Colin Cotterill - Slash and Burn

“Probably sealing insurgency donation envelopes with Mummy and Daddy in Indiana,” said Civilai.

“In Indiana? She’s gone back?”

“Yes,” Siri nodded.

Dtui was bemused. “But she hated America.”

“Probably not quite as much as she had us believe,” Siri said.

“All right.” Dtui put up her hands. “Let’s not do the subtle, Inspector Migraine explanation of events. Just tell me what I’ve missed.”

“She was denied the continuation of her visa,” said Siri. “And it’s Maigret.”

“Did they give her a reason?”

“They told her she needed a university degree to work in the education sector. But that was only to cover up the actual reason.”

“Which was?”

“Spying.”

Dtui coughed. “Spying? Who for?”

“The CIA.”

Dtui laughed.

“The CIA’s recruiting seventeen-year-old daughters of missionaries?”

“No.”

“Peach is under eighteen.”

“Peach is under eighteen,” Siri agreed. “But the girl who came with us to Phonsavan was a completely different fruit.”

“Banana?”

“Cherry.”

“I don’t get it.”

“The fruit family in Luang Prabang had four children,” Siri explained. “Peach was the youngest. Cherry the oldest. Two boys in between. Cherry left Laos when she was fourteen to continue her education in the States. She went to university. Before she graduated, she was recruited by a CIA desperate for smart people with Asian languages. She also had the good fortune of looking younger than her age.”

“Not unlike me,” said Civilai.

“That would only be true if you were actually 130,” said Siri, and continued. “When the fruit family was asked to leave, the consulate orchestrated an audacious switch. When they passed through Vientiane, unbeknownst to the family, the consular office issued a second passport to Cherry under the name and age of Peach. Thus, as nobody knew the girls in Vientiane, Cherry became her little sister. She claimed that she didn’t want to go to America. Wanted to stay to help the new regime. She tore up her air ticket in a display of national loyalty and was allowed to teach small classes at the lycee. When the mission came around, the Americans requested this new Peach as their interpreter.”

“Which explains why, despite all the available bilingual half-breeds with decades of experience under their belts, they opted for a slip of a girl,” said Civilai. “The evil CIA very badly wanted one of their own on this mission and they assumed we’d be sure to approve an innocent teenager with anti-American leanings.”

“Amazing,” said Dtui.

“And it worked,” said Daeng.

“It worked until the good doctor here asked for an investigation into the whereabouts of the older sister,” said Civilai.

“How could you have known?” Dtui asked.

“Didn’t know, exactly,” said Siri. “More an instinct. Henry James said that in the case of a young American woman, poise comes from good breeding and a solid education. I didn’t see Peach’s abilities coming from home-schooling in a remote village in the north of Laos.”

“Not even from missionary parents?”

“Especially not from missionary parents. She was too fluent in central Lao dialect. Too worldly. Too diplomatic. I felt certain she’d studied overseas.”

“What a mind. When did you bust her?” Dtui asked.

“Shortly after they approved my team selection,” Siri told her.

“But that was before we left.”

“A week before.”

“So why wasn’t she kicked off the mission?”

“Aha, enter the intelligence division,” said Civilai. “More commonly known as the limited intelligence division. After a lengthy meeting in a secret location, the LID decided it would be of huge national interest to allow her along and feed her with false information which she would pass on to her superiors. And who better to be entrusted with this duty than Comrade False Information himself, Judge Haeng? Assuming she was now completely full of both the judge and the information, they let her go. It’s being hailed as a huge espionage coup at the LID. I went by there yesterday. They were having a party to celebrate.”

“How did you know where to go?” Daeng asked.

“What?”

“If they meet at secret locations….”

“There’s a wooden sign in front.”

“Not surprised.”

And talking, as they were, of the devil, Siri noticed Judge Haeng at the table of inedible snacks. He excused himself from the group.

“Be kind,” said Madame Daeng.

“Ah, Siri,” said Haeng when the doctor arrived beside him. “I was about to come and talk to you. You’ll be pleased to hear I’ve solved that little problem you told me about. I explained to the air force command that, given the circumstances of that last day in Phonsavan, it would be only fair to overlook your disregard for regulations by smuggling a live animal onto an official government flight. I suspect none of them could imagine that … dog being of domestic value. I’ve torn up the report the pilot wrote.”

“Well, Judge, that’s decent of you.”

“Brothers, Siri. You and me. If there’s anything….”

“Actually there is one more small thing.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing a man of your stature couldn’t deal with. My wife and I are being blackmailed.”

“What? Blackmailed? That’s terrible.”

“A petty criminal came by the noodle shop a few days ago when I was out and threatened to tell the police that I have a library of foreign language books in my back bedroom.”

“The police would never believe such a blatant lie.”

Siri looked around for something recognizable to eat.

“It is a blatant lie, isn’t it, Siri?”

“No.”

“You have a library?”

“Back bedroom. Several hundred books. French.”

Judge Haeng was a dark-skinned man so when he blanched he turned a shade of gray.

“I … well, I … I suppose as long as they aren’t being distributed to the people they aren’t doing any harm.”

“That’s the way I look at it. Madame Daeng gave the blackmailer your telephone number and told him to call you. Then she hit him over the head with a skillet. He might get in touch.”

“I’ll … I’ll take care of it.”

“You’re so kind.”

“You’re welcome, Doctor.”

They shook hands warmly. Siri stood and watched the little judge walk away. Anyone overhearing their conversation, anyone who knew of the stormy history between the two men, might assume Judge Haeng had sustained permanent nerve damage as a result of the marijuana. But those nosy parkers who shouldn’t have been eavesdropping in the first place wouldn’t have known about that last manila envelope in Siri’s secret under-floorboard hiding place. And they wouldn’t have any idea that inside that envelope was a letter applying for political defection to the United States written by one Judge Haeng. It had been handed to the head of the USMIA mission on the night of Potter’s death. Unfortunate that it should go astray, considering what was written in it. The letter claimed that Judge Haeng was being persecuted by members of the supreme council as a result of his fearless diatribes against communism. As a result of threats, he now feared for his life. He claimed to have in his possession a number of top secret documents that the CIA would find particularly interesting. If the American consulate would consider smuggling him out of the country he could make those documents available as well as his personal experience as a ranking member of the Party. At the end of the letter was the flowery and pretentious signature which nobody would ever be able to fake. Like a good coward, by running away Haeng would have his revenge on all those who had bullied him.