Pool and its Role in Asian Communism

by Colin Cotterill

  Crazy Moo suited his name. His sienna was a little more burnt than Waldo's and he had just the one long eyebrow. He'd brought the table all the way from Ubon and he made his living by charging eight cents a game. He was the district pool champion cause no one was brave enough to try to beat him. He played in just a pair of short pants with a pistol tucked in the belt.

  Uncle Loo thought he'd explained to Waldo that he should probably lose to the guy. The words that left his brain said, ' Don't win this game or he'll kill you." But it come out like this: "No win. You die."

  That, of course, Waldo took to mean, 'If you don't win, we're gonna kill you.' That could of been a joke of course, but looking at the faces of Crazy Moo and his own hosts, he could see these guys was all a few bottles short of a crate.

  Now, I ain't mentioned it yet, but as QCO at Roundly's, Waldo had to check the balls for faults. Naturally, to see whether they recoil okay, you need a cue and a pool table. They had one set up out back. After thirty-eight years of hitting balls around, he'd gotten pretty good at it. He didn't play the game for pleasure. Why would you go play pool after work when you had to play with balls all day? But he was something of a genius at getting them balls into them pockets.

  Of course Crazy Moo didn't know that when he called in all his neighbours to watch him whoop Waldo. There weren't much excitement cause they'd all gotten used to seeing him win. Most of 'em come just to get a first close up look at a big black guy.

  But when he started playing, and was sending down balls from every frigging angle, they started to root for the wrong guy. They was playing best of three. Crazy Moo joked through the first game like he was getting thrashed deliberate, like, just to keep things interesting. But Waldo didn't seem to notice him stroking his pistol between shots. Dtui's relatives did.

  "No win, die."

  "No win, die."

  "OK guys, I'm doing my best." But he still thought it was a joke. He was laughing along with the crowd, fooling around, doing trick shots behind his back. Crazy Moo's reputation was shrinking and wilting and sagging in front of everyone's eyes.

  That's why, half way through the second game, with Waldo way in the lead, Crazy Moo shot him.

  One of the skinny mafia guys shot Crazy Moo back. One of the neighbours shot the skinny guy. Uncle Loo shot the neighbor, and that sort of evened things up right. The other neighbors filed away saying what a good game it was and how they should'a had bets on it.

  Dtui's relatives, the ones that survived the shooting, they was in a difficult situation. Their instinct was to run, but they'd promised Ma they'd look after the guest. And there he was bleeding on the concrete floor.

  Them gangsters was stronger than they looked cause they managed to drag Waldo out of Crazy Moo's and into the truck. But he was lighter then cause of losing all that blood. The bullet had gone in an inch to the left of his belly button so it looked like he had a spare one.

  They was nowhere near a hospital so they took him and the skinny guy to the meatworks. That was under Ma Marlon's sphere of influence, if you know what I mean. The head butcher'd done a lot of cutting for the family and he was pretty damned good with a knife.

  They debated whether Waldo's bullet might of gone right on through to his stomach sack. If it did, it might just pass through his system of its own accord, natural like. But, as Waldo was passed out by this time, the butcher decided it'd be better to dig in there and have a look round.

  As it was, it hadn't gone in too deep at all. They should make bulletproof vests out of fat guys. They dug it out, cleaned him up with spirits, and the butcher's wife sewed him up with turkey string. Waldo wasn't in no state to remember details.

  52

  Waldo come back to life. "I do something wrong?"

  "You won a game of pool."

  "I thought that was the idea. Where am I?"

  He was back in the secret CIA apartment with Saifon leaning over him. He'd been out of it for three days. He lost about eighty gallons of blood at the pool game. It tends to tucker a guy out. For the first forty-eight hours he had a fever and a temperature of 120.

  Pleased as she was that the butcher had kept him alive, Saifon called for a second opinion soon as they got him back to Mukdahan. She got in a real doctor. She had to convince him this yank with a bullet hole didn't have nothing to do with the war. He didn't want 'em ferrying in wounded in helicopters to his surgery.

  But he did a good job on Waldo. He was cute too. Saifon couldn't recall the last time she'd dated a sober guy. She wondered if she'd ever have a man who loved her for her mind, for her heart. She had both. Just kept 'em out of the public eye in case they got damaged. It meant if some guy wanted to love her, he'd have to get to know her pretty good before he'd find any positive points. That was one of them catch twenty-two problems. But she knew one thing. She wasn't gonna give it away no more less the guy could convince her he wanted something deeper.

  But it sure wasn't gonna be the doc. He assumed she was the big guy's fancy piece like they all did. He smiled polite like, refused a cup of coffee, and said he'd be back the day after. Shame of it was, he kinda liked her.

  She was new at this nursing game. She guessed Waldo needed some sorta medicine now he was awake.

  "You wanna beer?"

  "You been looking after me?"

  "Yup."

  "I mean, like everything. Even the …"

  "Yup."

  "Oh, shit."

  "Yup."

  -o-

  Two days later, Waldo was already moving around pretty good. They hadn't heard nothing from Wilbur, but the fighting was still going on and they'd called a state of emergency in Laos. They reshuffled the government again. They did that so often there couldn't of been many Lao folks in the country hadn't been minister of something or other.

  There was still RLA trucks coming over the river, but they wasn't sure Wilbur'd be able to get himself enough time away from the invasion to tell 'em when their truck was due over. So Saifon started hanging out in one of the cafés down by the ferry. It was lucky she did.

  There was at least two army trucks on every ferry. It wasn't yet a month since the last shipment but she recognized the big naked blonde behind the driver soon as she cleared the customs shed. Saifon had the secret CIA motorcycle at her disposal. It had a CIA decal. When the beaten up old truck went past her, she followed it at a discrete distance.

  Common sense told her the driver wouldn't be loading up on supplies till he'd dropped off the kids, if he had any. She tailed him out of town and along the north road. She wondered what the hell she'd do if he didn’t have no kids this trip. They'd have to wait another goddam month.

  About six miles along, the truck pulled into a garage. It was the greasiest yard she'd ever seen. All the parts, the old motors, and a couple of dogs was caked in oil. She rode past and stopped by the fence. She could see over it.

  The driver got down and opened the back doors of the truck. Shoot. From where she was she could see inside. It was frigging empty. Two greasy guys lifted a slimy black engine into the truck and shut the doors. The driver and the dogs followed 'em inside the garage.

  Saifon jumped over the fence and ran to the truck. She kept it between her and the office. She opened one of the doors and looked inside. One motor. No kids.

  Now it wasn't like she was gonna scratch through the dust and find no nine-year-old girls in there, so it ain't clear why she decided to climb on in that old truck. Desperation probably. It was dark in there. It stank of grease and stale food, and sweat …and pee. It all triggered this ugly memory of fifteen years before. Her belly started wobbling.

  She opened the truck door as wide as she dared and the light caught it. A little puddle deep in the corner. In that heat, any liquid would of evaporated in an hour at the least. She went over to the puddle, dipped her finger in and sniffed at it. Frigging pee.

  Now that was weird, man. She'd followed the truck from the ferry. It didn’t stop nowhere else. And trucks sure as shoot don't pee
themselves. She supposed the driver could of done it on the ferry on the way over but most guys just relieved 'emselves in the Mekhong. And if he'd been bursting that bad, there sure would of been more than this little puddle. Probably hadn't been that much thinking gone into a puddle of pee since Sherlock Holmes. She just knew there'd been girls in that truck not that long before.

  She turned round and there was these four mad eyes glaring at her through grease.

  "Hi, dogs. How you doing?"They started snarling, so that told her they wasn't doing too good. But she didn't have time for being terrorized. She climbed down from the truck and ignored their growling and drooling and walked back to the fence like she was meant to be there. It confused the mutts long enough to see her over that there fence and on her bike. Them dogs was there thinking, 'dang, we shoulda bit that girl', when she rode back down the road.

  She had to do some serious thinking before she got back into town. She wished she'd stayed on at school and gotten hold of some of that logic they was giving out, cause she was feeling pretty dumb now. She'd seen that truck drive away from the customs office beside the ferry. If she was right, the kids would of been handed over before then. That meant the ferry.

  But that didn't make no sense. If you're going to the trouble of smuggling kids out'a Laos, there didn't seem much point in doing the handover on a crowded boat. You might as well hand them over before you leave. So that only left one possibility.

  She parked opposite the customs shed. I say 'shed', but it was more like a hot dog stand with a room stuck on the back. All the business, the paperwork and the taxes was done up front at the stand. There was a crush of people there like drinkers at a crowded bar. Only officers got into the back room.

  She walked along the side of the building like she was lost. There was a window with bars and no glass halfway back. For such a little room, she was surprised at how many people they could squeeze in there. There was plenty of uniforms but no kids. A big guy in the prettiest uniform saw her gawking and waved for her to get the hell away. And when he moved to do that, she saw 'em behind him.

  There was two frightened little girls sitting on chairs against the far wall. They was about eight or nine. Saifon's knees went weak. She could of been one of them little girls. Not knowing what was happening. Not knowing where they was going. Now what the heck was she gonna do?

  She only had Wilbur's number on the Lao side. But it was mid-day and he'd be off fighting his war. The maid was away with her family someplace. There wasn't no phone where her and Waldo was staying and she didn't want to risk going back there in case they shifted the girls. So she stayed put.

  She found herself a view of the back door to the customs shed and got comfortable with some sodas and a bag of noodles. She could see everyone come and go so, unless they threw the kids outa the window, she'd know when they left. But they didn’t leave for a hell of a long time.

  At around five they shut the customs hut and pulled down the shutters. A lot of the uniform guys got on their motorcycles and went off home. With all the soda inside her, she was so bursting to relieve herself, she had to stay away from sharp objects. The nearest place to maintain her dignity was way on the other side of the market on a disused building site.

  She was as quick as she could be under the circumstances, but when she got back there was a little brown van parked beside the building. It had driven over the grass and stopped up flush with the door like it was picking something up. But whatever that was, she'd missed it cause it was just pulling away. That had to be it.

  So, she got on her motorcycle and give chase. Mukdahan wasn't New York. The suburbs didn't last long. Soon she was in countryside where the trees outnumbered the buildings and the evening shadows sliced across the road. She kept a good distance between herself and the van but she doubted the driver would of taken much notice of her.

  It wasn't the busiest road in the country but there was a steady stream of traffic leaving the town and heading home. She was too focussed on the van to take much notice of anything else. That's why she was surprised when she felt a hand on her ass. She almost rode herself into a ditch.

  Two young greaseballs had pulled their motorbike alongside .

  "Hello, beautiful. Where you going?"

  They was about sixteen and so cool they could of kept fish fresh. They was smoking and the ash was blowing back in their eyes. But they was too cool to take the cigarettes out. You know the type.

  She couldn't believe her luck. On TV, when the good guy's following the bad guy, there ain't no road accidents, no breakdowns, and sure as hell no goddam pick ups. This was real annoying.

  "Boys, go back to school. I hear you teacher calling."

  The cool guy on the back with the hair was the spokesman.

  "You crazy? We don't go to school." The driver grinned.

  "We ain't never been to school." He said it real proud.

  "That must be why you're both so dumb."

  Big mistake. You should never tell dumb people they're dumb. It's too much information to be getting all at once.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "Well, if we're so dumb, you …whore, then how come we got this?" Yeah. Like having a gun disqualified him from dumb club. Saifon was starting to wonder if she was the only person in the province that wasn't packing a piece. Didn't seem right.

  "OK, guys," She looked up and she was losing the van. "I'm in a hurry so I can't play with you today. Leave me alone, okay?"

  The cool guy with the hair pointed the gun at her.

  "Pull over into them trees or I'll kill you."

  So this was their dating MO. The lengths some guys would go to get a little action. They was the same all over the world. She didn't appreciate having a gun poked at her.

  "Oh, please don't kill me," she said like she was scared or something. "Here, take my money." The guys grinned at each other.

  "It ain't your money we're here for, babe."

  She fumbled in the cloth roll in front of the seat and come out with a half inch wrench. She leaned forward like Annie Oakley and jammed it between the spokes of the guys' front wheel before they could do nothing about it. She barely got her hand away in time.

  Man, it was better'n the circus. Them guys and that bike must of done three frigging somersaults before they landed. The gravel on the road peeled a foot of skin off the pair of 'em, and the gun flew up ahead about twenty feet. When she stopped to pick it up, she looked in her mirror to be sure them cool guys wasn't dead. She was impressed. In spite of all the flying they'd been doing, them cigarettes was still alight in their mouths.

  OK. She got back in sight of the van and went another mile before she ran out of gas. Frustrating reading ain't it. Like I say, this wasn't a movie. (Less you're some fancy Hollywood producer and you wanna make a movie out of it. I'll give you my number at the end.) In a movie she could of waved down a passing car and said, 'Follow that car.' But she waved her arms round like a hen that didn't know it couldn't fly, and not one car stopped for her. The van was out of sight and she was real mad. So she took out her gun and pointed it at the rider of the next motor bike that come past.

  She did a deal with the owner. He could have her nice new CIA machine and she'd take his piece of shit on wheels. He probably would of agreed to that even without the gun.

  Even full throttle, she couldn't get that old lawn mower to go better'n forty miles an hour. It didn't like that neither. It was bucking like a mule. She was sure she wouldn't never see that brown van again. But in spite of the way it was looking, this must of been her lucky day. The van was up ahead, turned into a short drive, waiting for someone to open up two big green metal gates.

  She rode slowly past, just as them gates was wide enough open for the van to pull inside. There weren't much to see in there, a big yard, a couple of houses, and a big tin barn. The gorilla that opened the gates looked straight at her riding past. He did a gesture that involved his mouth and his fist that she recogni
zed as a moron version of oral sex. Disgusting!

  The gate closed and she rode over to a spot on the far side of the road where she could take everything in. Less you was one of them Olympic pole jumpers, you couldn't of gotten over the wall around that house. The green gate was the only way in. She was in the middle of frigging nowhere and they hadn't even invented goddam mobile telephones yet. And if that weren't serious enough, the sky was turning mauve and she was gonna be stuck out there in the dark.

  She really didn't have no choice if you think about it. She pushed her old bike over to the gate and hammered on it with her fist. The gate gorilla opened it wide enough for her to see the gap in his teeth and the glint in his watery yellow eye.

  "Yeah? Hey, honey."

  "You got any gas in there? I can pay for it." He opened up some more so she could see the belly he had hanging over his belt.

  "The pretty lady ran out of gas did she? Now ain't that a shame." He knew she must of come back cause she liked the look of him. He looked her up and down, mostly down. She was wearing flared pants and a t-shirt like them frisky city women wore. He looked like he wanted to suck her in like a vacuum cleaner.

  "Well, do you or don't you?"

  "Oh, I got some gas, but it's gonna cost you, and I don't mean money."

  "I guessed that. Where'd you keep your gas can?"

  You'd have to figure, opportunities like this didn’t come along every day to a middle-aged gate keeper with a face like a rat. He had to grab it when it did. He had instructions that nobody from outside was to get through them gates. But this was an emergency.

  "You gotta keep quiet. Don't let the boss see you." She was in. He led her around the back of the guard post to a hut. It looked like he'd put it together himself …with his feet. "This is my place."