Colin Cotterill - The Coroner's lunch

Talking gave Siri problems, and he had to take gulps of oxygen from time to time. It was during one of these resuscitation sessions that Civilai arrived.

“Hey. Take it easy with that stuff. It costs money. You can’t just pluck it out of the air, you know.” The security lad saluted and fell back.

“Hello, older brother. I see you didn’t get blown up, too, last night.”

“Slept like a baby. May I ask why you weren’t safely in your own bed when it was blasted to Jupiter?”

“I was down by the river.”

“Aha. With some little kitty, I suppose.”

“A dog.”

“Well, never mind. At your age, you have to take what you can get.”

“How are the little girls from downstairs?”

“Stunned. I think only the older one really understands. She’s a smarty. We found a family to look after them till the father gets back. We’re trying to get word to him. He’s going to have his work cut out for him, looking after those three.”

“Do you know what happened yet?”

“A mortar. Hand-held type. Damned big one. May have even been two. We assume they were thrown through the window. They’re still searching the rubble. The only incriminating thing they’ve found so far is the remains of a transistor radio. Don’t suppose you know anything about that?”

Siri coughed. “The bastard must have thrown it in with the mortar shells.”

“That’s what we suspected. I’m afraid there wasn’t much left of your stuff.”

“No problem. There was nothing there of any value. I’ve spent too many years owning only what I could carry. I may miss the books, I suppose. I assume nobody saw anything?”

“Not a thing. How you feeling?”

“Lucky.”

“Too true. Somebody up there’s watching over you. No question about that.”

Civilai went off to a committee meeting and left the Security lad to finish his interview. It was very relaxed and friendly, interspersed with Siri coughing his guts up from time to time. Dtui kept the boy amused while they waited for the doctor to finish coughing.

The lad was in his early twenties, tall, with ears like ping pong paddles. But Siri had to admit, he did have a good smile.

“I think that’s about all for now, Comrade Doctor. I’ll get this all typed, and I’ll be back late this afternoon with my boss. And Nurse Dtui, my dear [she blushed], you’d better keep your jokes to yourself when he’s here. He doesn’t appreciate jokes. He had his sense of humor shot off when he was fighting the French.” She saluted. “And, Doctor, we’d like to know as soon as your Vietnamese coroner gets in touch again. We really need some solid evidence.”

“They’ll have to invent a telephone you can carry around with you if they want me to talk to him while I’m in this state. It would take me a week to get to the office.”

“H’mm. I’ll see what we can do about that. ’Bye, sir, and thanks. ’Bye, miss.”

“Miss? What makes you think a pretty thing like me is a miss? What makes you think I’m not married to the Lao national football team’s center forward?”

He smiled. “Married women don’t blush.”

He left the room. Siri gave Dtui a knowing look that she pretended not to see.

Siri was napping again when his second visitor arrived. He opened his eyes slowly and focused on the saffron smudge at the end of his bed. Gradually he recognized the monk from two evenings before.

“Yeh Ming, are you awake?” When the blur had just about cleared from Siri’s eyes, he noticed the bodyguard standing behind the monk with his pistol drawn. Siri sat up.

“It’s okay. I know him.” The guard nodded and left. “Why do you call me that? Who are you?” The monk smiled but didn’t answer. “Why are you here?”

“Your bomb made a mess of our temple grounds. I had to clear it all up. Cleaning up is my burden.”

“Well, I’m sorry.”

“These things are sent to test us. Life on earth’s just the entrance examination.”

“I’m sure you’ll pass.”

“Thank you. While I was sweeping, I found something that belongs to you. You’re going to need it.”

From a yellow shoulder bag, he pulled out the white talisman. He walked to the bed and hung it over the knob that topped the headboard.

“How did you know it was mine?”

“I’m afraid the pouch was burned.” While still holding the amulet, the monk closed his eyes and chanted a short mantra. He used the same language Siri had heard in Khamuan, at the exorcism. The doctor put his palms together and bowed his head.

Dtui walked in on this scene and immediately felt embarrassed at her intrusion. She, too, put her palms together and closed her eyes. When the monk was finished, he let go of the talisman and turned to leave. Dtui took a respectful step back. At the door, he looked at her. He stared with a quizzical expression that made her feel uncomfortable.

“Your mother will have a better year next year.” He opened the door and walked out. Dtui glared at Siri.

“Why did you tell him about my mother?”

“Dtui…I didn’t.”

At two P.M., three young men from the telephone company arrived with the short end of a cable and an old phone. So far he’d seen soldiers, monks, politicians, and technicians, but not a sign of a doctor. The hospital was understaffed, so they probably hoped he could take care of himself.

By the time the phone technicians had left, Siri had an extension line from the clerk’s office in administration. He lay staring at it. After ten very quiet minutes, it rang like a fire engine. He was alone in the room.

“Dtui…Dtui?” She didn’t come, so he had no choice but to pick it up himself. He put his ear to it and listened…and listened.

“Dr. Siri?”

“Yes?”

“There’s a call for you.”

“Where?”

“Right here. Hang on.”

There was a rude electrical burp before Civilai’s voice came through the receiver.

“Siri? You there?”

“Ai?”

“How’s your new phone?”

“Frightening. How did you know?”

“I know everything. How you feeling?”

“Like I don’t have enough air in my lungs. I keep coughing up pieces of my house.”

“Good, that should keep you out of trouble for a few days. Listen, I’ve given all the numbers you need to the clerk. I want to know right away when your Vietnamese friend calls back. There are some angry words being exchanged back and forth across the border. I don’t have to tell you how important this has all become.”

“Important enough to blow a fellow up.”

“See? I knew I didn’t have to tell you.”

A short while later, the bodyguard came in with a large envelope. He put it on the top sheet and turned to walk away.

Siri chuckled. “Aren’t you planning to tell me where this came from?”

“Can’t, Comrade. Someone left it at the reception desk. A nurse brought it up. It’s all right. I checked it for explosives.”

It was from his friend at the air base, a list of reports of unauthorized flights over the Greater Vientiane District for October and November. He was astounded at how many of them there were. Laos boasted seven planes of its own, but if only half the reports could be believed, the country was a veritable aviary of unlawful air traffic.

The period he was most interested in was the end of October, and the date that caught his attention was the twenty-seventh. The Department of Aviation had received two reports of the sound of a helicopter in the vicinity of Nam Ngum Reservoir. Given the type of customers availing themselves of its services, the correctional facility on the islands there was very sensitive to such sounds.

It was overcast at eleven P.M., and there had been no actual sighting. By the time the anti-aircraft unit at the dam had dusted off its weaponry, the sound had stopped. Radar at Wattay picked up a blip, but before they could send out anything to investigate, it had disappeared from the screen.