"You choose the place?"
"Of course."
"We could be walking into a setup."
"Why would I set you up? This is business. I'm not going to kill all these people if I don't have to. Bodies everywhere? That could come back to sting me. We Chinese come from villages, we live with hornets. We know better than to punch holes in the nest. I get what I want, you get what you want, and we shake hands. The hornets stay home."
"I'm not happy about you choosing the place."
"Think of it as an opportunity for greater understanding. Learning that you don't actually run the world can be a valuable lesson. Perhaps we should both consider this interaction a step toward enlightenment."
"Gee," Rafferty says. "How can I say no to that?"
"You can't," Chu says. He hangs up.
Rafferty folds the phone and says, "Let's pack the money." AN HOUR LATER Lek says, "It's going to be cold."
"It was colder in the bar," Fon replies. "Didn't you bathe in the rain in your village when you were a kid? I remember waiting with my shampoo every time it got cloudy." She has sacrificed the rubber bands in her hair to wrap money, so she roots through Mrs. Pongsiri's box of scrunchies for a color she likes, a heavy twist of hair wrapped around her free hand. "Anyway, it's for Rose."
"Done," Kosit says, carrying the suitcase into the room. Judging from the slump in his right shoulder, it's heavy. "I only fastened one clasp because you're going to need a hand free. Just remember to put it down flat. Keep the handle toward Chu." He sets it carefully on the couch. "And if you pop the lever, don't look down at it."
"Is it going to work?"
"Fifty-fifty."
"Jesus. Couldn't you lie to me?"
"It's foolproof," Kosit says.
His cell phone rings.
"Kosit," he says, and he looks up at Rafferty, and then his eyes bounce away. "Yeah, yeah. What's he say?" He closes his eyes as though he is praying. "Fine," he says at last. "Thanks for the call."
Rafferty's forehead is suddenly wet. "What?"
"He's stable. They're still worried about shock and infection, but if he makes it through the night, he's got a chance." He wipes the back of his hand roughly over his mouth. "I'd kill for a beer."
"You don't have to exert yourself. Got some in the refrigerator."
"No. I'd pass out. I feel like I've been awake for a week."
"We'll have one later. Together. When this is over."
"With Arthit," Kosit says. "We'll all go – " he says, but he's cut off by his phone, which is ringing again. He pats his pockets frantically before realizing it's still in his hand. "Kosit," he says. He listens for a second and then says, "Fine." He folds it, looks at it like it just materialized, and puts it in his shirt pocket, tapping it once so he'll remember where he put it. "Car's downstairs," he says. "White Toyota, pulled out of the impound lot. No antennas, no fancy paint job. No super-duper ultra- beam halogen headlights. Looks like every other car in Bangkok."
Rafferty nods. "Ladies?"
For a moment he doesn't think they heard him. The women sit absolutely still as the silence stretches out. Then Fon reaches into the front of her T-shirt. When her hand comes out, it has her Buddhist amulet in it. She puts it between her palms, presses her hands together in a praying position, and raises them to her face. She bows her head. One by one the other women repeat her movements. Last of all, Mrs. Pongsiri fishes inside her silk blouse and brings out a golden amulet on a heavy chain. She brings her hands around it and lowers her head. They sit there, five women whose lives have been almost impossibly difficult, and offer their prayers for Rose, Miaow, and Noi.
Rafferty puts his hand on his own amulet, the one Rose gave him, and then he bolts from the room. He closes the bathroom door behind him and lets the sobs rise up and escape. It feels like they've been battering at the door for days. When he can control his breathing again, he throws cold water on his face, scrubs himself dry, and goes back into the living room. Fon, Lek, and Kosit are waiting at the front door, Kosit holding the suitcase. Leung stands behind Pradya, a cautionary hand on his shoulder.
Rafferty picks up the box of rubies and says, "Time for the swap meet."
42
They've All Got Their Little Hatchets
The chalkboard nailed to the wall says SPECIASL OF THE WEKE. Below the misspellings, which are hand-lettered in what looks like indelible paint, the board is blank.
"I hope that's not my week," Frank says.
Rafferty says, "We'll try to see that it isn't."
Ming Li sips a watery iced coffee and says, "How do you find these restaurants?" She puts the glass down, and the sound when it hits the table makes Pradya, seated across the restaurant with Leung, jump. Pradya is on the phone with Chu, letting him know they have Frank. His hand is cupped over the phone, but Leung has leaned forward to listen. He glances up at Rafferty and nods.
"I guess we're on," Frank says. His forehead is beaded with sweat. One leg jitters up and down beneath the table, providing a rhythm track to whatever is going through his head. He looks at the tabletop, dips a finger in the condensation at the bottom of his own glass, and begins to draw a series of wet loops, like a stretched spring. Ming Li watches his finger move, as intently as if he were writing a secret language only they can read, and Rafferty briefly wonders whether it is. Frank's hand is trembling, and he pulls it back and puts it in his lap.
Not surprisingly, given the hour, they are the only people in the restaurant, which is just off Khao San, a few blocks from the guesthouse. Fon and Lek are waiting in the car, chattering nervously. When the five of them came in, the waitress, who had been bent over a brightly colored book called Let's English! had gotten up and turned on the television. During the ten minutes they've been there, Steven Seagal has killed a dozen people with no apparent change of expression.
"Poke," Frank says. He is drawing loops again, and he waits until Rafferty looks over at him. "I'm sorry."
"I should be apologizing to you," Rafferty says. "You were right. If I hadn't brought Arnold into this, you'd probably be gone by now."
"I didn't mean that," Frank says, the words so soft that Rafferty's not sure he understood them. A series of grunts from the television is followed by a stitchery of gunfire from an automatic. No one bothers to look. "I meant for everything."
Ming Li has fixed an urgent stare on Poke, but Rafferty can't find a reply. Something Rose said goes through his mind, something about his having all those words in his head, but none of the ones he really needs.
"Just… you know," Frank says. "Whatever happens, I wanted to say that."
Rafferty says, "Thank you."
"Is this going to work?" Ming Li demands.
"I don't know." Rafferty picks up his own iced coffee and drains it. It's awful, but he needs the caffeine. "What I do know is that we have to try. I owe it to Arthit, I owe it to Rose and Miaow, and I guess I owe it to you. Chu's not going to quit. If you got up right now and walked out of here, he'd find you and it would all start over again."
"You're right," Frank says. "Chu's never given up on anything in his life."
"What haven't we thought of?" Ming Li asks.
"A hundred things," Rafferty says. "What if he just shoots us all as we come in? What if there are a dozen guys we don't know about? What if the place is booby-trapped?"
"He won't shoot us when we come in, and there won't be a booby trap," Frank says. "He won't do anything until he knows we've got everything he wants. He probably won't do anything until it's all in his hands. Chu is a lot of things, but he's not impulsive. It's taken him years to build all this-the rubies, the documents, the American identity. He needs this exit more than he needs anything else in the world. So as much as he wants to kill me, he'll wait. He'll wait until he's got everything."