Colin Cotterill - Slash and Burn

“How old is he now?”

“Four.”

They were disturbed by the sound of Rhyme the journalist yahooing like a cowboy as he walked in the door of the restaurant. Under his arm he had a thick folder. He grabbed the first glass he came to and quaffed it. The owner didn’t seem to mind.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I bring you the magic of aerial photography. The wonder of journalism. The genius of man.”

He took out one large photographic print from the folder and held it up, walking around the table like the round-announcing girls at boxing matches, complete with the sexy walk and blown kisses. The Lao assumed he was drunk with whiskey but it turned out he was merely drunk with the glory of discovery. The buzz of Peach’s translation accompanied his announcement.

“It was the first day of the mission,” he said. “And our last period of visibility. As we floated over the picturesque landscape from Spook City to Ban Hoong, our fearless photojournalist leaned bravely out of the hatch behind Sergeant Johnson here and recorded our descent to the merciless terrain that had claimed our young pilot. We followed the crack carved through the thick jungle by the Ban Hoong stream. And there, no more than three miles from the village, was where the ghost of our pilot stopped to rest and clean the blood from his mouth.”

“How could you know that?” Yamaguchi asked.

“Because, respected sir, he had the foresight to tell us so.”

Rhyme dropped his first print onto the table in front of the doctor, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large magnifying glass. This he handed to Yamaguchi.

“Perhaps you could tell our audience tonight exactly what it is you see there at the bend in the river.”

Yamaguchi squinted through the glass and pumped it back and forth in search of a focus.

“A pile of rocks on a sand bank?” he said.

“A pile of rocks. Yes, sirree. A pile of rocks. But look what happens when you zoom in to that pile of rocks.”

Rhyme dropped a second print in front of the doctor. It was a blow-up of the rocks.

“My goodness,” said Yamaguchi.

“Your goodness indeed. What is it you see there now, sir?”

“The rocks have been arranged to spell out a word.”

“And that word is…?”

“BOWRY.”

“I thank you for your cooperation, sir.”

And the journalist took a bow. Everyone left their seats to get a look at the photograph. There was no doubt. Boyd Bowry had survived the crash. Sergeant Johnson shook Civilai by the hand. Mr. Geung bounced up and down. The elation of the hunt had control of them all … all but Commander Lit.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you keep those photographs,” said Lit via Peach.

“What are you talking about?” Rhyme asked. “They’re my pictures.”

“The close-ups you can keep,” Lit told him. “But I’ll have to take all the aerial photographs. You didn’t have clearance to photograph from the air and I’m afraid there are security issues I have to take responsibility for. If I’d been on your helicopter I would have stopped you taking them.”

“He’s serious, isn’t he?” Rhyme asked.

“Sure is,” said Peach.

“Geung, are you certain it was Dr. Siri you saw climb through the window last night?” asked Madame Daeng.

She and Dtui had taken the morgue assistant back to the doctor’s room and they were sitting either side of him on the bed. Siri was on the chair opposite. He’d spent much of the day considering what Mr. Geung had told him. His friend was incapable of telling a lie. If he said he’d seen the doctor climb into Major Potter’s room, then it was true. Geung clearly didn’t sense the gravity of the situation. In fact he thought it was a splendid game.

“There’s only wuh … wuh … one Dr. Siri,” he sang to a popular Thai radio jingle.

“When was this exactly?” Dtui asked. It was not the most sensible question to a man with an abstract grasp of time.

“You asked me to to to look for the doctor in the t-toilet,” he said.

“But when you came back you said you hadn’t seen him,” said Dtui.

“You you asked if he was in the t-t-toilet.”

“You’re right. I did.”

“And I said he wasn’t.”

“That’s true. Where else did you look?”

“Everywhere.”

“And you went out the back and saw him there?” Daeng asked.

“Yes. I said, ‘Doctor! Doctor!’ but you didn’t hhhhhear me. And you got in the window.”

“Did you look inside?” Dtui asked.

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

“Dr. Siri sit sitting on the bed and talking.”

“Did you see who he was talking to?”

“No.”

“Did anyone answer?”

“No.”

“Did you see anyone else in there?” Siri asked.

“No. Too dddark.”

“What did you do then?” Daeng asked.

“Come back.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d seen him?” asked Dtui.

“Be … cause Dr. Siri was being nnnnaughty,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to tell on him.”

“So what the hell was I doing in there?” Siri asked himself.

“And why don’t you remember?” Dtui asked.

“I should turn myself in.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Daeng told him. “You get out of breath lifting a chicken wing. You did not strangle a hundred-kilogram man to death and drag him across the room.”

“How can you be so sure?” he said. “A lot of peculiar things have been happening to me recently. I may be capable of anything.”

“Not murder, my love.”

“I’ll have to tell Phosy.”

“Yes, I think you will. But he’ll say exactly the same thing. And you really don’t need to tell the Americans.”

“I told Second Secretary Gordon I’d share everything.”

“Not this, Siri. Trust me.”

“Then I need to go and see someone.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

Siri took their flashlight and walked along the corridor and around to the rear of the main building. The light attracted one of the old guards who insisted on following close behind. When he arrived at the rearmost cabin, Siri turned to the old man and said, “I’ll be all right now, thank you.”

But the guard didn’t leave. He merely took a step back and held on to a toothless smile. A faint yellow glow was seeping through the crack around the door. Siri sighed and knocked. Auntie Bpoo opened the door. To the doctor’s horror, she was wearing a flowing black negligee and high-heeled shoes.

“What kept you?” Bpoo asked.

Before walking past her and into the room, Siri looked back over his shoulder to see that the guard’s smile now occupied most of his face like a tunnel. Farewell to Yeh Ming’s reputation in the northeast. The small cabin was lit by seven red candles around the headboard of the bed.

“What do you know?” Siri asked as soon as Bpoo had closed the door.

“I know that one day Mount Aconcagua and the Himalayas will be the only land masses visible above the oceans.”

“About last night.”

“Oh, that.”

She went to sit on the bed and crossed her legs slowly. If she hadn’t been a fifty-year-old man it would have been an evocative gesture. She patted the mattress beside her. Siri put his hands on his hips.

“Given your proximity to the end of your life, I wasn’t about to let you go wandering around alone in the middle of the night.”

“You followed me?”

“Of course I did. I crouched in the shadows like a sleek black panther.”

“What did you see?”

“You were in some sort of a trance. First you climbed in the sleazy major’s window, then poor lovestruck Mr. Geung arrived and peeked in and went away, then you garrotted the American and climbed out again.”