'You lead an interesting life, Poke,' Nui says. 'We don't know anybody who's shredded ten million baht. How's Miaow?'
'She's an angel.'
'And Rose?' Her long, sleepy eyes come up to his. There is more than casual interest in them.
'Ah, well,' Rafferty says, and realizes he is blushing.
'Whoops,' Nui says. 'Perhaps I'm intruding.'
'Nui, when there's something to know, you'll know it. How badly injured is he?'
'Nothing life-threatening. It'll be a week to ten days before he can get around comfortably. He's going to have very limited movement in his right arm for a while. What in the world happened to his left hand?'
'One of the things he and I are going to discuss.'
'What it looks like,' Dr. Ratt says, 'is that somebody yanked three of his fingernails with a pair of pliers and then put the hand on something flat and hit it a couple of times with a sledgehammer.'
'Yikes,' Rafferty says.
'Most of the bones are broken in several places. There was obviously no kind of medical attention. I've seen injuries like it-' He stops, looking embarrassed.
'Where? Where have you seen injuries like it?'
'Beggars,' Dr. Ratt says. He is blushing at being caught in a good deed. 'I treat beggars one day a week.'
'Why would beggars-'
'They're Cambodian beggars. Old enough to have been in the Khmer Rouge prisons.'
'Jesus freaking Christ,' Rafferty says. He sits heavily on the couch.
'Excuse me?' Nui always wants to learn new English.
'It's an idiom Americans use when enlightenment strikes.' He puts his hands to his head and massages his temples. 'It's always enlightening to realize you're an idiot.'
35
The boy slows the moment he comes through the door, looking at the spots of blood that dapple the carpet like a spill of bright red coins. He follows the trail with his eyes to the closed door of the bedroom, and then he turns questioningly to Rafferty. He seems more curious than alarmed, as if blood falls into the category of the everyday.
'We have a guest.' Rafferty is in the kitchen, pouring bottled water into smaller bottles and spilling quite a bit of it. 'He's asleep. He was hurt pretty badly, so let's all be quiet.'
'Your friend?' The boy glances again at the blood. He is wearing the last of his new shirts. He has worn each of the others two or three times, until the fold marks from the store disappeared. The sharp-edged rectangle across his chest makes him look like somebody who is shoplifting a book.
'Not a friend. He killed somebody.' The boy's eyes kindle with interest. 'He's handcuffed to the bed, and I want you to stay out of there.'
'Just because he killed somebody doesn't mean he's a bad man,' the boy says in a reasonable tone.
'It doesn't make him a good one either. It's hard to think of a solid reason for murdering someone.'
'I can think of lots of them,' the boy says.
'Well, keep them to yourself.'
'What happened to him?'
'He ran into a knife that someone was holding.'
'Knives are no good. They only work up close. And they're messy.' He kicks at a blood spot as though he expects it to skip across the carpet. 'Have you ever killed anybody?' The boy's tone is conversational, but his eyes have the same kind of intensity Rafferty saw in the garage, the first time Superman looked at him.
'No.'
'Think you could?'
Rafferty's silence stretches so long that the boy shrugs and starts to turn away. 'I don't know,' he says at last.
'Okay.' The boy swivels his head toward the closed door. 'You call the police?'
'Not yet.'
'Good.' He turns and starts down the hall to Miaow's room.
'Wait.' The boy stops at the sound of Rafferty's voice but doesn't look back. 'Why did you leave Phuket?'
Rafferty has been speaking Thai, but the boy reverts to broken English. 'You say what?'
'You wouldn't tell Miaow why you left Phuket. I want to know.'
Superman turns and regards him soberly long enough for Rafferty to think he will speak, but then he turns and continues down the hall. The door closes behind him.
Rafferty grabs one of the small bottles of water and follows the trail of blood into his bedroom.
Chouk's eyes open as Rafferty comes in. If he is frightened, it does not show in his face. He looks like a man who woke up in a strange place and is waiting until he remembers where he is.
'Are you thirsty?'
Chouk smiles. It is, as Dr. Ratt said, a sweet smile. 'Thank you. I'm afraid you will have to hold the bottle.' His ruined hand is cuffed to the frame of the bed, and the right arm is motionless beneath the covers. Dr. Ratt taped it to his side, mummy style, to keep him from tearing the damaged muscles.
'No problem.' Rafferty raises the bottle to Chouk's lips and tilts it, and the man drinks half of it in one long series of gulps. When he is finished, he lifts his chin, and Rafferty removes the bottle.
'I didn't know I was thirsty.' Chouk's voice is soft, even refined. He speaks Thai fluently but with a distinct accent. He sounds like a university professor.
'You lost a lot of blood.'
'Ah, well. Not enough, apparently.'
Rafferty grimaces. 'A little melodramatic.'
Chouk's eyes come to his, blank as the windows of an abandoned building. Whatever was once behind them has moved on. 'I hope not. There has been more than enough melodrama in my life. There has been more than enough of practically everything.' He smiles again, but the expression in his eyes does not change. 'And so much of it was given to me by one person.'
'Madame Wing.'
He nods approvingly, a teacher pleased by the performance of a particularly bright student. 'Are you working for her?'
Rafferty gives the question the thought it deserves. 'I don't know.'
Chouk rolls toward him, forgetting the cuff, which tightens and makes the bed creak ominously. 'Either you're working for her or you're not.'
'I was working for her. Am I working for her now? It's all a matter of information, isn't it? We make our choices depending on the information at our disposal. I'm sort of wondering what your information is. I can't say I like her much.'
Chouk takes it in, looking at nothing. 'Is she paying you a lot?'
'Yes.'
'Well, there's no way I can compete there.'
'No. You were pretty decisive about that.'
Chouk laughs. 'And I just gave away my last million.'
'You seemed to have second thoughts in the cab.'
'I thought he'd led you to me.'
'He did, but he didn't know it.'
'I should have guessed. He's not the hardest man to fool.'
