“But if we gain some information and need to find an answer, you are still willing to help?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” The colonel’s suddenly impatient question was a veiled accusation, no doubt the echo of conversations that had already taken place among his government contemporaries.

“Because it’s my job,” said Condley, working to contain his emotions as he held the colonel’s stare. He finished his own tea, setting the cup gingerly onto the table. “And because he killed two of my men.”

The colonel watched him silently, then waved a small hand in the air. “Okay, Cong Ly. Yes, of course I will still help you. I promised you that, as long as you will be reasonable.” He paused, thinking. “And what about the skull of Nguyen My Den?”

“We identified him through his dental records,” said Condley. “He was a deserter. Alphonse no-middle-name Smith. I hope you will be pleased to know that we have decided against publicizing anything else about his . . . other conduct. Our official statement will only say that he left his military post and was never heard from again.”

Colonel Pham nodded, relieved by this news. “Then you are being reasonable. Ha Noi will be very glad to hear this. It will be most helpful in the relationship between our countries.”

“But I still need your help with Deville.”

“Because you have been careful with Nguyen My Den, it will be possible for me to continue to help you.”

Condley slowly poured himself more tea, deliberately avoiding the colonel’s eyes. “Our government has information about a Russian soldier who says he was in the Que Son Mountains during the war.”

“A Russian soldier?” Pham seemed genuinely confused. “Where is this Russian?”

“He’s in Moscow. I want to talk to him. I want you to come with me.”

Colonel Pham eyed him closely for several seconds, sitting very still, his mind working. “Cong Ly, I like you very much, and so I am giving you some good advice. You must be more careful from now on. You are making many people in my government very nervous.”

“Why?”

“I don’t understand your question.”

“Why should they be nervous, Colonel?”

“You are not the State Department,” said the colonel immediately, as if regurgitating a recent conversation. “You are supposed to be finding the bones of soldiers lost on the battlefield during the war. It is not your job to be rewriting history or gaining some personal revenge, and it is not my job to help you do that. And I must tell you, Cong Ly, it causes people to wonder about your true motivations in coming back to this country. About whether you truly want to help improve relations between your country and Viet Nam. And even whether finding bones is your . . . true occupation.”