handicrafts to export.
“My foster father always seemed like a real father to me. And he loved me like I was his own child,” Osa said. “But he seemed to love dangerous things more than people. Always on flights in little planes in bad weather. Always on little boats when the typhoon was coming. Always in places where there was killing going on over politics. And one time-it was the first time I came here to buy things-he said he was going over to Borneo to buy some jade and teak things. And I said, Don’t go. The rebels were fighting the government and it was dangerous. But he hugged me and said good-bye.”
Silence. End of the story? Moon guessed the end.
“He didn’t come back?”
“Never,” Osa said. “Neither he nor the pilot.”
“He was Damon’s father?”
“Yes. And Damon is just like him. I thought Damon would come home then and keep the company going. But he wanted to be a saint. So our mother had to be the boss. I kept being the buyer.”
And that was how she had met Ricky: buying in Laos and Cambodia and needing a way to get in and out.
“Your brother, he was a nice man. He wanted you to come and help him. I wondered why you didn’t.”
Moon let that hang.
“Now it’s your turn. Tell me something about Mr. Mathias.”
So he told her something. He planned to tell her just a little. Perhaps it was the darkness, as in Father Julian’s confessional, or the sympathy he’d felt from her. Whatever it was, he told her a lot. And then he felt intensely embarrassed.
“They put you out of the army? Just because of an accident?”
“I was drunk,” Moon said. “I was using an army vehicle without authorization. Rules were violated.”
“But still-”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. If you keep asking, I’ll ask you why you never got married. And personal things like that.”
“Do you think Mr. Rice is coming?” Osa said.
“I doubt it,” Moon said.
And Mr. Rice didn’t. But Mr. Lee did.
WASHINGTON, April 22 (CNS)-A Pentagon official just back from Vietnam says he believes the worst threat to Americans remaining in Vietnam may be deserting ARVN combat troops who feel they have been betrayed.
“They’re likely to go berserk in their bitterness and attack anyone they feel responsible for their defeat,” the general said.
Still the Fourteenth Day
MR. LEE ARRIVED AT THE HOTEL IN the same taxi that had brought Moon and Osa in from the airport. Osa, standing at the window of Moon’s room, saw him climbing out of it.
“Is your Mr. Lum Lee a very small man?” she asked Moon. “And old? And does he wear an old white straw hat?”
“That sounds like Mr. Lee,” Moon said. “But what would he be doing here?”
“Well, at least it’s not the police coming after us. Not yet, anyway.”
“They’re probably right behind him,” Moon- said, too drowsy to care much, thinking that in jail he could at least get some sleep. He had waited, too nervous even for dozing, for his two A.M. telephoning time. He’d learned that Dr. Serna was in surgery and had left a message that she would call him as soon as she had “anything definite to report.” Then he had failed to reach Debbie, who was either out somewhere or simply wasn’t answering the phone. Finally, he’d called the
They were not going well.
“Chaos,” Hubbell said. “Rooney jumped off the wagon. I think he started nipping day before yesterday. I got on him about it. Told him to go home. Then yesterday he didn’t show up. And this afternoon he walks in looking like hell warmed over and smelling like the drunk tank and runs right into old Jerry.”
Moon had started to say “Oh, shit,” but swallowed it because Osa was standing by his window. She’d been there most of the day, waiting and watching. Osa was absolutely certain that the people who ran the prison would have connected the absence of George Rice to their visit with George Rice. But there was nothing they could do but wait. They had to be here when Rice came because, somehow, they had to persuade him to turn himself in.
Moon bit back the expletive and said, “Jerry fired him?”
And Hubbell said, “He sure as hell did. He told him to clean out his desk and get his check from Edith.”
“Silly bastard,” Moon said. “You were already short-handed.”
“To say the least,” Hubbell said. “I’ve been coming in right after breakfast. Working about a twenty-eight-hour day.”
“Well, hang in there,” Moon said. “I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
“You still in Manila? What’s the holdup? Before I forget it, the old man wants to talk to you. He’s been bitching about you being gone so long.”
“Why didn’t he call me?” And then he remembered why. “Oh. I guess I didn’t give anybody my new number.”
Hubbell laughed. “That ain’t the reason. Overseas calls are expensive. He wants to do it on your nickel.”
So Moon sat, holding the telephone to his ear, waiting for the publisher’s secretary to get Shakeshaft on the phone and watching Osa standing by the window. A slender woman, graceful. Not Debbie’s lush shape but lithe. Classy.
“Mathias!” Shakeshaft shouted into his ear. “How long is this goddamn spring vacation of yours going to last?”
“I can’t tell yet,” Moon said. “I may know by tomorrow.”
“I’m having a little trouble understanding all this,” Shakeshaft said. “Are you still out there in
Manila? And your momma’s sick in Los Angeles? That’s what I get from Hubbell, anyway. You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing in Manila while you’re on my payroll? You find us some readers out there?”
“Well,” Moon said, “it’s some important family business. My mother was going to handle it. She got sick, so I had to go do it for her.”
“And you don’t know how long it’s going to take you, this family business?”
“Not yet, I don’t. “Moon said. “I think maybe I’ll know by tomorrow.”
“Well, I got family business too. Which is getting this goddamn paper out. And if you remember, we’ve got the vacation edition coming up. Got enough ads sold already for four special sections and nobody here to write the copy for it. And that Rooney you hired. That wino son of a bitch. Did Hubbell tell you about what happened?”
“He said you fired him,” Moon said. “Maybe you should have waited.”
Shakeshaft did not appreciate the implied criticism. “Maybe you shouldn’t have hired him,” he said. “I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to hold your job open for you. Another day. Twenty-four more hours. You call me tomorrow and tell me you got your tickets and you’re on your way back.”
“If I can,” Moon said. “I’m sorry I had to leave the paper in such a-”
“I don’t want to hear any of that ‘if I can’ shit,” Shakeshaft said. “if you can’t, I’ll get out the application file tomorrow morning and start interviewing people for your replacement.”
“I’ll-” Moon began, but Shakeshaft had hung up.
Moon put the telephone down and rubbed his ear. Osa was looking at him.
“Everything is good?”
“Everything is about normal,” Moon said.
The telephone rang. It was Lum Lee. Mr. Lee hurried through the polite preliminaries. Mr. Lee hoped to confer with Mr. Mathias. Would that be convenient?
