another step forward. “Have you called for security?”
I nodded. “Did you learn to fight like that in Hue?”
“In China,” she said.
“At a private security company. Like Phuong.”
“Yes.”
“Then it would follow that you’re not Vang’s niece.”
“But I am,” she said. “He used the last of his fortune to have me trained so I could protect you. He was a bitter man…to have used his family so.”
“And I suppose sleeping with me falls under the umbrella of protection.” She kneeled beside the chair, put a hand on my neck, and gazed at me entreatingly. “I love you, Philip. I would do anything for you.
How can you doubt it?”
I was moved by her sincerity, but I could not help but treat her coldly. It was as if a valve had been twisted shut to block the flow of my emotions. “That’s right,” I said. “Vang told me that your kind were conditioned to bond with their clients.”
I watched the words hit home, a wounded expression washing across her features, then fading, like a ripple caused by a pebble dropped into a still pond. “Is that so important?” she asked. “Does it alter the fact that you fell in love with me?”
I ignored this, yet I was tempted to tell her, No, it did not. “If you were trained to protect me, why did Vang discourage our relationship?”
She got to her feet, her face unreadable, and went a few paces toward the alcove; she appeared to be staring at Phuong’s body, lying crumpled in the light. “There was a time when I think he wanted me for himself. That may explain it.”
“Did Phuong really accost you?” I asked. “Or was that…
“I’ve never lied to you. I’ve deceived you by not revealing everything I knew about Vang,” she said. “But I was bound to obey him in that. As you said, I’ve been conditioned.”
I had other questions, but I could not frame one of them. The silence of the house seemed to breed a faint humming, and I became oppressed by the idea that Tan and I were living analogs of the two corpses, that the wealth I was soon to receive as a consequence of our actions would lead us to a pass wherein we would someday lie dead in separate rooms of a silent house, while two creatures like ourselves but younger would stand apart from one another in fretful isolation, pondering their future. I wanted to dispossess myself of this notion, to contrive a more potent reality, and I crossed the room to Tan and turned her to face me. She refused to meet my eyes, but I tipped up her chin and kissed her. A lover’s kiss. I touched her breasts-a treasuring touch. But despite the sweet affirmation and openness of the kiss, I think it also served a formal purpose, the sealing of a bargain whose terms we did not fully understand.
Six months and a bit after my eighteenth birthday, I was sitting in a room in the Sony offices in Saigon, a windowless space with black walls and carpet and silver-framed photographs of scenes along the Perfume River and in the South China Sea, when Vang flickered into being against the far wall. I thought I must seem to him, as he seemed to me, like a visitation, a figure from another time manifested in a dream. He appeared no different than he had on the day he left the circus-thin and gray-haired, dressed in care-worn clothing-and his attitude toward me was, as ever, distant. I told him what had happened in Binh Khoi, and he said, “I presumed you would have more trouble with William. Of course he thought he had leverage over me-he thought he had Tan in his clutches. So he let his guard down. He believed he had nothing to fear.”
His logic was overly simplistic, but rather than pursue this, I asked the question foremost on my mind: why had he not told me that he was my grandfather? I had uncovered quite a lot about my past in the process of familiarizing myself with Vang’s affairs, but I wanted to hear it all.
“Because I’mnot your grandfather,” he said. “I was William’s father-in-law, but…” He shot me an amused look. “I should have thought you would have understood all this by now.”
I saw no humor in the situation. “Explain it to me.”
“As you wish.” He paced away from me, stopped to inspect one of the framed photographs. “William engineered the death of my wife, my daughter, and my grandson in a plane crash. Once he had isolated me, he challenged my mental competency, intending to take over my business concerns. To thwart him, I faked my suicide. It was a very convincing fake. I used a body I’d had cloned to supply me with organs.
I kept enough money to support Green Star and to pay for Tan’s training. The rest you know.”
“Not so,” I said. “You haven’t told me who I am.”
“Ah, yes.” He turned from the photograph and smiled pleasantly at me. “I suppose that would interest you. Your mother’s name was Tuyet. Tuyet Su Vanh. She was an actress in various pornographic media.
The woman you saw in your dream-that was she. We had a relationship for several years, then we drifted apart. Not long before I lost my family, she came to me and told me she was dying. One of the mutated HIVs. She said she’d borne a child by me. A son. She begged me to take care of you. I didn’t believe her, of course. But she had given me pleasure, so I set up a trust for you. A small one.”
“And then you decided to use me.”
“William had undermined my authority to the extent that I could not confront him directly. I needed an arrow to aim at his heart. I told your mother that if she cooperated with me I’d adopt you, place my fortune in the trust, and make you my heir. She gave permission to have your memory wiped. I wanted you empty so I could fill you with my purpose. After you were re-educated, she helped construct some fragmentary memories that were implanted by means of a biochip. Nonetheless, you were a difficult child to mold. I couldn’t be certain that you would seek William out, and so, since I was old and tired and likely not far from Heaven, I decided to feign an illness and withdraw. This allowed me to arrange a confrontation without risk to myself.”
I should have hated Vang, but after six months of running his businesses, of viewing the world from a position of governance and control, I understood him far too well to hate-though at that moment, understanding the dispassionate requisites and protocols of such a position seemed as harsh a form of judgment as the most bitter of hatreds. “What happened to my mother?” I asked.
“I arranged for her to receive terminal care in an Australian hospital.”
“And her claim that I was your biological son…did you investigate it?”
“Why should I? It didn’t matter. A man in my position could not acknowledge an illegitimate child, and once I had made my decision to abdicate my old life, it mattered even less. If it has any meaning for you, there are medical records you can access.”
“I think I’d prefer it to remain a mystery,” I told him.
“You’ve no reason to be angry at me,” he said. “I’ve made you wealthy. And what did it cost? A few memories.”
I shifted in my chair, steepled my hands on my stomach. “Are you convinced that my…that William had your family killed? He seemed to think there had been a misunderstanding.”
“That was a charade! If you’re asking whether or not I had proof-of course I didn’t. William knew how to disguise his hand.”
“So everything you did was based solely on the grounds of your suspicions.”
“No! It was based on my knowledge of the man!” His tone softened. “What does it matter? Only William and I knew the truth, and he is dead. If you doubt me, if you pursue this further, you’ll never be able to satisfy yourself.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I said, getting to my feet.
“Are you leaving already?” He wore an aggrieved expression. “I was hoping you’d tell me about Tan…and Green Star. What has happened with my little circus?”
“Tan is well. As for Green Star, I gave it to Mei and Tranh.”
I opened the door, and Vang made a gesture of restraint. “Stay a while longer, Philip. Please. You and Tan are the only people with whom I have an emotional connection. It heartens me to spend time with you.”
Hearing him describe our relationship in these terms gave me pause. I recalled the conversation in which Tan had asserted that something central to the idea of life died when one was uploaded into Heaven-Vang’s uncharacteristic claim to an emotional debt caused me to think that he might well be, as she’d described her parents, a colored shadow, a cunningly contrived representation of the original. I hoped that this was not the case; I hoped that he was alive in every respect.
