That strikes me as extremely unlikely. Khun Pongsak has vouched for him, after all.”
I said, “You mean Pongsak, the soothsayer who you just bribed?”
Griswold nodded feebly, and you didn’t have to believe in astral and planetary influences on human events to grasp that Friday was going to be memorable.
The plan was for Nitrate to pick Ellen and Bill up at the Oriental at seven Friday morning before the morning traffic became too grisly. We would all have breakfast together by the pool, and then Bill, Ellen, and Gary would go sit under the banyan tree in the back of the garden and hash out their differences. Then Griswold would either proceed with his turning over Algonquin Steel to Anant na Ayudhaya at midday for the Sayadaw project, or he would do something else.
All that began to fall apart at six ten. That’s when Nitrate drove back through the gate at the safe house ten minutes after he had departed. He told Pugh, who told Timmy and me, that roadblocks had been set up by the army — all over Bangkok, apparently — and nobody in the city was going anywhere.
Public transportation didn’t seem to be running either. Minutes later, Pugh’s cell phone began to ring. Pugh’s crew started monitoring Bangkok television and radio stations. No official word had yet come from anyone, including the king. But everyone in the city seemed to have concluded that a military takeover of Thailand’s democratically elected government was under way.
Griswold came down from his room and looked almost cheerful. A nurse had been in to change his dressings and bandages, and he appeared less beat-up and bedraggled than he had a day earlier.
The air hadn’t yet turned hot and soggy, so we all gathered by the pool for tea and fruit. Pugh had somebody walk over to the Topmost and come back with some rice and a bag of bacon.
I tried to phone Ellen and Bill at the Oriental to alert them that no one would be picking them up anytime soon. But by then the cell phone circuits were all jammed and I was unable to get through. The landline at the safe house wasn’t working either. The hotel staff would no doubt cheerfully explain to Ellen and Bill about the coup, an occasional feature of the Land of Smiles.
Griswold beamed. “Khun Anant is as good as his word.
General Yodying will be history by the end of the day, and we’ll all be safe and free to resume our lives. Isn’t that great?”
258 Richard Stevenson
Timmy said, “What will become of Yodying? Will he be prosecuted for corruption?”
“Perhaps,” Griswold said. “Or he may flee the country. That sort of thing happens.”
Pugh said, “He might fly to Singapore and visit his money.”
Kawee, Mango and Miss Nongnat came outside and joined us. They were all antiregime and were delighted to see the scoundrels getting heaved out.
Kawee said, “His Majesty the King, he save us one more time. I love my king!”
“Won’t there be any resistance?” I asked. “The regime must have some support or they wouldn’t have been elected.”
“Pro-regime crowds will march around yelling and waving signs,” Pugh said. “But they won’t challenge the army. As soon as an official announcement comes from the palace endorsing the coup, people will go home and have some rice and burn incense and light candles and watch soap operas. Then in six months or so, new elections will produce another coalition of crooks to run the country in cooperation with the banks and the soothsayers and the tourism board. And the endless Thai cycle of political birth, death and rebirth will resume. It’s all reassuring, if you really think about it. It works quite as well as the political setup in, say, New Jersey, is my impression.”
“It works,” Griswold said, “because Buddhists understand and accept that nothing is permanent. Change is the only reality, and Thais accept that truth and even embrace it. This attunement with life’s deepest reality is why I love this country, and it is why this time I will never again make the mistake of leaving Thailand.”
Pugh said, “Good luck, Mr. Gary. Just don’t neglect to do your visa runs.”
Griswold said, “I really am sorry I won’t be able to speak with Ellen and Bill before the Algonquin Steel takeover and the commencement of the Sayadaw project. I think I might have been able to help them understand that it’s best for all the Griswolds just to move on. Business isn’t permanent. Family history isn’t permanent. The only thing permanent is the spirit of the Enlightened One and his teachings and, of course, the Sangha that perpetuates his teachings.”
Pugh said, “I share your sentiments, Khun Gary, and I am deeply disappointed that apparently I will not have the opportunity to observe, even from a distance, your explaining these matters to your older brother and your ex-wife. That would have been a sight to behold.”
“Well,” Griswold said, “those necessary explanations will have to take place in retrospect.”
“It’s bound to be dramatic either way.”
By three in the afternoon, no official announcement had been made of a change of government. Speculation was rampant on the radio stations and television news channels as to what this might mean. Did the king change his mind? Was the aged king perhaps unwell, or worse? At three ten, Pugh’s operatives, who had been out and about, began to filter back to the safe house. They all reported that the roadblocks were being removed and the military trucks and troop carriers were disappearing. Public transportation was soon up and running.
Radio and television began to report that the roadblocks and military operations were merely part of an “exercise” and that, contrary to widespread rumor, no coup had taken place.
Pugh said, “This is interesting.”
Griswold said, “Oh fuck.”
Pugh said, “That too.”
Just after four, nine police vehicles pulled up in front of the safe house. Black-uniformed commandos quickly scaled the walls on four sides to prevent any of us from making a run for it.
A captain in a uniform that appeared freshly washed and pressed despite the heat had all of us gathered together in one place. He said calmly, “Please come with me. General Yodying wishes to speak with you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
At the police station, we were all placed inside the same holding cell. Four unwashed men with multiple tattoos were already in there, lying on the concrete floor, and they looked unhappy to see us. This was perhaps because now they would have to share the single pail being used for urination and defecation with the fifteen of us. The cell was unfurnished except for the reeking bucket, and somebody had forgotten to equip the room with air-conditioning.
“Surely they won’t keep us here for long,” Griswold said, and all the English-speaking Thais in the cell turned away from him and fixed their gazes instead on the cockroaches crawling up the walls.
Timmy said, “I was once in a cell like this in rural India. It takes me back.”
“You deal drugs?” Mango asked.
“No, I had transported a village boy trampled by a bull to a hospital, and as a bureaucratic precaution, two policeman took me to jail, just in case it had been I who had crushed the boy’s pelvis.”
“How long you stay?” Kawee asked.
“Just overnight. The district poultry officer came and bribed somebody to release me.”
Now everyone looked at Griswold again, Mister Moneybags.
Pugh said, “The general may let us marinate a bit. To clear our minds.”
“I really don’t see why he is doing this,” Griswold said.
“Obviously Yodying is in this with Anant. They have swindled me out of just about everything I own, including my family’s company. What more can they possibly extract from me?”
“I am sure they are at this very moment compiling a list, Khun Gary. What else have you got?”
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“My condo. What’s left of the cash in the vault under my spirit house. Minus, of course, the two hundred fifty thousand I handed over to Seer Pongsak last night. Oh. I suppose he was also a party to the scam. And he knew where my cash reserves were kept. So I suppose he informed Anant and Yodying, who went over to the condo and helped themselves.”