“And they accepted the boy to study there?”

“They were desperate for kids from the third world who could speak English to meet their quota and they had a lot of funding for education.”

“Did the boy know he was there under false pretenses?”

“He had no idea. I told him the money was from me, but I didn’t have to pay a penny. It was all Colombo Plan funding.”

“Why send him to Australia and not the US?” said the blonde.

“Why not what? Send him Stateside? You seem like a clever girl. You’ve probably worked out I’m persona non grata in America these days after all my agitation. They’d never let me back in without throwing me in jail. But the Aussies have a family reunion visa. The boy goes to school, gets residence and I can apply to join him there as his legal guardian. I faked that document too. I can go anytime I like. Just got a little bit tied down here with, you know, business.”

“You’re a real conman, aren’t you?” she said. She was leaning against him. Another shirt button had popped open.

“What went wrong with the POW scam?” she asked.

“It was my last chance to get back into the US legally,” he said. “As a hero I could convince them they were wrong about me stealing the plane and operating undercover. I was a week away from getting on that flight. I was having a final medical. I’d spent four months in a sort of up-market prison camp in Hanoi. I figured it was worth the inconvenience. I grew a beard and let my hair sprout wild. I got the shit bitten out of me by insects. I ran into a few walls, collected some grazes and bruises. And I picked at the food they gave us so I’d lose weight. After those four months I looked the part. Could have convinced anyone, I thought. But then this smart-assed little bastard Pathet Lao doctor comes and examines me. He decides I’m not sick enough. Haven’t been ravaged enough by diseases.

I mean, shit. All he had to do was sign a release, god damn it. They should have been happy to be rid of me. But, no. This guy wants to do the full Edgar J. Hoover investigation to make himself look good to his Vietnamese bosses. He lied about a bunch of stuff, but they believed him and bumped me from the flight. Tried to get me into CIA hands. But I escaped.”

“You remember his name?” she asked.

“I’ll never forget it,” he said. “Fake Doctor Siri Paiboun. His name still comes to me in nightmares. But I’ve fixed him.”

“How?”