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great deal of political opposition which eventually led to what you and I affectionately know as the Vietnam War.
    â€˜I tried to write a novel about the war,’ Hayes said with a laugh. ‘That was during my first few years out here. I gave up after the first chapter.’
    â€˜Crying shame,’ I sympathised.
    â€˜Shit is shit,’ Hayes said. ‘No point denying your own doesn’t stink.’
    I shrugged.
    â€˜You’re not much of a morning person,’ Hayes observed.
    I wanted to amend his statement. I am not much of a person.
    While Hayes met with the corrupt city officials in a tall glass building with reflective windows, I sat in the car with my feet on the dash and the newspaper open in my lap. All that I could taste were fumes from passing cars. I wanted to gag.
    After about ten minutes a policeman came up to the car and leaned in through the open driver’s side window. He began to jabber away at me and I simply stared. I had noidea what he was trying to tell me. He was all arm signals and violent neck movements. Some of his spittle landed on my upper arm, and I thought that he was pretty good to make the distance over the driver’s seat.
    â€˜I don’t understand a word you’re saying to me,’ I told him.
    He continued to talk in his own language and I smiled and nodded. I was getting the vague impression of what he was trying to tell me: You can’t park here.
    â€˜Nothing you’re saying is making any fucking sense to me,’ I said.
    I ignored the man for long enough and he wandered away.
    When Hayes returned, the cigarette was still sitting behind his ear. I had been drifting into unconsciousness when he opened the door and dumped himself behind the wheel.
    â€˜You’ve got to love politics,’ he declared.
    I yawned. He seemed on edge.
    He said, ‘During my first year in London I stumbled across a policeman getting a blowjob from a homeless girl in a dirty back alley. Eight years old, this girl. He paid her ten pounds.’
    He said, ‘When a crack addict has a seizure in the bathroom and hits their head on the sink, it can take weeks before anybody finds the body. You’ve never smelled anything like it before. My opinion, crime scene reporting is the worst.’
    He said, ‘The Rex Hotel was once the quarters for American officers, but that was during the war.’
    â€˜Thank you for that, Mr Tour Guide,’ I muttered. I lit a cigarette.
    At the Rex Hotel there were several Vietnamese men in expensive suits lunching with another group of Asian men who didn’t seem to be Vietnamese. Hayes told me that they are thuong gia , which basically means that they are trading people. A lot of big business happens at the Rex, Hayes said. Certainly not all of it above board, either.
    There was a beautiful woman playing something classical on a cello in one of the lounges.
    â€˜We can’t smoke at this bar,’ Hayes said.
    I grumbled. It had taken a while to convince the doorman that I was dressed appropriately for entry.
    We sat at the bar drinking rum with ice and Hayes nodded toward a group of men seated at a table in the far corner. He said, ‘The fat one-eyed man is a big player in organised crime in this city. He runs a bareknuckle boxing racket in District Six. It used to be martial arts deathmatches but that’s changed over the last five years or so. It takes place in registered dance halls, believe it or not. Apparently there’s a lot of money to be made in that sort of thing. He imports furs and exotic jewels, too. Owns several gas stations. He was acquitted on several charges relating to murder and manslaughter about two years ago. The police haven’t touched him since.’
    After our drinks Hayes said it was time to go.
    â€˜What? Now?’
    â€˜I don’t like to sit for long in one place. I get like this for the first couple of days. Restless. I can’t sit here. We have to