The man has paled. He opens his eyes and pats his bare chest, as though checking a pocket for cigarettes.
"You're not wearing a shirt," Rafferty reminds him.
"Cigarette," the man says. It is a croak.
Rafferty extends an empty hand and tilts it side to side to say he doesn't have any. "You want a glass of water?"
"Never." The man shudders. "I'll never drink water again."
"Pak didn't notice the rock," Rafferty says. "Nobody knows about it except you and me."
"I need to think," the man says.
"Want me to go down and get you some cigarettes while you work it out?"
"No. Yes."
"My treat," Rafferty says. He got up. "Just make sure you're here when I get back, because if you're not, Madame Wing is going to be very upset with you."
28
The guard was promised a million baht," Rafferty says.
"Did he get it?" Arthit is on a car phone that keeps fritzing in and out.
"Not yet."
"That might be good for us," Arthit says. "Unlikely as it seems, Chouk might try to make payment."
"Chouk came up to him in a restaurant one night, sat down, and started talking. Said he had it all worked out, had the plan in place. All he needed was the location of the safe and a couple of hours on the property."
"And the guard knew where the safe was."
"Helped to dig the hole. He'd worked there almost twenty years."
"He let these guys in after twenty years in the house? Doesn't say much for loyalty."
"Madame Wing isn't someone who inspires much loyalty."
Rafferty is lying full length on the couch, trying to find somewhere to rest his weight that doesn't hurt. Late-afternoon sun slants malevolently through the sliding glass door. Miaow has not come home from school yet, and the boy is off somewhere. Probably sharpening his teeth.
"You there?" Arthit asks.
"Just lolling around. It may be hard for you to imagine, Arthit, just how leisurely my life actually is."
"What could be in a cardboard envelope that's worth a million baht?"
"For all I know, it's her diary. This is not a woman with a sunny past."
"Does the guard have a way to reach Chouk?"
"He says not. Says Chouk will call him when the money's ready."
"Trusting soul, isn't he?" Arthit says.
"He's barely sentient."
"Are you going to tell Madame Wing about this?"
"I don't know," Rafferty says. "They really beat the shit out of him, and that was when they only suspected he was involved."
"So what's the next move?"
"We assume he's going to get paid."
"Why? Chouk's other little helper got killed."
"Whatever was in that safe, I think Tam got shot because he saw it. The guard got off the property and stayed off. He didn't see anything."
"So we watch the guard," Arthit says. "Wait for the payoff."
"Can you do that without attracting too much attention?"
"Sure. I'll assign Cho to it." Cho is Arthit's brother-in-law, a chubby, sweet-natured boy who took a degree in library science and then decided to be a policeman. The career move had been a mistake. "It's perfect for Cho. He can sit in one place and eat noodles in the car, and all he has to do is make a phone call when the subject starts to move. Does the guy move around much? If he's more mobile than, say, the average couch, Cho will probably lose him."
"At the moment he can barely make it to the bathroom. Who'll watch when Cho goes off?"
"I'll take care of that. I still have a fragile, if deteriorating, network of personal alliances at my disposal."
"I'm sorry about all this, Arthit," Rafferty says dutifully.
"Just keep your eyes open. My two colleagues probably aren't finished with you."
"No problem," Rafferty says. "I'll sic the boy on them."
The minute Rafferty hangs up, the phone rings. The screams of children in the background identify the caller as Hank Morrison before he can even say hello.
"Poke. Let's get together."
"What about the prospective parents?" Rafferty tries another position on the couch and rejects it.
"We're in the ooh and aah phase. It'll last a couple of days. You want to get this started?"
"More than anything in the world."
"When? I'll need at least two or three hours, Poke, one with the two of you and one or two with each of you alone. Not today, though," Morrison says. "I'm jammed. How about tomorrow afternoon?"
"Give me an hour after she gets home from school. Say, four, four-thirty. Is there anything I should bring?"
"Your passport, visa, whatever you've got. Something to show you're solvent-a year's worth of bank statements ought to do it."
"No problem." Thanks in part to the shudderiferous Madame Wing.
Morrison says, "Hold on," and Rafferty hears the phone hit the desk. A moment later the voices of the children are muted, and Morrison comes back on the line.
"Had to close the door," he says. He clears his throat. "Poke, don't take any of this wrong, okay?"
"Any of what?"
"Of what we're about to discuss. Is she a virgin?"
The muscles in Rafferty's shoulders go rigid. "I have no idea," he says stiffly.
"She's going to be examined, Poke. Medically, I mean. Most of the time, there aren't any snags, if only because there are so many ways a hymen can be broken accidentally, but any sign of repeated sexual activity-"
"As I said, I have no idea."
"You've never talked about it with her?"
"We've talked about everything in the world except that."
"Well, I'm going to have to talk to her about it."
"Good luck," Rafferty says, imagining the set of Miaow's mouth when she's planted her feet.
"You've got to tell her to answer me," Morrison says. "Tell her how important it is, that we could have problems if we don't know the truth. And that includes you, Poke. You've never touched her improperly, have you?"
"Hank, if it were anybody but you, I'd come over there and slice you from gut to gullet and put in a defective zipper."
"I have to ask you the question. I'll have to ask her, too."
Rafferty's heart is hammering in his ears. "If you have to, you have to."
"Poke, how emotional are you about the possibility that she's been abused in the past?"
"No more emotional than anyone else would be."
Morrison pauses. "Which is to say what?"
"Which is to say I'll kill anybody who messed with her."
"That's what I was afraid of. Look, I can either tell you what she says in our interview or not tell you. Which would you prefer?"
He weighs it for a moment. "Don't tell me. I want to hear it from her, when she's ready."
"What's your gut feeling?"
"I think, at the very least, people have tried." He tells Morrison about Miaow's defensive reaction when she is hugged too quickly or when she does not initiate it.
"Aaaahh," Morrison says. "It doesn't necessarily mean anything. Some of the most abused kids are also the most physically affectionate. They've learned it's the best way to manipulate adults."
"Well, that's not Miaow. Miaow manipulates adults by having the strongest will since Margaret Thatcher. Strong enough to talk me into putting up with Superman."
"On a temporary basis, I hope."
"Until I can figure something else out."