Siri and Beer were back in Thakhek by midafternoon. They banked the boat and went off in search of a woman by the name of An who had worked with the Japanese as a translator during the war. Every day, Beer surprised Siri with one more witness to the occupation. It appeared the Japanese had had an interpreter whose name was Miura. He was fluent in French. An, a Lao-Vietnamese, was also fluent in French and her own native languages. According to Beer, the Japanese were awful language learners. He cited the curse of not wanting to make mistakes. They were not prepared to go through that elementary stage of unavoidable stupidity that successful language learners endure. This, plus a belief that the rest of the world would soon be speaking Japanese, led to the remarkable statistic that 95 percent of dealings between the Japanese and the French passed through that narrow portal of Miura-san. To Siri that seemed like a relationship doomed from the outset. The Japanese officers coached in xenophobia from childhood would never really trust a Japanese who had been so enamored of the West as to learn its language and culture. They would view him as defective. But what concerned Siri more was why the Japanese did not utilize Toshi’s language skills. He had mastered Lao. He would have stood out in a Lao town as the only Japanese who could speak directly to the locals. Was he being circumspect and keeping his ability a secret? Perhaps he had seen how foreign language skills had turned the occupiers against Miura and he didn’t want to damage his friendships with his workmates.

Siri had agreed to meet An in the area of scrubland at the foot of the hill to the east of the town. It was an unattractive spot but it was significant in that it was the site of the French colonial home that Major General Dorari used during the occupation. According to Beer, the major general had evicted the previous residents with threats, although Toshi hadn’t mentioned it in his diary. The house was also the one to which the Japanese officers had retired on the day of the surrender. As they had blown themselves up it was no surprise that there were no walls standing. In fact, there was nothing at all remaining of the original building. Nothing had grown on the lot since the explosion. Weeds had tried, and died. It was as if the earth there was starved of nutrients.