Tua and the Elephant (14 page)

Scattering chickens and geese, they came to a skidding halt at the end of the driveway to the main building. Nak killed the motor, peeled off his helmet, and glared at the mob that stood before him. He dismounted and began walking down the length of them, inspecting all of their faces.

He stopped in front of Mae Noi.

“I’ve come to collect my property,” he sneered. Then he leaned into Mae Noi’s face and, without removing his eyes from hers, raised his arm and pointed at Pohn-Pohn.

Tua and Pohn-Pohn took two steps back as if the finger had reached across the distance and tapped them on their foreheads. Why hadn’t they run when they had the chance?

“We have evidence that you’ve been mistreating this elephant,” Mae Noi said.

“Evidence,” Nak scoffed. “It’s my property. I’ll treat it any way I like.”

“I could report you—”

“You’re harboring a thief,” he spat. “You’re in possession of stolen property. Who are you going to report me to? The authorities? The authorities are on my side. You’re the one breaking the law. If you want to keep that elephant, then you’ve got to pay me for it. Four hundred thousand
baht.
”

Tua and Pohn-Pohn took two more steps back.

“I have the right to keep this elephant for as long as it takes us to conduct tests and—”

“I’m taking that elephant now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Just try and stop me.” He scanned the faces looking for a challenger.

“No,” Kanchanok stepped forward.

“Go back to your mud wallow, buffalo boy,” Nak snarled.

Then he called over his shoulder to Nang. “Bring me the chain and ankus.”

Nang climbed out of the sidecar, pulled off his bubble helmet, spit a feather out of his mouth, and reached behind the seat for the chain and hooked
spike. As he was slinging the heavy chain over his shoulder, a ginger-haired
farang
stepped out of the crowd.

“Wait a minute,” she said in English. She walked up to Nang and ran her eyes over him, as if counting his limbs. “I know you. You’re that phony beggar from the train station. And you.” She turned and pointed at Nak. “I remember you, too. You’re the shady character who stole my wallet while he created a distraction. Somebody call the police!” she shouted.

Nak looked at Nang, who shrugged. He didn’t know who this woman was or what she was talking about.

“What is this?” demanded Nak.

“This woman claims you stole her wallet at the train station in Chiang Mai yesterday,” Mae Noi explained in Thai. “She’s asked me to call the police.

“Margareta, would you get Chief Montri on the phone?” Turning back to Nak, she said, “I’m sure the local chief of police would like to ask you some questions. It shouldn’t take long to clear this up.
A phone call to Chiang Mai to check the police report and view the videotapes, and then you can be on your way.”

“You can’t prove …”

Nak’s hand rose to his breast and covered the pocket where he had slipped the
farang’s
credit cards and driver’s license. He could feel them through the thin cloth, and he staggered back a couple of paces.

Several
farangs
took cell phones out of their pockets and began snapping pictures of the two mahouts.

Nak put his hands in front of his face and retreated to the motorcycle, while Nang pushed the helmet down over his head.

“You,” Nak growled at Tua. “You.”

“I’ll make sure Chief Montri gets a copy of your photographs,” Mae Noi said. “And your license number.”

The motorcycle roared Nak’s reply, tore at the gravel beneath its tires, and hurtled screaming down the road like a whipped dog.

“Are they gone?” Tua asked.

“They’re gone. And we have Shelly to thank for that.”

Mae Noi turned to the ginger-haired
farang
and bowed a wai. “Thank you so much, Shelly. You saved the day. Tua, it looks like you and Pohn-Pohn have an American auntie.”

“
Khawp khun kha,
Auntie,” Tua grinned and bowed a wai.

Shelly bowed a
wai
back, then reached out her hand and stroked Pohn-Pohn’s trunk.

Smiling, Mae Noi draped her arm around Tua’s shoulder. “So, Tua,” she said, “what would you like to do?”

“Do?”

“The last van of the day is leaving for Chiang Mai in half an hour. There won’t be another one until tomorrow. Do you want to be on it?”

“I’d better call my mother,” Tua said.

The motorcycle turned off the paved road and crawled along a dirt track to a ridge overlooking the sanctuary.

“Is that a police car down there?” Nang said. “We’ll never get the elephant back now, will we?”

“An elephant isn’t the only thing worth money on the black market,” Nak replied.

Tua hung snugly in a hammock under a shelter, while Pohn-Pohn rocked back and forth beside her as if swaying to a lullaby. Stars spattered the sky at the end of the thatched roof and then fell behind a dark silhouette of jagged mountains. An insect chorus rustled in the underbrush, and the river murmured a quiet melody.

“Mama and Auntie Orchid are coming to get me in the morning, Pohn-Pohn,” Tua yawned and closed her eyes. “I don’t want you to worry if I have to go back to Chiang Mai tomorrow. It’ll only be for a little while. And Kanchanok will look after you while I’m gone. Mae Noi says new volunteers come
to the sanctuary every day, and I can come up with them.” She rolled over on her side and rested her head on her folded arm. “I love you, Pohn-Pohn. I’ll never, ever”—she yawned— “leave you.”

Pohn-Pohn reached out her trunk and brushed Tua’s cheek. Then she rocked the hammock as if it were a cradle.

“Good night, Pohn-Pohn. Sweet dreams and glad awaken—”

Pohn-Pohn drooped her head and closed her sleepy eyes as well.

A hush fell over the fields; the river gurgled in the background; a twig snapped. A dark shadow drifted in front of the moon like a tattered cloak, blocking out the light. Nak looked over his shoulder and cocked an eyebrow. Nang opened his mouth to speak, saw Nak bare his teeth, and shrugged instead.

The two mahouts ducked behind a tool shed and listened to the silence. No footfalls, no voices, no barks. Nak looked around the corner and searched the grounds: all the buildings were as dark as cellars. His eyes stopped at the shelter across the path. He could hear the elephant and the brat breathing. Holding up two fingers to Nang, he pointed them at his eyes, and then beckoned him to follow.

With a tarp stretched between them, they swooped into the shelter like owls, tossed the tarp over Pohn-Pohn’s head, looped a rope around her legs, and turned their attention to Tua.

Nang slapped tape over Tua’s mouth, and Nak began spinning the hammock like a spider winding its prey in a silken shroud.

Tua’s eyes opened to a blur, as if she were tumbling down a deep well. The webbing of the hammock pinched tighter and tighter, squeezing the breath out of her lungs.

“Mmmm!” she tried to scream through the tape.

Pohn-Pohn cried out, bucked, spun around, and then beat her trunk on the ground.

Abruptly, the hammock stopped, but Tua’s head continued to spin. Nang began wrapping tape around Tua, binding her like a package. Nak cut the hammock down, tossed Tua over his shoulder, and ran across the field to where the motorcycle crouched hidden in the ferns.

Pohn-Pohn gripped the tarp with her trunk and tore it off her head. Then she stamped her feet until the rope loosened and fell to the ground.

Tua was gone.

All that remained was the rank smell of her kidnappers. Pohn-Pohn tossed her trunk in the air until she located where the stench was strongest and, giving one long trumpet call to let Tua know she was coming, ran into the dark after the foul odor.

Nak was handing Tua over the fence to Nang when he heard a noise coming up behind him like an ill wind. He looked over his shoulder and saw
a wide swath of cornstalks toppling in the nearby field. The ground trembled beneath his feet.

“What’s that?” Nang cocked an ear and squinted through the fence poles.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nak said, throwing his leg over the fence and dropping to the other side. “It can’t save her, now. Put her in the sidecar.”

Tua sucked air through her nostrils and tried to lift her head. She could see the backs of someone’s legs, and the ground rushing past below her. They crossed a paved road and entered a bushy field of ferns. Then she was lifted off the shoulder and dropped into the sidecar on her back. The last thing she saw was Nak’s toothy grin before a blanket was tossed over her face.

Nak raised his head in time to see the fence across the road explode into splinters. He jammed his hand in his pocket and pulled out the key, but it leapt free of his grasp and disappeared into the dense underbrush. Dropping to his knees, he began clawing at the ferns like a terrier. As Nang dashed
past him, he sprang to his feet. The dark shape was bearing down fast. He turned and sprinted across the field after Nang, leaving Tua stashed in the sidecar.

A massive banyan tree sprang up out of the empty field ahead of them, its trunk flexed like a muscular forearm, its hand buried up to the wrist and gripping the ground with rooted fingers. The foliage and branches were so thick and entwined that no moonlight penetrated between them. Nak and Nang scrambled up the trunk like feral cats, climbing higher and higher into the dense, dark foliage.