Rainbow Porter is a careful man , so when April Bow searches him out to ask for help in finding the killer of her adoptive father , he is suspicious . More ominous . . . Read More Rainbow Porter is a careful man , so when April Bow searches him out to ask for help in finding the killer of her adoptive father , he is suspicious . More ominous clues emerge as April discloses that the dead man is Porter 's old army pal Toker and that April is the daughter of a Vietnamese woman Porter had loved from afar when he was a G . I . With a few other G . I . s , Porter and Toker had been involved in black market activity to set them all up successfully for civilian life . Now , after 20 years , people have begun to die . Porter searches his memory for clues to the murder , as well as to the identity of April 's real father . The road to my house twists up the west face of the northern end of the Sandia Mountains . It doubles back on itself in a number of hairpin curves , and it is a hard run . I take it every day , and as I run , occasional breaks in the pine and cedar forest offer a comfortable hundred - mile perspective on the human race . Even at sea level I hate jogging . At a touch under seven thousand feet , it 's like running in a vacuum . I 'd never do it if the twenty - three hours a day when I don 't run weren 't so flat and lifeless without the exercise . It keeps my carcass as lean as can be expected and helps my mirror maintain the polite fiction that I 'm still a year or two on the cradle 's side of forty . I hate running , but I do it . Still , I get by with the bare minimum - two and a half miles to the ridge above Placitas and then back again . The ridge makes a good rest stop . Directly below , the village lies strung along the tail end of the pavement . A pine and juniper forest dies into grassland farther to the west . Beyond that , a golden plain falls away toward the dirty green line that marks the bosque , the cottonwood and scrub cedar forest along the Rio Grande . The dry plain is interrupted only by the thin north - south thread of Interstate 25 . Albuquerque lies to the south , crouched behind a shoulder of the Sandia Mountains . At night , especially when there is a high overcast , the lights of the city provide a waning moon 's illumination . But in the late afternoon , when I do my running , the only hint that five hundred thousand people are playing out their lives twenty miles away is the sunlight glinting from the cars and trucks strung out along the freeway . From my resting spot , you look down at a steep angle on the white and brown stucco , the adobe , and the weathered wood of the village of Placitas . You look down at a lesser angle to the river , ten miles away . Above the river , the high desert of western New Mexico looms as if you could scratch it with a short stick . The desert is dry . A wet year brings seven or eight inches of rain and snow . A number of low volcanoes interrupt the mesa toward the southwest . Black on brown . To the northwest lies the dark purple smudge of the Jemez mountains . Seventy miles away and snow - capped most of the year , Mt . Taylor sits on the western horizon like an ancient Navajo god . There 's a lot to look at if you like things that don 't change from day to day . I stand there , waiting for my lungs to get over their excitement , and I watch nothing happening . Maybe a hawk or an eagle wheeling high overhead , a black speck against the turquoise sky . A woodpecker hammering in the forest . I can take a lot of nothing happening without getting tired of it . I get nervous when things start happening . That Thursday a car growled somewhere below as it climbed the ridge . I only have five neighbors on my road . I know them all well enough to say howdy , and they know me well enough not to say anything more than howdy back . Only one could be called an acquaintance - Jenny Murphy , who has the place next to mine . Neither she nor any of the others was likely to be traveling at that time of day . I turned reluctantly from my resting spot and began the jog back . I kept my ears open . The car was a surprise , and I didn 't like it . There had been too many surprises in my past . When it was about a minute behind me , long before I could be seen , I slipped off the road and into the trees and watched it pass . It was a red ' eighty - seven Jag with California plates and one occupant . Female , dark hair , yellow scarf against the wind , dark glasses . She was driving slowly , as though she didn 't know where she was going or was uncomfortable so far from civilization . When she was well past , I shrugged and moved back onto the road . She 'd kicked up enough dust to make me run with my mouth shut . I set as steady a pace as the terrain permitted . It 's hard to run uphill without slowing down , or downhill without letting gravity encourage you too much , but I had years of practice . I spent the time wondering which of my neighbors had a visitor and checking the dust in their drives . I have the last house on the county road . When I passed Murphy 's place , I was still following the Jaguar , so I had a visitor . A little prudence was called for . Half a mile ahead , the driveway cut off to the right and then turned back south . I picked up my pace for a few minutes and then climbed into the forest on the uphill side . At that point , the house was about two hundred yards above me and maybe the same distance north . I slowed to a walk and recovered my breath , then climbed straight up the mountain , well above the house , before turning north . Eight minutes of quiet walking took me to a point from which I could see the front of the house , the driveway , and the graveled parking area . The car sat in the center of the yard , between the garage , below me on the uphill side , and the front of the house . The girl stood by the front door , looking dejected . She pounded on the door halfheartedly and then stepped back from the house . She walked over to the kitchen window and peered in , then moved to each of the other windows on the front and repeated the process . She tried to walk around the house , but the steepness of the slope and the cactus I 'd planted stopped her . She went back to her car and sat in it . After a few minutes , she rested her face against her arms on the steering wheel . Her shoulders shook gently . I moved silently back along the drive . Once out of sight , I climbed down and began jogging toward the house . I kicked a couple of rocks to make some noise , but the girl apparently wasn 't listening . When I reached the yard , she hadn 't moved . I called out a friendly hello and walked over to the driver 's side of the car . She was about twenty , Eurasian , pretty . Her black hair fell halfway down her back . Her bangs were cut square above the slope of her eyes . She seemed nervous , so I smiled . " Are you looking for me ? I was running . " The name threw me . And the past tense . Jimbo . Good old Toker . I kept my voice noncommittal , my face open , friendly , and curious . " Why do you ask ? " That made no sense . The last time I saw Toker , sixteen years ago , there had been no child . This girl was young , but she wasn 't that young . Maybe half my age . I closed in a little , just in case action was called for . " Sorry to hear it . So ? " She seemed to sag a bit , as if she 'd had a lot riding on my response . " Maybe you 're the wrong man . I 'm sorry . " She reached for the ignition . I walked over and unlocked the house , leaving her to follow . My back felt exposed , but what the hell , sometimes you take a chance . If she was armed , she wasn 't carrying anything under that thin silk dress . There was barely room for a bra and panties . She came in as I was pouring a glass of club soda . Angry and frightened at once , she stopped just inside the door . " You took my keys . " She hesitated , licked her lips . Her lipstick was a deep red . It went well with her coloring . " He was killed . Murdered . " She put a lot of emphasis on the word . The front door was open . I gave the yard a good once - over , then locked up and led her through the living room and onto the deck that hangs off the back of the house , fifteen feet above the ground . A piece of the county road is visible from there , and you can hear any traffic . The only sound was wind in the pines and an occasional bird . The road was empty . There is a wrought - iron patio set on the deck . I sat at the table and motioned her to a chair opposite me . She hesitated , but she sat . I considered her carefully . She was good to look at . Her hair was long and straight , brushed until it shone . Her eyes were dark brown , not quite black . The dress was some kind of print , off - white with a pale green leaf pattern . Very snug . Very attractive . But it didn 't look comfortable for a long drive and it wasn 't wrinkled . I decided to clear the air . " I 'm Vietnamese . Half Vietnamese , anyway . My father was an American . I was one of the boat people . " She hesitated a moment . " I was in a refugee camp when Dad found me . " " That 's what she told my aunt . I don 't remember my mother . She was killed a long time ago . In ' seventy - one . " " I don 't know . She put me on the boat . She said there wasn 't enough money for her to come with me . A family took care of me , at least until we got into the camp . Then they sort of forgot me . Things were scary in the camp . Everyone was trying to get to America . Maybe Mr . Nguyen thought his family would have a better chance if there were fewer people on the application . But they never got out . Only I did , when Dad found me . " She swallowed . " I was in class when the police came . Mrs . Stillwell told them where I was . They told me he was dead and then they took me to her . She lives right next door . She heard the explosion and ran over and found him and called the cops . " She took a deep breath . " They wouldn 't let me see him . I guess he was messed up pretty bad . They said it was a clayman bomb . In his office . " " Not a clayman . A Claymore . It 's an explosive device a little bigger than a paperback book , " I told her . I didn 't add that they can make a hell of a mess if they 're used right . She knew that . After a moment , I asked , " Who did it ? " She shook her head . " It wasn 't money . Nothing was taken . At least then . And he didn 't have any enemies . He was just a businessman . He had a foreign car dealership in Westwood . I don 't know why anyone would do this . " Of course he 'd had enemies . We all do . I hoped that he had made some recently . And the dealership . He 'd put his share to good use . It also explained the Jaguar the girl was driving . " When did this happen ? " " Mrs . Stillwell asked me to stay with her that night . The police let me in the house to get some things . I guess I was kind of numb . I didn 't notice much . The door to the master bedroom was closed and I could hear some men talking in there , but everything else looked normal . Anyway , I took my toothbrush and went with Mrs . Stillwell . But later , way after midnight , when I was trying to sleep , I remembered . . . something . I went back to get it , but there was this tape on the door that said it was a crime scene , and I was afraid to break the tape . I got a flashlight from my car . I was going to climb in my window . " " But I didn 't ! I was going to , but when I looked in the window , everything was a mess . It looked like the house had been searched or something . Things were upside - down . The drawers were emptied on the floor . I looked in all the windows . It was the same everywhere . " She took a few deep breaths . " His office was there , in a little sitting room off his bedroom . I even looked in there . . . where it happened . . . and it was torn up too . There was stuff thrown on the blood and on the outline of his . . . of Dad 's . . . . " She was right on the edge . I looked out over the valley while she composed herself . It took a while , but not as long as I expected . This wasn 't the first bad thing that had happened in her life . " . . . anyway , I thought I might be in danger . Because it wasn 't the police , you see . When I was there , they were being pretty neat . So I thought somebody else had been there , in my house , and that scared me . I got my purse from Mrs . Stillwell 's and then I just got in my car and started driving . At first , I didn 't know where to go . But a couple of weeks ago , Dad told me to come to you if I ever needed help . He was very serious about it . He even wrote down your name and address and put it in my purse . He told me to say something to you . " I let out a sigh . It was a mess , and she 'd dragged it straight to my doorstep . But of course , Toker had been right . I did owe him , in a sense . I spent a few minutes looking and listening . The trees hadn 't changed a bit . The same birds were making the same noises . The breeze still whispered through the pine needles . If she 'd driven straight through , she was probably untraceable . All the trouble was in L . A . There was no choice . I had to go there . I had to find out exactly what had happened to Toker , make sure it was something recent , not something from the past . It was hard to judge how much danger she was really in . A Claymore was good for killing , but it wasn 't selective . Whoever had set it must have watched Bow and the girl long enough to know their schedules . The killer had taken out his target . If he 'd wanted the girl , he could have had her . But something had drawn him back to search the place . That was the thing that didn 't make sense - one of the things . The house should have been searched before the bomb was set . Maybe there hadn 't been time , but there were problems with killing first and searching later . Re - entry would have been dangerous , and whatever the killer wanted might well have been found by the police during their investigation . Or moved by someone else . Of course , the killer might not be the searcher . I nodded , and she began to tremble . I stood and walked around behind her , put my hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently . She stiffened , then relaxed . After a moment she rubbed her cheek against the back of my hand , wetting it . " Auntie took me to the docks at night . The boat was old and small . It was very crowded . It cost her a lot to buy my passage , more than she could afford . But she did it . She said it was my only chance . Because my father was an American , you understand . . . ? " " We couldn 't take much . I had a small rice bag with some clothes and food . And a little doll she 'd traded cigarettes for . That was all I could take . It was all I had . Auntie gave it to Mr . Nguyen to keep for me . He put it in the pile with his family 's things . They were going to watch over me . Anyway , I hugged my aunt and then she stood on the dock until we left . I tried to watch her , to call out goodbye and that I loved her , but it was too crowded . I couldn 't see her , except for just flashes , between the people crowded by the rail . I was crying . Everyone was nervous because of the patrols and wanted me to be quiet , but I couldn 't . I was only ten , and I was very afraid . Then Mr . Nguyen slapped me until I was quiet . Later , after we were past the patrols and it was time to sleep , I asked for my doll . He told me it was lost . He was still angry because I had made too much noise and the others had yelled at him , I suppose . But he said my doll was lost , and it was the only thing I had from my aunt . Later I saw his daughter playing with it . When I asked her for it , she threw it into the water . I ran to the back of the boat and watched for it , but it was gone into the darkness . I spent the rest of the night there , looking back into the dark . I was so scared . But I didn 't cry anymore . Not in front of Mr . Nguyen , anyway . " She had spoken quietly , staring out over the pine forest . She noticed that my hands were still on her shoulders and shrugged them off . I walked over to the rail and stood with my back to her . " What happened then ? " " Nothing . The trip wasn 't too bad . It seemed to take forever , but it couldn 't have been more than two weeks . " Her voice was steady again . " Mr . Nguyen gave me my things a day later . He acted indifferent to me . Not sorry that he gave away the doll . But I suppose he thought it was justified . I had to be punished , you see . To learn about keeping quiet . " We were low on food toward the end , but we were just hungry . That was all . Many people in the camp had it much worse . And I didn 't have to stay in the camp very long . Only six months . Some of them are still there , I bet . Mr . Nguyen . The girl who threw away my doll . Serves her right . " She managed a small laugh . " Some sad story , huh ? My father 's dead and all I talk about is a stupid doll . " She nodded . I went into the house and started some rice . There was a small pork roast in the refrigerator . I sliced it into long strips and dumped them into a bowl with cornstarch , oil , and a dash of soy sauce , then put the wok on the fire and left it to heat . While I was chopping a head of broccoli , I heard her clear her throat behind me . When I looked over my shoulder , she was standing in the doorway watching me , her keys in her hand . " Bring in your things , " I said . " There 's a spare bedroom on the left of the hall . " She stared at me for a long moment , then nodded and disappeared . I stir - fried the meat and the vegetables , added some oyster sauce , and let the mixture simmer . When I heard the shower running , I walked quietly down the hall and opened the door to her room . The bathroom door was half open and the glass shower door was steamed up . April was vaguely visible , a slender shape moving behind the mist . A small suitcase was open on the bed . I went through it quickly . It was new . Two days ' worth of dirty clothes were wadded up on one side of it . The clothes on the other side still had price tags . Her dress , underwear , and sandals were on the floor by the bathroom door . Her purse wasn 't visible . I took another peek into the bathroom . It was on the vanity , beneath the mirror . Some cosmetics had been taken from it and spread over the counter . I avoided taking a longer look at the body in my shower and went back to the stove . Dinner was on the table when she appeared . I 'd opened a bottle of Chablis . She accepted a glass , but didn 't do much more than sip at it . She ate the meal without commenting on it . While we ate , I questioned her about the trip . She had driven as far as Phoenix , taken a room , and slept most of Wednesday . She awoke in time to find a mall and a new wardrobe , then got back on the road . She made it to Albuquerque early this morning . Instead of driving straight out , she took another room , slept for a few hours , and asked the desk clerk if he knew where Placitas was and how to get here . She dithered around for a few hours , working up her nerve , I guess , and then drove to the village and asked around until she found someone who knew who Paul Porter was and where he lived . The rest I knew . When I asked what she was doing for money , she looked surprised . If I 'd had a daughter , I probably wouldn 't have thought to ask . Credit cards , of course . That gave me something to worry about . Plastic leaves a trail . But it was probably all right . It 's a hard trail to follow , unless you have access to the right computers . There was another problem . I asked whose name the cards were in . Of course they were in Toker 's . " Your father . It was his nickname when I knew him . He called me Rainbow and I called him Toker . Don 't worry about living . I can take care of you for a while . Your father must have had a lawyer , and he probably left a will . You can pay me back later if you like . " " Tomorrow morning . I 'll go with you . There 's the funeral , for one thing . And the police will want to know why you ran away and where you went . We have to find the lawyer and the will . We have to find out who is executor of his estate and get that settled . You 'll have some explaining to do to your professors . There are other things I haven 't thought of yet . " I didn 't add that they might want to ask her what she knew about detonating a Claymore . If she hadn 't called it a clayman bomb , I 'd be damned curious about that myself . I asked her what she was studying at UCLA . At least it wasn 't theater . If she were an actress , that would be one more thing to worry about . I stretched and started heading her toward bed . There are two bedrooms in my house , both the same size . Big . Eigh - teen by twenty feet , with large closets and one large bathroom between them . It has a shower , Jacuzzi , soaking tub , double sinks in the vanity , everything I thought might be useful when I designed the place . She closed the door behind her . When the radio in her room came on , I headed for the office off my bedroom and spent a few minutes thinking . A call to a man in Albuquerque got me the number of a useful man in West Los Angeles . Next , I fired up my computer and found an account of the bombing . There was nothing of interest there , except that it had really happened . I made two reservations to Las Vegas in the name of Miller , then dug out a suitcase and packed for a week . Just in case , I dug out a fall - back identity . Harold Stephenson . I hadn 't been Harold for ten years , but I 'd kept him alive . I poured myself a double scotch , grabbed another cigarette from my stash , turned out all the lights in the house , and walked out onto the deck . The woods aren 't quiet at night . Things move in them . But I was used to the woods . I was not used to the things that were stirring in my mind . Toker . I hadn 't seen him in sixteen years . I 'd seen a lot of him in ' seventy - four . And of course , I 'd seen him daily from June of ' seventy through July of ' seventy - one , while we were both in - country . In - country meant Saigon , mostly . What had happened there after I left ? Or what had happened to him later , that led him to seek out and adopt a Vietnamese child ? Did he go to Hong Kong looking for one , or was he really just on vacation , as April had said ? Was there some significance to the fact that he 'd picked a girl ? There had been two kinds of soldiers in Vietnam . Those who hated the locals and those who liked them . Toker was one of the first type . He called them slopes or gooks . That made April harder for me to understand . Had Toker been trying to assuage some guilt I didn 't know about ? Guilt . That word sent a lot of things scurrying for cover in the recesses of my skull . I let them go . I knew all their hidey - holes if I had to track them down . With luck , they would sleep peacefully for the next few weeks . The radio in April 's bedroom was silent when I locked up . I tapped gently at her door . There was no answer , so I opened it and slipped inside . I stood for three or four minutes , an eternity , breathing through my mouth , listening . No sound . My eyes adjusted to the darkness . Her head was a dark blotch against the white pillow case . Her clothes were spread on the foot of the bed . Her purse was on a table under the window . I padded over and took it , made my way out of the room , and went to the kitchen . Her driver 's license said April Bow . It was dated over a year ago . The plastic case looked scratched enough to be a year old . She had the right student ID as far as I could tell . All the credit cards had the right name on them . She carried no weapon beyond a nail file . It took ten minutes to get my night vision back and another three to replace the purse . It was after midnight when I turned out my bedside lamp . At seven - thirty I had breakfast going , a large omelet with vegetables and a mild chile sauce . Toast and coffee . April answered my knock by opening the door a crack and peering around it . I glanced past her . The mirror above the dresser on the other side of the room showed her naked back , pale , without tan lines , slender . My thin face and blond hair peered over her shoulder through the cracked door . Her backside was very attractive . I didn 't like or trust the looks of the fellow in the mirror . I looked back into her eyes and told her breakfast was ready . She appeared in a few minutes , barefoot , wearing a pair of new jeans and a cream - colored blouse . I gave her our schedule while she worked on the omelet , then took a tour of the property while she cleaned up and dressed . I wanted to be outside , far from her bedroom door . It had been too long since I 'd had a woman . And at least to part of me , she qualified . Despite her age and looks . Or maybe because of them . The first stop in Albuquerque was at my bank . I picked up five thousand in cash . Then I made some arrangements with the woman who manages certain of my properties and left her with a check for a thousand in case I was gone longer than expected . We barely made it to the airport in time to pick up our tickets and take the long walk to our gate .