“Oh, Brandon, we’ve got to get you a vacation.”

“One night a couple years ago I was talking on the phone to someone back in Hawaii and I couldn’t hear him. It was about two in the morning. The second time I told him I couldn’t hear him, somebody turned the phone up so loud that his voice came out of the speaker on the wall.”

Muir shrugged condescendingly, enjoying his little provocation. “The operator was helping you out, Brandon. I know they’re clever, but let’s face it. We’re hardly the CIA. We’re out here looking for dead people. We’re just not that interesting!”

“Oh, we are interesting, at least to them. How do you think a voice on the phone came out of a speaker on the wall that’s supposed to be rigged for radio music? Trust me, Professor, I do know my former trade. And we’re not talking about finding bodies in the boonies anymore. We’re talking about Salt and Pepper. I can tell from talking to Colonel Pham that this one scares them. So be careful.”

Muir finally laughed. “I’m smarter about these things than you give me credit for. Why do you think I flew here instead of talking to you about it on the phone?”

“Because you wanted some R and R in Sai Gon.” Condley took another piece of Muir’s bread. “Speaking of which, I almost got married last night.”

Muir rubbed his beard, his thick hand masking a very jealous smile. “You get married a lot, Brandon.”

“No, actually the marriage business has been kind of slow for quite a while. Or maybe I’ve slowed down. And the Interior Ministry does watch me, you know.”

“I would think by now they have a complete folder, wouldn’t you? What difference would a few more lovely ladies make?”

“Well, I have to assume her dad reads the reports, given that he’s our government counterpart.”

The burly scientist could not restrain his amusement. “Colonel Pham? Oh, no, Brandon. He has a daughter?”

“He has a daughter like Ho Chi Minh has a mausoleum.”

“Wait a minute,” laughed Muir. “You lost me on that analogy.”

“Well, I never said I was a poet.”

“Ho Chi Minh doesn’t have anything. He’s dead. I can confirm that. I’ve been to the mausoleum.”

“Yeah, but have you done the DNA?”

“What?”

“How do you know that’s really Uncle Ho? Did you match the dental file?”

“Didn’t he have false teeth?”

“Not so loud, you’re talking about somebody’s version of God.” Condley laughed, sensing that Muir was fighting to focus after his long flight. “Okay, forget the mausoleum. She’s beautiful, Professor. Oh, man, I really don’t know why, but I came very close to losing it.”

“Of course you know why. You’re a pig.”