“So you quit?”
The Teacher laughed and looked at Maier with a paternalistic expression. “I left. I had to. There was an incident in Long Cheng in ’73. One day, I caught a transport back to Vientiane. When I returned, several case officers with whom I’d shared bunks had been killed. Shot at close range. One had disappeared altogether. No body. It all got blamed on communist infiltrators, but I never bought that idea. I think it was an inside job. They’d have done me too if I’d been there. That was the moment when I thought, ah, I better get out if I want to survive the war. I got cold feet.”
The Teacher had checked out of the program.
“What’s with the jungle visa?”
The Teacher laughed and ran his tattooed fingers down his equally tattooed left arm.
“So many questions. You’re not Britis
