Another light. The palace itself was two blocks off to their left. In the park between them and the palace, dozens of Vietnamese sat languidly in the grass and on old benches, waiting to be interviewed inside the Ministry of Foreign Affairs so that they might emigrate to the United States. The locals called this area Reeducation Camp Park. Thousands of long-term reeducation camp survivors had sat on its benches over the past decade, waiting for the visas that would allow them to leave.

Dzung turned left onto Nguyen Thi Minh. The road was jammed with trucks, cars, bicycles, cyclos, and people walking. He moved very carefully in the traffic. Condley studied the former cyclo driver, as if trying to see him for the first time. He could not take his eyes off Dzung’s haircut as his old friend maneuvered in the thick traffic. Dark flashes burst inside his memory, from guns that were trying to kill him. And then a silhouette in black pajamas, shooting with the precision of a trained assassin. Could it have been?

They turned right onto Pasteur Street and soon reached the low walls of the university. Dzung slowed the car, pulling over to the curb next to the gate that led into the grounds. “I wait here?”

“Five minutes.”

Dzung smiled fondly, his eyes reading Condley’s emotions. “Like going to temple?”

Condley looked off toward the double-decker buildings, his mind filled with unquenchable memories. “A little.”

“This will be good for you, Cong Ly. Now all the ghosts will be gone.”

Condley began to open the car door, and then suddenly stopped. He leaned toward Dzung in the car, giving him another curious look. “That was you in Bangkok, wasn’t it?”

Dzung kept smiling, serene in the silent majesty of a courage that he knew could never be openly acknowledged. “You can’t ask me that, Cong Ly. It would be very dangerous for my family.”

Condley laughed, looking left and right along the street as if for spies. “I know, I know. And I will never ask again. But it was you.”

“I think,” said Dzung, shrugging enigmatically.

“I’ve never seen anybody shoot like that.”

“And you save me, Cong Ly.”

“Hey, that was an easy shot.”

“And so now we have a good business,” smiled Dzung. “And we keep our mouths shut.”

“Partner,” said Condley, extending his hand.

“Partner,” laughed Dzung, taking it in both of his. “I drive the limo. You pay the bills.”

“Duoc,” said Condley. Then he climbed from the limo and stood for a long moment on the sidewalk, facing the small yard and aging buildings of Dai Hoc Kinh Te. And finally he walked inside the grounds.