"Yes."
"All right. No names to be printed. I haven't got much time. Grab that chair and bring it-"
"I'd rather do this just the two of us."
"That's all right. Loo-ten-ant Chompu can skip out and pick daisies somewhere. Isn't that right, Loo-loo? Got some embroidery to do?"
Chompu blushed.
"Ah, the major had me set up my recording device in your meeting room," I said. "There are refreshments there as well."
Lieutenant Egg slapped his palms on the desk.
"This better not take long," he grunted.
"Ten minutes. Fifteen at the most," I said.
The lieutenant slammed shut the file he was working on, picked up his radio receiver, and stamped past me and out the door. I raised my eyebrows to Chom.
"Fifteen minutes at the most," I mouthed and tossed him a pack of bobby pins before following the lieutenant along the corridor.
After taking a long time to settle down and test the recorder, which was being temperamental, I finally asked Egg what his role was when dealing with the Burmese community. I wanted to ask him to turn off his short wave, but I didn't want to antagonize him. He summed up his duties in about four sentences and leaned on the desk, ready to stand.
"Is that all?" he asked.
I couldn't think of any more questions, but I knew he'd walk if I didn't say something.
"Why you?" I asked.
"What?"
"Why did they make you the representative for the Burmese? There are a lot of officers of the same rank. Why you?"
"I'm an expert," he said.
"On…?"
"Burmese issues. I'm fluent in their language. I know more about their history and culture than most of the uneducated peasants you meet over here. I'm a sort of ambassador, I suppose you might say."
As opposed to a diplomat. He was distracted by movement in my rain cape, which hung from the door.
"What is that?" he asked.
"Dog," I said.
I got the feeling he thought I was lying.
"So you were also liaising with the Burmese when you were stationed in Pattani?" I asked.
He glared at me.
"How do you-"
"Major Mana."
"Yeah, I was organizing cross-cultural events. Awareness training for new arrivals. That kind of thing."
"Well, that's just wonderful. I admire men who care about ethnic problems."
"Right. Other officers-they don't care so much. But I'm very sensitive to the problems the Maung face."
Ten minutes and counting.
"And fluent in Burmese. Wow. Where did you learn that? I've looked at the textbooks. It seems unfathomable. I reckon you have to be some kind of genius to pick it up."
I got a brief gloat out of him.
"You know, here and there," he said. "Some people just have an ear. What can I say?"
"I hope you don't mind me saying that you seem to be a very special human being, Lieutenant. An officer of the law. A linguist. A social worker. I've a good mind to rewrite this just as a feature on you."
Mistake.
I'd gone too far too soon. I could see him shut down. He stood and went to the door.
"None of that," he said.
"I don't have to use your photo."
"Nor name. Nor the story."
"Why not?"
He was already halfway out the door.
"I like to keep my altruistic side private. Modest that way, I am."
"Couldn't you…?"
But he was gone. I looked at the time on my phone. Twelve minutes. Depending on how long it had taken Chompu to open the cabinet, sprint downstairs, make copies of all the relevant files, sprint back up and replace them, then return the cabinet to its original state and rearrange his hair, I thought twelve minutes would be just about enough. That was if everything went according to plan.
I walked along the corridor to their office, where I found Egg standing with his hands on his hips, staring down at his filing cabinet where a nylon police-issue jacket, the type Chompu had been wearing to lunch, was hanging by one corner, wedged in the top drawer of the metal cabinet. Chompu sat at his desk wearing a smile that had seen better days.
9.
We Will Iron Each Other
(from "Islands in the Stream" – THE BEE GEES)
The water in the stream behind our resort had risen above the banks and was spreading slowly. The sea in front of us was rising gently, now creeping beneath the door of hut number one. The gray sky sent down a steady sprinkle of rain. It was a humble invasion but one that would eventually drown us all. In Chiang Mai, our wise country folk built houses on stilts to keep their families cool in summer and dry in the rainy season. In the south, everyone built at ground level and laughed in the face of floods. It was the Rambo response to disaster. "Come and get me, nature!"
"It's only water," they say here. "We'll be dry in a week." They may have been right, but I'd already watched a table/ bench/straw roof set float off to the horizon. Our toilets were shipwrecked, my vegetable patch was being eaten by fish, and our new home, our only livelihood, sat on a sliver of land between the devil river and the deep gray sea.
I had to leave the motorcycle up on the road beside Captain Kow's because our carport was waterlogged. The water reached the top of the Noys' Honda wheels, but at least it was still there. That meant they must be too. Mair and Gaew were in the shop. It was an impressive sight. The ladies of the co-op had done an astounding job. They'd cleaned up and repaired and repainted. They'd replaced the smithereens of wooden shelving with neat bamboo racks, and the place looked every bit as good as it had before the blast. Admittedly, it hadn't looked that great before the blast. And all this they'd done without the aid of electricity. The power was off all over the district. A little drop of rain and "pop" goes the transformer. I went over to Mair and reached into the pocket of my poncho. I carefully pulled out little Beer. I swear she was about to spit at me until she noticed Mair standing in front of her. And before my eyes the dog became lovable. I offered her up in the plastic hood, but my mother took hold of the puppy in her bare hands and held it to her bosom. She stroked its head and gave it a kiss. I had to look away. I wondered whether Mother Teresa had a daughter who didn't care that much for lepers. Probably not.
"There," said Mair. "See? She'll be just fine. Do you want to introduce her to her brother and sister?"
I couldn't think of anything worse. Between them, they'd probably insult her, then eat her. Mair had too much faith in natural dog bonding.
"No, Mair. I've done my duty for the day. You serve her up yourself."
"Fair enough."
She kissed me on the forehead with the same mouth that had kissed the dog-of-the-living-dead. But what could I say?
"Your policeman friend phoned," she said. "Twice."
I'd forgotten that Chompu had Mair's cell phone number. I'd turned off my phone the minute I'd fled the Pak Nam police station. I suppose it was good news he was still able to press the numbers. It meant not all his fingers were broken. I know I should have stood by him. I should have told Lieutenant Egg it was me who forced Chompu to break into his cabinet. But I needed to keep that newsman's distance. The crime editor at the Chiang Mai Mail- when he was still sober-had told me, "You can only write about a gold shop robbery if it wasn't you that did it." It was conceivable he was speaking literally, but I was young and impressionable and I tended to prefer to see him as a wise seer speaking in fables. The lesson learned was that the journalist had to remain aloof, report the crime with enthusiasm but not to the point that she becomes a part of the investigation. It had been one of the most profound moments of my journalistic education, not at all diminished when the editor's brother was convicted of robbing a gold shop. Evidently, his masked accomplice had escaped. The editor had me write up the report. It was my first byline. A moment and a moral I'd never forget. I had faith that my cunning Lieutenant Chompu would have come up with a viable excuse as to how his jack
et was trapped inside the other lieutenant's cabinet. The true answer probably fell somewhere between darned bad luck and stupidity. But it wasn't my call.
"Grandad not back yet?" I asked.
"Goodness," said Mair. "He's been dead for forty years. What kind of a sick question is that?"
"I meant my grandad."
"Oh, that one. No."
"Have you seen the Noys since breakfast?"
"Now that's a story," she said. "Usually they don't make it far from their cabin. Can't say I blame them with this weather. But it's nice to see they're getting more adventurous. They made it all the way to Pak Nam today."
They'd escaped?
"Mair, are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure. I got a call from Boung at the bank. The power was out there too, so the ATM wasn't working. You know? A bank is rather like a block of soap when there's no electricity. All that useless equipment. I bet most of the girls there can't do sums in their heads."
"So, the Noys?"
"They couldn't use their credit cards, could they now? And it wasn't their bank. They could have had our bank phone their bank to get confirmation, but I imagine our Noys would be wary about making contact with anything connected to their real lives, wouldn't you? A few phone line traces and, zoom, helicopters descend on Pak Nam Lang Suan, men in black parasailing down wires."
"Why did the bank clerk phone you?"
"To verify I knew them and would vouch for their credit card."
"Wait! How did they get to Pak Nam? Their car's down there in the carport."
"Another story. Boung saw them pull up in front of the bank on the back of the drinking water truck."
"The man who delivers the bottles here?"
"Supachai."
"So they really were escaping."
"You know, I bet they were avoiding paying their bill."
"Mair, the deposit they left would have been enough to put Arny through law school. No, they were afraid it wasn't safe here anymore."
"The latrines?"
I hadn't told Mair the details of Noy's peculiar education in D.C.
"They don't trust us," I said.
"To be frank, I don't blame them," she said. "I don't trust us either."
"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it? They'll be long gone."
"I doubt that."
"Why?"
"I refused to vouch for them."
"You did?"
She grinned as if she'd done something spectacularly naughty.
"Mair, why?"
"They're obviously in some sort of trouble. They're so desperate they ditched a perfectly good car and fled in the rain wedged between plastic bottles. They were so unworldly they thought the local passenger truck to Lang Suan would accept a credit card. Ha! I can see Visit's face now."
"The driver?"
"Could I really launch such a sweet couple into a world that had painted them into a corner like this? With black paint. Emulsion. Matt. No. It's apparent they need allies more than exits. I got Boung to pass the phone to the mother, and we had a little chat."
"So, where are they now?"
"They're on their way back here. I asked Nat at the post office to bring them with the mail."
"Do you know the names of everyone in Pak Nam?"
"Don't be silly."
"Do you honestly expect them to come quietly?"
"The world can be a daunting place when you have no money. You ask all those poor people in Bangladesh. Especially when it's raining."
"Does Nat have a car?"
"Motorcycle with a sidecar. One of the Noys will have to sit at the rear with the mail pack on her shoulders."
I was desperately sad the Noys had chosen to run away from us. I thought we'd established some sort of trust.
"They'll be wet to the bone," said Mair. "Why don't you go and make them something nice and hot for their lunch? They probably haven't eaten anything since breakfast."
There she was. My mother. Her mind seemed to be leaking directly into her heart. As the former shrank, the latter swelled. Or perhaps she'd always been this way and I'd been too self-absorbed to notice. She seemed quite surprised when I threw my arms around her neck and sniffed the sweet perfume of her cheek. The animal in her arms growled.
"I named it Beer, by the way," I said. "The dog."
"What a lovely name." She smiled. "So bubbly."
I was in the kitchen putting together something hot and welcoming and trying to call Sissi back on my hands-free. Multitasking had always brought out the Mr. Bean in me. In fact, doing just two things at the same time invariably led to accidental crossover from one to the other. The phone rang before I was able to get my call through, and I didn't bother to look at the screen.
"Easy on the MSG," I said.
"Solid advice."
"Chompu?"
"Surprised I'm not dead?"
"I'm delighted, Chom. What happened?"
"You scarpered, is what happened."
"A controlled retreat. At the spur of the moment that was the course of action I decided would benefit us both. It was instinct. Come on. I know you came up with some wonderful story to explain away how you got your jacket stuck in the cabinet drawer. You're brilliant like that."
"It wasn't my jacket."
"See? Who'd have thought of that?"
"No. I mean it wasn't my jacket. You and Egg had been gone barely a minute. I broke into the cabinet quite brilliantly, and there I was on my knees ferreting through drawers when I heard the door handle squeak behind me. I turned in fright, trembling, expecting to see Egg's pistol aimed at my head. Instead, there was Sergeant Major Tort, who handles all the accounts for the police stations in the region. The sergeant major is generally on a tight schedule because he also has a catfish farm that takes up a lot of his time. He can't wait for this or that officer to get back from the field to hand over his expenses sheet, so he has access to all the locked cabinets. The desk sergeant gives him a bunch of keys when he arrives. Egg's time sheets were in his files. I took the papers I thought would be relevant down to the copy room and returned to find the major still at it. I put back the original files and secreted the copies in my Nok Airways baby-blue backpack. Subterfuge successful! I even allowed a smug expression to creep onto my boyish face.
"That's when the sergeant major got his jacket stuck in the drawer. He'd put back the budget file and slammed the drawer shut and the jacket zipper got itself wedged in there somehow. He hadn't even locked the thing. He heaved and he hoed and tugged for all his worth and could not get that jacket out. The scene was playing beautifully for me. If only he'd stayed there tugging away. But, to my horror, he deserted the jacket, calling it 'the type of cheap flashy crap the police were so fond of handing around' and he left. A minute later Egg arrived and you ran away."
"I assumed…"
"That I was Inspector Clouseau?"
"So you have them?"
"The files? But, of course, ma cherie."
"And Egg bought the whole stuck zipper story?"
"Unequivocally. Haven't you?"
"Of course I…Wait! Is it true?"
"Does it matter?"
"That is exactly why I love you so dearly, Lieutenant."
"Ah, if only you were a New Zealand rugby player. Do you want me to bring you the files?"
"No. I'd like you to read through them first. If there's anything suspicious in there, you're the man to spot it."
"Very well."
"Chom. You were sensational."
"I know."
I had another call waiting. It was Sissi telling me she had the class lists and was sending them to my e-mail. The flight to Seoul had been delayed an hour. The yellow-shirt spokesman had announced that this would be a temporary measure while their own people took control of the airport.
"I'm not sure how much faith I have in a traffic control tower manned by clothing retailers," she said.
I could see her point, and I'd run out of "everything will be fine" comments.
"Can't you kick up a stink?" I asked.
"No need for that, little sister," she said. "The rebels didn't face fire from the police, but you should see the flak flying from all the disgruntled passengers. There's nothing like an airport full of stroppy foreigners to test the unity of an insurgent army. It's a joy. I'm watching a group of British darts players poking some poor baroness in the bosom with their fingers."
"You're taking it all very calmly," I remarked.
"Can't fight fate, Jimm. When the ides are against you, there's nothing you can do but sit back and enjoy the show."
"Look, Sissi. I can't get to my e-mail right now. As you have a little while before your flight, perhaps you could ..
"Already started. I see eight Thai names on the lists. It looks like it might have been a scholarship program or something. Only one name so far that I've found on all the lists. It's someone called Chaturaporn-male. But these are early days. And I have a feeling I'll have endless free hours for research. There's just been a delivery of table tennis tables. They seem ominously well prepared."
"You know? If all else fails, you could always come down here for a bit of a holiday."
"Wade knee-deep in stinky beach garbage and trip over body parts? That would be something of an itinerary. I'm surprised Club Med hasn't picked up on it."
" 'No' would have been fine."
"Yeah, sorry. I don't think I'll make it. Besides, I seem to be caught up in a little ruck of Thai history, here. I can tell my grandchildren all about it."
"Well, you stay out of trouble."
"Not on your life. I've just emerged from solitary confinement. I'm planning to get into as much trouble as I possibly can. I read there were couples who met during the occupation of Government House and fell in love and got married there. Just think. I have all these men around me who can't get away. After a few weeks I might even start to look attractive to them."
"It sounds to me like you don't really care about Korea."
"Care? Certainly I care. But this might even work out better. The gala's foreign guest of honor held captive by desperate terrorists in an airport siege. They'll be burning candles for me. I'll be a martyr to the cause of self-deception. They'll name a brand of kimchee after me. I'll end up with the key to the city of Seoul."
Grandad, Thereэ's head on the beach jj-2 Page 13
