“Why do you think that?” asked Condley, his insides roiling at the thought of his friend being back in prison.

“Okay, I show you.”

Luong looked at the others, as if they now could reveal their little secret. He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Condley:

World’s best limo driver
Sai Gon 887-4135

Luong smiled slyly, again looking at the others as Condley read the card. “So, Cong Ly, you don’t like the limo, I know that! Cong Ly, you never take the limo! Dzung, he gone! So now you let me be your cyclo driver. I will do very good job for you. No problem, anything you want. And maybe in five years you can sponsor me for limo business too?”

“Give me that card,” laughed Condley, taking it from Luong’s falsely protesting hand and walking back toward the hotel.

Two hours later, Dzung pulled up in front of the Vien Dong Hotel in his new Toyota four-door limo. He smiled proudly as Condley exited the hotel and walked toward him. Dzung’s hair was cut and neatly combed. He was wearing a clean white shirt, pressed gray trousers, and black leather shoes. He stood just a bit awkwardly, his arms dangling as his American friend met him at the curb, still in the habit of presenting himself humbly for inspection. And then he gestured toward the car.

“So, where we go today, Cong Ly?”

Seeing Dzung in front of the new car with his clean clothes and scrubbed face, Condley was overcome with a sudden rush of emotion. He put an arm around Dzung’s shoulders and hugged him to his chest.

“Very good car, yes?” laughed a faintly embarrassed Dzung.

“A very good car. How did this happen?”

“You,” said Dzung simply. “They asked me many questions, Cong Ly, about why you pick me for your business. Why did you want a business in Sai Gon, and why did you want to work with me? I was a soldier from the wrong side. I have no family connections. I have no money. But I think you passed their test. They decided that they trust you. I do not know why.”

Condley thought about that possibility. While in Hawaii he had argued strongly in support of Colonel Pham’s request that Deville’s wartime activities be omitted from the official statement announcing the identification of the turncoat’s remains. He had at first resisted the idea but then decided that he owed that much to the former Viet Cong colonel. Without Pham he never would have been able to find Pepper’s remains in the Que Son Mountains or to question Anatolie Petrushinsky in Moscow. The colonel’s only request was that the story of Theodore Deville die with him. And what good would it have done to tell it now?