‘If we asked them to pull in their oars and let us row we’d be there in half the time,’ said Civilai. ‘They do realize that only sailing boats have a need to tack, don’t they?’
‘Where else were we going to find a boat to take us upriver?’ Daeng asked. ‘And look at them. They’re all so happy.’
‘They’re on something,’ said Civilai, who spoke from experience.
When Daeng and her team had first approached the URC and suggested a journey upstream, she’d expected to haggle a price. But the crew was so pumped with adrenalin from the races, it was up for anything. They’d booted out half a dozen rowers who seemed not to care in the least and made space for the guests. Against the current they barely caused a breeze but Ugly’s tongue unfurled above the cool water as he scanned the bank ahead for hostiles. Daeng leaned back against Siri’s chest. Mr Geung rehearsed the words he’d use to placate his fiancee. The crew was passing around several plastic bottles from which they swigged with great enthusiasm.
‘I could use some of that,’ shouted Civilai.
A housewife handed him one of the containers and winked. He took a swig and spat it out. Coconut water.
‘This is all you’re drinking?’ he said with amazement.
‘Of course,’ said the old village headman.
‘But you all seem so … stoned. How can that be?’
‘We work hard,’ said the old man. ‘We don’t have a lot of chance to play, but when it comes, we play hard too. We don’t need stimulants.’
‘Remarkable,’ said Civilai.
‘Adrenalin,’ said Siri. ‘If only you could mix it with soda and ice.’ He watched the elderly lady in front of him who paddled with gusto even though her oar was too short to reach the water.
‘Has anyone considered what we might do when we get there?’ Civilai asked.
‘We might ask someone whether back in 1978 they remember seeing a naval vessel full of engineers,’ said Siri, prompting laughter from his shipmates.
‘Then perhaps there’ll be enough time for someone to explain why the elephant thing was so relevant,’ said Daeng.
‘The elephant,’ Civilai began. ‘A noble creature used for hundreds of years as a pack animal. Its courtship has been compared by many to the politburo. Much show and trumpeting but you don’t see any results for two years. Moody beasts whose strength is all in the neck with a surprisingly weak back. They were gradually replaced by asses and ponies and trucks. During the war — hard times — some were eaten. Nutritious but a bit like chewing on one’s favourite shoe. The population dwindled but you’ll find more here in Sanyaburi than any other province. That is largely because it’s one of only two border provinces you don’t have to swim to from Thailand. A lot of our most profitable smuggling of goods takes place right here and much of the jungle is only accessible by elephant. Lesser pack animals are easily spooked and unwilling to cut new swathes through dense undergrowth.
‘Once the Thailand trade was squeezed out by the Party and diverted to the Vietnamese border, business over on the west flank changed direction. Export switched to import. Black market goods flooded in across this porous border with the tacit knowledge of the local administrators. The things we lacked — which are many — they had. But it’s very much a one way trade. Empty elephants to Thailand. Full elephants to Laos. So, the question is, why have fifteen elephants been showering and frolicking at the riverside for three days when there’s smuggling to be done? It can only be because they’ve been booked. They’re waiting for a delivery. Something to take to Thailand.’
‘It could be something completely unrelated,’ said Daeng. ‘The sleazy governor might be exporting something.’
‘Very true, Madame Daeng,’ Civilai agreed. ‘But the governor has to maintain his position. Has to show his loyalty to the Party. He’s not going to blatantly load up fifteen elephants in the middle of the boat races with all us outsiders around. No, I’d say this is a private booking and I bet you it has something to do with your witch. For some reason, she’s prepared to risk everyone seeing and I bet it’s because she has a very narrow aperture of opportunity. This has to be done now. There’s something they want to ship to Thailand in a hurry.’
‘What?’ asked Daeng.
‘I think that’s a question we might get answers for if ever we catch up with the cruiser,’ said Siri. ‘And, brother …’
‘Yes?’
‘You did so well with the elephant question, here’s your bonus history question for two hundred points.’
‘I’m ready.’
‘What of significance happened in this country in 1910?’
‘1910? Let me see, France and Siam were busy slicing us up and winning parts of us like poker chips. Sanyaburi found itself back in French hands.’
‘I wonder if that’s got anything to do with it?’ said Siri.
‘The resident general experimented with making the whole country a free trade area. No notable battles, births or deaths as far as I know.’
‘Boring. That’s all?’ said Daeng.
‘It’s quite a significant amount,’ Civilai pointed out. ‘And I’ve given you more than you’d learn at a Convenient History 101 course you might study at Dong Dok College. The world began in 1975 as far as they’re concerned. What did you want exactly?’
‘I was hoping for a key,’ said Siri. ‘1910 was the clue.’
‘I still think it’s a phone number,’ said Daeng. ‘1910.’
‘Not an active one,’ Civilai told her. ‘Numbers 1000 to 2000 were decommissioned after the takeover. That was the French network.’
‘There it is,’ said Siri. ‘The French connection again.’
‘So we’d not be able to discover which department or household used that number before it was decommissioned?’ asked Daeng.
‘Not on a leaky boat in the middle of the Mekhong,’ said Civilai. ‘When we get back to Vientiane we can go through the files at the central post office.’
‘No. It’s a date,’ said Siri. ‘I’m sure of it.’
The rowers at the front of the boat were yelling excitedly. They’d seen something in the water. Some tried to stand to see over the heads in front but the movement unsettled the fine balance.
‘What is it?’ Civilai asked.
‘No idea,’ said Siri.
The URC boat was steered without a rudder through some group osmosis which explained why it spent so much time zagging. But somehow it found its way to the left bank and defied the current that was so eager to send it home. Ugly barked. Everyone stared to the right. Nobody spoke. There was no breeze, no cloud, seemingly no weather at all.
‘My heavens,’ said Siri.
‘It … it’s waving,’ said Mr Geung.
Despite the fact that nobody was rowing, the boat held its place in the river and angled towards the open water where a hand protruded, its fingers splayed. It seemed to be telling them to stop.
A cacophony of sound drummed through Siri’s head: screams and gunshots and loud Chinese music. He pressed his palms against his ears, closed his eyes, and straight away he knew whose hand this was.
‘Grab it,’ he shouted.
They all looked at him as if he were mad. Nobody in their right mind would invite the Siren of the water to drag them down into the depths. Nobody would take hold of that dead hand and allow the evil spirits to escape into a live body. Reluctantly they rowed towards the hand. Siri dared touch it. He reached over the side of the longboat, lunged but missed. But Daeng behind him was more successful. She caught hold of the wrist with two hands. To everyone’s shock the hand arrested the flow of the heavy teak vessel like an anchor. The longboat wheeled around and Siri scurried back to help his wife. He took hold of the slender hand.
‘Row to the bank,’ he cried.
And row they did, as hard as they were able. But the hand in the river was stronger. Siri and Daeng held on with all their might but the boat was going nowhere.
‘Put your backs into it,’ Civilai shouted.
Every man, woman, amputee and child leaned into their oars if only to get away from that horrifying hand. After several minutes, the rowers were panting but the hand held firm.