Restless Soul - Alex Archer [98]
“Nang, tell me more about this city.” Annja nudged him awake. He looked angry at being disturbed. “What is that?” She pointed to an ornate building at the edge of the city, set back from a main road she turned on.
“Hue has many monuments, and that is one of them. I do not know the name. But that building, that one—” He waved his arm at a much larger structure, the ornate top of which rose higher than all the buildings around it. Through gaps in the other buildings, she saw that the massive one was walled. “That one is called the Citadel. Once there was an entire city inside it, a forbidden place where only emperors and their concubines and guards were permitted. The punishment for trespassing was death. It is a tourist attraction now.” He paused. “You are going to kill me, are you not?”
“And what is that building?”
“The Thien Mu Pagoda, the largest one in Hue. It is the symbol of the city. Some of the royal tombs are behind it. The tombs were built while the rulers still lived. Some look like miniature palaces.”
Several blocks later he pointed out Quoc Hoc High School, Hai Ba Trung High School, a series of old French-style buildings, mandarin houses and the Hue Museum of Royal Fine Arts.
Annja spotted several businesses that were still open, despite the late hour. Some had signs in English and French for the tourists. One advertised all-night foot massages, another banh khoai and com hen, which Nang explained were savory pancakes and mussels served on rice.
Annja was hungry again and ate the last candy bar.
“How far are we from the antiques store, Nang?”
He was shaking again; the neon lights of the bars they drove by showed that he was sweating profusely.
“Tell me the best way to get there.”
In halting words, he did.
It was in an old part of the city; the buildings looked beat up, and half the ones on the block were closed and boarded up. There was a tavern on the corner, the only business open along the street, with a winking light that advertised Bia Hoi beer. Laughter spilled out of its propped open door, but it looked as if the patrons were sparse—so were the cars on the street. She circled the block, seeing the antiques store in the middle, and found an alley to pull into.
“You will kill me now?”
“Does your uncle Lanh speak English?”
“And French. He learned in prison.”
“Does he live nearby?”
Nang looked up. There was a low light in one of the windows. “He owns the building, the block. He lives up there, above his store.”
“Get out.” She reached over and unsnapped his seat belt. “Get out.”
He slid out, stumbling in his nervousness.
“Go home, Nang. Go somewhere.”
He stared at her, barely visible in the light that spilled into the alley from a lamppost.
“I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to hurt you. Just—” She didn’t have to say anything else. He took off running, turning the corner past the alley, his feet slapping against the sidewalk. “I hope I don’t regret that,” she said to herself.
Nang could well stop somewhere, the tavern even, and call Lanh to warn him…or call some of his uncle’s muscle. He probably would call, but hopefully after she’d concluded her business and was headed back out of the city. Better she got rid of Nang now than worry about him while she confronted the smuggling mastermind.
She could make out next to nothing in the alley; the light coming from the far end was faint like the first hint of dawn. There were backs of buildings and staircases leading to second floors, and plenty of insects that she couldn’t see but could hear and feel all around her.
Not a single light burned in any windows in the back. There were stairs directly behind the antiques shop, sturdy and narrow and incongruous to the rickety appearance of the front of the building. As she climbed, the clouds of gnats and mosquitoes following her, she touched the sword with