“Damn it,” Sullivan whispered to Huntley who was sitting on the sofa, sipping tea and watching Khmer TV, mesmerized by the black-and-white tube though he understood not a word spoken.
“What’s up?” Huntley rose slowly, still watching the TV as if he didn’t want to miss an important part of a dramatic plot.
“For one, they only received a hundred sheets,” Sullivan said. He turned and bowed to Sophan and Vathana.
“That cor-roo-gate-tad plastic s**t?” Huntley Said when they were back in the corridor.
“Yup. We sent a thousand. The camp received a hundred. Same with everything. The shipping orders match but somebody’s changed the numbers.”
“Think she sold it?”
“No. No way.”
“Why not? Cause she’s knocked up?”
“Huh?”
“Wouldn’t a minded a piece a that myself a few months back. What about yo
