patrolman who helped him arrest Rafferty. He puts the first one on the shawl.
“Wichat,” Boo says sourly, looking down. “Some of us already know him by sight.”
“I do,” says the girl with the exploding hair.
“Okay,” Boo says, “you and two others will be on Sathorn.” To Kosit he says, “Who else?”
“A cop,” Kosit says, putting a photo of Thanom on the shawl. “This is someone to be very careful of.”
“Looks like a monkey,” Boo says.
“He
“And there’s also a rich guy,” Rafferty says. Ton looks up, startled by the camera, in one of the photos taken at the malaria event. Captain Teeth glowers over Ton’s shoulder “The guy just behind him is not anyone to get close to.”
Rafferty spreads the pictures out. “There’s one more,” he says. “But we haven’t got a photo. He’ll probably be with these two, or with the one with the bad teeth, there, in the picture. You’ll pick them all up at the house where the rich guy, whose name is Ton, lives, or maybe at his office.”
“You have addresses?” Boo is examining the photos one at a time.
“Sure,” Rafferty says.
“And what you want…” Boo says.
“I want everything they do, wherever they go. And I’ll say it one more time: I want the kids to stay as far away as possible. I’d rather have bad pictures, or no pictures, than to have a kid get caught. Teams of no fewer than three, so they divide up if they get chased.”
“Phones,” Kosit prompts.
“Right. Here’s how you talk to me, and to each other, if anything happens.”
Kosit upends the bag, and a dozen cell phones, all makes and several colors, cascade out. “Stolen and resold,” Kosit says. “Although as a cop I’d never say that. The SIM cards are all new, bought for cash. Prepaid up to five thousand baht each. No records, nothing that can be traced.”
“And one each for you and Rose,” Rafferty says to Miaow, picking up two of them. “Get out your old ones.”
Not speaking, Miaow shifts her weight so she can reach into her pocket. She comes up with her phone, holding it without looking at anyone. She seems to be staring through the nearest wall and all the way across the river. When Miaow moves, Da’s eyes go to her. Rafferty takes the phone and hands it to Rose, who’s holding her own.
“Throw them in the river,” he says.
Rose nods, but for the moment she puts them on the dirt floor.
“Are we clear on all this?” Rafferty asks Boo.
Boo puts down the photos and picks up one of the phones. “Starting when?”
“Right now. I’ll give everybody money for moto-taxis. Just wave the bills at them. And listen, if anybody gets something out of the ordinary-for example, if any of these people meet each other-I want a phone call the moment you’ve got your video and you’re out of sight.” He gets up, dusting his jeans, and Arthit and Kosit follow suit. “I’m going to say it again, and I’m talking to every single one of you. If you’re in any kind of danger, forget the video. Just run.”
“We already know about running,” says the girl with the exploding hair.
“Good,” Rafferty says. “Let’s get started.”
“She needs to work it out for herself,” Rose says.
“She and Arthit,” Rafferty says. “Nobody needs my help.” They have their arms comfortably dangling from each other’s waists, and they stand only a few feet from the edge of the water, now just a black, flat, featureless plain with an upside-down city glittering near the opposite shore.
“Don’t be silly,” Rose says. She turns and lightly kisses the side of his neck. “You help just by being there.”
He leans toward her, forcing her to prolong the kiss. “That’s not enough.”
“She can’t confide in you,” Rose says. “She doesn’t know what’s wrong. All she knows is that she doesn’t fit anywhere. Not at school, not with the kind of kids who used to be her friends. She’s somewhere between here and there, and no one in either place really accepts her.”
“We accept her.”
“Come on. We’re wallpaper. In a kid’s life, the only people who really exist are other kids. Parents are like large, troublesome stuffed animals.”
“So what you’re telling me, in your tactful Thai way,” Rafferty says, turning to face her and cupping her chin in one hand, “is that I should keep my mouth shut.”
“Until she asks you,” Rose says. “Which she probably won’t.” She looks up at him for a moment, and then she says, “I never tell you how handsome you are.”
“And I know why.”
“Don’t even try that,” she says. “You know perfectly well how women look at you.”
“They sense solidity,” Rafferty says. “They know I’ll keep a fire burning in the mouth of the cave and that there will always be a haunch to gnaw on. Even if I put them in danger all the time. Rose, I’m so sorry about-”
“What they
Rafferty says, “Pile on?”
Rose leans forward and brushes his lips with hers. “Go away,” she says. “Do what you and Arthit have to do. Be careful. Watch out for Arthit. I don’t know how much he wants to stay alive. And don’t worry about Miaow. She’s tougher than you are.”
Rafferty says, “Pretty much everyone is.” He starts to climb up the bank but turns back and says, “Get rid of those phones.”
45
They don’t know where he is,” Captain Teeth says, putting down the phone and following Ton with his eyes. “He’s out with the wife somewhere.”
Ton is agitated in a way that unnerves Ren. The man paces the room, running his fingertips over the surfaces of the furniture as though expecting dust. He straightens everything he touches: photos, pens, ashtrays, knickknacks, but he never looks down at the result. He continually tugs at the sleeves of his jacket, as though they’re riding up on him. He buttons and unbuttons his sport coat. He hasn’t sat down in the twenty minutes since he burst into the room, swearing about Pan.
“Call back whoever you talked to,” Ton says. “Tell him if he can’t find his boss and put me in touch with him in half an hour, it’ll be years before he gets another job. I need the woman’s phone located, and that man’s boss is the only one who can authorize it.”
“Fine,” Captain Teeth says, dialing. He turns his back to Ton and, looking at Ren, rolls his eyes.
“Pan’s going to make an announcement,” Ton says. “He’s going…to make…an announcement. After everything we’ve learned from this…this fishing expedition with Rafferty, he’s going to make an announcement? You,” he says to Ren, “get on the phone and-” He is still for the first time since he came through the door. “No,” he says. “Forget it. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Ton goes through the door and into a long, dim hallway, paneled in reflective mahogany. The only lights gleam above paintings: a darkly polished Vuillard, two gauzy Renoirs, a pallid, drooping Madonna by the Dutch Vermeer forger of the 1930s, Han van Meegeren. Three doors down, he pushes his way into a room that’s empty except for some bare bookshelves, a grand piano, and a cello, leaning carelessly against a chair. On one of the bookshelves near the door is a telephone.
Ton picks it up, dials a number from memory, and says, “General? I’m sorry to bother you, but I think we
