“We are speaking conceptually, of course,” demurred the colonel. “And we are not presently inside Viet Nam, so it is easier to talk about such things.” He hedged carefully. “What we cannot have in Viet Nam is a collapse of authority. You see, Cong Ly, this is where we are very different from the Americans. We cannot function with protests in the street. We do not like being ruled from the top, but we are not yet capable of that sort of democracy. We cannot function at all in those circumstances, because there is no anchor in our culture beyond our loyalty to family. We are a very competitive and sometimes a very violent people. We do not like those at the top telling us what to do, but it is important to have strong leaders at the top telling certain factions what not to do. Without that we would have total chaos.”

“So you’re a little bit like the Americans,” said Condley. “But every now and then you need a commissar to kick ass and take names.”

“Yes,” admitted the colonel with a small shrug. “I could lie to you, Cong Ly, or I could say it more nicely. But that is the way I feel.”

The plane began losing altitude as the pilot began his descent into Moscow. Colonel Pham lifted up the window panel, looking outside. Dawn was beginning to lighten the far horizon. The colonel’s taut frame held the excitement of a child as he peered outside the window.

“Why have you never been to Russia before?” he asked Condley.

“I think they called it the Cold War,” said Condley dryly.

“No spy missions to Moscow?”

“Actually, this is my first.”

Colonel Pham smiled amusedly, watching Condley’s face with the knowing, intricate scrutiny that was his trademark. “Your first spy mission to Moscow, with a communist colonel as your interpreter. It’s a funny time we live in, yes?”

Condley laughed. “Whatever it takes, Colonel. I’m just glad to have you as my tour guide.”

“Then I will admit something to you,” said Colonel Pham, a look approaching shyness coming over his weathered, aging face. “I have watched you so many times in Viet Nam, and I understand you, Cong Ly. No, I even appreciate you. Because I love Moscow with the same hopeless passion that you must feel for Sai Gon.”