unstable. The type of explosives they used in the military had come a long way since Mr. Nobel blew up his family and friends while he was inventing the stuff.
“And did you recheck your bag before we left this morning?” Siri asked.
“No,” said the major. “I’d put the dynamite in a pocket of my pack the day before and I’d had no cause to use it. But it was under my bed all night and the chargers were in a different bag. None of them is missing. Look, I know what you guys are thinking,” he said. “I like a drink now and then. You’ve got it into your heads that I got shitfaced and did something stupid.”
Neither Phosy nor Siri indicated that they thought otherwise. Bpoo, as Potter, continued.
“But let me tell you this. I’ve been plenty drunk often enough. But it wouldn’t happen that I lost that instinct for personal survival. The dynamite was fresh and safe. That pack exploded ’cause someone wanted it to.”
“You think it was sabotage?” said Siri.
“I tell you, I’m real sorry this happened, but it had nothing to do with incompetence. In thirty years I never made a mistake. Not once. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to change the subject to weird sex.”
The Lao were shocked. They wondered whether they’d misheard the translation. Siri turned to Auntie Bpoo.
“What did he say?”
“I’m sorry, he said he wants to change the subject to, you know, sex,” she told him.
“He did not.”
“Yes, he … OK, but I bet he’d join in soon enough if we started,” Bpoo smiled. “He’s got some great stories.”
Siri laughed.
“Bpoo, you’re an interpreter. You can’t just make it up as you go along. Just tell us what he’s actually saying, will you?”
“You may recall I’m not an interpreter at all. I’m a fortuneteller, local celebrity and bon vivant. And I’m excruciatingly bored with all this dynamite talk. Get little miss teen dream over if you want a serious job done. Life’s too short for being morose.”
The major was feeling left out. He interrupted Bpoo and they locked into a serious discussion before she grabbed hold of his hand and started to read his palm. She was lost to the world of interpretation.
13
Had there been a sun visible, they would have seen it setting just as they arrived at the Friendship. The building was nestled in a thick mist like a blurry uncle in a soft gray armchair. The senator and his secretary were seated on the rattan chairs on the front veranda wearing borrowed mufflers. They were writing flip charts for their next dangerous mission. There were coffee cups in front of them and various files and folders. Siri climbed down from the truck and did an inventory of his aches by cracking all his bones. He marveled at the number of tunes his skeleton had learned to play over recent years. He and Civilai often discussed joining a traditional orchestra as the percussion section. He stood back and observed the teams as they entered the building. There was a lot to be learned from the way people interacted.
Judge Haeng on two sound legs raced across to the senator and bowed low in front of him, offering the kind of
As the Americans filed past him, the senator exchanged jokes and pleasantries. Siri noticed Major Potter slide by in the background without acknowledging him at all. As far as he could recall, the two hadn’t exchanged a single word. With the Lao, the senator laughed and shouted a newly learned “
Everyone wore their topcoats to dinner that night. The normally chill air had become even crisper since the sun was no longer allowed through to warm the earth. The dinner tables had been rearranged yet again. Tonight, with the arrival of the emperor, there was now a long head table facing the common masses. His Excellency sat dead center. To his left was General Suvan wearing a blank expression. A stray noodle dangled at the end of his chin. To the senator’s right was the vacant seat of Major Potter. Beside that sat Judge Haeng in a strikingly awful pale blue safari suit. He hadn’t yet dared move into the major’s seat but he eyed it with desire. As always, he attempted to catch the eye of Peach, perhaps believing the suit had rendered him irresistible. As always, she ignored him.
There appeared to be no end to the American rations. This evening’s meal was some sort of instant lasagna- tasty but a test for false teeth. There were ever-present bottles of Johnny Red but even Civilai was slowing down on the alcohol input. Too much of a good thing.
“Where’s our Major Disaster tonight?” Daeng asked.
“Probably double-checking his dynamite stock,” Phosy told her.
“I rather suspect he’s avoiding the senator,” Siri added. “I know I would if I were in his boots.”
“Do you think he’s all right?” Dtui asked. “I mean, what if he’s had a heart attack? He’s normally really fond of his food. I think someone should go and take a look.”
Civilai got to his feet.
“
“I was just going to the bathroom,” said Civilai. “It could be quite a while. My bladder has a mind of its own these days.”
“At your age you should be grateful for a mind wherever you can find it,” Siri laughed.
Civilai walked through the diners and did a little dance to the Carpenters soundtrack for the benefit of the Americans. They clapped. Most of the guests had gravitated back to their own kind. In fact the only mixed grouping was Auntie Bpoo and Dr. Yamaguchi who were engaged in an intimate discussion on a rear table. She’d finally got him alone and he didn’t appear to be too fazed by the attention.
When Civilai returned to the table he seemed somewhat distracted.
“How is he?” Dtui asked.
“What?”
“The major,” she reminded him. “You were going to knock on his door.”
“Ah, yes. You’re right. I was, wasn’t I. I … damn. I completely forgot.”
“Bananas,” said Madame Daeng.
“Eh?”
“They’re good for the memory.”
“Yes. Yes, right,” he said, and sat down with no apparent inclination to go back and rectify his lapse. Siri noted his friend had returned from the bathroom a slightly different man to the one who had left them a little while before. Something was wrong.
As a good deal of Johnny Red was called for to wash down the chewy lasagna, everyone drank more than they needed to that evening. After an hour, the major still had not emerged. Dtui went to knock on his door but got no answer. In Siri’s mind, something profound was happening. Time appeared to be changing pace, a gallop here, a legless drag there. As they got closer to the dark hours after 9:00 P.M., everyone seemed to drink faster and speak like chipmunks. He felt as if he was the only constant amid all this stop-start action. He was unnaturally alert. The whiskey wasn’t having its usual effect. There were times when he felt as if his chair was a meter higher than all
