Double Impact: Never Say Die & No Way Back by Tess Gerritsen, Debra Webb

studying her, measuring her significance. She resented being appraised this way. Deliberately she returned his stare.
    â€œWhat’s the girl got to do with it?” Gerard demanded.
    â€œShe’s here about her father. Missing in action since 1970.”
    Gerard shrugged. “My business is imports. I know nothing about missing soldiers.”
    â€œMy father wasn’t a soldier,” said Willy. “He was a pilot for Air America.”
    â€œWild Bill Maitland,” Guy added.
    The sudden silence in the room was thick enough to slice. After a long pause, Gerard said softly, “Air America.”
    Willy nodded. “You remember him?”
    The Frenchman’s knobby fingers began to tap the armrest. “I knew of them, the pilots. They carried goods for me on occasion. At a price.”
    â€œGoods?”
    â€œPharmaceuticals,” said Guy.
    Gerard slapped the armrest in irritation. “Come, Mr. Barnard, we both know what we’re talking about! Opium. I don’t deny it. There was a war going on, and there was money to be made. So I made it. Air America happened to provide the most reliable delivery service. The pilots never asked questions. They were good that way. I paid them what they were worth. In gold.”
    Again there was a silence. It took all Willy’s courage toask the next question. “And my father? Was he one of the pilots you paid in gold?”
    Alain Gerard shrugged. “Would it surprise you?”
    Somehow, it wouldn’t, but she tried to imagine what all those old family friends would say, the ones who’d thought her father a hero.
    â€œHe was one of the best,” said Gerard.
    She looked up. “The best?” She felt like laughing. “At what? Running drugs?”
    â€œFlying. It was his calling.”
    â€œMy father’s calling,” she said bitterly, “was to do whatever he wanted. With no thought for anyone else.”
    â€œStill,” insisted Gerard, “he was one of the best.”
    â€œThe day his plane went down…” said Guy. “Was he carrying something of yours?”
    The Frenchman didn’t answer. He fidgeted in his chair, then rose and went to the window, where he fussed prissily with the curtains.
    â€œGerard?” Guy prodded.
    Gerard turned and looked at them. “Why are you here? What purpose do these questions serve?”
    â€œI have to know what happened to him,” said Willy.
    Gerard turned to the window and peered out through a slit in the curtains. “Go home, Miss Maitland. Before you learn things you don’t want to know.”
    â€œWhat things?”
    â€œUnpleasant things.”
    â€œHe was my father! I have a right—”
    â€œA right?” Gerard laughed. “He was in a war zone! He knew the risks. He was just another man who did not come back alive.”
    â€œI want to know why. I want to know what he was doing in Laos.”
    â€œSince when does anyone know what they were reallydoing in Laos?” He moved around the room, covetously touching his precious treasures. “You cannot imagine the things that went on in those days. Our secret war. Laos was the country we didn’t talk about. But we were all there. Russians, Chinese, Americans, French. Friends and enemies, packed into the same filthy bars of Vientiane. Good soldiers, all of us, out to make a living.” He stopped and looked at Willy. “I still do not understand that war.”
    â€œBut you knew more than most,” said Guy. “You were working with Intelligence.”
    â€œI saw only part of the picture.”
    â€œToby Wolff suggested you took part in the crash investigation.”
    â€œI had little to do with it.”
    â€œThen who was in charge?”
    â€œAn American colonel by the name of Kistner.”
    Willy looked up in surprise. “ Joseph Kistner?”
    â€œSince promoted to general,” Guy noted softly.
    Gerard nodded.