Four soldiers lifted Auntie Bpoo into the air like a singer in a musical and laid her on the trolley. She had nothing more to say. She waved like the Queen of England, north, south, east then west and lay her head back on the bright pink Hello Kitty pillow and sighed. Everyone watched the second hand of the clock.
‘Twenty,’ shouted Siri as the hand reached eight.
‘Nineteen,’ shouted Daeng.
By seventeen, everyone in the Russian Club was shouting down the seconds like the old royalist crowd at the Nam Poo fountain on New Year’s Eve. At nine exactly there was an almighty cheer.
Then silence.
‘Do you think she’s really dead?’ asked Daeng.
But Siri couldn’t hear her. He had static in his ears. Some radio ham seemed to have made contact with his mind and was surfing for a channel. The screech made his teeth tremble. The talisman around his neck burned his skin. His missing earlobe tingled. Then, words filled his head.
‘TESTING.
‘ONE, TWO, ONE TWO.
‘TESTING.’
‘Bpoo? Is that you?’ Siri asked, causing Daeng to look around.
‘Well, that was much easier than I’d expected,’ came Bpoo’s voice as resonant in Siri’s head as his own thoughts.
‘Are you my …?’ he began.
‘It’s dusty in here.’
Unseen by the guests, a length of bamboo floated towards the bank. Its pilot — naked as the day he was born — smiled to be home. Crazy Rajid had returned.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-3ffd00-4993-5e4a-4dba-eafc-faad-346545
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 16.03.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.22, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Colin Cotterill
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The Woman Who Wouldn't die dsp-9 Page 23
