to fly, Air France sounded like the better bet. They should be able to make it all the way to Europe with minimal trouble. And if they could go through France, even better. A couple of Caucasian passengers carrying European passports and arriving on a European airline would draw little attention.
The woman at the counter of the Air France office informed Quinn that there was a flight leaving that evening for Bangkok, where he could connect on a flight to Paris. 'Are there any seats available?' Quinn asked.
'How many tickets do you need?' She looked Vietnamese and spoke English with a French accent.
'Two,' Quinn said. 'That shouldn't be a problem. May I see your passports?' Five minutes later, they had their tickets.
Quinn allowed Nate a final meal at Mai 99, but didn't let him go alone. Of course, Anh was there.
In a way, he envied the distraction she had provided Nate. There were times when Quinn longed for a similar tangent, a little time when he could forget the shit his life had become. In reality the few women he had gotten even remotely close to had only served as ultimately unsuccessful attempts at self-deception, none ever completely helping him forget the fact he wanted to be with someone else. They basically ended up being only bridges from one point to another. Nothing more. An emotional connection, something deeper that could have lasted more than a few months or even a year, eluded him.
He tried to convince himself it was his line of work that made things difficult.
'Getting hooked on one woman is the last thing you want to do,' Durrie had told him when Quinn once casually mentioned he'd met a woman he liked. 'She becomes your weak spot. And once you have a weak spot, you're through. Fuck around all you want. There's pussy everywhere. Just don't get hung up on just one. It'll get you killed. Understand?'
Ironic, given Durrie's own entanglement with Orlando, but it had stuck with Quinn. He even turned it into a kind of mantra, using it as an excuse for why he had to live his life alone. But deep inside, in the part of his mind he always tried to ignore, he knew the truth. He knew the reason why his relationships didn't work. It had nothing to do with his mentor's advice.
Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about it. He had made a promise, and to act on his true feelings would mean breaking that promise.
It didn't matter that Durrie was dead. Quinn had given his word to avoid getting involved with her.
'You're her best friend,' Durrie had said. It was a week before the operation that took him down. He had asked Quinn to fly down to San Diego to discuss the upcoming gig. 'If she needs anything, and I'm not there to help, you make sure she gets it.'
'You know I will,' Quinn said.
'By helping, I don't mean moving in. You get me?'
Quinn froze momentarily. 'I –'
'Shut up,' Durrie said. 'I'm not stupid. I know you love her, Johnny. But she'll always be mine. Understand?'
The only thing Quinn could do was nod. Durrie was a shit to the end. He knew Quinn too well. He knew when Quinn made a promise, he'd keep it. Even a promise to a dead man.
He'd kept the promise, too. Even in the years he and Orlando had not talked, he'd kept tabs on her. Paying others to go to wherever she was living, checking that everything was okay. But he never went himself. He feared he wouldn't be able to stay away from her if he did.
After Quinn finished his dinner and drank the last of his Tiger beer, he slipped Nate five hundred dollars under the table.
'What's this for?' Nate asked.
'Put it under your plate when we leave.'
Nate still stared at him, not getting it.
'It's a tip.'
'This is not a tip,' Nate said.
'Think of it this way,' Quinn said. 'You may not ever see her again, but she'll never forget you.' 'I thought the idea was always to be forgettable,' Nate said. Quinn stood up, gave Nate a half smile, then turned for the door.
Chapter 17
They separated in Bangkok, Quinn sticking with Air France headed to Paris, while Nate flew British Airways to London, transferring to a British Midland flight across the Channel.
Quinn was waiting for him near the gate when he arrived, and was happy to see Nate had followed his directions. Gone were the jeans and short-sleeved shirts he had been wearing in Vietnam. They had been replaced by a sharp-looking dark blue business suit, white shirt, and matching patterned tie. Gone, also, was the slightly unkempt brown hair. Now he was sporting a slicked-down, side-parted hairdo. The gel he used had darkened the shade of his hair considerably.
'Well done,' Quinn said as he fell into step next to his apprentice.
'Thanks,' Nate said. 'I had, like, fifteen minutes in London to change, goop up, and catch my flight. I probably had some of that crap still on my hand when I gave the attendant my ticket.'
'Really?' Quinn asked, suddenly concerned.
'No, Dad. Not really,' Nate said. 'I like your glasses.'
'You can have them when I'm through.'
