The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) - Plot & Excerpts
5) “You my father?” asked the small boy, his hair light brown and naturally curly, his skin lighter than the Vietnamese the vets were accustomed to seeing. Lehman ruffled the boy’s hair. “No, kid, I’m not your father,” he said. The boy grinned, showing brilliant white teeth, perfectly even. “You know him? My father named Hans. From Holland. You come from Holland?” Lehman shook his head. “From America,” he said. “We’re from America.” The boy nodded thoughtfully as if considering a difficult problem. “Okay,” he said. “Me go America. You take me?” “I can’t, kid,” said Lehman gently. He turned to the nun who was showing the group of Americans around the orphanage. Her white habit was stained at the front as if she’d spilled something down it, something brown or maybe red, and the area around the stain was grey and smudged as if she’d tried to get the stain out but had failed. “They speak such good English, Sister Marie,” Lehman said to her.
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