Page 104 of Cry Havoc
Tom’s hand reflexively brushed the Browning Hi-Power beneath his shirt.
He shook his head.
“What about this,” she said, reaching up to touch the tiger claw that hung from Tom’s neck.
“That was a gift from a friend, a teammate who is no longer with us.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Me too.”
She looked into his eyes and moved her hand to his heart.
“There are protectors in Buddhism, enlightened bodhisattvas who guard against demons. Perhaps they work through you, Tom Sullivan Reece.”
Those eyes that had captivated him since their first meeting, softened. Her hand slid from his chest to behind his neck and she brought his lips to hers.
When they broke from their kiss, she was the first to speak.
“Take me to your hotel before I change my mind.”
CHAPTER 34
FOR THE NEXT WEEKS,the war did not exist for Tom Reece and Ella DuBois.
Though Ella kept a flat at 213 Dong Khoi Street near the DuBois Consortium headquarters, she spent her nights with Tom. She professed her apartment building was too modern and lacked the charm of either Paris or Saigon. Each day she would rise early and go to her flat to prepare for work and then meet Tom for drinks and dinner in the evenings.
The first day, while Ella was at work, Tom went shopping and purchased new jeans, an assortment of T-shirts, Fred Perry polos, olive green and tan safari shirts popular with the journalism crowd, a pair of flip-flops, and a pair of Sperry Top-Siders. That night they met at the nearby Hotel Majestic for drinks and then walked to the Chalet restaurant for a long dinner. She showed him the Pont des Trois bridge—the three arches bridge—that had somehow survived Tet before suggesting they retire to the Continental.
No matter how long they made love into the early-morning hours, Ella was always up at first light. Tom would sometimes awake to the click of the hotel room door shutting behind her as she left for work. When he did roll out of bed, he would make thick Vietnamese coffee in his room with a tin French press. He had taken Serrano’s advice on lightening it upwith honey and a dash of cream. He needed to remember to drop the habit when he got back to Phu Bai, or he would never live it down.
On the third evening, instead of meeting him for drinks, she arrived at his room with a bellman who was carrying a present. He brought it inside and leaned the tall, thin bundle wrapped in newspapers and secured with twine against the wall. Ella tipped him on his way out. Tom unwrapped it to find a painting that Ella explained was created with gouache and pigments on silk. Primarily varying shades of browns and greens with touches of red, it depicted two ducks on a pond floating amongst lotus flowers.
“They are circling each other,” Ella said.
“Are they getting ready to fight?”
She laughed.
“No. It’s a courtship ritual.”
Tom twisted the painting trying to get a better perspective.
“Mandarin ducks stay together for life,” she said. “They are a traditional representation of commitment and harmony. If one dies, the other remains alone.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“What?”
“That ducks mate for life.”
“Well, that’s how the legend goes.”
“I’ll go with it. Who am I to mess with a legend?”
“I purchased it to put over that hideous painting above the bed. I feel like that strange-looking woman is watching us.”
Tom set down the painting and pulled the abstract woman off the wall. The gecko had found its way back and once again darted for the open doors of the balcony.
