Never Say Die / Presumed Guilty: Never Say Die / Presumed Guilty

Quietly, Guy shifted toward her. “I have connections,” he said softly. “I could find out for you.”

Their hands brushed on the railing; Willy felt a delicious shock race through her whole arm. She pulled her hand away.

“What sort of connections?”

“Friends in the business.”

“Exactly what is your business?”

“Body counts. Dog tags. I’m with the Army ID Lab.”

“I see. You’re in the military.”

He laughed and leaned sideways against the railing. “No way. I bailed out after Nam. Went back to college, got a master’s in stones and bones. That’s physical anthropology, emphasis on Southeast Asia. Anyway, I worked a while in a museum, then found out the army paid better. So I hired on as a civilian contractor. I’m still sorting bones, only these have names, ranks and serial numbers.”

“And that’s why you’re going to Vietnam?”

He nodded. “There are new sets of remains to pick up in Saigon and Hanoi.”

Remains. Such a clinical word for what was once a human being.

“I know a few people,” he said. “I might be able to help you.”

“Why?”

“You’ve made me curious.”

“Is that all it is? Curiosity?”

His next move startled her. He reached out and brushed back her short, tumbled hair. The brief contact of his fingers seemed to leave her whole neck sizzling. She froze, unable to react to this unexpectedly intimate contact.

“Maybe I’m just a nice guy,” he whispered.

Oh, hell, he’s going to kiss me, she thought. He’s going to kiss me and I’m going to let him, and what happens next is anyone’s guess…

She batted his hand away and took a panicked step back. “I don’t believe in nice guys.”

“Afraid of men?”

“I’m not afraid of men. But I don’t trust them, either.”

“Still,” he said with an obvious note of laughter in his voice, “you let me into your room.”

“Maybe it’s time to let you out.” She stalked across the room and yanked open the door. “Or are you going to be difficult?”

“Me?” To her surprise, he followed her to the door. “I’m never difficult.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Besides, I can’t hang around tonight. I’ve got more important business.”

“Really.”

“Really.” He glanced at the lock on her door. “I see you’ve got a heavy-duty dead bolt. Use it. And take my advice—don’t go out on the town tonight.”

“Darn! That was next on my agenda.”

“Oh, and in case you need me—” he turned and grinned at her from the doorway “—I’m staying at the Liberty Hotel. Call anytime.”

She started to snap, Don’t hold your breath. But before she could get out the words, he’d left.

She was staring at a closed door.

Chapter Three

TOBIAS WOLFF swiveled his wheelchair around from the liquor cabinet and faced his old friend. “If I were you, Guy, I’d stay the hell out of it.”

It had been five years since they’d last seen each other. Toby still looked as muscular as ever—at least from the waist up. Fifteen years’ confinement to a wheelchair had bulked out those shoulders and arms. Still, the years had taken their inevitable toll. Toby was close to fifty now, and he looked it. His bushy hair, cut Beethoven style, was almost entirely gray. His face was puffy and sweating in the tropical heat. But the dark eyes were as sharp as ever.

“Take some advice from an old Company man,” he said, handing Guy a glass of Scotch. “There’s no such thing as a coincidental meeting. There are only planned encounters.”

“Coincidence or not,” said Guy, “Willy Maitland could be the break I’ve been waiting for.”

“Or she could be nothing but trouble.”

“What’ve I got to lose?”

“Your life?”

“Come on, Toby! You’re the only one I can trust to give me a straight answer.”

“It was a long time ago. I wasn’t directly connected to the case.”

“But you were in Vientiane when it happened. You must remember something about the Maitland file.”

“Only what I heard in passing, none of it confirmed. Hell, it was like the Wild West out there. Rumors flying thicker’n the mosquitoes.”

“But not as thick as you covert-action boys.”

Toby shrugged. “We had a job to do. We did it.”

“You remember who handled the Maitland case?”

“Had to be Mike Micklewait. I know he was the case officer who debriefed that villager—the one who came in for the reward.”

“Did Micklewait think the man was on the level?”

“Probably not. I know the villager never got the reward.”