“Yes, Manh,” said Dzung. His earlier anger flashed, as if a release valve inside his usual serenity had blown. “So why did you tell me to shoot only one person, and only the person you said? Tell me the truth, Manh. It doesn’t matter anymore. Did you want me to be killed by the others?”

“I will tell you the truth,” said Manh simply as they walked. “There are not usually this many guns. My intelligence report was not complete. I did not even know that the man would be on the other side of the road and would shoot at them. It totally surprised me.”

“It was Cong Ly.”

“I swear to you,” said Manh. “We did not think he would find the target so quickly. We wanted to kill the target before Cong Ly could convince other people to capture it. It was important that the target die before it could talk.”

“You and Cong Ly were after the same man?”

“For him it was a man,” shrugged Manh. “For us it was a target.”

“Who was it?”

“You are not allowed to know. And you must never ask again.” Manh looked at him with genuine awe. “I did not think you would be able to do that. I have never seen such shooting.”

Dzung relaxed for the first time. He began to feel sleepy, as if his feet were dragging behind him on the pavement. “I told you I was born to do this.”

“I know,” said Manh, lighting a cigarette as they walked.

“My files,” joked Dzung.

Manh nodded cerebrally. “Of course.”

“So, another thing?”

“Yes?” said Manh.

“How did my side lose the war?”

Manh laughed. He ceremoniously held his cigarette up in the air in the odd place that he always kept it, at the bottom of two fingers. “We are on the same side now, Mister Trong. The war is over.”

“Maybe for you and me,” said Dzung, thinking about what awaited him on his return to Sai Gon. “But for the others, I don’t think so. Not yet.”

They walked silently for a while. The Vietnamese Embassy was just in front of them. “We go back tomorrow,” said Manh. “In case something goes wrong in Klong Toey, I don’t want anyone to see you in Bangkok.”

It was bothering him. He deserved to know. He watched Manh’s face carefully. “As long as I am still Mister Trong, I have the right to ask. Who did I kill, Manh?”

“It does not matter who you killed,” said Manh. “You killed who you were supposed to.”

“That’s not good enough. Tell me. Who was it?”