secretary shuffled his feet, a signal that he had other duties to attend to. âI assure you, Mr. Barnard,â he said, âif you call in a few days, we will arrange another appointment.â
Guy snatched up his briefcase and headed for the door. âIn a few days,â he said, âIâll be in Saigon.â
A whole afternoon wasted, he thought in disgust as he walked down the front steps. He swore again as he reached the empty driveway. His car was parked a good hundred yards away, in the shade of a poinciana tree. The driver was nowhere to be seen. Knowing Puapong, the man was probably off flirting with the gardenerâs daughter.
Resignedly Guy trudged toward the car. The sun was like a broiler, and waves of heat radiated from the gravel road. Halfway to the car, he happened to glance at the garden, and he spotted the honey-haired woman, sitting on a stone bench. She looked dejected. No wonder; it was a long drive back to town, and Lord only knew when her ride would turn up.
What the hell, he thought, starting toward her. He could use some company.
She seemed to be deep in thought; she didnât look up until he was standing right beside her.
âHi there,â he said.
She squinted up at him. âHello.â Her greeting was neutral, neither friendly nor unfriendly.
âDid I hear you needed a lift back to town?â
âI have one, thank you.â
âIt could be a long wait. And Iâm heading there anyway.â She didnât respond, so he added, âItâs really no trouble.â
She gave him a speculative look. She had silver-gray eyes, direct, unflinching; they seemed to stare right through him. No shrinking violet, this one. Glancing back at the house, she said, âKistnerâs driver was going to take meâ¦.â
âIâm here. He isnât.â
Again she gave him that look, a silent third degree. She must have decided he was okay, because she finally rose to her feet. âThanks. Iâd appreciate it.â
Together they walked the graveled road to his car. As they approached, Guy noticed a back door was wide open and a pair of dirty brown feet poked out. His driver was sprawled across the seat like a corpse.
The woman halted, staring at the lifeless form. âOh, my God. Heâs notââ
A blissful snore rumbled from the car.
âHeâs not,â said Guy. âHey. Puapong!â He banged on the car roof.
The manâs answering rumble could have drowned out thunder.
âHello, Sleeping Beauty!â Guy banged the car again. âYou gonna wake up, or do I have to kiss you first?â
âWhat? What?â groaned a voice. Puapong stirred and opened one bloodshot eye. âHey, boss. You back so soon?â
âHave a nice nap?â Guy asked pleasantly.
âNot bad.â
Guy graciously gestured for Puapong to vacate the back seat. âLook, I hate to be a pest, but do you mind? Iâve offered this lady a ride.â
Puapong crawled out, stumbled around sleepily to the driverâs seat and sank behind the wheel. He shook his head a few times, then fished around on the floor for the car keys.
The woman was looking more and more dubious. âAre you sure he can drive?â she muttered under her breath.
âThis man,â said Guy, âhas the reflexes of a cat. When heâs sober.â
â Is he sober?â
âPuapong! Are you sober?â
With injured pride, the driver asked, âDonât I look sober?â
âThereâs your answer,â said Guy.
The woman sighed. âThat makes me feel so much better.â She glanced back longingly at the house. The Thai servant had appeared on the steps and was waving goodbye.
Guy motioned for the woman to climb in. âItâs a long drive back to town.â
She was silent as they drove down the winding mountain road. Though they both sat in the back seat, two feet apart at the most, she seemed a