“Only briefly, sir.”
“Captain, tell me what is going on?”
Nash-Burnham turned to Edgar. “Sit down, Mr. Drake.”
“Captain, I demand to know what is happening!”
“Damn it, Mr. Drake! Sit down!”
The Captain’s harsh words stung more than the Lieutenant’s hand. Edgar lowered himself into his chair.
The Lieutenant rose and gave Nash-Burnham his seat. He stood behind him.
The Captain spoke slowly. “Mr. Drake, there exist very serious charges against you and Surgeon-Major Carroll. I can advise you that it is in your best interest to cooperate. This is as difficult for me as it is for you.”
The piano tuner said nothing.
“Lieutenant.” The Captain turned to the man behind him, who began to speak.
“We will make this brief, Mr. Drake. Three months ago, in a routine review of files at the Home Office in London, a short note written in Russian was found appended to the back of a classified document. The document was traced to Colonel Fitzgerald, the officer in England in charge of Carroll’s correspondence, and the same man who first contacted you. His desk was searched and other correspondences were found. He was arrested as a spy.”
“Russian? I can’t see how this has to do with—”
“Please, Mr. Drake. You are well aware that we have been involved in a fierce struggle with Russia for holdings in central Asia for decades. It has always seemed unlikely that Russia would be interested in a territory as distant from its borders as Burma. Yet in 1878, in Paris, there was a meeting between the honorary consul of Burma and a seemingly unlikely diplomat, the great Russian chemist Dmitri Mendeleev. The event was noted by British intelligence in Paris but its implications were poorly understood. The case was soon forgotten, one of many diplomatic courtships that failed to bear fruit.”
“I can’t see how this has anything to do with Doctor Carroll, or me,
“Mr. Drake,” the Lieutenant growled.
“This is nonsense. You just killed—”
“Mr. Drake,” said Nash-Burnham. “We do not need to tell you any of this. If you don’t wish to cooperate, we can send you directly to Rangoon.”
Edgar closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He sat back, his head pounding.
The Lieutenant continued. “The arrest of the Colonel led us to investigate others associated with his command. Our results turned up little, except a letter dated 1879, from Surgeon-Major Carroll to Dmitri Mendeleev, entitled ‘On the astringent properties of the extract of Dendrobium of Upper Burma.’ Although there was nothing specific in the letter to suggest espionage, suspicions were raised, and the presence of copious chemical formulae in the letter suggested code, as of course did the numerous music sheets sent from our office to Surgeon-Major Carroll in Mae Lwin. The very same music sheets which you, Mr. Drake, carried there. When we reexamined the music sheets sent from Carroll, we found most of the notes unintelligible, suggesting that they contained not song but some covert communication.”
“This is ridiculous,” Edgar protested. “I heard that music played. It is Shan music; the scale is completely different. Of course it sounds different on European instruments, but it isn’t any sort of code—”
“Naturally, we were loath to level accusations at one of our most successful commanders in Burma. We needed more proof. Then, days ago, we received intelligence reports that Carroll and yourself had met at Mongpu with both representatives of the Limbin Confederacy as well as the Bandit Prince, Twet Nga Lu.”
“This much is true. I was there. But—”
“There, Mr. Drake, Carroll formed an alliance with the Limbin Confederacy to repel British forces from Yawnghwe and reestablish Shan autonomy.”
“Nonsense!” Edgar sat forward in his chair. “I was there. Carroll acted without orders, but he had to. He convinced the Confederacy to submit to a peace treaty.”
“Is this what he told you?” Nash-Burnham looked up at the Lieutenant.
“Yes, but I was there. I saw it.”
“Tell me, how much Shan do you speak, Mr. Drake?”
For a moment Edgar was silent. Then he shook his head. “This is ludicrous. I have been in Mae Lwin for nearly three months, and not once has the Doctor shown any indication of insubordination to the Crown. He is a man of principle, a scholar, a lover of art and culture—”
“Let’s talk about art and culture,” the Lieutenant sneered.
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you go to Mae Lwin, Mr. Drake?”
“You know very well why I went to Mae Lwin. I was commissioned by the army to tune an Erard grand.”
“The piano that now floats at the shore of our camp.”
“That is right.”
“And how did you get to Mae Lwin, Mr. Drake? Were you escorted there as outlined in your commission?”
Edgar said nothing.
“Mr. Drake, I will ask you again. How did you get to Mae Lwin?”
“Doctor Carroll sent for me.”
“So you went against orders?”
“I had come to Burma to tune a piano. Those were my orders. I could not return to Rangoon. When I received Carroll’s letter I went. I am a civilian. It was not insubordination.”
“So you went to Mae Lwin.”
“Yes.”
“What type of piano did you go to tune, Mr. Drake?”
“An Erard grand. You know that. I don’t see what this has to do with this matter.”
“Erard…that’s an unusual name. What kind of piano is that?”
“It’s French. Sebastien Erard was actually German, but he moved to France. I—”
“French? You mean the same French who are building forts in Indo-China?”
“This is ridiculous…you are not suggesting that…?”
“Only a coincidence, or maybe a matter of taste? There are many fine British pianos.”
Edgar looked at Nash-Burnham. “Captain, I can’t believe I am hearing this. Pianos don’t make alliances…”
“Answer the questions,” said Nash-Burnham, flatly.
“How long does it take to tune a piano, Mr. Drake?” asked the Lieutenant.
“That depends.”
“All right then, just give me an approximation. In England, what is the most time you have ever spent tuning a piano.”
“Tuning only?”
“Tuning only.”
“Two days, but—”
“Two days. Really? Yet you yourself said that you have been in Mae Lwin for nearly three months. If a piano can be tuned in two days, why have you not returned home?”
Edgar was silent. He felt a spinning, a coming-apart.
Minutes passed and still he said nothing.
At last Captain Nash-Burnham cleared his throat. “Will you be able to answer the charges and testify against Surgeon-Major Carroll?”
The piano tuner answered him slowly. “Captain, what you are saying cannot be true. I was at Mongpu, I saw them meet. I spoke to Twet Nga Lu. Doctor Carroll was negotiating peace. You will see. I believe him. He is eccentric, but he is a genius, a man who can win hearts with music and science. Only wait, and when the Limbin Confederacy presents its proposal to the Crown, you will believe me.”
“Mr. Drake,” the Lieutenant said, “two days after the meeting in Mongpu, the Limbin forces, led by the sawbwa of Lawksawk, with the support of troops we believe were sent by Carroll, attacked our positions in one of the strongest offensives of their campaign yet. Only by the grace of God were we able to drive them back to Lawksawk, and there burned the city.“
Edgar was stunned. “You destroyed Lawksawk?”
“Mr. Drake, we destroyed Mae Lwin.”
23
It was dark. Since the Captain’s words, Edgar had not spoken. He sat in the chair in the center of the room, and the Lieutenant and Captain Nash-Burnham left, the door clattering shut behind them. He heard the hollow resonance of a chain being drawn over the bamboo frame and the scrapings of a key. He heard the men walk away, silent, and he watched the sunlight fade and listened to the sounds of the camp grow dim beneath a swell of insects singing. He touched the inside of his palm and ran his fingers over the calluses, They are from the tuning hammer itself, Katherine, This is what happens when we hold on to something too tightly.
It was dark and the voices of insects rose up, and through the slats in the wall sifted a heavy air, laden with mist and murmurs of rain. His mind wandered. He thought of the movement of the river, of the shaded banks, and he followed them back, against the current, Thoughts do not obey the laws of falling water. He stood on the banks of Mae Lwin before the bamboo huts and they were burning, flames dancing over them, consuming, leaping to trees, branches dripping fire. He heard screaming, and looked up thinking, It is only the sound of the jungle, the cries of beetles. He heard the chain running over the bamboo.