She let out a slow breath. The smell of exhaled smoke filled the darkness. “They asked about my cousin. They say he’s dead. Is that true?”
“What do they know about me?”
“Is Winn really dead?”
Siang paused. “It couldn’t be helped.”
Chantal laughed. Softly at first, then with wild abandon. “She did that, did she? The American bitch? You cannot finish off even a woman? Oh, Siang, you must be slipping!”
He felt like hitting her, but he controlled the urge. Chantal was right. He must be slipping.
She began to pace the room, her movements as sure as a cat’s in the darkness. “The police are interested. Very interested. And I saw others there—Party members, I think—watching the interrogation. What have you gotten me into, Siang?”
He shrugged. “Give me a cigarette.”
She whirled on him in rage. “Get your own cigarettes! You think I have money to waste on you?”
“You’ll get the money. All you want.”
“You don’t know how much I want.”
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