I translate for Vikorn, who has been watching the performance with a twinkle in his eye and who, to everyone’s astonishment except Chanya’s, bursts out laughing and clumsily claps a few times. Bright is seriously taken aback.

“Please tell our American colleagues how smart I think they are,” Vikorn instructs, his left hand shaking as he reaches for the whiskey bottle. When I have done so, I see that Hudson has finally decided to take an interest in Vikorn and stares at him for the next few minutes. “They saw this obvious flaw immediately, on the first reading I am sure.” A sip from his shaking glass. “What were we thinking that we produced such an amateurish statement? How could anyone hope to fool the CIA?”

I translate. Bright is lost now and checks with Hudson, who does not take his eyes off Vikorn.

“But what were we to do, gentlemen?” Vikorn raises his hands helplessly, an impotent old man caught in something way too big for him. “Chanya, my dear, please tell them exactly what happened.”

Chanya looks at me demurely. “Should I speak in English or Thai? My English isn’t really that good.”

I’ve had no warning about this development and do not know how I’m supposed to reply. “Your English is fine,” I say testily. She gives me one of her smiles. I disgust myself by melting and smiling back. She speaks in Thai, I translate.

“I always wanted to tell the truth about what happened to Mitch, but I was firmly instructed that for reasons of security I should keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s quite correct,” Vikorn corroborates.

“As soon as we left this bar that night, Mitch became certain we were being followed.”

“Oh no,” from Bright when I translate, who buries his head in his hands and shakes it from side to side. “Wouldn’t have been two men with long black beards, would it?”

“Shut up,” Hudson tells him, and nods for Chanya to go on.

“I didn’t see their beards until later-only Mitch saw them at that point. He said he’d been followed before, down in Songai Kolok, that he was sure his cover was blown and that maybe there was some kind of fatwa on his head.”

“I just can’t believe they’re even trying-”

“Will you shut it?” from Hudson. An I’ll get even glare from Bright.

“We thought about running away, but Mitch said that wouldn’t do any good. The worst would be for them to catch up out in the street. He was sure they wouldn’t have guns. He thought that in his hotel room he would be able to handle them.” Bright is staring incredulously, making a great drama of holding his head, rocking from side to side.

Hudson interrupts, looking at Chanya. “Okay, I get the picture. You went back to his hotel, they burst in with at least one knife, slice him up, and cut his cock off. You’re embroiled in the battle, but no one wants to hurt you, so you end up covered in blood but unharmed. Let’s say all that is a given. Why in hell would you have concocted that statement?”

I translate for Vikorn, who takes up the story. “Think about it, gentlemen. What has your government been saying about the security risk here in Thailand from Islamic fanatics? And what has that done to our tourist trade already? How much worse could it get if there’s a report of a genuine terrorist atrocity, right here in Bangkok? This was not something I’m qualified to deal with myself. I had to go to the highest levels of government, to the chief of our homeland defense.”

Hudson sighs. “So you’re saying you were told to cover up?”

“Yes. What else were they going to say? The entire story depended on the evidence of a whore.”

A pause. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“Well, there’s the knife. The murder weapon.”

Now Bright’s jaw has dropped, but Hudson ’s thin lips have opened just a tad. “Right. We were going to ask you about that. You have it here to show us?”

“It’s in the fridge,” says Chanya, and stands up to bring it. It is carefully preserved in a plastic bag, which Hudson holds up to the light. He seems to be wrestling with a smile as he hands it to Bright, who also holds it up to the light. He shakes his head and hands it back. “I still don’t buy it. So they found some frizzy black hairs to stick on it. What does that prove?”

“Anything else?” Hudson asks Chanya.

“Well, Mitch fought very bravely, and at one point he managed to get the knife off them.”

“He did?”

“Yes, and when one of them tried to grab it, he sliced off two fingers before they overwhelmed him again.”

Hudson ’s gaze is steady now, and the smile has gone from his mouth, but there is a subtle difference in the way he is looking at her. “Kept the fingers, did you? In the fridge, by any chance?”

Chanya walks to the fridge and comes back with another plastic bag and hands it to him. Bright is trying to follow Hudson ’s lead, but Hudson isn’t giving anything away at all. He examines the frozen fingers in the bag, then hands them to Bright. “And when we send the knife and fingers away to the lab, the lab will confirm that these fingers produced some of the prints on the knife, right?”

“I’m certain of it.”

“So they found some fingers and some hairs from a black beard-you’re not gonna-”

All Hudson needs to do is stare at him this time. Things have taken an unexpected turn, after all, and Bright is no longer so sure of his cynicism. He closes his mouth and leans back on his chair, thighs splayed: Okay, wise guy, it’s your show and your funeral if you screw up.

Hudson stands and beckons to me to join him at the bar. In a whisper: “Please ask your Colonel to join us.” I beckon to the Colonel, who is in the process of pouring himself another drink. Vikorn joins us, bending forward and holding his lower back. Hudson says: “Just ask him one question, please. If he were to place a bet on these hairs and fingers turning out to have DNA that the CIA database will confirm is that of a known Islamic terrorist, perhaps one who died recently-if I were to open a book on it, how much would he place?”

“Three million dollars, even money,” Vikorn says brightly, forgetting his backache. “Want to?”

“No,” Hudson says slowly, “we don’t have that kind of cash to play with. Certainly not on a stone cold loser.” He gives me a nod, surprisingly friendly.

“What will you do about your colleague?” I ask in my most polite tone. He doesn’t answer except with a subtle alteration in his facial muscles. I’m not an expert on encryption, but I think that look might translate as: Bright doesn’t want to spend the rest of his career in the field either. I say sotto voce: “Would a video help?”

A true pro, he takes in my meaning with lightning speed and shakes his head. “Keep it as backup.”

“He’s a jaw-grinder on the home stretch,” I report, still deeply in awe of my mother’s detailed knowledge of the male rampant.

A quick grin builds around Hudson ’s mouth and is as quickly wiped off by professional discipline. “She could tell that just by looking at him, couldn’t she?”

I have a feeling Hudson will be back.

“Well,” says Hudson in a louder voice, indicating to Bright to stand up, “obviously, this evidence isn’t something we can afford to ignore. At the same time, our government is sensitive to any economic damage Thailand might suffer if this sort of thing hits the news.” A look at Bright. “Frankly, this is going to take a while to sort out. There will be top-level meetings, Homeland Security will be involved, it’ll go to the Joint Chiefs, probably the president. Any officers associated with it will attract attention.” A smile. “Hopefully of a positive kind.”

Bright nods thoughtfully. Perhaps he deserves his name, for his change of posture is instant and very convincing. He shakes Chanya’s hand, calls her and my mother ma’am, and generally demonstrates courtesy all around, even gratitude as he makes for the door.

When they have gone, I confront Vikorn. “You’ve put the blame on Muslims. You could start a war.”