Sneak Peek

Nga could feel the American’s eyes on her back as she walked across the street. He was so big and bold, so sure of himself, this Ivorson, like all the western men. His green eyes had undressed her right on the steps of the ACA! He was a ba muoi lam. The words meant “thirty-five,” but the reference was to the animal image accompanying number 35 on the Vietnamese national lottery: a billy goat, sexually insatiable and utterly shameless.

She felt less flustered when the door of the administration building closed behind her. He said he was newly arrived from Saigon. It was curious that she hadn’t heard about anyone new coming to the warehouse. She didn’t handle the Americans’ files, of course, but there was always gossip in the office, especially a new single man.

She supposed this one was single. He acted single and wore no rings. Of course, some of the married men here without their wives were the worst ba muoi lams of all.

Might this Ivorson be the man Uncle Huu was watching for? Huu had told her that the people in USAID/Plans were really CIA agents. Mr. Reagan, who was killed last month in the traffic accident, had been a CIA spy, Uncle Huu said. He had assigned Nga to be alert for his replacement. So far, one hadn’t arrived.

Huu hadn’t said anything about CIA people in Supply, but it wouldn’t surprise Nga if this Ivorson were up to no good. He was very sure of himself, as if he knew something no one else knew.

She went to Miss Odom’s office and rapped gently on the open door. The American woman looked up at her from behind her desk. She was pretty, Nga supposed, if you liked that pale white skin, and she was undoubtedly intelligent, but as naïve and as trusting as a twelve-year old.

“I’m sorry to be late,” Nga said. “I got run over in the door of the ACA by the new man in Supply. He knocked all my change on the ground and then wanted to talk to me.”

Miss Odom’s initial reaction was a puzzled frown. “What new man from--oh, yes, Mr. Ivorson. What did he want to talk to you about?”

Nga shrugged. “Trying to flirt.” Miss Odom’s expression became distinctly irritated. “It’s not my fault,” Nga said defensively.

Miss Odom looked apologetic. “Of course it isn’t, Nga. I’m not upset with you at all. Go on back to work.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Who is Mr. Ivorson replacing?”

“Hmm? Oh, no one. He’s an additional employee. We’ve been trying to fill that slot for quite some time.” There was something almost artificially casual in the American woman’s answer.

Nga nodded, smiled, and went to her own desk. It struck her as strange that Miss Odom didn’t seem to know who Nga was talking about at first, especially when he had just filled a long-vacant slot.

She decided to mention the new man to Uncle Huu, even if he wasn’t in the Plans section. Then a second thought struck her. Suppose he did turn out to be a spy? Would Huu want her to “befriend” him, by which he meant that Nga was to become his girlfriend?

No! She wouldn’t do that again, no matter how important it was to Uncle Huu, and no matter how nice he had always been to her and her mother! The thought of another hairy, bad-smelling white man fondling her made her want to retch. Especially not that ba me lam, Peter Ivorson, with his lascivious eyes.

Perhaps she should not mention this Ivorson. But if she didn’t, and it turned out that he was the one Huu was looking out for, she would never be able to face Uncle Huu again. No, she’d better do her duty and just hope that Peter Ivorson turned out to be just another arrogant, unpleasant American.