“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I couldn’t let them do what they planned, not even to a bum-boy.” I am still puzzled and wrinkle my brow, wondering if it is alcohol poisoning which has paralyzed my brain functions. “I decided to outline my problem to my brother and let him guide me. I didn’t tell him about the tape, he knew nothing of its existence. He meditated for a day and called me. His solution was elegant, clairvoyant and radical, like Buddhism itself, and consisted of one sentence: Give her the tape. Call me a superstitious old man, but I gave it to her, just a few days before she murdered Bradley with those snakes. Naturally, she understood everything, once she had seen the tape and that poor Russian woman with that gold stick in her navel.”
I stare at him, then can hardly resist a smile. “With that tape she controls Warren? She made him come here, to Thailand?”
“That is correct. We’ve all underestimated her. She’s turned him into her slave. I guess you could say it is justice Thai-style.”
“But what about Warren’s minders, those Khmer?”
A scoffing sound from deep in his throat. “She always controlled them. Warren and Bradley hired them in a panic when the Russians started putting on the squeeze, but how could Bradley communicate except through Fatima? Those animals only speak Thai and Khmer. Sure, Warren speaks Thai, but he’s not here all the time and they don’t trust farangs. Her people are all from the jungle, she understands how those goons think. Warren and Bradley saw no danger because they underestimated Fatima. Little by little Fatima turned herself into a religious figure for those Khmer. They’re all lost since the civil war, and since Pol Pot died. For them she’s like a return to the old days, with transsexual shamans, apocalyptic visions-plus she’s provided them all with Harley-Davidson motorbikes and Uzi machine guns. She’s like a combination of Pol Pot, Father Christmas and a Hindu death goddess, all in one.”
The mind likes truth. It will work quite hard to make the connections, once the pieces are all on the board. “She and Warren invited me to Warren’s shop two days ago, I watched her destroy his most expensive piece of jade-a priceless piece, and a whole lot of other stuff.”
“She’s toying with him. I don’t know what she has in mind. She’s the cat, he’s the mouse. She’s enjoying herself. The worm has turned.” He raises his eyes, the lazy one still half covered by its lid. “Actually, she’s toying with all of us. An interesting situation, no?”
“You have no idea-?”
“None. I don’t know what she has planned. I always kept Fatima at arm’s length. I only used her to report that the shipments had arrived safely and the product duly moved across the city. Bradley was a fool if he didn’t guess someone was checking up on him every minute of the day. Some of those shipments were worth twenty million dollars. And I’m not talking about the jade.” A pause while he rubs the side of his nose. “Actually, I don’t like the trade at all, but we have to keep our people awake somehow.”
“How did she manage with those snakes?”
“She’s Karen, her people sell endangered species to the Chinese all the time, and the Chinese like their snakes fresh. The Karen have become expert in the transportation of live reptiles. She simply told them what she wanted and paid them. She probably did it with a single phone call.”
He raises his hands and shoulders. “Fatima is out of control, but with that tape she controls Warren. Why kill him while she’s having fun using him as a slave and destroying him slowly?”
“And through Warren she controls you too? I saw you at the Bamboo Bar a few nights ago.”
An old man’s sly glance. “You did?”
“Dr. Surichai was there.”
He swallows hard and stares at me. “Fatima wants to do to the world what the world did to her. It’s not just a question of killing Warren-he didn’t make the world. See? And now that she controls Warren, she controls everyone. Of course, when I was summoned I went to watch her sing. Warren insisted-he more or less went down on his knees to plead with me-because that’s what Fatima wanted.”
“All that fuss just to get you to go to a jazz club to watch her sing ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’?”
“If you weren’t such a fucking saint you’d understand. She’s in control for the first time in her life, she’s running the world. She’s the empress, people indulge her every whim-or else. It gave her a kick to see me hop at her command.”
He leans forward to turn the gun around so that the handle is pointing at me and the barrel at him. “Kill me if you have the guts. You have the right, it’s my fault your partner is dead.”
At that moment I turn at the sound of soft padding across the floor. This young woman’s black hair is short, almost cropped, and there are three earrings in each ear. She is wearing jeans and a black top with bootlace straps which reveal an elaborate chrysanthemum tattoo over her right breast. My first thought is that she must be one of his daughters, but I remember from the gossip that the tattoo belongs to Da, the Colonel’s fourth mia noi, or minor wife. She hardly gives the gigantic revolver more than a glance, wais to me and-with a glance of contempt as she registers Vikorn’s drunkenness-asks rather briskly if we need tea or drinks? If not, she would like Vikorn’s driver to take her into town, where she has an appointment with a girlfriend. The Colonel irritably agrees to let her have the car and driver and we watch her pad across the floor barefoot. Vikorn makes a wobbly gesture with one hand.
“A mistake. I’m a dinosaur, Sonchai, and I didn’t realize how our country has changed. In the old days when you took a mia noi all you had to do was to feed her and her family and give her a baby or two. Now”-he shakes his head-“self-improvement is all the rage. I’ve paid for hairdressing classes, beautician classes, tattooing classes, endless aerobic classes and the latest is Internet software. She claims she’s bored out of her brain at home and wants to start her own Internet café. She doesn’t seem to want kids at all. She tells me we have a deal, a contract. She gives me her body whenever I have the strength, she’s faithful to me, in return I finance her upward mobility. You might say she’s a living fusion between East and West.”
“It doesn’t sound too bad a deal.”
“I know, but where’s the romance? She isn’t even scared of me. Did you see the way she looked at that gun, as if to say: The old man is playing his games again? Yesterday she said to me: ‘Are we doing sex tonight or can I watch the football?’ Since when did our women get obsessed with football?”