Unknown 9 Layton Green (reading e books TXT) 📖

Cal yawned and sat up as the bus pulled into Hoi An station. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

When she didn’t respond, he took a look at her drawn face and said quietly, “Did something happen?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re alone. Coffee and brunch at the Belle Riviere?”

They had made several pit stops along the way, for refreshments and the toilet, but Cal had slept through the last two.

“You read my mind,” he said.

Though short, the taxi ride from the bus station to the hotel was long enough for Andie to get a feel for the small town. The melting-pot architecture reflected a stew of epochs and styles, from the handsome French colonial buildings to the wooden homes of wealthy Chinese traders. There were pagodas and temples and teahouses, long blocks of Vietnamese tube houses with tall necks rising above the street. Bougainvillea wreathed the balconies, farmers balanced bamboo poles with baskets full of veggies across their shoulders, musicians and sculptors and painters hawked their wares on every corner. The streaks of grime from centuries past only added to the charm. The entire old town was stunning, street after cobblestone street dripping with atmosphere and mystique.

The Belle Riviere was in the heart of downtown, right along the river, less than a block from an ornate covered bridge that seemed to be drawing all the tourists. The hotel had a mustard-yellow facade with blue shutters. The street outside smelled of jasmine.

Unsure how far Zawadi’s credit card would carry them, they shared another room to save money—this time with two beds. A fan spun sluggishly from the high ceiling, and Andie liked the claw-foot tub. She could have done without the large standing mirror—she had never liked mirrors—though she had to chuckle at how disheveled both she and Cal looked.

After dropping their backpacks and washing up, they made their way to the dining room. Andie studied every inch of the hotel along the way, with her eyes and through the lens of the Star Phone, but saw nothing unusual.

Over a late breakfast—bacon, freshly baked French bread, pineapple jam, and an omelet covered in roasted red chilis—she told him about the email from her mother.

“That’s heavy,” he said.

“That cartoon was on our wall my entire childhood. I know it’s a message.”

He gripped her hand across the table. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. If it was my mother . . .”

She looked off to the side. “I want to write her back so much,” she said softly. “Let her know I’m out here.”

He didn’t respond, and she knew what he was thinking: That’s exactly what they want you to do.

Andie stared down at her plate of half-finished food, her appetite fading.

Still no word from Zawadi. They spent the rest of the day probing every corner of Hoi An, pointing the Star Phone at prominent landmarks, visiting temples and museums, researching the history. Though in theory the Ascendants had no way to locate them, Andie felt no sense of security. She knew they would find a way.

With the arrival of dusk, they still had no clue as to their next destination, but a magical thing happened: as the descending sun melted the rooftops into gold, the paper globe lanterns hanging in the trees and strung above the streets began to light up, winking on one by one, illuminating the town with a palette of color. A silver moon emerged through a halo of clouds, and Andie saw a group of monks entering a pagoda festooned with glowing baubles, the air charged with incense. Despite the grave purpose of their visit, Andie thought Hoi An was the most beautiful and exotic place she had ever seen, a town built for poets.

She and Cal were resigned to staying the night. After downing bowls of peanut noodles from a street vendor, they returned to the Belle Riviere, showered, and debated having a drink at the hotel bar facing the river.

“We should be staying out of sight,” Andie said.

“Normally I’d agree with you. But if I don’t have one goddamn drink in a normal goddamn bar like a regular person for one single night, I think I might go insane.”

Andie waffled, wary of staying out longer than they had to. “One drink,” she said. “And we sit in the back.”

They were pleased to discover the Happy Dragon Lounge was quite a chill place. The front of the establishment was open to the river, while the whimsical tile floor and potted plants imparted a bohemian vibe. Hordes of geckos darted along the vine-covered walls and ceiling, pouncing on insects. License plates from around the world covered the wall above the bar. Andie wondered if they had been discarded by people who had found their way to Hoi An and never left.

From their table in the back, they watched a procession of tourist canoes gliding lazily down the river, illuminated by paper lanterns attached to poles, an impossibly romantic scene.

There were so many tourists in town Andie had decided to ditch her ao dai for a pair of jeans, sandals, and a white T-shirt she had bought at the night market. The regular clothes made her feel more herself, the margarita was delicious, and giant fans kept the air moving. It felt like a moment out of time, and Cal was right: they had needed this.

They drank in silence, absorbing the ambience. When Cal had finished his Tiger lager, he pointed the empty bottle at Andie’s glass. “Round two?”

Andie glanced around the noisy bar, filled with people from a United Nations roster of countries. No one was paying them any attention.

“Haven’t you read about the ill effects of alcohol?” she said, tapping the rim of her glass and pushing it toward him.

“Yeah, well, I always balance that with the benefits of forgetting about shit for a night.”

Andie chuckled as he sauntered to the bar. Cal was wearing another tourist outfit: linen pants, panama hat, and a short-sleeve Hawaiian shirt. His beard had