(7)
— Originally published in the Antietam Review (Spring, 1999)
Continued from page (6)
Kerney’s pleasure was gone. “Griff?” He bent and touched Griffin’s
shoulder.
Griffin raised his head. “Don’t touch me. I stink.”
Kerney lowered his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. “How soon
you going to be through?”
“Got to dump this stuff and bury it, then wipe down the trap.”
“I’ll buy you a beer after you get cleaned up. And if you want, I’ll get
your mail.”
Griffin looked like a little kid. “I’d really . . . like that.” He wiped his eyes
with the back of his wrist.
Kerney shuffled off, hands in pockets, head down.
“Tom,” Griffin called after him. “Thanks, huh?”
Kerney nodded and kept going.
Carver grinned as he read the file. “Phuong thi Xuan alias Tu Phuong,
Party name Mai Thang. Born in 1941, raised in Bien Hoa Province, activist in
the Viet Cong movement since 1955, Party member since 1964.” He
slammed the file shut and beamed at Griffin. “Really hit on something,
Griffin. This gal is the genuine article. How did you find her?”
“She found me.” Griffin flushed at the sudden change in Carver’s
attitude. “Don’t know why she picked me. Told me she was sent to the San
Diego to work as a prostitute and pick up information. Told me about it after
she found out the Party had beheaded her father. He was our kitchen boy.”
“She’s the one uses the name Rosie,” Kerney said. “Lousy screw. All
tense and cold.”
Carver laughed.
Griffin looked at Kerney, his eyes wide.
“Is she a good lay for you, Griffin?” Carver asked.
“I only just talked to her at the bar, sir. Bought her tea.” Griffin looked at
Kerney again.
“She evidently likes you, Griffin,” Carver said. “The MI people think it
would be better for you to go on seeing her rather than introducing one of
their own men into the situation at this juncture. They want you to take her
on as a permanent shack job and see what you can get out of her. Set her
up in a room somewhere. The San Diego has one-room apartments upstairs,
doesn’t it?”
TOM'S TALES