The Windup Girl (26 page)

Minister Akkarat and General Pracha go to stand before the assembled people. Incense fills the room along with the monk's chanting, a drone in Pali as they remind everyone that all is transient, that even Phra Seub in his despair recognized transience, even as his compassion for the natural world overwhelmed him.

The chanting of the monks dies. The Somdet Chaopraya motions for both Akkarat and Pracha to come before him. To
khrab
and make obeisance. The Somdet Chaopraya watches without emotion as the two ancient enemies pay their respects to the only thing that binds them together: their respect for royalty and the palace.

The Somdet Chaopraya is a tall man, well fed, and he towers over them. His face is hard. Rumors circle around him, about his tastes, about his darkness, but still, he is the one designated to protect Her Majesty the Child Queen until her ascension. He is not royalty, could never be so, and it terrifies Jaidee that she lives within his circle of influence. If it weren't for the fact that the man's own fate is tied so tightly to hers, he would probably. . . Jaidee stifles the nearly blasphemous thought as Pracha and Akkarat approach.

Jaidee kneels. Around him, whisper sheet pencils scratch frantically as he performs a
khrab
before Akkarat. Akkarat smiles with satisfaction and Jaidee stifles an urge to lunge at the man.
I will pay you back in my own time.
He stands carefully.

Akkarat leans close. "Well done, Captain. I almost believe you really are sorry."

Jaidee keeps his features impassive, turns to address the people, the scribblers—his heart closes as he sees that his sons are present, brought to witness the humiliation of their father.

"I have overstepped my authority." His eyes go to General Pracha, watching coldly from the edge of the dais, "I have dishonored my patron, General Pracha, and I have dishonored the Environment Ministry.

"All my life, the Ministry has been my home. I am ashamed that I have selfishly used its powers for my own benefit. That I have mislead my fellow officers, and my patrons. That I have been bankrupt morally." He hesitates. Niwat and Surat are watching, held by their grandmother, Chaya's mother, all of them watching as he humiliates himself. "I beg forgiveness. I beg an opportunity to rectify my wrongs."

General Pracha strides toward him. Jaidee drops again to his knees and makes a
khrab
of submission before him. General Pracha ignores, him, walks past his bowing face, his feet within inches of Jaidee's head. Speaks to the assembly.

"An independent investigating tribunal has determined that Captain Jaidee is guilty of accepting bribes, of corruption and the abuse of his powers." He glances down at Jaidee. "It has further been determined that he is no longer fit for service with the Ministry. He will become a monk, and perform a penance of nine years. His possessions will be disposed of. His sons will be adopted into the care of the Ministry, but their family name will be erased."

He looks down at Jaidee. "If the Buddha is merciful, you will eventually come to understand that your pride and avarice has brought this upon you. We hope that if you do not attain understanding in this life, that your next one will provide you with hope of improvement." He turns away, leaving Jaidee still in his bow.

Akkarat speaks, "We accept the apologies of the Environment Ministry and the failures of General Pracha. We look forward to an improved working relationship in the future. Now that this snake has had its fangs pulled."

The Somdet Chaopraya motions to the two great powers of the government that they should show one another respect. Jaidee remains crouched. A sigh runs through the crowd. And then people are streaming out, to tell of what they have seen.

Only once the Somdet Chaopraya is gone is Jaidee invited to stand by a pair of monks. Their aspect is serious, their heads shaven, their saffron robes aged and faded. They indicate to him where they will take him next. He is theirs now. Nine years of penance, for doing the right thing.

Akkarat steps before him. "Well,
Khun
Jaidee. It seems that you have at last discovered limits. It's a pity you didn't listen to warnings. All of this was so unnecessary."

Jaidee forces himself to
wai
. "You have what you wanted," he mutters. "Now let Chaya go."

"So sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

Jaidee searches the man's eyes, hunting for the lie, but he can't tell.

Are you my enemy? Or is it another? Is she dead already? Is she still alive, trapped in one of your friends' prison cells, an unnamed prisoner? Alive or dead?

He forces down his worries. "Bring her back, or I'll hunt you down and kill you like a mongoose killing a cobra."

Akkarat doesn't flinch. "Careful with the threats, Jaidee. I'd hate to see you lose anything else." His eyes stray toward Niwat and Surat.

A chill runs through Jaidee. "Stay away from my children."

"Your children?" Akkarat laughs. "You have no children now. You have nothing at all. You're lucky that General Pracha is your friend. If I were him, I would have turned those two boys of yours out into the street to beg for blister rust scraps. That would have been a true lesson."

14

Crushing the Tiger of Bangkok should be more satisfying. But frankly, without a cue card of the various names involved, the ceremony looks like any number of impenetrable Thai religious and social events. In fact, the man's actual demotion is surprisingly quick.

Within twenty minutes of being ushered into the Environment Ministry's temple, Anderson finds himself watching silently as the vaunted Jaidee Rojjanasukchai makes
khrabs
of humility to Trade Minister Akkarat. The golden statues of the Buddha and Seub Nakhasathien gleam dully, overseeing the solemn moment. None of the participants show any expression at all. Not even a smile of triumph from Akkarat. And then a few minutes, later the chanting monks end their droning, and everyone is standing to leave.

That's it.

And so now Anderson finds himself cooling his heels outside the Phra Seub Temple
bot
, waiting to be escorted out of the compound. After enduring the astonishing series of security checks and body searches to get into the Environment Ministry campus, he had begun to fantasize that he might glean some useful bit of intelligence about the place, perhaps get some better sense of where their lovely seedbank might be tucked away. It was foolish, and he knew it, but after the fourth patdown he was almost convinced that he was about to run into Gibbons himself, perhaps cradling a newly engineered
ngaw
like a proud father.

Instead, he encountered grim cordons of white shirts and was whisked by cycle rickshaw directly to the temple steps where he was required to remove his shoes and stand in bare feet under tight supervision before being led inside with all the other witnesses.

Around the temple, a thicket of rain trees prevents much view of the place at all. AgriGen-arranged "accidental" dirigible overflights have given him more information about the compound than he's got right now, standing dead in the heart of the thing.

"I see you got your shoes back."

Carlyle, sauntering over, grinning.

"The way they inspected," Anderson says, "I thought they were going to lock them in quarantine."

"They just don't like your
farang
smell." Carlyle pulls out a cigarette and offers Anderson one as well. Under the close gaze of their white shirt guards, they light up. "Enjoy the ceremony?" Carlyle asks.

"I thought there might be more pomp and circumstance."

"They don't need it. Everyone knows what this means. General Pracha has lost his face." Carlyle shakes his head. "For a second I was sure we were going to look up and see their Phra Seub statue crack in half with the shame. You can feel the Kingdom changing. It's in the air."

Anderson thinks of the few buildings he glimpsed as he was escorted to the temple. They were all dilapidated. Water stained and covered with vines. If the Tiger's fall isn't proof enough, the fallen trees and unkempt grounds are fine indicators. "You must be very proud of what you've accomplished."

Carlyle draws on his cigarette and exhales slowly. "Let's just say it's a satisfying step."

"You've impressed them." Anderson nods toward the
Farang
Phalanx, who seem to be already drunk on their reparation money. Lucy is trying to convince Otto to sing the Pacific Anthem under the stern gazes of the armed white shirts. The trader catches sight of Carlyle and lurches over. His breath stinks with
laolao
.

"Are you drunk?" Carlyle asks.

"Completely." Otto smiles dreamily. "I had to finish everything at the gate. Bastards wouldn't let me bring the celebration bottles inside. Took Lucy's opium, too."

He drapes an arm over Carlyle's shoulder. "You were right, you bastard. Right as rain. Look at all these damn white shirts' expressions. They've been eating bitter melon all day!" He gropes for Carlyle's hand, tries to shake it. "God damn it's good to see them taken down a notch. Them and their thieving 'gifts of goodwill.' You're a good man, Carlyle. Good man."

His grins blearily. "I'm going to be rich because of you. Rich!" He laughs and paws for Carlyle's hand again. "Good man," he says as he gets a grip. "Good man."

Lucy shouts for him to get back in line. "Rickshaw's here, you drunk bastard!"

Otto stumbles away and with Lucy's help tries to crawl into the rickshaw. The white shirts watch coldly. A woman in an officer's uniform studies them all from the top of the temple steps, her face expressionless.

Anderson watches her. "What do you think she's thinking?" he asks, nodding up at the woman officer. "All these drunk
farang
crawling through her compound? What does she see?"

Carlyle draws on his cigarette and lets out smoke in a slow stream. "The dawn of a new era."

"Back to the future," Anderson murmurs.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing." Anderson shakes his head. "Something Yates used to say. We're in the sweet spot, now. The world's shrinking."

Lucy and Otto finally manage to climb into the rickshaw. They roll out with Otto shouting blessings on all the honorable white shirts who have made him so rich with their reparation money. Carlyle quirks an eyebrow at Anderson, the question unspoken. Anderson draws on his cigarette, considering the branches of possibility that underlie Carlyle's question.

"I want to talk to Akkarat directly."

Carlyle snorts. "Children want all sorts of things."

"Children don't play this game."

"You think you can twist him around your finger? Turn him into a good little administrator, like in India?"

Anderson favors him with a cold eye. "More like Burma." He smiles at Carlyle's stricken expression. "Don't worry. We're not in the nation-breaking business anymore. All we're interested in is a free market. I'm sure we can work toward that common goal, at least. But I want the meet."

"So cautious." Carlyle drops his cigarette on the ground, grinds it out with his foot. "I would have thought you'd have a more adventurous spirit."

Anderson laughs. "I'm not here for the adventure. That's for all of those drunks over there. . ." He trails off, stunned.

Emiko is in the crowd, standing with the Japanese delegation. He catches a glimpse of her movement in the knot of business people and political officers as they cluster around Akkarat, talking and smiling.

"My god." Carlyle sucks in his breath. "Is that a windup? In the compound?"

Anderson's tries to say something, but can't make his throat work.

No, he's wrong. It's not Emiko. The movement is the same, but the girl is not. This one is richly dressed, with gold glimmering around her throat. A slightly different face. She lifts her hand, stutter-stop motion, tucks black silk hair behind an ear. Similar, but not the same.

Anderson's heart starts beating again.

The windup girl smiles graciously at whatever story Akkarat is telling. She turns to make introductions for a man Anderson recognizes from intelligence photos as a general manager of Mishimoto. Her patron says something to her and she ducks her head to him, then hurries away to the rickshaws, odd and graceful.

She's so much like Emiko. So stylized, so deliberate. Everything about the windup before him reminds him of that other, so much more desperate girl. He swallows, remembering Emiko in his bed, small and alone. Starving for information about windup villages.
What are they like? Who lives within them? Do they really live without patrons?
So desperate for hope. So different from this glittering windup that threads gracefully between white shirts and officials.

"I don't think she was allowed in the temple," Anderson finally says. "They couldn't have gone that far. The white shirts must have made her wait outside."

"Still, they must be seething." Carlyle cocks his head, watching the Japanese delegation. "You know, Raleigh has one of those, too. Uses it for a freak show in the back of his place."

Anderson swallows. "Oh? I hadn't heard."

"Sure. It'll fuck anything. You should see it. Truly bizarre." Carlyle laughs low. "Look, she's catching attention. I think the Queen's Protector is actually smitten."

The Somdet Chaopraya is staring at the windup, wide-eyed like a cow struck on the side of the head before slaughter.

Anderson frowns, shocked despite himself. "He wouldn't risk his status. Not with a windup."

"Who knows? The man doesn't exactly have a clean reputation. Positively debauched, from what I've heard. He was better when the old king was alive. Kept himself under control. But now. . ." Carlyle trails off. He nods at the windup girl. "I wouldn't be surprised if the Japanese end up making a gift of goodwill in the near future. No one refuses the Somdet Chaopraya."

"More bribes."

"Always. But the Somdet Chaopraya would be worth it. From everything I've heard, he's taken over most of the palace functions. Accumulated a lot of power. And that would give you a lot of insurance when the next coup happens." Carlyle observes. "Everyone looks calm, but below the surface things are boiling. Pracha and Akkarat can't go on like this. They've been circling each other ever since the December 12 coup." He pauses. "With the right pressure, we help decide who comes out on top."