Black Tiger (55 page)

‘All right, I’ll come clean. Your grandmother implied to me the wealth you would inherit—that I’d be outclassed. And I knew you would have no choice but to stay in Thailand, to run your empire.’ There was bitterness in my tone. ‘I’m not a fool; all this is plain to me. This is how it must be—for now. But later—lawyers, administrators—even your own brother. You could delegate to them while you were away.’

‘Away? Where, away?’ she demanded.

‘Well, perhaps, in Europe…’

‘Thank you, but I have seen Europe.’

She shook her head. The glossy black hair swung softly against her cheeks. I wanted to caress it, to pull her close, to bruise her baby’s mouth with my own. She did not appear to notice my agitation.

‘Chee Laan,’ I entreated, and said no more, embarrassed by the desperate pleading I heard in my own voice. I could not bring myself to bleat further, defeated by her iron resolve. I loved her, but I knew that would not help me.

‘I have promised to drive my grandmother. I have to go now.’ She turned away, her face already closed. She did not look back.

Around me the family parties ate and drank and laughed and photographed each other in cheery groups, all grinning. Not a tear-stained countenance in sight. I sat numbly among the jollity. At the centre of the commotion the travellers smiled, proud and embarrassed, weighted down with leis like mine, creamy jasmine studded with red rosebuds like drops of dried blood. The jasmine bore up well, but already the rose petals had a weary, crushed look about them.

Chee Laan negotiated her way back through the traffic, head held high, her eyes hidden behind enormous designer sunglasses. Once she reached the hotel, she hurried up the stairs, the knowledge of Raven’s impending departure quickening her steps. She intended to fill the hollow in her heart with the praise and pride of her grandmother. But she stopped on the threshold to Sunii Lee’s office, hearing voices within. She moved quickly to the spy panel, walking like an automaton. Her grandmother’s voice came to her ears clear as a chime, her tone icy with anger.

‘You are at fault, Archin. You allowed that girl to trick you. She escaped because you did not do your job. She ran away, and she told lies to the royal family. Now, because of your stupidity, Colonel Sya will die.’

A growl, not quite human came from somewhere in the room. Suddenly Chee Laan realised that her grandmother was talking to the huge man who had been guarding Salikaa. In her imagination he stood before her, hulking, his mind clouded but horribly purposeful. Chee Laan’s ears caught the impatient
tap-tap
of her grandmother’s ivory cane on the floor.

‘
Lambaak!
’ Chee Laan could almost see her grandmother’s long, narrow teeth biting the word off beneath strongly muscled lips with a touch of scarlet cosmetic. ‘More trouble for me! My granddaughter has become involved in things that should not concern her. That is your fault, Archin.’

‘Archin,’ mumbled the gravel voice. ‘Archin not do again. Archin be good.’

‘Yes. Quite right. You will not do it again. You will do one last service for Colonel Sya. Then you will be free. Everything will be forgiven.’

‘Archin free, forgiven?’ The tone was cautiously jubilant.

‘Correct. Now, listen to what you must do.’

‘Somebody get…click!’ Archin mimicked the cocking of a trigger. ‘Somebody die?’ Chee Laan could sense his thrill of anticipation. ‘Somebody get dead?’

‘Perhaps. Now, listen!’

Chee Laan listened to her grandmother’s instructions with growing horror. When she heard the big man dismissed and the sound of him shambling out the door, she went to Sunii herself.

Sunii was seated in her dragon chair, lost in thought. She looked at Chee Laan and her eyebrows twitched. ‘Well, granddaughter, I hope you heard all you needed.’

‘You knew? You knew all the time?’

‘Naturally.’ She pointed to a chair. ‘It is time to speak openly.’

‘Grandmother, why are you doing this? Sya is going to be executed as a traitor. Are you a communist? Is he?’

‘Do not shout like a vulgar woman from Hunan. Sya is an idealist. I am a pragmatist, but the notion of idealism is not completely foreign to me. I too have grown tired of tolerating these incompetent, racist Thai pigs and enduring those arrogant Western barbarians. How dare such people call the hill tribes savages? Sya is a valuable ally. His motives do not concern me. It will be expensive to save him, but I will do so, nevertheless.’

‘Save him? From an execution that is a national television event? Impossible!’

Sunii shook her head, smiling. ‘In Asia, if you have friends, you need not die—at least, not in such an undignified manner.’

‘Sya’s going to die. They’ve even promised to show the body afterward…’

Sunii lifted a finger like a primary school teacher. ‘Correction. A body. They will show
a
body. Does this body need to be Colonel Sya? The uniform! Nothing more!’ Sunii Lee settled herself more comfortably in her seat. Her spine remained straight as the chair’s ivory-inlaid rosewood back. ‘I will tell you what you will see: Colonel Sya walking into the tent. The firing squad aiming at a painted target. The medical orderlies removing the body of a large man in a colonel’s uniform on a stretcher. The body will be covered by a sheet.’

‘But how…?’

‘Few people will notice that the dead man is even more powerfully built than the colonel. The body will be that of Archin. An idiot; a crazed man whom the colonel took pity on and employed for odd jobs.’

‘What kind of odd jobs?’ Chee Laan knew her tone was harsh and rude, but she could not control it. ‘Murder?’

Sunii shrugged. ‘What are these terms but mere semantics? Archin, that poor fellow, has few talents. He is already under a sentence of death. Without Sya’s protection he will be dead soon.’

‘So you will arrange—somehow—to get this Archin killed in Sya’s place?’

‘I? Certainly not! I should not dream of arranging any such thing. But neither shall I prevent it. The demented creature is fanatically devoted to the colonel. I fear he may well conceal himself in the execution tent, evade the guards—who knows how—with some quixotic notion of rushing to his benefactor’s aid. Unfortunately, he may just happen to place himself in the target zone. He may catch a fatal bullet. Nobody would regret such a tragedy more than I. But, as I said, Archin is very stupid.’

‘What about the guards? How the hell would he escape the guards?’

‘Tsk! The military man has extremely sensitive feelings. A mistake of such magnitude—executing the wrong man—can you imagine the loss of face? Especially with the attention of the entire nation focused upon it. You will find the police and the army regard Colonel Sya with something approaching adoration. There is less racist discrimination in the armed forces than in society at large, contrary to popular belief. A fine soldier is a fine soldier, be he Akha, Chinese, or Thai. The guards will dress the dead man in Sya’s jacket. Sya will march out as a member of the execution firing party.’ She paused. ‘Naturally, his deliverance from death will be ascribed to fate. The colonel’s karma simply did not permit him to be gunned down like a common criminal.’ She looked at Chee Laan. ‘Believe me, everyone will find such a solution entirely satisfactory, even politic.’

‘Except, perhaps, Archin.’

Sunii shrugged. ‘When elephants fight, the grass is trampled.’ They were silent for a while. ‘Of course,’ Sunii resumed in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘if poor Archin is to play such a role, the operation must be watertight. The unfortunate creature can only remember very simple instructions. And we cannot risk getting word to Sya. He must anticipate the worst, right to the end. But afterward…nobody will count how many guards are involved in the dismantling of the tent, which will be done immediately after the removal of the stretcher. The Prince Regent has no stomach for this killing. He wants the evidence torn down as soon as possible.’

‘Then why did he agree to it, if he doesn’t approve of it?’

‘The new cabinet manoeuvred him into it—as a deterrent to treachery. Thailand has a tradition of bloodless coups, but each alteration in the power structure reveals the trend toward increasing violence.’

‘And…afterward?’

‘Sya can no longer serve in Thailand. And as for myself…’ She sighed. Her voice faded to a soft murmur. ‘Sya’s fall will drag others down with him. Few people know of our association. But if even one person knows, that will be sufficient to discredit me. I cannot afford to be discredited. Not again.’

‘By “again”, you mean your…friendship…with the Japanese? The East Ocean Devils?’

Sunii’s famous slender eyes flashed, black and wicked, the eyes of a much younger woman. Then her anger evaporated. She smiled with soft pride.

‘So you knew? You knew, but you said nothing. I am proud of you, Chee Laan’. She relaxed her shoulders in relief. ‘You are discreet. You are also obedient. You will not rush into unfortunate associations with foreigners when it is not necessary to do so.’ She sighed gently. ‘Now I am even more convinced I made the right decision. I am old. All empires achieve a pinnacle and later decline. The Lee fortunes are at the flood. The future may see the turning of the tide, or perhaps a rise to even greater power. But I shall not be here to see it. I am weary.’

She did not look weary. Eternally composed, her every action decisive and considered, there was a new resolve about her, as though she had recognised an inevitability and elected to adopt it.

‘I am no longer young,’ she said. ‘My bones long for my own country, for the Middle Kingdom, the Earth’s centre. There, when the time is propitious, the ceremonies must be properly performed. I do not wish to linger in a terracotta tomb, awaiting shipment home.’ Chee Laan was about to speak, but Sunii raised a pale hand. ‘Yes, I know what you will say: China has changed. But some values survive. Under the Gang of Four, the old ways were derided. But now our culture blooms again. Life has returned.’

She considered Chee Laan for a moment, and for the first time Chee Laan could remember, there was in her gaze the vulnerability of love. ‘I will miss you, and only you, Granddaughter. Chee Laan, Precious Orchid. Consolation for sottish sons, churlish grandsons, and fanatical daughters-in-law. I hope your path will run smooth, and that you will not be held to account for this old woman’s sins. I hope that, in time, I may live on in you.’ In the first and only gesture of physical tenderness she had ever shown, she extended her cool lily hand and touched Chee Laan’s cheek. ‘Do not allow yourself to be drawn in, to become involved. Not with your
farang
—not with any man. Breed and devour, like the spider. That is our motto.’ She removed her hand. ‘You grow more like me every day, Chee Laan.’

Even as revolt burned in her throat, Chee Laan bowed her head. Her destiny weighed on her. ‘Too much honour,’ she murmured. She felt empty, drained of all life. She dragged her heavy eyes up to meet Sunii’s, and found them, uniquely, bright with unshed tears.

‘Go now!’ Sunii said. Chee Laan gave a cry like a wounded animal and stumbled blindly from the room.

She made her way home to the family compound, hardly aware of what she was doing. In her own bedroom, she locked the door behind her, threw herself on the blue-and-gold Chinese carpet, and wept like a child—for her grandmother, for Nat Raven, and for herself. She permitted this excessive expression of emotion because she had already made up her mind that it would be the last extravagant action of her life.

The storm of weeping left her exhausted. She fell asleep with her face pressed to the floor. It was several hours later that she awoke. Her face was swollen and her throat felt raw. She wondered for a moment how she could have slept, but remembered one of Fleischer’s gory tales from her time in Normandy. He’d told them that torture victims sometimes fell into a deep sleep, the body’s last defence. She roused her stiff limbs and walked over to wash her face in the gold-tapped basin. Then she crossed the courtyard and entered her brother’s apartments to witness, with sixty million others, the public execution of the Black Tiger.

Her serenity was complete.

‘They’ll never have the nerve. They’ll never do it.’

But, at the very last moment, the final announcement was made. The kickboxing championships were booted off every front page. The execution was to be public—televised on all channels.

The news plunged the country into an uproar.

It would not be Thailand’s first televised execution, of course. Previously, the condemned had always been bit-part players, couriers, bagmen, mules, pawns, losers. Not key figures of national importance. Not full colonels of the Border Patrol Police, and certainly not the man who had been old King Rama’s favourite.

Television coverage of the event was promised to be detailed and close up; however, soon people came to realise this was a lie, a crude ratings-boosting exercise. That wasn’t the first of its kind, either.

Nobody would be able to see the bullets piercing his head and torso—it wouldn’t be a real show. Which only went to prove, people muttered, that you should only believe half of what you read in the papers. The mutterings were loudest among the samlor drivers and sweepers, those die-hard cynics and no-hopers who squatted on building sites and, stoutly resisting the Prince Regent’s internationally acclaimed National Literacy Programme, still signed with thumbprints.

And Chinatown laughed, set out its stalls, and, awaiting profitable developments, went about business as usual.

The television announcer, Chee Laan Lee noticed, was certainly entering into the spirit of the occasion. Under the stream of guttural tonal Thai, his breath was rasping, as though they’d thrust the microphone down his throat—as if he, and not Colonel Sya Dam, were the one dying. In an excited torrent the announcer recited the highlights of Sya’s career. His enthusiasm was understandable; it was an honour to be selected to commentate on the execution of a man such as Colonel Sya, a royal favourite and much-decorated hero. But what was Sya’s tribe, really, but a national scandal, an embarrassing blot on the fair escutcheon of the land. Sya was nothing but a primitive tribesman who had rocketed skyward in a few short years to become a star—although naturally, one could hardly say so on a national network, even though everyone knew it.