by David Joiner
Nathan walked unhurriedly from Anthony's office, past Xuan and the manicure she was giving herself at her workstation. Back in his office, he sat down at his desk and took out the manila envelope Reuters had sent him.
Among the letter and Agent Orange materials was Mr. Jasper's business card. Nathan decided to accept his offer before any guilt he might feel over his present job reared its head. He opened his e-mail program, then typed in Mr. Jasper's e-mail address and a subject heading that read Re: Work Opportunity.
Dear Mr. Jasper,
I recently received your offer to write about Agent Orange. I have heard quite a bit in the news about Agent Orange and the case against the U.S. military, and I am interested in writing such an article. Although I have committed myself to other work, my obligations to that party have, for all practical purposes, been seen through. I hope to begin immediately, and eagerly await more details. Thank you for your confidence in me.
Sincerely,
Nathan Monroe
With his cursor hovering over the ‘Send' button, he wondered if he was doing the right thing. But there was no longer a clear division between right and wrong. The real estate firm would get along fine without him, whether he was working half-time or not. Never had he felt necessary to the firm's functioning, to its dreams of success. And Anthony, he thought as he clicked ‘Send,' was in no position to stop him from chasing his real ambition. If Anthony wanted him to be happy he wouldn't get in the way of this opportunity.
Real estate had been both a diversion and a gift, and it had been good for Nathan. After Le had disappeared, it was the net that caught his fall.
He smiled at what suddenly seemed a funny notion: he never wanted to help foreigners find homes in Vietnam, nor did he want anything to do with setting up corporate retreats. One needs distance from one's life, he thought, to see where one has arrived. He had been poorer in Saigon, but also happier. Working for Reuters, he foresaw, would be nearly ideal.
As soon as the "sent" confirmation appeared on his screen he left his office again.
"I'm taking the rest of today off," he told Xuan as he strode by. "Call me only if it's urgent."
"Where are you going?"
"I have no idea."
She lowered her nail file and turned a worried face to Anthony's door.
Once he was on his motorbike he felt the overpowering sense of having regained control of his life, and he let that feeling carry him around the lake to where Le lived and would be painting.
Twenty-One
Rain on the Land Rover's roof, like the feet of panicking birds, awakened Nathan. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but it was earlier than he was used to, not even six a.m. Veering and bouncing down the dark provincial roads had a soporific effect on him. Beside him, Hoa, too, was asleep. Anthony, however, had his eyes on the road as if he didn't trust the driver to find where they were going.
Nathan hadn't had time to check his e-mail that morning for a reply from Reuters. Anthony had picked him up so early that all he'd been able to do was brush his teeth and throw some clothes on before leaving. He couldn't help imagining that Reuters had already responded and that all he needed to do was return home to see what bright future awaited him.
Another early-October storm rumbled out of the darkness, its thunder ushering in the dawn like a band of drummers.
Nathan hoped the rain would continue all morning, for then it would be impossible to inspect the land Anthony wanted to buy and turn into a corporate retreat. They'd have no choice but to reschedule the trip. If they were lucky, the roads would soon be washed out.
Delaying the inevitable was futile, but there was always the chance that further complications would arise. Nathan decided to test Anthony's resolve.
"With rain like this we won't be able to inspect the property."
Anthony tried to turn in his seat and look at Nathan, but his size thwarted him. He unbuckled his seatbelt to make it easier.
"Well, they're not going to make us slog through fields or ford streams. The property does have roads. I just hope they aren't too muddy. And even if they are, they're sure to have photographs. We'll at least be able to travel the perimeter by car."
"We could put the trip off if it gets worse."
"Not a chance. We're halfway there already. Besides, when it gets light out you'll see farmers laboring. If they can manage, so can we."
"I wonder if our hosts will feel the same way."
"They will. There's a lot of money in it for them."
Resigned to the long, uncomfortable trip, Nathan assured himself that Reuters wouldn't have responded to him this soon, anyway.
The rain let up half an hour later as they came upon a row of roadside eateries. Anthony suggested that they stop for phở and coffee. Hoa awoke when they pulled onto the pitted shoulder.
The attention they received wasn't surprising. Nathan helped Anthony move a plastic table closer to the Land Rover, ten feet from the nearest customer. He heard someone tell a waitress: "A goldmine just dropped in. Better decide now what to charge them."
In Hanoi Nathan had learned to ask what something cost before ordering it. But today he chose not to. Anthony had lived here longer than he had and, when he didn't bother to inquire first, Nathan supposed he enjoyed paying more than everyone else. What was more, he'd be able to complain later about being overcharged.
After everyone ordered, Anthony pointed up the road at a golf course billboard. Two square panels of a painted fairway had come unglued and hung beside each other like eyelids on a green face. An advertisement in English ran: World Class Golf Course. America, Europe, Japan Vote Bac Can Number One Golf Course in Vietnam. Seven Stars!
"Seven stars," Anthony said in mock amazement. "That's two more than St. Andrews."
"A few years ago," Hoa said, "I read that a famous American golfer designed the course. But they never printed his name. They must have referred to him ten times as ‘a famous American golfer.' Maybe the reporter thought that was his name."
"These billboards have been up for years. The only problem is that no one ever bothered to build the golf course."
"The investment was there initially," Hoa said. "But it fell apart when officials started fighting each other for kickbacks and protection money. The capital required for a development license kept increasing until the investors were chased away. But by then they already owned the land. They've been trying to unload it for years."
"They're eager to divest themselves of ownership. It doesn't quite rival America's purchase of Alaska — it's only two thousand hectares, and there's no oil — but it's still a steal."
"Corruption isn't always bad, see?" Hoa said. "Greed is like two dogs fighting over a stewpot. Sometimes the pot falls and breaks, and then even the ants get something to eat." She and Anthony laughed.
"Then it becomes a food chain moment," Anthony said. "The ants fatten up only to be eaten by birds. Then the birds by cats. The cats by dogs. And then the Vietnamese come in and get fattened by them."
"Actually, we eat all those things."
Nathan glanced at her. The morning's grey light fell on her small teeth as she laughed.
Sitting near the road was a bad choice. Transport trucks roared past and cut down on conversation. Often, motorbikes were forced onto the shoulder, clouding the table with dust and exhaust. They ate their breakfast with one hand protecting their bowls, ready to cover them at a moment's notice.
"I guess we could've eaten in the car," Anthony said. "But then we'd have deprived these people of entertainment. We're probably the closest thing to a zoo they've ever seen."
Nathan finished eating before the others and headed back to the Land Rover. As he stood by the road, gazing disinterestedly at passing traffic, Anthony called him over. In his hand, which he waved like a schoolboy, lay his cell phone.
"It's Andrew," he hollered. "He wants to say hello."<
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It was the last thing Nathan expected, and Andrew was the last person he felt like speaking with. "Tell him I'm busy."
"He knows you're not busy. Here," he said, waving his hand again. "A quick hello won't kill you."
Nathan came over and took the phone, intent on keeping the conversation brief. He put the phone to his ear and said hello.
"Nathan! I'm glad I caught you."
"What's to be glad about?" he said, stepping away from the table.
"I'm glad because I want to apologize for my behavior the last time we met. I had a lot to drink, and things had been really stressful for me. Like you, I'd wet my toes in a relationship with a local, and it had ended badly. I was frustrated, and I remember taking my anger out on you. I had no idea you were going through the same thing."
"What makes you think I was?"
"Thanh, the woman who owned the gallery, told me. Then Anthony later confirmed it. Anyway, I want to apologize. And say I'm impressed you followed through on your promise to Anthony."
"I had nothing else."
"Well, I'm sure it's different from what you were used to in Saigon."
A syrupy quality inflected Andrew's voice — a sound like sincerity — and Nathan didn't trust it. "I should probably be going."
"Wait a sec. I have a question I want to ask. A personal question."
Knowing Andrew, this was a setup that would leave Nathan feeling disparaged, but for some reason Nathan gave him the benefit of the doubt. "What is it?"
"It's about Le."
"What about her?"
"I knew her, Nathan. I knew her like you did, and for a much shorter period."
"Knew her how?"
"That club where she worked. Club Connection or whatever it's called. I met her there. Back then I was a consulate greenie and didn't know how to . . . handle myself properly. Going to a club's no problem, but dating one of their cheap bar girls . . ."
Nathan smiled, recognizing the probability that Le had worked a different job there than what she told him.
"I told her I worked at the consulate because that always impresses girls, and she lit up when I said it. After that we went out a few times, until she realized I wouldn't help her get a visa. When I saw you two together, I was like: ‘Oh, no. She's snagged someone I know.' But I decided to let fate run its course. Maybe I should've said something then, but coming from me I think you would've resented it."
Nathan didn't hear the second half of Andrew's explanation. When he spoke, he wondered if the smile in his voice was audible. "You dated Le?" It was strange: he felt calm asking the question. And the more he was told, the calmer he felt.
"Only until I realized what kind of arrangement she was after."
The word ‘arrangement' gave Nathan pause. "And you slept with her?"
"On our second date. I think she was feeling me out on the first, making sure I wasn't lying about my job."
Another transport truck roared past and a cloud of dust from the loose pile of macadam in its bed enveloped Nathan. Covering his nose and mouth with his shirt collar, he turned away. Anthony, whose table had been spared, was casually watching him.
"So why'd you give her a visa only to take it away?"
"I didn't. That's not my department. But things get around the office, and since I knew Le from before, I was curious to learn more of her background. A buddy of mine in Immigration told me that everything checked out; she had a family sponsor who could support her.
"Sometimes it's hard to know if a person's only very clever when they go through the application process, and manages by that cleverness to pass herself off as a strong candidate. If Le's candidacy had holes, she saw them in time to plug them up.
"The thing is, when I dated her she told me a different story from what I saw on her application. It was probably before she hatched her whole plan. Turns out, the uncle she claimed to have was an old boyfriend, a brilliant artist from Hanoi that she was in love with. Apparently he was some kind of bad boy from a politically powerful family and, after taking part in a drag race in which the other racer slammed into a crowd and killed a few people, his parents sent him abroad. He got into an art institute in California and managed to stay in the U.S. He's loaded, and he tried to get Le to join him there. He was going to set her up with a painting studio and gallery, and he'd promised to marry her. It was everything she wanted. I have to admit, she's an amazing painter. I'm sure you've seen lots of her work by now."
Nathan didn't answer. "But why revoke her visa?" he said. Strangely, he found himself wanting to defend Le. "What's it to you, anyway, if one person gets through?"
"Because I knew she'd lied. All it took was a phone call to our consulate in Los Angeles, and a couple of officers went to investigate. When they'd interviewed him a few weeks earlier, they found someone else. Apparently he'd hired an old man to play her uncle. This time they found her boyfriend. Turns out he was living with a woman, an American no less, and he immediately pointed a finger at Le, saying she'd put him up to it. Obviously, he wanted to save his own visa and maybe his relationship with this other woman. He blew the whistle on Le.
"I always thought Le was smart. Smart and determined. Her only problem was that I knew her. If I hadn't seen you on the day she interviewed, she'd be in California now. Probably living with her boyfriend and his American lover. That would have made an interesting arrangement."
"But when you dated her, why did she admit she had a boyfriend in California?"
"Because she hadn't come up with the idea of an uncle yet. I doubt she'd thought things through back then. Most of what I just told you came out when the officers from the consulate threatened to deport him for fraud. They would have, too, if it weren't such a tedious process.
"Anyway, I'm not sure what happened to Le. I e-mailed her some time ago, but the last time our staff tried to get in touch with her they couldn't. It seems she changed her contact information and moved somewhere new. Do you know where she is?"
"I have no idea."
"I didn't think so. In any case —"
"Does Anthony know you went out with her?"
"Yes. I needed his advice, so I called and explained the situation. It was his idea that I tell you. He said you needed to hear it. He thought it was interfering with your work or something."
Again Nathan glanced at Anthony, who now leaned forward on the table. On either side of him Hoa and the driver were speaking, and Nathan wondered if he was smiling over something they'd said or if he had an inkling of what Nathan and Andrew were talking about.
"He told you to call me now?"
"Why, is this a bad time?"
"I'm looking at a property Anthony wants to turn into a retreat."
"Sorry. I didn't know you were busy. Maybe you can call me later. If you want to, I mean. I know this isn't the best news, but I think the truth is worth hearing."
A question tugged inside him. "When you were seeing Le, what was her hair like?"
"Like? Nothing special. Long and black, like you'd expect. The same as at the consulate. Why?"
"She was wearing a wig then. Her real hair was dyed pink."
Andrew chuckled. "She wasn't exactly run-of-the-mill."
Nathan said goodbye and stood motionless for a minute, staring at Anthony. He felt certain that Anthony knew exactly what had been said. Nathan was convinced that he'd been the last to know something that concerned him so personally. He went up to Anthony and tossed his phone on the table.
"He's surprised you're working for me, isn't he?"
"We didn't talk about work."
"You two talked a long time, didn't you?"
"He had something to apologize for. Just like you do."
Anthony looked as if he couldn't tell whether or not Nathan was serious.
"You know what I'm talking about."
"I'm afraid I
don't."
Hoa, lingering at the edge of their conversation, asked who Andrew was.
"He's a friend of ours," Anthony said. "Or of mine, anyway. He works for the U.S. consulate and may consult with us on this deal later. He thinks the idea's brilliant and wants us to be the first to get in on the corporate retreat industry."
The irony was too much for Nathan. "He wants to invest in it?"
"Depends on how we do things."
"But it's a conflict of interest for him, isn't it?"
"It's Vietnam. The lines are intrinsically blurry."
They climbed back into the Land Rover and drove off. Nathan tried not to think about what Andrew had said, but it stuck in his mind. He told himself it didn't matter what relationships Le might have had, with Andrew or anyone else, and that he'd known for a long time that she'd deceived him. But the news hit close to home and he was uncomfortable that Anthony knew about Andrew and Le — and had known before himself.
As if sensing Nathan's feelings, Anthony tried to draw him out with a joke, then by talking seriously about the importance of today's meeting.
"This is make or break time. If you have last-minute questions, ask them now. We need to go in there prepared and impress the hell out of them."
Hoa asked about bringing in a Taiwanese work crew to clear the land and build on it. Before Nathan knew what was happening she'd pressed blueprints and three-dimensional designs for the retreat into his hands. He glanced at the long, checkered sheets, but lost interest when Hoa and Anthony began delving into the plan's minutiae.
Anthony asked about the time frame for developing the retreat and Hoa suggested half a year once the Taiwanese crew was in place. Anthony hooted over the miracles that cheap, plentiful labor could perform. Nathan felt Anthony turn to him while laughing, felt Hoa turn to him, too, and heard their laughter diminish when he wouldn't join in.
"He's destroying the binding I did," Hoa said.
Anthony yanked the report from Nathan's fingers and smacked him in the chest with it. "Stop fooling around. I need you with us on this."