“Don’t be a pessimist. The anchor pads are the best of all possible places. Those two weevils over there coughed up 200,000 baht, no trouble at all. Too much money to be involved in anything honest.” Jaidee grins. “I should have come here a long time ago and taught these heeya a lesson. Better than wandering the river with a kink-spring skiff, arresting children for generip smuggling. At least this is honest work.”
“But it will get Trade involved for certain. By law, it’s their turf. ”
“By any sane law, none of this should be imported at all.” Jaidee waves a hand, dismissive. “Laws are confusing documents. They get in the way of justice.”
“Justice is always lost where Trade is concerned.”
“We’re both more than aware of that. In any case, it’s my head. You won’t be touched a bit. You couldn’t have stopped me, even if you had known where we were going tonight.”
“I wouldn’t—” Kanya starts.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s time that Trade and its pet farang felt a sting here. They were complacent, and needed a reminder that they still must perform the occasional khrab to the idea of our laws.” Jaidee pauses, surveying the wreckage again. “There’s truly nothing else on the black lists?”
Kanya shrugs. “Just the rice. Everything else is innocuous enough, on paper. No breeding specimens. No genetics in suspension.”
“But?”
“Much of it will be misused. Nutrient cultures can’t have any good purpose.” Kanya is back to her blank and depressed expression. “Should we pack it all back up?”
Jaidee grimaces, finally shakes his head. “No. Burn it.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Burn it. We both know what is happening here. Give the farang something to claim against their insurance companies. Let them know that their activity is not free.” Jaidee grins. “Burn it all. Every last crate.”
And for the second time that night, as shipping crates crackle with fire and WeatherAll oils rush and ignite and kick sparks into the air like prayers going up to heaven, Jaidee has the satisfaction of seeing Kanya smile again.
It is nearly morning by the time Jaidee returns home. The ji ji ji of jingjok lizards punctuates the creak of cicadas and the high whine of mosquitoes. He slips off his shoes and climbs the steps, teak creaking under his feet as he steals into his stilt-house, feeling the smooth wood under his soles, soft and polished against his skin.
He opens the screened door and slips inside, closing the door quickly behind him. They’re close to the khlong, only meters away, and the water is brackish and thick. The mosquitoes swarm close.
Inside, a single candle burns, illuminating Chaya where she lies on a floor couch, asleep, waiting. He smiles tenderly and slips into the bathroom to quickly disrobe and pour water over his shoulders. He tries to be quick and quiet about his bath, but water spatters flatly on the wood. He dips water again and spills it over his back. Even in the dead of night the air is warm enough that he doesn’t mind the water’s slight chill. In the hot season, everything is a relief.
When he comes out of his bath with a sarong wrapped around his waist, Chaya is awake, looking up at him with thoughtful brown eyes. “You’re very late,” she says. “I was worried.”
Jaidee grins. “You should know better than to worry. I’m a tiger.” He nuzzles close to her. Kisses her gently.
Chaya grimaces and pushes him away. “Don’t believe everything the newspapers say. A tiger.” She makes a face. “You smell like smoke.”
“I just bathed.”
“It’s in your hair.”
He rocks back on his heels. “It was a very good night.”
She smiles in the darkness, her white teeth flashing, mahogany skin a dull sheen in the black. “Did you strike a blow for our Queen?”
“I struck a blow against Trade.”
She flinches. “Ah.”
He touches her arm. “You used to be happy when I made important people angry.”
She pushes away from him and stands, starts straightening the cushions. Her movements are abrupt, irritated. “That was before. Now I worry about you.”
“You shouldn’t.” Jaidee moves out of her way as she finishes with the couch. “I’m surprised you bother to wait up. If I were you, I would go to sleep and dream beautiful dreams. Everyone has given up on controlling me. I’m just a line-item expense for them, now. I’m too popular with the people to do anything about. They put spies on me to watch me, but they do nothing to stop me anymore.”
“A hero to the people, and a thorn for the Ministry of Trade. I would rather have Trade Minister Akkarat as a friend and the people as your enemy. We’d all be safer.”
“You didn’t think so when you married me. You liked that I was a fighter. That I had so many victories in Lumphini Stadium. You remember?”
She doesn’t answer. Instead begins rearranging the cushions again, refusing to turn around. Jaidee sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder, pulls her up to face him, so that he can see her eyes. “Anyway, why is it that you bring this up, now? Am I not here? And perfectly fine?”
“When they shot you, you weren’t so fine.”
“That’s in the past.”
“Only because they put you behind a desk, and General Pracha paid reparations.” She holds up her hand, showing her own missing fingers. “Don’t tell me you’re safe. I was there. I know what they can do.”
Jaidee makes a face. “We aren’t safe in any case. If it’s not Trade, it’s blister rust or cibiscosis or something else, something worse. We aren’t living in a perfect world anymore. This isn’t the Expansion.”
She opens her mouth to respond, then closes it and turns away. Jaidee waits, letting her master herself. When she turns back, her emotions are under control again. “No. You’re right. None of us are safe. I wish, though.”
“You might as well run to Ta Prachan market and get an amulet, for all the good wishing does.”
“I did. The one with Phra Seub. But you don’t wear it.”
“Because it’s just superstition. Whatever happens to me is my kamma. A magic amulet isn’t going to change that.”
“Still, it doesn’t hurt.” She pauses. “I would feel better if you wore it.”
Jaidee smiles and starts to make a joke of it, but something in her expression makes him change his mind. “Fine. If it makes you happy. I’ll wear your Phra Seub.”
From the sleeping rooms, a noise echoes, a wet coughing. Jaidee stiffens. Chaya shifts and looks over her shoulder to the noise. “It’s Surat.”
“Did you take him to Ratana?”
“It’s not her job to examine sick children. She has real work to do. Real genehacks to worry over.”
“Did you take him or not?”
Chaya sighs. “She said it’s not an upgrade. Nothing to worry about.”
Jaidee tries not to let his relief show. “Good.” The coughing comes again. It reminds him of Num, dead and gone. He fights off sadness.
Chaya touches his chin, pulls his attention back to her. Smiles up at him. “So what is it that left you smelling of smoke, noble warrior, defender of Krung Thep? Why so pleased with yourself?”
Jaidee smiles slightly. “You can read it in the whisper sheets tomorrow.”
She purses her lips. “I’m worried about you. Really.”
“That’s because you have a good heart. But you shouldn’t worry. They’re done with heavy-handed measures against me. It went badly the last time. The papers and whisper sheets liked the story too much. And our most revered Queen has registered her own support for what I do. They’ll keep their distance. Her Majesty the Queen, at least, they still respect.”