“Another murder like the one in the market,” I said. They both looked at me.
“Right,” Krom said with a smile.
The Chief took a long toke on the cigar and stared at Krom. “Perhaps. What I’m not sure about, and would like your input on, is why would the Chinese continue to be interested? Isn’t this the kind of product where the potential purchaser simply refuses to go ahead if there’s the slightest hint of a defect in the product? It isn’t just a question of money. The credibility of the PRC government is at stake if they buy a defective asset of this kind-don’t you agree?”
Now both the Colonel and I stared at her. She nodded as a kind of acknowledgment that she did have further thoughts. “There’s a rumor-I don’t know because it arises from Goldman’s side so it could be counterintelligence-anyway, a rumor that it’s not any extracurricular activities by the Asset that is making Goldman panic. It’s the relationship between him and his Asset. The beat on the street is that they’re no longer getting along so well. It could be just rumor, but it relates to something else, something Beijing is very interested in. As a matter of fact, something that every specialist in transhumanism is passionate about.”
The Colonel and I both raised our eyebrows. Now Krom revealed herself by standing and pacing, just as if she were the Chief. It was a curious performance, because she was wearing her regulation uniform with white shirt and shoulder boards, blue pleated skirt that reached below the knee: the essence of subjugated womanhood in a man’s world. She compensated by putting her hands in her pockets as she paced. “This thing is more important than blind military obedience. It is the essence of the project: the gold ring. If Goldman and his people have got it right, Beijing might be prepared to overlook a little recreational killing. Any government would put up with a lot to have Superman on its side-especially if there is only one such in the world. Goldman is rushed because he needs to prove this very special quality of the Asset before a whole shitload of suspicion, innuendo, and negative publicity make the purchase impossible, even for China.”
Vikorn frowned at her. “What do you have in mind, exactly?”
Krom went to the window and looked out and spoke to it, exactly as if she were the Old Man himself; as if she had taken over already. “The product is fitted out with some high-tech circuitry that improves cognitive function by more than a hundred percent. This in itself is not revolutionary. All over the world similar experiments are being conducted in secret. Goldman’s original and totally exotic approach is inspired by the British psychiatrist Christmas Bride. You see, the result of artificially introducing performance-enhancing circuitry directly into the brain has always been, without exception, crippling mental illness resulting in clinical depression, catatonia, and ultimately suicide. The problem is the personality itself-or, if you like, the psyche. That was the problem with MKUltra from the start.”
“And Goldman has found a way around that?”
“That’s his claim. That’s really what he’s selling. But he didn’t solve the problem, he didn’t have any idea how to go about it, until he teamed up with the Brit shrink.”
“Can you tell us a little more?”
“You have to bear in mind that this is just speculation-I don’t have a very high security clearance. As far as I understand it, the point is learning and adaptation. If through training from birth you can produce a mind at once robust and flexible enough to cope with the enhanced cognitive power, then you really do reach a kind of grail.”
“How so?”
“Because there is really only one way a personality can cope, and that is by riding an extraordinary learning curve. It’s a form of self-evolving AL-accelerated learning-that achieves the gold standard of infinite evolution at speeds hundreds if not thousands of times faster than anything our species has achieved so far. ALE in the jargon: accelerated learning enhancement.”
“From human to god in one generation?”
“Or to monster.” She turned from the window, smiled formally at the two of us, and resumed her seat.
The Colonel and I let a good five minutes pass. Finally Vikorn cleared his throat. “So, Beijing is sending an expert who works out of a laboratory in Shanghai: Goldman has to reveal his hand, and fast. He is insisting on airtight security. The two of you will entertain him-Sonchai, I want you to take your wife to make it look like a social event. I already cleared her with Goldman. The expert is one Professor Chu.” The Colonel allowed himself a flicker of a smile. “He has visited Bangkok before. He will show you what an evening out in Krung Thep means to him. Let him control the moment. Sooner or later, when Goldman is ready, the Professor will receive a phone call. Just follow his lead.”
Now he stood up and went to the window. Somehow he had retrieved control. “That’s all,” he said and remained with his back to us while we filed out.
–
Back at my post I check out the reports of Ruamsantiah’s men who took statements from the market vendors and others who were in the square at the time of the murder of Nong X. Our constables tend not to be of the most motivated kind, but here, perhaps out of pity for the victim, they have done their best. Instead of the usual, Witness stated he/she was not too clear about the event, could not remember anything relevant, type of report, I have more than twenty lengthy statements, which go into detail about the witnesses’ private lives, domestic disputes, religious convictions, feelings of sadness for the victim, rage fantasies of what they would do to the perp if it were up to them, conviction that some kind of negative occult force is at work in our country at this time: all useless, in other words. My phone rings.
It is young Detective Tassadorn, still working on the Klong Toey bombing. His tone turns a little strange when he says, “Detective, we found another cell phone at the bomb site. It was buried under a pile of debris, mostly lumber and trash.”
This does not strike me as strange. Everyone has cell phones, even farang down-and-outs. “What condition is it in?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It was a cheap local make and looked totally destroyed, but the forensic people took it and managed to transfer all the data to a hard disk.”
I am beginning to feel insecure here. Why doesn’t the young detective come to the point? “Yes?”
“Yes. Most of the contacts and recent calls are to known cannabis users, small-time dealers, and birdshit farang, mostly British and American.” I wait. I have heard enough of his tone now to realize he is excited and disturbed. “There were photos, too.”
My heart gives a little leap of foreboding. “Photos?”
“Yes.” He lets the moment hang. Perhaps he is not as new and naïve as I thought.
“And?”
“Three are of you.”
“Of me?”
“Yes. We’re pretty certain they were taken on Soi Cowboy.”
I stare at the phone. Ever feel your insides quake for no good reason, R? I cannot understand where I put my cool, all of a sudden. I have to let a few beats pass, then say, “I see.”