Having reacted with more passion than was his custom, Hatcher had shut up and now he sat alone deep in thought. He did not see Wonderboy approach him from the side of the house.
‘Mr. Hatcher?’ he said. ‘It is Hatcher, isn’t it?’ The musician, who had repaired his streaked face with fresh paint, stood against the wall of the house with his hands in his pockets.
‘That’s right,’ the whispering man croaked.
‘You saved my life,’ Wonder boy said. ‘And I, uh don’t know how to thank you. But I want you to know nobody was out to get you.’
‘You’d have done the same for me,’ said Hatcher. ‘No, no,’ Wonderboy said, shaking his head. ‘I choked, man. It wasn’t just that I was scared, I couldn’t pull the trigger,’
‘Did that ever happen before?’
Wonderboy stared off at the dead tiger from behind his mask, and after a few seconds he nodded.
‘So forget it,’ said Hatcher. ‘You can live forever without ever touching another gun.’
‘That isn’t it.’
‘Then, what is it?’
Wonderboy took his hands out of his pockets. He wrapped them around his chest, hugging himself as if he were cold.
‘Survival.’
‘Survival,’ Hatcher repeated flatly.
‘Hell, if it ain’t one war, it’s another.’
‘You won’t have to go to any more wars, Wonderboy.’
‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how you thank someone who’s saved your life. The Japanese have a word for it, but I don’t remember what it is.’
‘Ongaeshi,’ Hatcher said.
‘Yeah, that’s it. It means, you know, like a big debt.’
‘It means an obligation to repay,’ said Hatcher.
‘Yeah. Well, ongaeshi , Mr. Hatcher.’
Hatcher stepped closer to Wonderboy and leaned against the wall beside him. ‘Would you like to try?’ his hoarse voice asked.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Who is Thai Horse, Wonderboy?’
Wonderboy stared off at the other regulars on the other side of the yard. ‘What’s a Thai Horse?’ he asked, still watching the dancers.
‘Ongaeshi, Wonderboy.’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘Let’s try another one. Is Murphy Cody alive?’
‘Who?’
‘Murph Cody.’
‘What do you want with him?’ Wonderboy asked. ‘What’d you say his name is?’
‘Cody,’ Hatcher said softly.
‘Yeah, Cody.’
‘I have a message for him.’
‘A message?’
‘That’s all there is to it.’
Wonderboy nodded slowly and, moving away from Hatcher toward the rest of the group and not looking at him, said, ‘Well, if I should run into somebody by that name I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.’
Wonderboy walked away. The dancers had finished their musical drama and were fawning over the regulars. Earp was chatting with the dancer who had portrayed the tiger, and Wonderboy leaned over and spoke softly into his ear. Earp looked over at Hatcher and then, taking the yellow-faced dancer by the arm, led her across the yard to Hatcher.
‘This is Namtaan,’ Earp said. ‘She wants to meet the great white hunter. Namtaan, this is Hatcher.’
‘How do you do,’ Hatcher said.
‘It is a pleasure,’ she said. ‘So you are the tiger killer.’ ‘We all had a hand in it.’
‘And did everyone have a hand in saving Wonderboy’s life? You are too modest, Mr. Hatcher.’ She looked up at him with penetrating eyes.
‘It’s not modesty,’ Hatcher said, looking at Earp. ‘Everybody here depends on everybody else. It’s something I missed in the war. My job was a very solitary one.’
‘That is very sad,’ she said.
‘Uh-huh,’ he growled with a shrug. ‘Well, we Westerners have a saying, “You’re never too old to learn.”
‘There’s the other side of that .com,’ said Earp. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
Hatcher smiled. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘take your pick.’
‘He says you asked him about an old Thai legend.’
‘Oh? What legend was that?’
‘The legend of the Thai Horse.’
‘He was only partly right. I wasn’t talking about the old Thai Horse legend, I was talking about the new Thai Horse legend.’
‘The new Thai Horse legend?’
‘I’m looking for one who calls himself Thai Horse,’ Hatcher replied, staring straight into her dark brown eyes.
‘I do not understand,’ she said_
‘I think Mr. Earp does,’ Hatcher said.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Earp. ‘Why don’t we stop kidding each other,’ Hatcher said bluntly. ‘I was told that a man named Murphy Cody calls himself Thai Horse.’
‘Cody was killed in the war,’ Earp said, almost too casually.
‘Maybe not,’ Hatcher answered.
‘And why would he do this? Call himself Thai Horse?’
‘Because he buys and sells heroin. He kills others and steals it from them. He buys babies and kills them and smuggles dope in their bodies.’
Namtaan looked at Hatcher for a few moments, then turned abruptly and entered the house. Earp followed her, stopping at the door.
‘C’mon,’ he said to Hatcher. ‘She won’t bite.’
The interior of the small house was dark and cool. The windows and shutters were closed against the early afternoon sun and an air conditioner purred softly somewhere. Sunlight slanted through the slats in the shutters, casting harsh slivers on the plank flooring. She sat down on an ancient, battered sofa.
‘Sit down,’ she said.
Earp leaned against a table sipping his drink. Hatcher sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
‘Who is this Cody?’ she asked.
‘Why are you so interested?’
‘Please, cooperate with me for a few minutes,’ she said almost plaintively.
As Hatcher and Namtaan talked, the other regulars started drifting into the room. Prophett and Melinda sat quietly in a corner, Prophett sprawled loosely in a chair, making aimless little marks on the floor with the toe of his good foot. Riker leaned in the doorway, drinking a beer, and Gallagher sat on the arm of a chair with his arms folded across his chest. Hatcher tried to ignore them.
‘Murph Cody is the man I came to Thailand to find,’ he said emphatically. ‘I’m only interested in Thai Horse as it relates to him.’
‘Why do you seek him?’
‘It’s personal.’
‘Do you know him?’
‘We were friends a long time ago.’
‘Is that why you are looking for him?’
Hatcher thought about the question for a moment, then said, ‘That’s part of it.’
‘Who told you Cody called himself Thai Horse?’ Earp asked.
As Hatcher’s eyes became more accustomed to the room he became aware that there was another person there. The old Chinese who had been attending the cook pots had also entered the room. He was a dim figure, an old, stooped man sitting in the darkest corner of the room.
‘A man named Wol Pot, a North Vietnamese POW commandant during the war. His real name was Taisung and he ran a camp called the Huie-kui in Laos.’
‘And how did he know Cody?’
‘I think Cody was one of his prisoners.’
‘I told you,’ Earp repeated, ‘Cody was killed in a plane crash in 1972.’
‘And how would you know that?’ Hatcher asked.
‘I read it somewhere,’ Earp snapped back.
‘A common misapprehension, said Hatcher.
‘Misapprehension?’ Namtaan said.
‘A lie.’
‘Why do you think so?’ she asked.
‘Because it was to Wol Pot’s advantage to turn up Cody. He wanted a visa to the United States. Cody was to be his trade.’
‘And why would Cody be that important?’
‘His father was general of the army during the war.’
‘Perhaps this informant was playing a game.’
‘Perhaps.’
‘But you don’t think so?’
‘No.’
‘You give such quick answers, Mr. Hatcher, I hope you don’t feel like I am interrogating you,’ she said with a smile.