whiskey and sick all down his shirt. Once I’d pulled off his boots I took off his shirt. No mean feat, I can tell you. He’d very obligingly thrown up on the bedside rug rather than the bed cover so I took the rug and the shirt and threw them in the shower, added a little disinfectant from under the sink, and let the water run on them. I may be a kind Samaritan to drunks but I stop short at scrubbing their clothes.”
“And you left him there on the bed?” Siri asked.
“It was cold in the room. Both the windows were wide open. So I pulled the quilt over him. He was already snoring by then. I turned out the light, flicked the lock catch on the inside and shut the door. As I say, I can’t imagine him coming out of a session like that and feeling amorous.”
“Me neither,” Siri agreed. “Unless he took some stimulant when he came round. Something got him excited. He was sexually aroused when we found him.”
“Perhaps Americans recover faster than us,” Civilai suggested. “Out of it one minute. Into it the next.”
“It’s all wrong somehow, my brother. None of it makes sense.”
The senator had been consulting with Dr. Yamaguchi and Rhyme the journalist, and Secretary Gordon. Their thoughts were being passed on by Peach to General Suvan. Suddenly the group separated and Vogal banged a spoon on the table top to get everyone’s attention. Silence took a while.
“My colleagues, brothers and sisters,” he began. Peach stood and took great delight in providing a simultaneous translation. It obviously threw the senator out of sync to have someone speaking at the same time as him but, to his credit, he persevered.
“I would like, personally, to express my regrets over the events of last night,” he said. “This is an embarrassment for my fellow countrymen which I sincerely hope you will not take as an insult. Major Harold Potter was a great soldier and patriot. Like many of us who suffer personal traumas in the field of battle, he carried around his own personal devils. The major’s devils defeated him. As soon as we can, we will return the body to his loved ones. But I’m certain that Major Potter would have wanted this mission to succeed. He was a fighter who never gave up in the face of adversity. I know his spirit is looking down at us now and urging us to honor his memory by returning, not empty-handed, but with news of the downed pilot. On behalf of the United States senate I urge you to continue the search. Forge ahead, my Lao friends.”
He acknowledged some unheard applause, performed another silly-looking
“Another one who’s accountable to Wall Street,” said Civilai. “The sponsors of today’s event are on his back to come up with results. A little thing like the death of a great soldier and patriot won’t stop him. I bet he’s got a speech worked out for each of us, just in case.”
“B … but we still get the per diem,” said Mr. Geung.
“That’s the spirit, Geung,” Daeng laughed. “As long as we get our cut it doesn’t matter how many fall around us. It’s just a job.”
Breakfast was subdued. Nobody knew where to go or what to do so they all sat and muttered. It was a little after eight when they heard the return of first the truck and then the ponies. Gordon gathered the Americans around him at the rear of the dining room. Judge Haeng forced the Lao team out to the veranda where the fog still clung to the eaves and concealed the hotel fence. Siri’s cough was constant now as his lungs attempted to filter oxygen from the smoke. The judge glared at him as if this were another deliberate Siri plot to disrupt the meeting.
“Comrades,” said Haeng. “I have spoken by telephone to the minister. Like me, he believes we have been afforded a great opportunity. He has instructed us to go on with the mission. He and I both agree that the suicide of the queer major gives us tremendous political leverage. If we also come up with the pilot’s bones, we’ll be firmly in the driving seat. A good socialist-”
Madame Daeng’s hand shot into the air.
“Judge!” she called.
“Yes, Madame Daeng?” he said, annoyed to have been interrupted mid-motto. If the general hadn’t been sitting beside him he would probably have ignored her.
“Can I just confirm that you and the minister are still attached to the Ministry of Justice?”
“What kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course we are.”
“Well, I don’t get it, Judge. The concept of justice, fair play and all that. Letting a man die with dignity.”
“A dignified man does not dress up as a girl and garrotte himself. This is an opportunity.”
“It’s blackmail.”
The judge turned to Siri.
“Can’t you control your woman?”
Siri laughed.
“This is control, Judge,” he said. “You should see her when I let her off the leash. You’d really walk with a limp then.”
The laughter was a lot warmer than the morning. Even the general managed a chuckle. Judge Haeng was aware that they were making fun of him. His anger made his acne blink like party lights.
“I want all of you on the trucks in twenty minutes,” he barked. “Except you, Siri.”
“Oh, good grief. Why not me?”
“The minister wants an autopsy.”
Siri scrunched up his nose.
“What? Here?” he asked.
“Unless you’d care to carry the corpse back to Vientiane on your shoulder. Of course.”
“And what would we be doing it for?”
“So nobody suspects foul play, of course.”
Siri couldn’t use the excuse of not having equipment as everyone knew he carried his portable morgue around in a PVC carrier bag.
“Dr. Yamaguchi’s probably better at all this than me,” he said.
“Good. Because he’ll be assisting you.”
“Damn. Then I’ll need my morgue team; Mr. Geung and Nurse Dtui.”
“They’re wanted for digging.”
“Then I’m not doing it!”
“Sulking again, Siri?”
“No team, no job.”
“Siri! You….”
What was he going to do? Fire him?
14
The autopsy was conducted in the old warehouse once used to store stacks of opium. There was still a vague scent of addiction there. The concrete godown had a corrugated roof and was open to the plain on one side. To the rear was a sink and a concrete tub full of old water. They’d lugged a large rectangular table to the center and covered it in plastic. Despite a lot of prodding and coaxing, Ugly insisted on lying beneath it, perhaps to catch scraps. As they didn’t bring scrubs, Siri and his team were wearing black plastic garbage bags slit down the back with head and arm holes cut out of them. They’d opted to spare Peach the unpleasantness of watching. She’d protested halfheartedly but seemed relieved to hand the translation duties over to Dtui. At least the nurse was in familiar territory. She may not have known the correct English for a polite dinner party but she could certainly describe the dissection of an inflamed bladder without blinking. There were two others in attendance. Secretary Gordon was there as an observer for legal purposes. And Auntie Bpoo had reminded the judge she was on holiday and had no intention of going out in the truck. She had to keep Siri in her sights.
“Is the major’s family OK with this?” Dr. Yamaguchi asked nobody in particular.
“He didn’t have anyone close,” Gordon told him. He looked up to see whether they were speaking slowly
