Colin Cotterill - Anarchy and the Old Dogs

It was an uncongested ten-minute drive into the city. Dtui gazed out at the magical place and wondered why she couldn’t have been born on this side of the Mekhong. There were public telephones in the center of town just like she’d seen in the 8 mm films of Moscow. Even the sellers of fried grasshoppers looked exotic to her. They’d just passed the teachers college when she felt Phosy squeeze her hand. At first she experienced a brief surge of joy until she recalled it was her signal.

“Oh, oh, Father,” she cried in obvious distress. The young man’s eyes opened wide as they stared in the mirror.

“What now?” he asked.

“I must vomit.” When her pronunciation of the letter v proved too baffling for the priest she put her finger into her throat and mimed for him.

“No, not in the project car.” He slammed his foot on the brake and skidded to the side of the road. Dtui jumped out and ran back ten yards, where she pretended to throw up several times. Brother Fred could see this in his side mirror. He also got a perfect view of her collapsing dramatically onto the ground.

“Oh, my God, man. Look!”

Phosy smiled the smile of a refugee being yelled at in a language he didn’t understand. The priest pointed and shouted again, but when Phosy merely stared at the roof of the car, Brother Fred had no choice but to jump out of the idling vehicle and run back to help the poor woman. What a day it was for him. Heaven and hell had descended upon him and he knew it was a test. The Lord was putting him through it. But if it was truly a test, the last few problems were about to get a lot more complex.

He knelt beside Dtui and failed to get any response from her. He had little idea where her pulse might be or what exactly to do with it if he found it. And then his four-wheel drive left without him. It did a screeching U-turn, headed off in the opposite direction for fifty yards, then vanished down a side street. This was certainly his “Oh Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?” moment. He hadn’t a clue where to turn-a dying woman, a lost car, an international incident. He recalled that before he’d left his home in County Colraine he’d told his grieving mother he’d just be off for a bit of excitement for a couple of years. Of course, he hadn’t believed that. He was a clerk. If he’d really wanted a life of excitement he could have joined the IRA. He thought Thailand would be hot and dull. He’d been right about the hot.

There weren’t too many people around and those that were gave a wide berth to the foreign devil in a dog collar leaning over a dead girl. He couldn’t speak a word of Thai and what he needed very badly right now was to communicate. He recalled the sign in front of the teachers college. Someone there was sure to speak English. They’d have a phone, maybe even a nurse. After fleetingly considering carrying Dtui to the college, he left her where she was and sprinted off down the street.

As he was entering the college gates he looked up to see a white Land Rover with benevolent Jesus doors shoot past him. The driver waved. Instinctively, he waved back.

Siri and Officer Tao knocked at the big wooden door of Prince Boun Oum’s half-finished palace, knowing nobody in there would react to a mere knock. At Siri’s instructions, Tao shouted, “It’s the police. We don’t like to be kept waiting.”

After a minute, the bolt on the other side slid open and the door was pulled back a crack. Eyes like hyphens peered out, first at the uniform, then at Siri.

“It’s midday. Haven’t you ever heard of a siesta?” came the screechy voice of the caretaker. She opened the door just wide enough for them to see that she was barely awake.

“Hello, sister,” Siri said. “Remember me?”

“No,” she answered.

“I was here a few days ago with another old gentleman.”

“We get a lot of visitors.” She didn’t stand back to let them in. “I’m sleeping. What is it you want?”

The policeman wasn’t as patient or polite as Siri. He walked straight at the woman and into the vestibule, almost knocking her down. “Just come for a little look around,” he said.

Siri followed him in. “Where’s your brother today?” he asked.

“I told you. It’s sleeping time. He’s resting. You shouldn’t be here when he’s resting. You might…”

“Might what?”

She chewed on her words. “Might wake him up.”

“We’ll certainly do our best not to,” Siri said. He was doing his policeman stroll, his hands behind his back: “You said a lot of fixtures had been stolen from this place.”

“Everything that wasn’t nailed down and half the things that were.”

“So you and your brother came along at the right time.” “Yes, we did. What’s this…?”

“You keep a pretty tight ship now, by the looks of it.”

“There’s not much left to take, is there?” She reversed toward a door in a makeshift plywood office and carefully pulled it to.

“Right, but there’d still be prowlers? Curious people come to take a look? Souvenir hunters?”

Tao was standing back, observing like an umpire who’s slightly threatened by the competitors.

“Some,” she said, walking them away from the office.

“And what do you do?”

“Do?”

“Yes. How do you keep them away? How do you protect this place?”

“We just don’t let them in. It isn’t that complicated. What are you getting at?”

“Not difficult? You have open windows all over. Anyone with a boat could walk up from the river, and someone who could climb a bit could work his way in.”

“They don’t.”

“Why not?”

“They just don’t. They know the place is protected now.”

“By an old woman and a softheaded retard?”

Siri noticed the first change in her demeanor. If she’d been a dog, the hairs would have stood up along her spine.

“You… you have no right to say that.” She turned to Tao. “Tell him! Tell him we have rights.” Tao smiled and kept quiet.

“I see you haven’t been keeping abreast of the news,” Siri went on. His tone was nasty; his eyebrows formed a bushy v.“We’re an oppressive communist state now. Don’t mind if we go outside, do you?” He led the way to the back balcony that overlooked the Se Don. The river had collected runoff from the hills and was flowing thick as chocolate. From the balustrade he had a clear view of the half-completed bridge.

“You see?” Siri continued. “Now the fat old royals have fled the scene with their stolen treasures…”

“They di-”

“Did you say something?” She looked at her feet. “No, I didn’t think so. Where was I? Oh, yes. Since the corrupt Royalist lapdogs of the French ran away with their booty, the country has changed hands. We now have people like me who can say what we like, when we like, because we have the power now. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” she said, unable to contain her anger. “More’s the pity.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. I’d hate to have Officer Tao here lock you up for antigovernment rhetoric, forcing you to leave your softheaded brother to look after himself.”

“He’s n-” She was scuffing gravel beneath her sandaled foot like a flustered mare.

“And I was just wondering.” Siri gave her no time to interject. “With your brother being as scary as he is, what would little kids make of him? I bet he’d be a good challenge for a dare. Suppose, just suppose one of the local kids accepted that dare and came nosing around inside. Say he pried up one of the floor tiles for a souvenir.”

“They don’t.”

“I know. But if one did, how would you and your brother deal with it?” Siri could detect something beneath her anger. She was anxious. A tic had begun in her right cheek and her mouth had risen in to a snarl to counter it.