Colin Cotterill - Slash and Burn

“B … but we still get the per diem,” said Mr. Geung.

“That’s the spirit, Geung,” Daeng laughed. “As long as we get our cut it doesn’t matter how many fall around us. It’s just a job.”

Breakfast was subdued. Nobody knew where to go or what to do so they all sat and muttered. It was a little after eight when they heard the return of first the truck and then the ponies. Gordon gathered the Americans around him at the rear of the dining room. Judge Haeng forced the Lao team out to the veranda where the fog still clung to the eaves and concealed the hotel fence. Siri’s cough was constant now as his lungs attempted to filter oxygen from the smoke. The judge glared at him as if this were another deliberate Siri plot to disrupt the meeting.

“Comrades,” said Haeng. “I have spoken by telephone to the minister. Like me, he believes we have been afforded a great opportunity. He has instructed us to go on with the mission. He and I both agree that the suicide of the queer major gives us tremendous political leverage. If we also come up with the pilot’s bones, we’ll be firmly in the driving seat. A good socialist-”

Madame Daeng’s hand shot into the air.

“Judge!” she called.

“Yes, Madame Daeng?” he said, annoyed to have been interrupted mid-motto. If the general hadn’t been sitting beside him he would probably have ignored her.

“Can I just confirm that you and the minister are still attached to the Ministry of Justice?”

“What kind of ridiculous question is that? Of course we are.”

“Well, I don’t get it, Judge. The concept of justice, fair play and all that. Letting a man die with dignity.”

“A dignified man does not dress up as a girl and garrotte himself. This is an opportunity.”

“It’s blackmail.”

The judge turned to Siri.

“Can’t you control your woman?”

Siri laughed.

“This is control, Judge,” he said. “You should see her when I let her off the leash. You’d really walk with a limp then.”

The laughter was a lot warmer than the morning. Even the general managed a chuckle. Judge Haeng was aware that they were making fun of him. His anger made his acne blink like party lights.

“I want all of you on the trucks in twenty minutes,” he barked. “Except you, Siri.”

“Oh, good grief. Why not me?”

“The minister wants an autopsy.”

Siri scrunched up his nose.

“What? Here?” he asked.

“Unless you’d care to carry the corpse back to Vientiane on your shoulder. Of course.”

“And what would we be doing it for?”

“So nobody suspects foul play, of course.”

Siri couldn’t use the excuse of not having equipment as everyone knew he carried his portable morgue around in a PVC carrier bag.

“Dr. Yamaguchi’s probably better at all this than me,” he said.

“Good. Because he’ll be assisting you.”

“Damn. Then I’ll need my morgue team; Mr. Geung and Nurse Dtui.”

“They’re wanted for digging.”

“Then I’m not doing it!”

“Sulking again, Siri?”

“No team, no job.”

“Siri! You….”

What was he going to do? Fire him?

The autopsy was conducted in the old warehouse once used to store stacks of opium. There was still a vague scent of addiction there. The concrete godown had a corrugated roof and was open to the plain on one side. To the rear was a sink and a concrete tub full of old water. They’d lugged a large rectangular table to the center and covered it in plastic. Despite a lot of prodding and coaxing, Ugly insisted on lying beneath it, perhaps to catch scraps. As they didn’t bring scrubs, Siri and his team were wearing black plastic garbage bags slit down the back with head and arm holes cut out of them. They’d opted to spare Peach the unpleasantness of watching. She’d protested halfheartedly but seemed relieved to hand the translation duties over to Dtui. At least the nurse was in familiar territory. She may not have known the correct English for a polite dinner party but she could certainly describe the dissection of an inflamed bladder without blinking. There were two others in attendance. Secretary Gordon was there as an observer for legal purposes. And Auntie Bpoo had reminded the judge she was on holiday and had no intention of going out in the truck. She had to keep Siri in her sights.

“Is the major’s family OK with this?” Dr. Yamaguchi asked nobody in particular.

“He didn’t have anyone close,” Gordon told him. He looked up to see whether they were speaking slowly enough for Dtui to keep up. She smiled and raised her thumb. “He had a couple of kids with one of his wives,” he continued, “but they don’t keep in touch. The army was really the only family he had.”

They watched Mr. Geung removing the too-small underwear from the big major, respectfully flipping him this way and that as if he weighed nothing at all.

“Your man knows what he’s doing,” said Yamaguchi to Siri.

Dtui didn’t bother to translate.

“He’s number one on our team,” she said. “I’m number two.”

Yamaguchi laughed. He had an easy humor and a dazzling smile. If only they could turn his volume down.

“Nice of you to let Dr. Siri come along,” he said.

Siri was too nervous to notice they were talking about him. He’d never performed an autopsy in front of an expert before. He was the first to admit there were large gaps in his proficiency. He was a surgeon by choice and a coroner because nobody else wanted the job. He told Yamaguchi he could step in with comments whenever he wanted, and began with the external examination. He made observations about the general condition of the body, the ravages of alcoholism, odd bruising here and there, and, last but most certainly not least, attention turned to the penis-modest but at attention. Siri had noted the pathologist’s questioning look in that direction when they’d first encountered the body. As the American had experience in dealing with autoerotic accidents, Siri asked whether this was a normal phenomenon.

“I have seen post-mortem erections,” Yamaguchi said. He spoke slowly and Dtui enjoyed translating for him. “But only on two occasions were they the result of sexual stimulation,” he continued. “At one time we were called to a house where a rather large man had died while making love to his very slight wife. She hadn’t the strength to remove him and he was still erect so it was rather like uncoupling a train carriage.”

Auntie Bpoo, sitting on a recliner with her back to the autopsy, was able to help with the imagery whenever Dtui got lost.

“The other occasion was an autoerotic incident not unlike this,” Yamaguchi continued. “The only difference was that the cord had broken and the victim fell onto his face. So you would notice that in both cases the victims were face down. The erection was maintained because the blood followed the rules of gravity and then congealed. I was confused when I saw the major this morning because he’d died suspended in a sitting position. The blood should have drained away from his organ, not into it. I needed to check with my manual as to whether this was physically likely but the situation wasn’t covered. I’d need to consult with a urologist to be certain but I really don’t see how this was possible.”

Siri knew the Americans would very much like to learn that the death of their major was not the result of perversion. He respected Yamaguchi for his experience but he didn’t know the man personally. Siri lived in a world where doctors were constantly encouraged by the authorities to see things that did not exist or to overlook things that might be an embarrassment to the Party. He saw no reason why the imperialist West should be any different.