’ve already done a lot for me,” Guidry said. “Nobody understands that better than I do.”

“It appears not,” Ed said, “or you wouldn’t be asking for another favor. Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed for you? The money and the goodwill I’m leaving on the table? Guess how much you’re worth to Carlos.”

“So you’ve made the discreet inquiry.”

“Of course I have. Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I’m not shocked.”

“You would’ve done the same thing, boychick, if you’d been in my place. I hope so, anyway.”

Guidry drank his scotch, all of it, one long swallow. “I want to take Charlotte and her daughters with me to Vietnam.”

The moon blinked off. The room went dark again. Guidry couldn’t make out Ed’s expression. The wind outside paused to gather itself and then charged again, yowling at the glass.

“You’ve got some balls,” Ed said. “I’ll say that for you.”

“Let’s look at the advantages,” Guidry said.

“What’s the expression you always use? ‘Ye gods.’ That’s it. Mind if I borrow it?”

“I’ve thought it through, Ed. I’ll do the job you want me to do. I’ll do it well. This won’t change anything.”

Hearing the words out loud, Guidry knew that his argument was doomed. He’d known it all along and just refused to admit it. Balls were well and good, but a man who put those balls on the block for a woman and two kids he’d met a week ago? Who in the world would ever have faith in that man’s judgment again?

“Ye gods,” Ed said.

“Ed .  .  .”

“All right. I can arrange it.”

Guidry’s momentum had almost carried him into the next sentence. Ed, just listen to me, they’ll trust a family man even more than they’ll trust a single .  .  .

“What?” Guidry said.

“I’ve picked my horse, boychick. Now I want to see him run. You’ll pay off for me or you won’t. Besides, who am I to stand in the way of true love?”

What?

But then Ed was shifting in his chair, his smile was flashing from the darkness, his hand was resting on the gun.

“Just one condition,” Ed said. “I keep one of the little girls for myself. Your choice, I don’t care which one.”

Guidry tried to smile back. “Hilarious, Ed,” he said.

“Is it?” Ed said. “It’s a good deal, I think. You still come out ahead. We can flip a coin if you want. What are their names again?”

A log in the fireplace burst into brilliant confetti. The moon blinked on. Ed roared with laughter. “You should see your face, boychick.”

“Goddamn it, Ed.”

“Am I monster?” Ed said. “Is that what you think of me? I’m disappointed. I’m flattered.”

“Goddamn you.”

Ed picked his cigar back up and clipped the end. “I’ve already arranged it. Charlotte, the kids. All four of you are on that flight tomorrow.”

“You already .  .  .”

“I knew you’d want to take them along,” Ed said. “Well, I gave it even odds. Everything you’ll need is in the envelope. Go ahead, take it.”

Ed noticed that Leo was still lingering in the doorway.

“Did I just imagine it, Leo,” he said, “or did I ask you to run downstairs and get that bottle of ’46 Macallan so we can celebrate?”

Guidry picked up the manila envelope. He wanted to climb over the desk and give the big bastard a hug. “Goddamn you, Ed.”

“I was in love once,” Ed said. “I bet you didn’t know that. Long ago, but I remember what it feels like. Love doesn’t last, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t ever there.”

“I don’t know if it’s love,” Guidry said. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Just don’t come crying to me. When you get bored and want to ship the wife and kids back stateside. By the way, you’re staying here tonight. You’ll be safer.”

“Safer?”

“I’ll send Leo for the ladies. Give them a call. Let them know he’s on the way.” Ed looked over again. “Leo! Wake up, for God’s sake!”

Leo still hadn’t moved from the doorway. Guidry had only half a second to wonder why, half a second to wonder why Leo had a gun in his hand, and then time jerked forward, jumped ahead, Leo’s arm already raised and the trigger already pulled, the earsplitting rip of blue fire leaping toward Ed and Ed’s head snapping back, a puff of blood.

Leo.

Leo.

Leo, who knew how much Guidry was worth to Carlos, dead or alive.

Guidry had been shot at before, plenty of times during the war, so he didn’t freeze when Leo turned and pointed the gun at him. He dove for the desk. Oak and heavy, between him and the doorway. He felt and then heard, thump and crack, the second bullet miss him by inches. The glass wall behind the chair where he’d been sitting frosted over.

All Leo had to do was take a few steps to his left. Guidry was in a corner, nowhere to hide. Ed, one last favor before he died, had managed to grab for his gun and knock it to the carpet. But it was too far away, on the wrong side of the desk.

Leo. Making his big move. Take out Ed, cash in Guidry. Ed, if his brains hadn’t been blown loose, would have been impressed.

“Come out,” Leo said.

“Leo. Let’s discuss this.”

What was Leo waiting for? He hadn’t spotted Ed’s gun yet. He thought Guidry might have it.

“Come out,” Leo said.

The moon blinked off. He who hesitates. Guidry scrambled for Ed’s gun, and blue fire blazed, and out of nowhere a girl screamed. A scream of blistering, bloodthirsty fury.

The shot missed, Guidry wasn’t dead. He didn’t think so. He came up and saw some kind of demon thrashing around on Leo’s back. Cindy, digging her fingers into Leo’s face, like she was trying to peel the skin off his skull.

Leo spun, looking for a clean shot over his shoulder. They lurched together across the library, and Leo fired, and Cindy’s head snapped back. Still she hung on to him. Leo spun again and flung her off, into the window already frosted by the bullet. The glass shattered. Cindy and all the winking shards spilled onto the black lava rocks outside.

Leo turned toward Guidry, and Guidry shot him in the chest. Leo dropped his gun and went down on one knee. He shook with laughter. Ha! Ha! That’s what it looked like. Guidry shot him again. Leo tipped over. He blew one last dark bubble of blood.

Cindy was dead, too. Ed was dead. Guidry allowed himself three deep breaths. One, two, three. That was it, all he could afford, no more. He made sure he had his car keys. He made sure he had the manila envelope.

He walked through the house and out the door. He didn’t hear or see anybody else. Either Cindy had returned alone from the movies or the other kids had fled when they heard the gunshots.

One last deep breath, for the road. Guidry got into his car and started the engine.