A waitress, obviously attracted by the uniform, came running out of the hotel. She had a permanently troubled scowl but pretty eyes. Civilai ordered four glasses of Cognac. She only had rum. He ordered Bacardi. She only had Saint James. He asked about beer. It wasn’t cold. We settled for Saint James but ordered cola to take the taste away. That was warm too. The lengths we went to for a little alcohol buzz.

“And?” I said.

“And what?”

“The uniform.”

“Right. It’s the latest from Peking. Our allies want us to look stylish at the handover ceremony.”

“Who’s handing over what?” I asked.

“They’re convinced that, with all the anti-American war demonstrations in the States and the obscene amount of money they’re spending on eradicating us, it’ll be over by next year.”

“Haven’t they been saying that for fifteen years?”

“Yes, but now we have uniforms so it’s serious.”

“Marvelous. I look forward to it.”

The troubled waitress returned without a tray for some reason. They’d probably been requisitioned for the war effort. Instead she nuzzled the four full rum glasses, one bottle of cola and an ice bucket against her modest breasts. The bucket contained actual ice, which surprised us given that nothing else was cold. But we didn’t bother to ask why. Those were hardship days. In her mouth she had the bill, which she handed to me. Perhaps the man dressed as a civilian was expected to pay for the soldier out of gratitude. Civilai grabbed it from me.

“Had a bit of luck in a card game last night,” he said.

I didn’t put up a fight. Even with ice and cola, the drinks were as bad as we’d expected. People passing in front of the hotel looked at us as if we were actors in some production that didn’t need a camera.

“So,” I said.

“Yes?”

“Any luck?”

“Six months since our last meeting and you want to start our reunion with a favor?”

“Yes. Did you do it?”

“In a way,” he said. “But there’s a catch.”

“Any catches are acceptable if she said yes.”

“She said yes.”

I was so happy. I’d never wanted more to throw myself at Civilai and rain kisses down on him. Naturally, I didn’t. I merely nodded and said, “That’s nice.”

“But the catch is a rather large one,” he said.

“Do I have to perform erotic acts with a member of the central committee?”

“Not unless you want to.”

“Then there’s nothing I wouldn’t agree to,” I told him. “Name it.”

“Four American prisoners are to be released before the end of the year as a gesture of peace.”

“After years of torture?”