But it was Van’s look that struck him. She had stopped in the middle of serving Petain a portion of food. Petain’s arm was touching her shoulder, as much an act of ownership as his earlier announcement that he and Van would both speak English. But her surprised, appreciative look told Condley that she fully understood his answer to her mother and the painful journey he had taken in his mind in order to reach it.

The string quartet was playing elegantly near the front of the restaurant. He heard Petain mention casually to Van that the piece was from Tchaikovsky. A young woman in a yellow silk ao dai came to the table selling roses. Petain bought one for Van and another one for her mother. They both thanked Petain appreciatively, and then both smiled almost secretly to Condley as Petain paid the flower girl.

Soon the food was gone and the wine bottle was empty. Petain looked at his watch yet again, ready to leave. Sensing the evening was finished, the colonel now turned to Condley. As always, they spoke in Vietnamese. “What is it that you have to report to me?”

“Yesterday we located the remains of an American soldier in Quang Nam Province. In Ninh Phuoc, along the Song Thu Bon west of Da Nang. He was buried during the war in a family plot in the village. We have the full skeleton, and also his dog tags.”

The colonel nodded appreciatively, then frowned. “I find this very strange. Why did it take them so long to report him if they knew he was buried in their village?”

“They didn’t know. The recent floods washed away part of the cemetery and they found the body. The man who buried the soldier had been afraid to report it. He’d buried him when he was a little boy. He found the body outside his family home one morning and his grandmother made him bury it.”

Colonel Pham looked at Condley for another moment, digesting the report. “I don’t know of another case like this. The Americans kept very careful records of when and where they lost their soldiers. There have been no reports from that area in Quang Nam.”

“I agree with you,” said Condley. “We’re trying to find more information. Perhaps he was captured on a different battlefield in Quang Nam, or Quang Tin or even Quang Ngai, and died while your side was marching him to a camp back in the mountains. We have his name. Professor Muir will be contacting Washington and asking for an examination of his military records.”

“Should our government announce this discovery?” asked the colonel.

“Not yet,” said Condley. “I agree with you that there is something strange about this case.”