The Coroner's Lunch (23 page)

He returned to the desk, ducking low as he passed the window. He missed the natural breeze that skimmed off the jasmine bushes, but he would have missed his life more. He read the final paragraph.

“I think I may have identified a cause of death. (See photo A.) It was so well concealed, we needn’t be ashamed we missed it earlier. But it isn’t something I can confirm without more research. I have to leave with the embassy entourage tomorrow. I’ll try to get transport down to Ho Chi Minh city as soon as I can. I may find my answer down there. I’ll try to call you at the hospital when I get back. Have faith, my friend.”

There was a Polaroid snapshot stapled to the back of the file. It was a groin shot of the second Tran. The epidermis around the inner thigh had been peeled back. Apart from the charring from electricity, there appeared to be a very distinct circular bruise about the size of an American dime. Nguyen Hong had marked it with an “A.” On the back, he had written: “Once we confirmed all three bodies were ours, your people released them to us. This instant photo is the best I can do to show you what I mean. I couldn’t find your autopsy photos. Check them and you should see they all have the same mark. Could be important.”

Siri laughed to himself. Perhaps he could phone Sister Bounlan’s granny and ask her if she had noticed anything odd in the wedding photos. Although there wasn’t yet anything that could be called evidence in the report, there was a speck of hope. It might slow down the warmongers on either side who hadn’t had enough of killing.

He took out a pad of paper and a pencil and began to draw up an alternative scenario based on conjecture and half-truths. Two hours later, he’d convinced himself that he was on the right track. There were still several gaps in logic that he needed to fill in before he could show it to anyone. But the sooner he shared, the less likely he was to be shot. He needed a little help. If they weren’t busy, he wouldn’t mind a visit from Tran, Tran, and Hok in his dreams that night.

The Vietnamese couldn’t make it, but Siri certainly wasn’t left alone. Before going to sleep, he lay back on his thin mattress and took the white amulet from its pouch. He looked at the worn characters that had been rubbed for luck so many times, he wondered if there could be any left in it.

He wondered how the monk here at his local temple could know who he was. He wondered whether the
Phibob
had forgiven him, or given him a thought since Khamuan. And with all that wonder in his mind, he fell asleep.

It could have been minutes later, possibly hours, when he opened his eyes to see the oil lamp still burning beside him. He was annoyed that he hadn’t put it out. Lamp oil was still available on coupons at the hospital co-op, but it wouldn’t be for much longer. Soon he’d have to use cooking oil and stink the place up.

He pulled back the mosquito net and lifted the glass bowl. But before he blew out the light, he had an odd feeling that his room was different. He looked slowly from wall to wall. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He puffed at the little flame and the room fell into moonless blackness.

He looked around at the darkness one more time, then retreated under the mesh tent. He lay his head on the small pillow. Still the feeling lingered. Then suddenly it came to him. It wasn’t a difference you could see; it was a smell. The scent of cheap perfume pervaded his room, and was becoming more potent.

The moon fought free of its cloud for a second and sent a glow through the window. At the very same moment, a tiny sigh like the breath of some small animal puffed past his left ear. He turned his head in surprise and, to his amazement, there was the sleeping face of Mai beside his own.

He retreated as far as the mesh allowed and held his breath. She lay breathing almost silently as she slept, a smile on her young face. Her perfect naked body stretched downward on the mattress beside him. Before the moonlight left them again, he noticed the deep slits at her wrists, the blood congealed and glinting red.

Then it was black again. He focussed on her breathing. Not seeing her, but knowing she lay there, was even more erotic. He knew how inappropriate his feelings were, and wondered if this were penance for his immoral thoughts earlier in the day.

He had no idea what to do. Should he wake her? What was she doing sleeping here? If she’d come to him, presumably she had something to say. So why didn’t she say it? Perhaps the journey had tired her out. So he lay, shuddering with agitation, while she slept in peace.

Perhaps this was the message. Was she telling him she could be at peace now? Did she want to thank him for…?

There was a knock at the door, a tap as if someone were trying not to wake the neighbors. Siri jumped, like an unfaithful husband caught in the embrace of his naked lover, his naked, dead lover. He cursed whoever it was. All the ridiculous thoughts of half-sleep ran through his head as he prepared to answer the door: how could he hide her? what excuses could he give?

Then a man’s voice, a whispered shout, called out: “Mai, Mai, it’s me.”

Damn. This was part of it. It was all part of the show. Psychics, he decided, would never have need of other entertainment. She stirred beside him. Her perfume floated over him when she moved. Then he heard her drowsy voice.

“I’m sleeping. What time is it?”

“Three. I just got back.”

She sighed again, this time with pleasure. “Go away.”

Siri lay back spellbound, like an audience listening to a radio melodrama.

“Nah, don’t be like that. I’ve got something for you.”

Siri heard her pull back the net and pad barefoot across the floor toward the door. “Does it have four wheels?” she giggled.

“Better than that. Don’t be cruel. Let me in. I’m dying for you.”

“What could be better than a car?”

“Didn’t you ask me to bring you something from Viengsai?”

She squealed. “Rubies? You didn’t! Did you bring me rubies?”

There was the sound of a latch hurriedly shifting. As the door opened, a dim light bathed her. She stood naked in the doorway, magnificently unashamed. The suitor remained hidden in the hall. She giggled again and reached out to him. But the strong left hand of a man grasped her wrist and yanked her outside. The door closed behind her, and darkness returned.

Siri, still breathing heavily, still shaking, scrambled from his bed and hurried to the door. He could hear the muffled sound of a woman choking beyond it. He found the handle and pulled it, but the door wouldn’t open. It was held fast by a large steel padlock.

At six, Siri woke confused. He lay still for some time before a crustiness at his groin brought all the memories of the night back to him. Slightly ashamed, he went down to the bathroom and sluiced himself with cool water. It was fifty-six years since such a thing had last happened to him, and he didn’t feel any less guilty this time.

“Good morning, Siri.” Professor Mon was the director of the Lycée Vientiane. He was also Teacher Oum’s father. He was standing uneasily in the vestibule. He didn’t want to go into the morgue examination room, so Siri came out to meet him.

“Mon, how are you doing?” They shook hands.

“Fairly well, I suppose. I have a letter here addressed to you and Oum.” He handed a grey envelope to Siri. The stamp was from the U.S.S.R. “I think it’s about the chemicals you asked for.”

“It’s unopened.”

“There’s no one to open it.”

“Oum?”

“You obviously haven’t heard. They picked her up just after you left. They took her for re-education up in Viengsai.”

“Teacher Oum? What the hell for?”

“They said she’d picked up some radical ideas in Australia. They said her attitude was detrimental to the struggle against individualist thinking.”

“That’s ridiculous. What about the baby?”

“Her mother and I.”

“Look, Mon. This is absurd. I’ll talk to some people. I mean, she’s virtually my assistant. She’s the only chemist I’ve got access to. I’m sure for that reason alone….”

“If you could. We are quite anxious.”

“Don’t worry, friend. We’ll get her back.”

When Mon had left, Siri stood in the vestibule fitting one more piece into his scenario jigsaw. Not a coincidence, this. Not at all. It was so frustrating not being able to contact Nguyen Hong.

An unfortunate old gentleman chose that morning to pass away in the hospital operating room, and was sent to the morgue for an immediate autopsy. Siri was asked to confirm that there’d been no malpractice. It was ten, and he had to meet Civilai at twelve. He didn’t like to leave a job in the middle, but this job was going to take a long time. So they made preliminary notes and put the body in the freezer until after lunch. Suk, the director, was furious, but Siri didn’t care much.

He was seated on the log by the river some ten minutes before Civilai arrived.

“Where’s our other member?” Civilai asked.

“I think he must have drowned the other day.”

“Or the fascists got him. I bet they can’t make him talk. Can you believe those Thai tin soldiers? They take over the country by force, then issue a statement that we’re an unlawful governing power. What balls they have!”

“What have you got for me?”

“Oh,
sit down, Civilai. Relax. How are you, Civilai
?” his brother prompted.

“Civilai.”

“All right. I suppose your life is in danger,” Civilai conceded. “You’d be proud of me. I’ve been a good spy. But I’ve had to share this with a few people to get the information.”

“That’s not a problem. I think it’s time to share what we’ve got with everyone you trust. The more people who know…”

“…the less likely you are to get your brain splattered all over your front door.”

“They’ve sent Teacher Oum to Viengsai.”

“The chemist girl? H’mm.”

“Somebody’s covering up.”

“I’ll see if I can find out who gave that order.”

Siri pulled four sheets of paper from his pocket and unfolded them. Neither man had thought about eating his lunch. “I’ve been putting all the bits and pieces together. I’ve come up with a hypothesis.”

Civilai looked at the untidy notes. “Brother, I’d have to be an Egyptologist to understand that garbled mess. Let’s start off with what I’ve found out and see how it fits your theory.

“The Vietnamese delegation was here at the invitation of the Security Section chief. They were coming to identify a suspected traitor. It was all supposed to be very hush-hush. One of your Vietnamese had been involved in a covert operation in the south. There was an ambush and all the Vietnamese were killed, except for him. He’d been shot up pretty badly and everyone assumed he was dead.”

“That’s Hok, the last fellow we found at the dam. He had a hole in him as wide as the Pha Ban cave.”

“Well, he must have done a very good job of playing possum, because when the Hmong commanders came down to inspect the damage, they had no idea he could see them. According to your Hok, there was an elderly man there in plain clothes, acting as a sort of adviser. But Hok had seen him once, about two weeks before, in an LPRA uniform.”

“Hok had a hell of a wound. How sure could he have been that it was the same man?”

“He was positive. He’d seen him around at the Operations Headquarters up at the border. They’d spoken a couple of times. He was there the day they planned the mission that turned into a disaster. The VC found the aftermath of that massacre, and Hok, who was barely alive. They flew him back to Hanoi.

“As soon as he recovered enough to be angry, he was telling everyone about the adviser. He must have convinced people in high places, because they took our ambassador to see him. He contacted us, and we invited Hok to come over and help us identify the man.”

“Couldn’t they just send pictures?”

“What pictures? The regimental yearbook? How many pictures have you had taken over the last twenty years, Siri? Anti-government rebels don’t pose in uniform as evidence for possible treason hearings.”

“All right, all right. So, as soon as Hok was well enough to travel, they sent him here.”

“With a Vietnamese colonel and a driver. They had top-level clearance.”

“Well, that makes it even less likely we’d torture them, doesn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. A Lao officer advising the Hmong! That doesn’t look good for us. The Vietnamese were already suspicious before this happened. And there was all the secrecy on this side. Not many knew about it, only the Security Section, a few top Party people, not including me, the prime minister, the president. The idea was not to alert the guy we were on to him.”

“So, he’s still out there somewhere, and now there’s no one to identify him. Did we get any information at all?”

“His rank. He was a major.”

“Can’t we find out which of our majors were hanging around at the Operations Center when Hok was there?”

“We’re working on that. But it’s a large center and people come and go all the time. It’s not like we have an efficient records system of placements and troop movements.”

“Anything on the Black Boar?”

“God, you’re so demanding. You’d better remember me in your will for all the help I’m giving you.”

“You’ll be gone before me, pal.”

“I don’t see anyone shooting at me.”

“There will be, after today. I bet there’s someone with a long-range rifle up on a rooftop right now with you in his sights.”

There was the crack of a branch from the tree above their heads. Both men moved faster than they had for many years. They were twenty meters farther along the riverbank before Siri looked back. He stopped and caught his breath.

“Rajid. What the hell are you doing up there?” Civilai turned back to see the crazy Indian high in the tree, mouthing one of his silent laughs. He’d had his thrill for the day.

“I bet he’s a spy. He’s probably fluent in six languages.” They put their arms around each other’s shoulders and laughed as they walked back to the log. They unwrapped their sandwiches and ate for a while until their nerves had settled. Siri spoke.