“When Rose is here,” Rafferty says.
Lek steps back, the box clutched to her bare stomach. Unlike Fon, she is shivering. And then Rose says, “Hello, Poke,” as though she’s just come back from an hour at the library, and a band around Rafferty’s chest breaks, and he throws his arms around her.
They hold each other for the space of a dozen heartbeats, and then Rose disengages herself and says, “Miaow.” She kisses Rafferty on the cheek and looks beyond him and says, “Hi, Lek.” Lek smiles like a lighthouse in the rain, gives Rafferty the box without a glance at Chu’s outstretched arms, and holds out a hand to Rose.
“Let’s get you dry,” Lek says. “In fact, let’s get both of us dry.” The two women turn and move off, toward the car at the far end.
Rafferty hands Chu the open box, and Chu reaches straight to the bottom and pulls out the envelope. He opens it and thumbs through the papers, then slips it into the pocket of his slicker. His eyes come up to Rafferty’s. Rafferty is trying to look surprised at the envelope.
“A detail,” Chu says. “Nothing important.” He is running his fingers through the rubies. Cupping the box against his body with his left arm, he reaches inside the slicker with his right, and Rafferty puts a hand on his hip, as close to the gun as he can get it without giving it away, but Chu comes out with a jeweler’s loupe and a small flashlight. He screws the loupe into his right eye, flicks on the light, and examines half a dozen stones, taking his time. Then he removes the loupe, drops it into the box, and says, “I’ll do you the honor of not counting them.” He puts his left hand back under the box.
“If you’re short,” Rafferty says, “you know where to find me.” He turns to look over his shoulder at Rose and Lek, most of the way to the end of the warehouse by now, and sees someone a dozen steps behind them.
Sriyat.
“Where’s he going?” he asks Chu.
“I have an exit to arrange,” Chu says. “This is the time to arrange it.”
Rose and Lek turn right, around the corner of Warehouse Two. Sriyat goes left, behind Warehouse One.
“Any more surprises?”
“Not from my end,” Chu says. He is still holding the box of rubies, and Rafferty thinks, Both hands busy.
The thought must have shown in his face, because Chu says, “Now, now. We’re doing so well.”
“If you can see all that, how did you ever let Frank get away?”
Chu nods as though he’s been waiting for the question. “This is a time of great opportunity. Expansion everywhere. New markets opening up. I took my eyes off him for too long. When the cat’s away-”
“If I were you,” Rafferty interrupts, “I’d stick with the canned Eastern wisdom, all those wheezes about enlightenment and confronting our fears, and leave the Western cliches to people with too much sense to use them.”
“Let’s not spoil things. I’ve actually enjoyed dealing with you. You have many characteristics I admire. You’re devious, ingenious, energetic. You have a certain flair, which as far as I can see you’re wasting completely.” Chu eyes him speculatively, and then he laughs. “What I think you’re doing,” he says, “is stalling. Do I sense a little reluctance after all?”
“You have my daughter,” Rafferty says. “I’d give you five copies of my father for her.”
“One will do.” Chu takes his open cell phone out of the pocket of his slicker and says to the fat cop, “Pradya. Bring him around.”
“Tell Pradya to stop the moment he can see us,” Rafferty says. “If he doesn’t, I’ll have him shot, and we’ll see what happens after that.”
Chu gives him the flicker of a smile and repeats Rafferty’s command into the phone. Then he turns and shouts, “Come!”
The rain has lightened to the point where Rafferty can almost see the far corner of the warehouse. A form emerges, a larger form behind it. Like a color at three or four fathoms, shifted to the blue, Miaow’s pajamas take what seems like an eternity to warm to pink, and when they do, Rafferty can’t do anything about the catch of breath.
“A father,” Chu says with considerable interest. “Selling a father.”
The man grasping Miaow’s neck is the one with the broken tooth. He steers her toward them and then stops, looking past them at something, and at the same moment Rafferty hears a shout behind him.
The fat cop is struggling with Ming Li, who has grabbed her father’s arm and is pulling him back with all her strength. Her head whips back and forth in the rain, No, and her hair flies around her like snakes, suddenly frozen into sculpture by a flash of lightning. Chu says into the phone, “Point the gun at her, you idiot. I want both of them.”
Pradya levels the gun at Ming Li’s head, and she stops. One hand drops, and then the other, and all her strength deserts her, and she sinks to her knees at Frank’s feet and cups her face in her hands.
“There’s a lesson there,” Chu says. “It’s her father, after all. Pradya, bring her.”
Rafferty says, “One at a time, remember?”
“I’m getting bored,” Chu says. “Just take the rubies, and let’s get it over with.”
Rafferty shoots one more look at Ming Li, sees Pradya pulling her to her feet as Frank stands there, loose and empty, looking a century old. Rafferty dismisses the image and crouches down, sinking his hands into the loose stones in the box.
“In fact,” Chu says above him, “we’ll take them all.”
The gun in his hand is aimed between Rafferty’s eyes.
“I just can’t make it work,” Chu says, shaking his head. “I know that Western culture doesn’t honor old people, and I know that you and your father have had problems. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t believe that you actually intend to let me take him.”
“Believe it.” Rafferty looks over his shoulder again, sees Sriyat and two other men shepherd everyone around the corner. Fon and Lek are half dressed. Rose has her arm around Noi. Leung’s hands are once again on top of his head. Sriyat and the two others have weapons trained on all of them.
“And even if I could believe it, there are all these witnesses,” Chu says. “I can’t leave them behind. So I’m afraid you’ll all have to board the ship with us. A short sail, followed by a long sink. Except for Frank, of course. I have other plans for Frank.”
“You forgot Arthit,” Rafferty says. “You haven’t got Arthit, and he knows everything.”
“I have the hospital’s name, the room number. A policeman of his rank gets shot, everyone knows.”
Rafferty shifts a millimeter or two, centering his weight over his heels. “So what? Only cops can get anywhere near him.”
“That’s right,” Chu says. “Only cops. And tonight he’ll be visited by two he’s not expecting.”
“More information than I need,” Rafferty says, just as Ming Li screams again, in anger this time, and beyond Chu he sees the man with the broken tooth pull a gun and shove Miaow violently to the pavement, and as she falls, there’s another whiplash of lightning and a burst of wind, and Rafferty clamps his teeth tightly, closes his eyes, and presses down on the lever at the back of the suitcase.
He hears a little metallic click, not much louder than someone flicking a lighter, and opens his eyes to see the bottom of the suitcase pop up, maybe three inches, maybe four, and a few loose bills flutter up and get caught by the wind.
The barrel of Chu’s gun touches the center of Rafferty’s forehead, and he looks up to see Chu studying the suitcase quizzically. “What was that?” he asks. “Special effects?” And the pressure of the gun on Rafferty’s forehead lessens slightly as Chu pulls back on the trigger.
And then it’s as though the suitcase somehow contains all the light that’s falling on the other side of the world, the bright side, and the light abruptly expands and escapes, cracking open the darkness with a dazzle that turns Chu stark white, followed by a deep, percussive boom, and suddenly the bottom of the suitcase is five feet in the air, and rubies and money are everywhere: rising against
the rain, whirled and tossed by the wind, and pelted earthward by the weight of the falling water.
Chu was looking down when the bottom of the case exploded, and now he backs away, blinded, the hand without the gun in it clawing at his eyes, a shining-wet black figure in a downpour of water, money, and precious stones. Some of the money is plastered to Chu’s slicker.
Rafferty hears two shots from behind and sees Chu trying desperately to focus his eyes just as a massive strobe of lightning freezes money, rain, and rubies in midair. Past Chu, Rafferty sees Miaow, flat on the pavement with Ping lying across her, the gun in his hand. Rafferty has his own gun out now, and he leaps across the suitcase and brings the gun up two-handed with everything he has, raking it across Chu’s throat, trying to crush the larynx, then slamming it back against the man’s cheekbone, and Chu’s head whips around, taking his shoulders with it, the slicker billowing out like a magician’s cloak. Rafferty is on his feet now, seizing Chu’s gun hand at the wrist, grabbing his elbow, and bringing up a knee to break the arm across it.
Chu screams, pivots, yanks the broken arm back, and screams again as a bullet hisses through the rain, just missing his ear, and he freezes. Ping, still covering Miaow with his body, sights to fire again. Rafferty holds out a hand, palm up, to stop him, then kicks Chu’s legs out from under him. Chu goes down, a slight, crumpled form in a wet black shroud, twisting in pain as money rains upon him.
Rafferty reaches down and takes Chu’s gun and pats him for another. Chu hisses at him but doesn’t move. Once he’s satisfied that Chu has nothing else, Rafferty turns to see one of Chu’s men flat on the ground, arms and legs splayed, and the other with his hands in the air. Pradya, Sriyat, and Leung all hold guns. Frank has Ming Li in his arms. Rose is half carrying Noi back to the car, with an over-the-shoulder look at Miaow.
Rafferty tosses Chu’s gun a few yards away and pulls the Ziploc bag from his pocket. He removes the cell phone and pushes the “dial” button. It is answered on the first ring. He says, “Between Warehouses One and Two. Come now.” He closes the phone, kicks Chu once, hard, in the area of the kidneys, just by way of letting off steam, and waves at Ping to bring Miaow. After an evaluative moment, Ping rolls off her, and Miaow gets up, her pink pajamas wet and filthy, and extends a hand to help Ping up. Ping stares at the hand for a second and then gives her an enormous broken-tooth grin, followed by an agonized grab at his mouth with his free hand. Miaow pats his arm and leads him, hand in hand, to Rafferty.
“This is Ping,” she says. “I told him he wouldn’t shoot us.”
Rafferty picks Miaow up and hugs her so tightly she grunts. Her arms circle his neck. She says, “Is your father all right?”
“He’s fine.” He kisses the part in her hair, feeling like his heart will explode.
“That’s good,” Miaow says, pulling away. She hates being kissed on the head. She takes a sniff at herself, makes a face, and says, “I want a shower.”
“If you want it,” he says, putting her down, “you’ve got it.” He turns to Ping. “Can you take her to the car?”
“I don’t know,” Ping says. “Miaow, can I take you to the car?”
“You’re silly,” Miaow says. She gives him her hand. As they walk away, Rafferty hears her say, “Does your tooth still hurt?”
Chu slowly rolls over until he is on his back. He is cradling his broken arm at the elbow. He says, “You’re dead. All of you.”
“Promises, promises.” Cones of light sweep the alleyway, silhouetting Miaow and Ping in gold, and then the car is in sight. “You’ve got a full schedule for a while.”
“You idiot,” Chu says. “I’ll be out in a week. There’s nowhere in the world you can hide. And this time I’ll make you watch people die.”
The car slows to a halt a few feet away. Rafferty says, “That thing you said about how there’s a valuable lesson in learning you don’t run the world? I hope you meant it, because you’re about to take a quantum leap in personal growth.”
The car doors shut, and Elson stands over them. “Colonel Chu,” he says, “I’m Richard Elson, United States Secret Service, and this is Lieutenant Kosit of the Bangkok Municipal Police. We’re jointly taking you into custody on behalf of the Thai authorities and the government of the United States of America, on charges of counterfeiting, racketeering, kidnapping, and the murder of an American intelligence officer.” Chu’s mouth works, but nothing comes out. “Would you mind cuffing him, Lieutenant Kosit?”
“He’s got a broken arm,” Rafferty says.
“That’s a terrible shame,” Kosit says, grabbing it. Chu emits a high-pitched shriek as Kosit twists the arm behind him and fastens the cuffs.
“Jesus,” Elson says, looking around. “We’ve got to pick up this money.”
Kosit is still bent over Chu, and Rafferty tugs his sleeve. “Get some cops into Arthit’s room,” he says. He nudges Chu with the tip of his shoe. “This murderous old shit has sent some guys after him. And choose your men wisely, because the thugs he sent are cops.”
Kosit gives Chu a look that does not suggest that the coming interrogation will be gentle. Then he moves a few feet away and pulls out his cell phone.
Elson shoves a hand under Rafferty’s nose. There are eight or nine red stones in his palm, and his brow is wrinkled. “What the hell are these?”
“They’re rubies, and they’re all over the place,” Rafferty says. “And just to keep things straight, they’re not counterfeit and they belong to my father.”
For a second, Elson is wearing his old face. “How does your father come to have a bucket of rubies?”
“Same as Peachy,” Rafferty says. “He won them in a horse race.”
44
Ping, Rose, Milk Shake, Tooth, Gun
In the middle of the wettest, warmest tangle of arms, legs, and hearts of his entire life, Rafferty is barely aware of the torrent of Thai coming from Miaow, perhaps two hundred
words a minute, far too fast for him to catch more than a phrase or a name or two: Ping, Rose, milk shake, tooth, gun. All he can do is hold on, Rose on his right and Miaow on his left, but now they’re a circle, and so Miaow is, as always, in the middle. Where she needs to be.
The circle opens to absorb Fon and Lek, both of them crying like children, and closes again. With the rain hammering down, the five of them squeeze together even more tightly, the two half-naked women no longer feeling the cold, and then the arms open a second time, and there is someone there who feels new, someone who smells new to Rafferty’s heightened senses, and they wrap themselves around Ming Li. The sky cracks, a fork of lightning fingering its way down, followed by a sound like someone crumpling iron.
With the thunder, Poke feels Rose straighten, remove her arm from his shoulder, and pull away. He looks at her. With her other arm still around Miaow, she is gazing beyond him. Rafferty turns his head to see Frank. His father stands sideways to the group, not even sheltering from the rain. He faces back down the alley between the warehouses, where it all happened.
Something warm fills Rafferty’s chest, and suddenly there are words in his mouth. And then he looks again at his father’s profile, so familiar and so strange, a face he had thought was permanently turned away, and he can’t say them. He swallows, so hard it feels as though he is forcing the words down.
Rose says, “Mr. Rafferty?”
Frank turns, and Rose raises the arm that had been around Rafferty, inviting him in. Frank stands there, not moving, until Rafferty steps aside, closer to Fon, expanding the space between him and Rose. Rafferty lifts his arm exactly as Rose has, the space between them wide and welcoming, and he hears something catch and break in Ming Li’s throat. Slowly, like a man approaching a door he thinks will be locked, Frank joins the circle. It closes around him.
The car is even more crowded on the way out: Fon sits in Lek’s lap and Ming Li in Frank’s. Miaow has spread herself across both Rafferty’s and Rose’s laps, dead weight against them. She fell asleep the moment the car door
slammed shut.
Leung is at the wheel. Noi is slumped against the front passenger door, next to Frank. Rafferty can hear her breath whistling in her throat.
With a last look back, Leung puts the car in gear and heads for the gates.
The silence in the car is a kind of warmth, a comforting insulation that makes the events of the last hour seem very distant, perhaps not even real. What’s real now is a car jammed with people, bunched up against each other as though by choice, the steam of breath on window glass, the walls of the warehouses as they slide by in the headlights.
Frank suddenly sits upright and looks back, and Rafferty cranes his neck around, expecting the nightmare to reemerge: men with guns, Chu free somehow, looming out of the darkness with his slicker flapping around him, but he sees nothing. And then Frank begins to laugh.
“What?” Ming Li asks. “What is it?”
“Nothing important,” Frank says, and then he laughs again. “I forgot my rubies.”
45
White
He has been underground a long time. Stones push down on his chest. Some of them have been sharpened to points. Every time he breathes, he has to push the stones up with
his chest to make room for the air. The air smells surprisingly of linoleum, alcohol, something unidentifiable that’s as sweet and heavy as syrup, and, floating on top of all the other smells, a razor-sharp note of fresh linen.
The light comes closer. It seems to be finding its way by touch, spreading pale tendrils in all directions: forward, left and right, up and down, but always moving toward him. He waits, pushing up the stones with every half breath, watching the light extend itself toward him, now not so much smoke as a shining vine. When the vine reaches him, it will wrap itself around him, put down microscopic roots, fill him with light. Once he is charged with light, feels it surging tidally through his body until he is radiant with it, he will be able to lift the stones.
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