Black Tiger (42 page)

I felt sick. I wanted to beat my fists against something, preferably Sya Dam’s face, and I wanted to scream until I was hoarse. Surely now
Tsu mu
would see Sya for what he was and break off her association with him. ‘Of course Premsakul planned it!’ I snapped. ‘He lured the media and the high-ups away from the city. It was very cunning!’

‘And now, all this ethnic hysteria!’ lamented Laila. ‘This witch-hunt! It will tear the city apart, and it is all quite ridiculous, when the Chinese are innocent.’

‘Oh, pooh, who cares whether the Chinese are innocent?’ Siegfried snarled. ‘The point is, they’ll have to point the finger at someone. Why not the Chinese? Why not the Cambodian refugees, or the boat people, or the Indian shopkeepers, or the
farangs
? Why not the Malays? Why not the monks, for God’s sake?’ He snapped his fingers and rose, still dressed for the party in his white on the Cossack smock, with a sumptuous, bejewelled leather belt low about his narrow hips. He stalked toward the stairs, yawning. ‘Just so long as nobody fingers the Brothers!’ he said. ‘I’m off to get my beauty sleep.’

Perhaps this affectation of callousness was Siegfried’s way of dealing with unpleasantness. Buddhists believe one should not display sorrow at the death of a fine person, for their good karma will certainly ensure a superior reincarnation. Or else they will join their ancestors. I do not know what happens. Some say religion is childish nonsense. It depends, I think, on how near one is to death.

In the year 300 BC, the master wrote, ‘How do I know that the wish to live is not a mistake? How do I know that hating to die is not to think one has lost one’s way, when all the time one is on the path that leads to home? While a man is dreaming, he knows not that he dreams. But when he wakes then he knows it was a dream. Not until the Great Awakening can he know that this was all One Great Dream.’

I couldn’t help but think of Pim, my brave and gentle friend, and her great dreams. I hoped she was on the path leading home.

‘I must go,’ I told them. ‘My grandmother will be concerned, especially just now.’ Raven walked me to the door. Mrs Drinkwater had ordered her car to take me home, and the chauffeur stood waiting.

‘Chee Laan,’ Raven said, his eyes holding me, reluctant to let me go, ‘please take care. Why do you need to go so urgently?’

‘Because,’ I said, ‘my grandmother may need to visit Chinatown. I can’t let her go alone.’

‘For God’s sake, Chee Laan, Chinatown at this moment must be like a lit fuse. You are not going to Chinatown!’

I laid my finger gently against his lips. ‘I am not the person who got attacked in Chinatown,’ I said gently. ‘Remember? I will see you tomorrow.’ He kissed the tips of my fingers and I snatched my hand back, conscious of the waiting chauffeur, and ran briskly down the steps.

In the old days of diagnostic dolls,
Tsu mu
would not have needed to visit the herbalist in person, our ill-fated foray into Chinatown that day would not have been necessary, and Ah Lee would still be alive.

In the olden days, no Chinese female could be examined by a doctor, who would always be male, since girls were not worth educating. Thus, a lady would indicate her symptoms on a small ivory doll, and the physician would prescribe accordingly. But
Tsu mu
’s herbalist claimed a personal interview was necessary if a proper diagnosis was to be effected. In reality, I felt sure he had identified some area of his life where he hoped
Tsu mu
could be of assistance. That is something one negotiates, not through third parties, but eye to eye. Of course, even in our enlightened times, she could not consult a doctor unattended, so Ah Lee and I accompanied her, as her status demanded.

We did not even take the driver. Despite my heavy heart and sense of foreboding, I enjoyed the sensation of piloting the big car through the narrow streets, while
Tsu mu
and Ah Lee argued about food prices like two old market women.

I was anxious about my grandmother’s health. Since Father’s death she had a new fragility; her eyes were like cigarette burns in ancient parchment. She had grown sombre, full of reserved glances and silences. Sometimes she sighed, murmuring to herself, ‘I did not mean it to go so far, to be like that,’ but then she would fall silent, say no more. I knew that she disapproved deeply of my relationship with Raven. But I had never in my life felt anything so powerful as the attraction he held for me, and, though one day I knew I must give him up, I could not do so yet. I hugged my secret love close to my heart, dreading the time when I should have to relinquish it.

I felt my grandmother had begun to question whether my father’s death was an accident, and the suspicion was sapping her confidence in life. It was almost as though she felt that in losing her only child, her own sun had drawn nearer its setting. She had begun years earlier to train me up in earnest to inherit her mantle. All my waking hours, apart from the few precious moments I stole to meet Raven, she pounded away at me, remorselessly cramming me with every detail of the family business. She also expounded her philosophies of business and life. It troubled me to have been singled out already as her heir, appointed above my brother and half-brothers. They would receive cash and some shares in the business. But most of the family’s assets were in real estate and banking, and everyone knew it. Whoever held the property held the keys to the Lee kingdom. The property and the power that went with it were to be mine.

I knew there would be difficulties. I was not sure I was ready for it. Power is seductive, but it curtails your freedom. The day I stepped into
Tsu mu
’s shoes, I would have to abandon my free and easy
farang
ways.

But for now, as I piloted the big car and listened to the two old women’s pleasurable wrangling, I tried to convince myself that grandmother would not slacken her grip on the reins for many years. She was stronger than all of us. My happiness depended upon her living.

She occupied the back seat of the Mercedes in solitary state. She had shrunk recently, so that her clothes enveloped her delicate frame. Beside me, Ah Lee sat clutching her woven basket, turning her head now and then on her yellow tortoise’s neck to argue with
Tsu mu
or exchange glares with her.

‘Begging your pardon, Honourable Lady. The best fish sauce is not bought at Pratumwan. Never has been, never will be.’

‘Deaf as a doorpost, or wilfully stupid,’
Tsu mu
snapped. ‘Sheep meat, I said, not fish sauce, old woman. Muslim market’s the place for sheep meat. Any fool knows that!’ She sounded, I realised suddenly, as old and querulous as Ah Lee. I could not help chuckling at the thought.

Ah Lee snorted.

‘Are you afflicted with a head cold, Ah Lee?’
Tsu mu
enquired sweetly.

‘Not in the least, Honourable Lady. I have received your gracious enquiry,’ Ah Lee replied with great dignity, glowering covertly at me. ‘I merely suffer from an old woman’s anxiety about being driven about in motor cars by young persons grinning all over their faces like demons.’

We were already in the medicine store when the ugly sounds reached our ears. Thuds, whoops, and screams, the noise of running feet, rushing through the network of narrow streets like a tide. At once there was a new sound, the rattle and crash of the armoured shutters as panic-stricken shopkeepers dropped iron lattices over doors and windows.

‘I am sure it is nothing. I will go and check,’ the herbalist muttered courteously. ‘Excuse me.’

‘Honourable Lady’s motor!’ Ah Lee shrieked, peering out through the shutter. A group of dark-skinned Thai toughs were hammering on the coachwork of the Mercedes. As we watched, powerless to intervene, they began to rock the heavy car, chanting. By sheer weight of numbers, they managed to overturn it. They struck out its windows with improvised clubs. The glass tinkled on the pavement.

Ah Lee left my side and darted forward. ‘Stop that!’ she howled, scuttling out of the shop door, waving her thin old arms. Just as she reached the car, one of the men threw some liquid from a bottle and, with a single shout, tossed a lighted match after it. It seemed to move in slow motion, and everyone had time to take cover. Even the match-thrower sustained only minor burns. Everyone, that is, except Ah Lee—old, deaf, and determined to do battle for
Tsu mu
’s car. As the petrol tank exploded, Ah Lee’s slight figure was silhouetted against black-edged billows of orange fire. She tottered for a second, then toppled forward into the heart of the fire and vanished from view in a plume of flame.

I leaned against the shop window, shaking with shock and horror.

‘Chee Laan! What is going on?’
Tsu mu
spoke in the voice of an old woman, dazed and frightened. She stumbled toward me, one hand clutching her throat. The shopkeeper ran back, bundling us together and herding us outside, with a respectful tenderness despite his urgency.

‘This way, honoured ladies!’ He glanced back at the street and then quickly looked away. ‘The poor old lady!’ he groaned.

‘Come,
Tsu mu
!’ I urged.

‘Chee Laan!’ she shouted in a surprisingly powerful voice. ‘Have you gone mad? Where is the old woman? Where is Ah Lee? How can we leave without Ah Lee?’

‘Hurry, ladies, please!’ the herbalist wailed. ‘Mind the step!’

‘I refuse to be smuggled out through back alleys like a criminal!’ my grandmother retorted, resisting strongly. ‘My car is parked out the front. Take me to my car! And where is my servant?’

I dropped to my knees before her, desperate, knowing her iron will. If she refused to leave the shop and take refuge, we were all as good as dead.

‘Please,
Tsu mu
, just come away now, at once. This man is afraid for his shop. He is showing us a back way out so we can get away without becoming involved.’

‘Involved with what, pray?’ she demanded haughtily.

My self-control was about to snap. I felt like screaming. The shopkeeper plainly felt the same, because he began to rant and rave uncontrollably, ‘Involved with the Thais, Honourable Lady! The murdering, ransacking, racist pigs of Thais! Oh, I’ve seen this coming for years, the gradual unleashing of violence. Now they see a chance to blame the savagery of their own brutish police on our law-abiding community!’ He broke away and ran back toward the shopfront.

‘Don’t be a fool, man!’
Tsu mu
shouted in tones accustomed to instant obedience.

‘My premises—my property! Must protect them!’ Frenziedly he gripped the steel pole that connected with a bolt in the steel curtain. He was hauling desperately on it as the first bricks came flying in, crashing on floor and furniture, smashing the glass cases and bottles.

It was a cheap grill, with wide-meshed interlocking steel grid plates. As the man stooped to bolt the curtain to the sill, a brick bounced through the grid and laid open the back of his head. He mopped his skull with the cloth that dangled always at his waist, gazing, bewildered, at the scarlet dampness spreading over his hands.

A brown face leered through the grill, observing the effects of its owner’s marksmanship. ‘Go swallow a black beetle and a snake’s pizzle and see if that’ll cure you, Jek quack!’ The rioter was feeling confident and inventive.

‘You’re hurt, man!’
Tsu mu
said, sounding almost like herself again.

‘Ladies, hurry, please! Go out the back way, escape while you can! They mean to murder us all! I tell you, I’ve seen this coming!’ His earnest brown eyes popped out in his face. He swung back toward the street, glaring through the grill like a baited beast. ‘Rabble! Murderers!’

‘Calm yourself,’
Tsu mu
entreated. ‘Kindly open that door. I must see Ah Lee.’

I took both her hands, planting myself squarely before her.

‘
Tsu mu
,’ I said gently, ‘they have killed Ah Lee. I am so sorry.’

She sighed, once, a deep, fluttery sound. Then she recovered herself and my grandmother stood there once more, a strong spirit in a tiny, erect body.

‘You should have said so at once and saved time,’ she rebuked me. ‘Let us go.’

We ran up the steep back stairs and emerged into the street, blinking in the sun’s vengeful white glare. The alley was deserted but the sounds of the mob were closing in. I stared around, bewildered, wondering which way would be the best escape route. Chinatown is a warren of alleys. If you are only accustomed to driving about in a Mercedes and parking it on the pavement, you are lost and disoriented when you step into the back lanes.

‘Go right. That is our only chance,’
Tsu mu
said. She set off, her pace rapid and unfaltering. ‘This riot has been provoked. But why? And by whom? We are natural scapegoats, of course.’ A few steps further, she continued: ‘It wouldn’t take much manpower. It could be engineered by a small group, or even one man.’

‘Like Sya Dam?’ I suggested. It seemed so obvious.

She nodded. ‘Exactly. As a distraction from something else, or to divert blame. Or for some ludicrous test of loyalty; or to demonstrate the efficiency of the riot suppression squad, who will doubtless be permitted a brief appearance to quell the disturbance.’ She looked at me, her eyes narrow with warning. ‘This farce will not end until sufficient numbers of Chinese have been murdered. To teach Chinatown a lesson.’

I was surprised at the bitterness in her voice. She laughed.

‘Wait till you’ve lived with it as long as I have, child! Now: our alternatives. One, the temple. These Thais are notoriously superstitious; they disdain our gods and spit upon ancestors, but they fear the spirits who linger in temple courtyards.’

‘Is there a temple near here?’

‘There is a small, ill-frequented shrine to Kwan Yin, Goddess of Mercy. There is also a small crèche there, run by charitable ladies for Chinese orphans. Supported by donations from the Chinese community…’

‘Even Thais wouldn’t attack an orphanage!’ I cried. The sounds of the disturbance were growing louder. ‘We shall be safe at the crèche!’