“And why would he do that, for someone like you?” Manh’s face was filled with a befuddled curiosity. “Yesterday he goes to District Four and passes out loaves of bread to your neighbors. Is this not an odd thing, meant to encourage unrest? The day before that he is with Colonel Pham and his wife at temple. That night he is with their daughter at his hotel. Today he is with Colonel Pham in Quang Nam Province, searching for the answers to a story that might embarrass the revolution. Colonel Pham speaks favorably of him and has offered to take responsibility for his actions. But Colonel Pham is getting old, and perhaps his daughter cares for this man. Perhaps the colonel has lost his judgment. Condley claims that he had no connection with American authorities for many years before coming back to Viet Nam, but why would he stay in Asia, and why would he come back here? I must tell you, he has all the mannerisms of a highly trained agent.”

Dzung found himself shrugging helplessly. “You must believe me. I do not know.”

Manh eyed Dzung shrewdly for several seconds, measuring him. “You would like to move out of District Four, though. Would you not?”

“Of course I would like to move,” said Dzung. “Even the cockroaches and the rats dream of escaping District Four.”

“And to take care of your family?”

The question was too pointed. A bomb exploded inside Dzung’s brain. “What do you want, Manh?”

Manh ignored Dzung for a moment, returning to his thick file, flipping studiously through the pages to emphasize the point he was about to make. Finally he looked up to Dzung, giving him a sly smile. “You were a skilled marksman when you were a soldier.”

“I was qualified as an instructor in many weapons.”

“Do you like to shoot?”

“It’s been a very long time.” The reality of what Manh was putting before him crept up Dzung’s spine on soft little scorpion’s feet, causing him to suddenly shiver.

“Why are you trembling?” asked Manh.

“I am not used to air conditioners.”

“Of course,” said Manh. Then he closed Dzung’s file, setting it to one side of his desk as if done with it. “I’m going to take you shooting. Just an hour or so a day. Report here every morning at seven o’clock. I will have you back at the Rex Hotel in time for you to begin working as usual.”

“What do you want me to shoot?”

“Targets,” said Manh. “To improve your skills.”

“Why?”

“Because it has been decided that you will do it.”

“It has been a long time,” said Dzung carefully. “What if I don’t want to shoot anymore?”

“You do want to take care of your family, don’t you?”

“What if I’m no good?”