enough for us to hear in the hovel-a kind of roar, half animal, half human-excited and scared shouts from the soldiers, a moment of panic-someone has got away-no, it’s okay, got him-more commotion, he’s stronger than we thought — yells as if someone has escaped again-another scuffle, this time sounding more controlled, as if the soldiers have had enough and have started to apply real will. Now a group comes into view. A human figure is trussed up in the net and carried like a wriggling mummy, howling hideously. Zinna has looked away, extreme grief on his face. The soldiers lift the captive up into the back of the truck. The howls cease. Zinna walks quickly to his Benz and drives off. The truck follows.
I have been preoccupied with the street drama and not paid any attention to Chanya for about ten minutes. Now I turn to look at her, and I see she has followed every nuance. She has covered her face and is staring at me in horror. I blow out my cheeks. She backs away from the window to squat against a wall, her hands still pressed over her cheeks, staring. I squat next to her. Now she puts a hand on my forearm and nods toward the street. The Mercedes has returned, and the driver is parking in the same space as before. Chanya and I watch as the General gets out, locks the car with a remote, and struts across the road. There is a knock on the door. You get it, Chanya’s eyes say.
When I open the door, General Zinna is standing ramrod straight in the posture of a man of honor doing his duty. I give him the high wai at the same time as he wais me.
“Please forgive me for disturbing you,” he says. “May I come in for a moment?”
I think that Chanya will remain squatting on the floor as a gesture of disgust, but thirty years of programming forces her to her feet with a high wai. Zinna isn’t charismatic like Vikorn, but he carries a lifetime of military training and the brutal courage of a warrior. His head and face are huge with the crude power lines of a man who fights dirty, wins big. He looks us both in the eye once, then turns away to look out the window. “I think you saw everything, no?”
“We saw your men take someone away. Heard the howls,” Chanya says, avoiding his eyes.
I watch Zinna while he takes out a pillbox. “May I have some water?”
Chanya finds some bottled water in the fridge, and we wait while he swallows the pill.
He stares at me with frank bewilderment. “You have no idea what shock and misery can do to your head. I suppose it’s age. During the Communist insurrection I spent months in the jungle, fought hand to hand with bayonets, lived on a couple balls of rice a day, led my men to victory. To victory. I never thought something like this would happen to me. Never. In love there is no victory.” He looks me full in the face. “He’s broken me. A little private soldier from Isaan has brought me down like no enemy ever could.” He stares out the window again. “I came to offer my most sincere apologies. I will do everything in my power to ensure nothing like this ever happens again. Even if it means…”
He and I both turn to look at Chanya. She puts a hand over her mouth. “I don’t want anyone killed because of me,” she says. “You can’t kill a man as if he’s a rabid dog.”
The phrase has caught Zinna’s attention. Perhaps he has used exactly those words himself recently. He is troubled and only manages, “No, no, of course not.” He coughs apologetically. “Well, I must be going. Once again I am compelled to offer my humblest apologies.”
We watch him leave. Chanya puffs up her cheeks, then lets the air out in a whistle. The raw fear has passed, leaving us in confusion. We are looking at each other as if we are both drowning, when my phone rings.
“Master, you are a total genius. Really, you blow me away with your brilliance. I just don’t know how you do it. If Vikorn doesn’t give you a promotion after this, I’m going to resign.”
“Lek? What’s happened?”
“What’s happened? Well, you know how I hate flying, so I used the train and it took all night, but I thought you wouldn’t mind because I arrived earlier than if I’d taken the morning flight-”
“Okay, okay. You got to Phuket, and you’re now at the land registry?”
“It’s exactly as you foretold, you witch. The reason that clerk was being so crafty was the whole purchase contract was a cover-up. Whoever bought the property made sure you’d have to spend days and days digging before you discovered that the transaction included those three houses and the common land. The whole estate.”
I feel a twinge of excitement. “That’s why they needed the clerk, the only reason they kept him alive. He’s the one who did the paperwork, and so long as he worked in the registry, he would know if anyone was investigating the title.”
“But why would they want to be so hush-hush? It’s weird.”
“I want you to dig further. See if there are any work permits for underground tunnels. If it was a big job, they would have needed legal cover-”
My phone bleeps. I see it is an SMS from Chan. I close on Lek and check messages: Yips on morning flight tomorrow. I’m getting the red-eye around midnight. Arrive V.P. about four a.m.
I make the calculation in my head. If I’m to be there for Chan’s arrival, I’ll have to make my way to the airport now. When I close the phone, I have to summon the courage to look Chanya in the eye. “Ah, I know this is a bad moment, but…”
She stares at me. She’s too far gone in rage and hurt to say Great, I’m nearly raped by a monster, and all he wants to do is go visit his tart in Phuket.
“I’ll be back tomorrow for sure.”
She nods in a state of collapse, apparently defeated by life itself; but summons the strength to whisper “Asshole” as I’m leaving with my modest backpack.
28
I miss the afternoon flight and have to take the early evening one instead. I don’t want to use the chopper service in case a member of the Yip party has the same idea, so I take a taxi right up to the helipad. When I check out the other two houses, there is no sign of life. I’m curious about Inspector Chan’s landfill theory and take a second look at the level area on the other side of the mountain. It’s twilight, so visibility is low, but from certain angles it does seem as if a huge hollow in the mountainside has been filled in and leveled off.
I return to the main property, but I don’t feel secure sleeping in it. I decide to wait on the balcony. After a while I realize I’m going to need some support for my aching backside, so I go back into the house to collect some cushions. It’s been long day. I find the corner of the balcony that is in the most darkness and bed down. The moon has aged greatly since I started coming to Phuket on this case; it’s only just on the eastern horizon when my eyes start to get heavy.
I awake because of a vibration that is shaking my body. The force is coming through the teak deck: footsteps, quite heavy. I freeze at the same time as I open my eyes and slightly adjust the position of my head so I can see who is there. At floor level all that is visible is a pair of legs dressed in fatigues tucked into army boots. If I turn my head a few degrees, I can see as far as a black T-shirt and a couple of brawny arms holding a combat rifle. I watch the rifle cover all sides and corners of the balcony in a professional sweep.
It must be quite late because the moon has reached far to the west and there is a quietness about the night that only occurs in the small hours.
If I dare to raise my head a couple inches more, I’ll be able to see his face. As I try to do so, one of the cushions slips, making a faint catching sound on the wood. Instantly the gunman freezes, then crouches. Now he repeats the sweep of the balcony with greater concentration. The sound I made was so faint, though, it could have been anything, a rat or a mouse or even a cockroach. He relaxes again and stands up straight. But now I know who he is. I am surprised at how tall: at least six foot two, maybe more, with an athletic body.
He resumes his inspection of the balcony and pauses in the most westerly corner. Now, when I dare to raise my head, I see him in sharp black profile against the silver moon: the wrecked face, the missing nose, the lopsided mouth: it is the blunt face of a giant bat. In addition to the M16, he is wearing a holster with a handgun. Everything about him says career soldier. After all, this once was a young man so fired with military ambition, he was prepared to sleep with a general.
He remains illuminated by the moon for maybe five minutes, then crosses to the house, which he enters, closing the sliding door behind him. I roll over to the door and press my face against it. I am just in time to see him cross the vast salon and enter the hall that leads to the front door, and the road. When I reach the front door, I
