Double Impact: Never Say Die & No Way Back Read Online Free PDF Page A

Friar Tuck, beginning to end. The section on Search Status he read twice. Then he rose from the bed and began to pace the room, considering his options. Not liking any of them.
    He didn’t believe in using people. But the stakes were sky-high, and they were deeply, intensely personal. How many men have their own little secrets from the war? he wondered. Secrets we can’t talk about? Secrets that could destroy us?
    He closed the file. The information in this folder wasn’t enough; he needed the woman’s help.
    But am I cold-blooded enough to use her?
    Can I afford not to? whispered the voice of necessity.
    It was an awful decision to make. But he had no choice.
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    I T WAS 5:00 P.M., AND the Bong Bong Club was not yet in full swing. Up onstage, three women, bodies oiled and gleaming, writhed together like a trio of snakes. Music blared from an old stereo speaker, a relentlessly primitive beat that made the very darkness shudder.
    From his favorite corner table, Siang watched the action, the men sipping drinks, the waitresses dangling after tips. Then he focused on the stage, on the girl in the middle. She was special. Lush hips, meaty thighs, a pink, carnivorous tongue. He couldn’t define what it was about her eyes, but she had that look. The numeral 7 was pinned on her G-string. He would have to inquire later about number seven.
    â€œGood afternoon, Mr. Siang.”
    Siang looked up to see the man standing in the shadows. It never failed to impress him, the size of that man. Even now, twenty years after their first meeting, Siang could not help feeling he was a child in the presence of this giant.
    The man ordered a beer and sat down at the table. He watched the stage for a moment. “A new act?” he asked.
    â€œThe one in the middle is new.”
    â€œAh, yes, very nice. Your type, is she?”
    â€œI will have to find out.” Siang took a sip of whiskey, his gaze never leaving the stage. “You said you had a job for me.”
    â€œA small matter.”
    â€œI hope that does not mean a small reward.”
    The man laughed softly. “No, no. Have I ever been less than generous?”
    â€œWhat is the name?”
    â€œA woman.” The man slid a photograph onto the table. “Her name is Willy Maitland. Thirty-two years old. Five foot two, dark blond hair cut short, gray eyes. Staying at the Oriental Hotel.”
    â€œAmerican?”
    â€œYes.”
    Siang paused. “An unusual request.”
    â€œThere is some…urgency.”
    Ah. The price goes up, thought Siang. “Why?” he asked.
    â€œShe departs for Saigon tomorrow morning. That leaves you only tonight.”
    Siang nodded and looked back at the stage. He was pleased to see that the girl in the middle, number seven, was looking straight at him. “That should be time enough,” he said.
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    W ILLY M AITLAND WAS standing at the river’s edge, staring down at the swirling water.
    From across the dining terrace, Guy spotted her, a tiny figure leaning at the railing, her short hair fluffing in the wind. From the hunch of her shoulders, the determined focus of her gaze, he got the impression she wanted to be left alone. Stopping at the bar, he picked up a beer—Oranjeboom, a good Dutch brand he hadn’t tasted in years. He stood there a moment, watching her, savoring the touch of the frosty bottle against his cheek.
    She still hadn’t moved. She just kept gazing down at the river, as though hypnotized by something she saw in the muddy depths. He moved across the terrace toward her, weaving past empty tables and chairs, and eased up beside her at the railing. He marveled at the way her hair seemed to reflect the red and gold sparks of sunset.
    â€œNice view,” he said.
    She glanced at him. One look, utterly uninterested, was all she gave him. Then she turned away.
    He set his beer on the railing. “Thought I’d check back with you. See if you’d changed