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Back Lost Soldiers Save as PDF
Chapters (48)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. TITLE PAGE
  3. EPIGRAPH
  4. PRAISE
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. MAP
  7. PROLOGUE
  8. CHAPTER ONE
  9. CHAPTER TWO
  10. CHAPTER THREE
  11. CHAPTER FOUR
  12. CHAPTER FIVE
  13. CHAPTER SIX
  14. CHAPTER SEVEN
  15. CHAPTER EIGHT
  16. CHAPTER NINE
  17. CHAPTER TEN
  18. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  19. CHAPTER TWELVE
  20. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  21. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  23. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  25. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  26. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  46. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  47. COPYRIGHT PAGE
  48. What’s next onyour reading list?

“As I said, Brandon, I think you need a vacation.”

The elevator reached the lobby. Condley stepped out, nodding to the uniformed elevator attendant and heading toward the front door. The lobby was filled with suitcases and jabbering French people, a tour group noisily checking out of the hotel. As they neared the outer door Muir finally grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him for a moment.

“Where are we going?”

“Sightseeing.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Dzung was lazing in his cyclo in the park just across the street from the Rex. He bolted upright when he saw Condley walk out of the hotel, then waved with the innocent happiness of a young boy. In seconds he had jumped to the ground and pulled the cyclo into the street, ready to depart.

Striding toward him with Muir in tow, Condley pointed to a second cyclo driver, calling to him in Vietnamese. When he reached Dzung, Condley put an arm around a reluctant, visibly addled Muir, introducing him. “Anh trai,” he said, pretending that Muir was his older brother. “Hanson.”

“Hanson? Oh, very good,” said Dzung happily, watching Condley climb into the cyclo.

Condley pointed to the second cyclo. “Get in, Hanson.”

Muir swallowed, his eyes going wild with uncertainty. “Brandon, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not my thing. It’s hot, it’s dirty. My stomach isn’t doing too well anyway.” He checked his watch again, as if it were a security blanket. “Let’s take a car. I’ll pay.”

“You’ll pay anyway. Get in.” Condley smiled easily. “You don’t want to take a taxi where we’re going.”

Muir climbed hesitantly aboard. His voice revealed his unease. “Where are we going?”

“The real Sai Gon, Professor.”

Dzung pushed out into the traffic, crossing Le Loi Street, and soon was pedaling smoothly, comfortably, swaying side to side with the rhythm that allowed him to work his back muscles into the pedals. He leaned over Condley’s shoulder.

“Where we go today, Cong Ly?”

“We go to District Four.”

Dzung laughed excitedly, as if the thought were madness. He called rapidly to the other cyclo driver, whose name was Luong, and they chatted quickly as they made their way along Nguyen Hue Street. Then he leaned over Condley’s shoulder again.

“District Four no good.”

“You live in District Four.”

“Yes, sir. I live in District Four.”

“Then District Four is good.”

Dzung laughed again, exchanging glances with Luong. “Oh, thank you, sir, but District Four is very bad. Here in Sai Gon we say, if you want a nice house go to District Three. If you want good hotel, go to District One. If you want to die, go to District Four.”

Muir had been leaning forward in his seat in the other cyclo, trying to follow Dzung’s heavily accented English despite the distance and the traffic noise. Now he called to Condley. “What did he say about dying?”