Her instructions include seducing me, at least to the point of bringing me to heel. She has never flirted with a cop before, though, and is having trouble covering her revulsion. I have not helped her dilemma by fishing out my iPod and my Bluetooth earpiece and lounging on the Italian leather sofa under the porcelain lions with my feet stretched out like the yobcop she had me down as from the start.
“Welcome to my humble office,” Tanakan is saying in my right ear.
“It is a great honor, Khun Tanakan,” Vikorn says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an office of such beauty. Your taste is impeccable, Khun Tanakan.”
“Oh, you must not be so modest, Colonel. What am I? A banker, a moneyman. Compared to the service a senior police officer of your caliber renders to society, I am the one who should be congratulating you.”
“Ah, Khun Tanakan is too kind. Let us be frank, we belong to different classes. You are porcelain, and I am earthenware.”
“Even if I were to accept that admirably modest statement, Colonel, I would have to add the rider that when porcelain collides with earthenware, it is the porcelain that suffers the most damage.”
“I was coming to that,” Vikorn says softly.
Meanwhile Tanakan’s secretary has started to worry that she might not be following instructions to the letter. She has found an excuse to stand up, turn to the side, inhale, and square her shoulders; her breasts are, of course, perfect, but what am I supposed to do about it? Now she has emerged fully from behind her desk and sees an urgent need to tidy up the glossy magazines on the coffee table just in front of the sofa. She frowns in concentration with Fortune in one hand, then finds she has to explain herself by turning to me with a confused smile. When even that fails to bring me to my knees, she swallows before speaking. “I can’t remember where this goes,” she says sweetly. More than ever I can see why Tanakan needed Damrong.
“Of course,” Vikorn is saying, “there is an attraction between opposites, as the Buddha taught.”
“Correct,” Tanakan admits.
“It goes without saying that humble earthenware feels awe, admiration, even passion for porcelain, not to mention envy, but the attraction that porcelain feels for earthenware is less well documented.”
“Colonel Vikorn’s forensic genius is well known. Your insight into even the subtlest shades is amazing.”
“Of course, what the world does not know is the true nature of the service rendered to society by men like you. All day and most of the night you are laboring to keep our economy healthy. At Khun Tanakan’s level, the pressures are enough to kill a lesser man. You must have some rest and recreation, perhaps of a kind not entirely accepted by piety and ignorance.”
“Not only is the Colonel a great policeman, he is a connoisseur of human nature and the embodiment of compassion.”
“I like to practice compassion whenever possible,” Vikorn says. “However, is it not one of the great insights of the Buddha that even monks need to be sustained? Even compassion needs material help.”
“Certainly. A great deal of help, and it is my deepest wish that I might be able to contribute in some small way.”
“For example,” Vikorn says, “suppose at this very moment a servant entered this office, perhaps an ignorant and uneducated young woman, and in the process of cleaning dislodged that beautiful vase, which, let us say, is about to fall unless a person of practical ability were there to see the danger and save it.”
A pause. Tanakan replies, “Such a service of compassion would be rewarded to the value of the vase and beyond.”
“What is the value of the vase, Khun Tanakan?”
“It is a long time since I had it valued. The Colonel is no amateur when it comes to evaluating such items, however. What value would the Colonel put on it?”
“May I?”
“Certainly.”
I assume Vikorn is now holding the vase. “Look how perfectly the potter designed these dragons more than a thousand years ago. No one in this modern age would have that kind of skill and patience, much less such an eye for beauty. Exquisite. I would say a million dollars, wouldn’t you?”
An audible sigh of relief. “Certainly, I think the Colonel has valued the vase with great precision. A million dollars, no doubt about it.”
“I’m afraid Khun Tanakan misunderstands,” Vikorn says with irritating humility. “I was referring to each of the dragons being certainly of the value of one million dollars.”
Tanakan, dully: “How many are there?”
“Quite a lot, Khun Tanakan, quite a lot.”
“Would the Colonel do me the great service of counting them?”
“Not today, Khun Tanakan, not today. I would need to study the vase in much greater depth to be able to make an assessment.”
Voice cracking a little: “Greater depth? I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Well, Khun Tanakan is known to be a very prominent collector of such objets d’art. Therefore would he agree with me that two vases may look and even be identical and yet one may fetch a far greater price because of the stories associated with it? Is that not so? Fame, even notoriety, adds so much false value these days, like Elvis Presley’s guitar. Is it not so?”
“I am afraid I am no longer following Colonel Vikorn’s brilliant train of thought.”
A polite cough. “Suppose we change the analogy somewhat. Suppose that the servant girl herself were holding it up high and threatening to smash it. Certainly Khun Tanakan would, in such circumstances, be entitled to take whatever measures necessary to protect his property.”
“Yes?”
“On the other hand, if Khun Tanakan’s measures were unfortunately to result in the untimely death of the girl…”
A strange silence. “Death of the girl?”
“I am afraid so, Khun Tanakan. I am profoundly sorry to be bringing such sad news at such a time. I think it would be insensitive of me to attempt to evaluate your exquisite vase at this moment. Another day, if Khun Tanakan will be gracious enough to spare the time?”
Defeated: “Whenever the Colonel wishes. I am at your disposal.” A hesitation, then: “Is the Colonel aware that I was in Malaysia on business for the whole of last week?”
“I was not aware of that, Khun Tanakan.”
“Might that be a factor in reducing the value of the vase?”
“It might, Khun Tanakan, it might. Clearly, the whole valuation needs mature consideration. Good afternoon, Khun Tanakan.”
“Please, let me show you out.”
As her boss opens the door, the secretary leans toward me to offer the most brazen come-on I’ve seen outside of the Game.
In the back of the old patrol car, Vikorn says, “How did I do?”
“Brilliant as usual. You saved his face with that vase thing. But he can say he never admitted anything.”
“Sure, he could say that in court and bribe the judge to make sure he got away with it. But nobody would ever believe a word he says again, especially in the international banking community, and he loves being Mr. Big-in-Banking more than he loves life.”
Vikorn and I look out of separate windows while thinking the same thought.
“Was he convincing?”
“About not knowing the girl was dead? Unclear-he’s so luak yen, anything he says is going to sound artificial. And he’s probably telling the truth about being in Malaysia last week. Anyway, what does it matter? The point was to show him there is more than an indiscretion for him to deal with-there’s a corpse as well. I’m selling absolution from a higher crime.” He passes a hand over his great wise head. “Tell you what, Sonchai. This case is getting to be one of your greatest gifts to me, and that was just so much fun with Tanakan. How about I give you twenty-one percent for charity?”