"No shit. Yeah, well, Willy—his job was to go out and bring back North Koreans for the intelligence guys. Told me they went out at night. Said the North Koreans were supposed to be alive, but it was easier if they were dead."
"No wonder he's crazy. Hey, Claude."
"What's happening, Patrick?"
"I got paid."
"Don't tell him that," Sam said.
"Mon ami . . . "
"Hi, Claude." A young woman stepped next to Claude and took his arm.
"Who's your friend?" she asked, looking at Patrick.
"This is Patrick."
He remembered her gray eyes; she was the one who had smiled at him on his first night in town. Up close, he noticed tiny freckles and a gap between her front teeth.