The Coroner's Lunch

How to Miss the That Luang Festival

In fact, there wasn’t a lot of sleep to be had that night. Siri was restless, and his coughing kept the bodyguards awake for most of it. But, at least, they all survived until morning.

His first visitor of the day arrived with two special baguettes wrapped in greaseproof paper.

“Lah?”

“Doctor. They just told me what happened. I came right away. How are you feeling?”

“All the better for seeing you.”

“You sweetmouth, you.” She handed him the rolls. “The boy outside went through both of them looking for missiles or such like. Then he decided they might be poisoned, so he tasted both of them. That’s why they have teeth marks.” She smiled.

“You’re very kind.” Something about the visit and his own tentative grasp on life encouraged him to be uncommonly honest. “You know, Mrs. Lah, I was thinking last night about what regrets I’d have had if that old house had fallen down on me. There weren’t a lot. But one of them was you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I’ve procrastinated too long. If I don’t die in the next week, I’d be most honored if you’d have dinner with me one evening.”

The sixteen-year-old girl who still resided in Auntie Lah sent out a smile that lit up the whole room. She came over to him, leaned over the bed, and gave him a very warm kiss on the cheek.

“You bet.” She almost skipped to the door. She turned the handle, then looked back at him. “But if you die in the next week, I’ll kill you.”

When she’d gone, Siri couldn’t stop smiling. There was a groan from underneath the bed.

“I…I…I’d be most hon…honored if you’d have-”

“Keep it to yourself, Mr. Geung.”

Geung snorted and laughed cheekily. It was six, and time for him to get up. Dtui had left already to see her ma.

Out in the streets, people were already preparing for the That Luang Festival. It was one of the few dates on the Lao Buddhist calendar that was guaranteed to spark excitement across generations and ethnic lines. The golden Grand Stupa had watched over its excited children on the thirteenth day of the twelfth moon for as long as anyone living could remember.

This was the first festival since the revolution, and it promised to be a little more restrained than usual. The new regime had banned certain excesses: the popular freak shows, for one. There’d be no five-legged goats or three-breasted women to entertain the crowds. Alcohol was forbidden, along with gambling, so there were unlikely to be any spontaneous shootings to write about in the papers the next day. The government also put the lid on displays of opulence and “extravagant religious outpourings.” All of which might have made one wonder what could possibly be left to celebrate.

But the Lao have a remarkable talent for enjoyment, and, for many, the excuse to get their good clothes out of the chest and mingle, in an atmosphere charged with excitement, was enough to keep them awake for a week in anticipation.

The Lao Patriotic Front announced that this year would be an opportunity for Laos to display its economic and cultural achievements under the new regime. Skeptics like Siriwondered how small that display might be. Civilai suggested an Inflation Marquee where children blow up balloons with “the Lao kip” written on them. Siri joked that they could have a show of the Xiang Thong Temple puppets with their nasty right-wing mouths taped shut.

Whatever happened, the That Luang Festival would still be the cultural event of the year and Siri, with his dust-filled lungs, would miss it again. In fact, as he’d never lived in Vientiane before this year, he’d never seen the festival. He and Boua had dreamed of attending, after the revolution. It was one of her many deflated dreams.

At seven, Siri witnessed a sight more rare than a five-legged goat: a white-coated hospital doctor came into his room and showed him his X-rays.

“Dr. Siri.”

“Dr. Veui. I was starting to wonder whether they’d put me in a room at the Lan Xang Hotel by mistake.”

“Now, now. No sarcasm. You know we’re very-”

“Short of staff. Yes, I know. But you’ll be pleased I didn’t pass away from neglect while you were off tending to real patients.”

“Your nurse has been keeping me informed as to your progress. We did have a couple of emergencies yesterday that kept us busy. You heard about the fire?”

“Yes. Kitchen, wasn’t it?”

“It started there, yes. We were lucky it didn’t spread to the pharmacy. Lord knows we have precious few drugs as it is. We did lose our unimpressive collection of books, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Think of your geography, Siri. The kitchen’s directly beneath the old library. It was gutted. Nothing but ash and memories.”

While Dr. Veui ran his stethoscope around Siri’s chest and back, the patient breathed as deeply as he could. But his mind was on the library. How did that piece fit into the puzzle?

Sometime about eight, he had his nicest visit of the day. Miss Vong poked her head around the door and smiled.

“Miss Vong. Come in, why don’t you?”

She didn’t. “Can’t visit this trip, Dr. Siri. How are you?”

“Not bad.”

“I have to rush. I’m supposed to be at work.”

“You don’t want to stop off at the khon khouay office first?”

“The khon khouay office? Whatever for?”

“I’m not supposed to say anything, but it can’t do any harm. Mr. Ketkaew spotted you at the Department of Education the other day. He came back frisky as a river rat, telling us all about this stunning woman he’d seen. He asked me if I knew you. He was positively glowing. I’m no expert, but I’d say he’s fallen for you.”

“For me? Don’t be silly.” She couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth down. “Anyway, I’m here with some fans of yours. Manoly and her sisters wanted to come see how you are.”

“Oh, how wonderful! How are they?”

“I don’t think they’ve really come to terms with what happened. They’ve been very quiet.”

“Send them in.”

Vong left, and the three little girls came in as a chain. Manoly was the lead link. Siri chose that moment for his first serious cough of the day, and the girls stood back by the wall watching him. When he was through, he smiled and called them over.

“Well, ladies. How nice of you to come to see me. Where are you staying?”

Manoly was the spokeswoman. “Auntie Souk’s house. She’s nice. She’s outside. You want to see her?”

“No. I want to see you. I was worried about you all.”

“Auntie Souk said you were very brave when you went in to look for Mommy.”

“Manoly, do you know where your mommy is now?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“In the temple.”

“That’s not your mommy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No. In the temple is just the package your mommy was kept in.” The smallest sister giggled at this. Manoly seemed angry.

“It’s Mommy.”

Siri reached out for her hand and put it against his face.

“This skin, this hair, all this outside stuff. It isn’t me. It’s just my package. It’s like the wrapper around the sweet; it isn’t the sweet itself. What we really are is all inside the package. All our feelings. All our good moods and bad moods. All our ideas, our cleverness, our love, that’s what a person really is.

“It’s called a spirit. Your mommy’s spirit has left her package already. I met your mommy’s spirit when I was in your room that night.”

“Is that like a ghost?”

“No. A ghost is just something in make-believe stories. A spirit is really her. Some people can see it, but most people can’t.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Yes, she was worried.”

“Why?”

“She was worried you might not love her because she was cross with you sometimes. But she wanted me to tell you, being cross was part of loving you.”

“Did she say that? Really?”

“Really. And she said she loves you all very much. She always will.”

Manoly’s eyes filled with tears and she smiled. It was probably a bit deep for the other two, so they just stood there.

The younger one changed the subject. “Uncle Siri. I can almost go to school. Watch.” She reached her right arm over her head and tried to touch her left ear. It was the method they used in the countryside. If you could reach your ear, you were old enough to start school.

“Oh, you’re so close, Nok. Too bad you don’t have ears like a rabbit. You could start right away.” She giggled and jumped up on his bed.

When Dtui got back from her mother’s, she found all three of them lying there listening to a story about tree spirits in Khamuan.

“Aha. What’s going on here?”

“Are you a nurse?” Nok asked.

“No. I’m a crocodile in a nurse’s uniform.”

“Have you come to apply?” Manoly asked her.

“What for, darling?”

“To be one of Uncle Siri’s wives?”

Dtui feigned a dramatic and very noisy vomit. When Auntie Souk and the guard came rushing in, they found Dtui face-down on the floor, the girls curled up on the bed with laughing aches, and Siri coughing his house up.

Once they’d gone, Siri attempted the telephone again. Instead of getting the Security officer, he found himself talking to the hospital clerk.

“Hello. What happened to the soldier?”

“He’s gone. I suppose there was no point in staying here once he got the call he was waiting for.”

“What call’s that?”

“From Vietnam. I was just on my way home yesterday evening when it came through. Dr. Nguyen something. Don’t you remember?”

“I didn’t get a call.”

“That’s odd. The officer said he was going to transfer the caller.”

“He didn’t transfer it in this direction. Interesting. Look, can you put me through to Police Headquarters? And I want you to look up the number for the central morgue in Hanoi.”

“That’s in Vietnam.”

“It was the last time I saw it.”

“You’ll need to fill in four forms before I can let you phone internationally. You have to have the director’s signature and-”

“All I need is the number. We’ll worry about signatures later. And could you send a message for my morgue technician, Mr. Geung, to come here as soon as possible?”

Siri eventually got through to the same gruff-voiced inspector at Central he’d spoken to the day before.

“Hello, Dr. Siri. This is Inspector Tay. After we talked yesterday, it occurred to me who you were. You’re the coroner, right? I keep meaning to send someone over to see what you’re doing over there. I’m afraid your man still hasn’t been in.”

“That’s all right. I was just wondering: yesterday you said Phosy didn’t have a desk?”

“That’s right.”

“How can one of your detectives not have a desk?”

“Ah, well, he isn’t actually one of ours, you see?”

“No?”

“No. He’s sort of on special assignment. He’s down from Viengsai working on a case. He comes in now and then. He’s always running around.”

“From Viengsai?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. It’s just that he didn’t mention he was based in the north.”

“You don’t get much information out of that one. Hardly talks to anyone. Secretive bastard, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“No. Er, thanks anyway.”

“Welcome.”

Siri slowly put down the phone. Geung had arrived and was standing beside the door, rocking slightly. Siri looked up at him but forgot for a second why he was there.

“Mr. Geung? Ah, yes. I want you to take this note,” he wrote as he spoke, “and give it to Comrade Civilai at the Assembly office. You’ve been there before.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t give it to anyone else. Not even if they rip out your toenails. You understand?”

“Yes.” He snorted and loped out of the room, laughing.

“Based in Viengsai? How could he be?”

It was early afternoon when Civilai arrived with a well-preserved old man in a crumpled suit. They both looked drained, as if they’d been up all night.

“Siri. How you feeling?”

“Did you get my note?”

“Your morgue Igor almost got himself shot delivering it. They didn’t let him through the gate, so he stood outside the fence and yelled my name till I came to the window.”

“He gets the job done.” Siri fell into a coughing fit. If anything, he was feeling worse than the previous day.

“Siri, this is Dong Van, the Commander General of the Security Section. He wanted to meet you before you choke to death.”

“Looks like you’re just in time. How are you, Commander?”

“I’m a little frazzled, Dr. Siri. This has been a very difficult time for me. Major Ngakum has been one of my most trusted colleagues for many years.”

“We got him?” Siri punched his fist into the air. Civilai put up his thumb. Dong Van obviously wasn’t viewing it as a victory yet.

“When your friend Comrade Civilai first came to see me about this, I didn’t believe a word of it. It didn’t help that he wouldn’t divulge his sources. Even when he started to come up with evidence, I was very defensive; I didn’t want to believe it. But he’s a very thorough man. He spent the whole night cross-checking the files, getting people out of their beds to give statements.”

“Good for you, Ai.”

Civilai couldn’t wait to explain. “It was all too much of a coincidence. The major was assigned to the Operations Headquarters when Hok was there. He knew the details of the Vietnamese covert mission. His unit was responsible for security arrangements when the Trans and Hok came over. He had access to all the communiques.

“And as if that weren’t enough to circumstantiate him into jail and throw the key away, guess who was doing a survey of traffic to the islands at Nam Ngum? I bet we could get a positive ID from the district chief.”

“And now,” the commander added, “we have evidence that he had your call from Vietnam diverted to his office. What we don’t know is what that conversation was all about.”

“So we need you to call Hanoi.” Civilai picked up the phone.

“I expect the girl has the number for the morgue already, but I think I know what Nguyen Hong will have to tell me.”

The call took an age to put through. Siri spoke to several confused Vietnamese before locating his colleague.

“Hello, Nguyen Hong.”

“Dr. Nguyen Hong? It’s Siri.” There was a pause. “Nguyen Hong?”

“I was told you were dead!”

“I’m not. Did you call me yesterday evening?”

“Goodness, you’ve given me a start. Yes, but the call was transferred to your, what do you call it? Your Security Section.”

“Who to?”

“Ah. He did say his name; your Lao names all sound the same to me. But he said he was the commander.”

“I bet he did, and he told you I was killed in an explosion.”

“Yes. Then he took down all the details I wanted to give you and told me they’d be very useful. He gave me his direct line if I had anything else for him.”

“Perfect. That should be the last nail in his coffin. The man you spoke to was the one Hok was coming here to identify.”

“No!”

“I’ll write you all about it. But before we get cut off, give me everything you’ve got.”

Ten minutes later, Siri hung up. He looked at the two men at his bedside and smiled.

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. They should have got away with it. It was just their misfortune to come up against me and Nguyen Hong.”

“Come on, little brother. Out with it.”

“Here’s the way I see it. Major Ngakum received the secret communique from Hanoi telling him Hok and his team would be coming to identify the traitor Hok had seen at the massacre. Ngakum couldn’t let them get as far as Vientiane, so he got his Black Boar gang to waylay the jeep. He knew the route and the guard postings, so it shouldn’t have been difficult.

“They found themselves with three Vietnamese. They could have just killed them and dumped the bodies. But someone had an idea.”

He was talking too fast without rest, getting too excited, running out of breath. He took some gulps of oxygen and kept the mask handy.

“It was an ideal opportunity to create a bit of a diplomatic stir. If they could convince the Vietnamese that their men had been arrested and tortured, it wouldn’t take a great leap in logic to assume that Laos had been responsible for the earlier massacre as well.

“So the Black Boars killed the three in a way that wouldn’t be easy to recognize and then set it up to look like they’d been tortured to death. They flew the bodies to Nam Ngum near the correctional facility, and dropped them into the reservoir. They anchored them to old shell casings, and used cheap string on two of them so they’d eventually bob up to the surface. The second Tran they tied with flex so someone would have to go down and discover the Chinese shells. They knew that would upset the Vietnamese.

“Ngakum ‘just happened’ to be at the reservoir doing some fictitious survey when the first two bodies were found, and he ‘recognized’ the Vietnamese tattoos. He’s the one who made sure the Vietnamese embassy was involved. Of course, the bodies had been set up. When Tran left Hanoi, he didn’t have any tattoos.”

“No?”

“Not a one. His wife knew nothing about them. They tattooed the poor fellow after he was dead.”

Civilai shook his head. “How did they actually kill them?”

“Nguyen Hong believes two of them had air pumped into their veins. It causes an air embolism that blocks the flow of blood through the heart. After a few weeks in the water, there wouldn’t be much to show what had happened. It was very professionally done, except for one small error.”

“Which was?”

“Tran, the driver, appears to have died from a massive tear in the artery in his chest. There’s only one way that could make any sense, but it’s too horrible to imagine. Tran didn’t die with his countrymen. He was a little fatter than the other two. What if they missed his vein when they injected the air?”

“Then he would have been alive when they electrocuted the bodies?”

“I pray he was unconscious, and not just playing dead. But apparently not even the torture killed him. Civilai, when he arrived at the morgue, we all noticed the expression of horror frozen on his face. There was only one thing that could have caused that look.”

“The fall from the helicopter.”

“It’s quite conclusive that he was still alive when they pushed him out.”

“I can’t imagine a more horrific death,” the commander said.

“I doubt whether it was intentional. I don’t think cruelty was the Americans’ aim. I mean, they could have actually tortured them to death if they had wanted it to look authentic.”

The commander sighed. “We have to track them down. I don’t want mercenaries rampaging through the land. But first things first. I want to get my hands on that damn traitor. You’ve convinced me, gentlemen. God knows how many lives have been lost as a result of the bastard’s crimes. If you’ll both excuse me, I have a very painful duty to perform.”

He shook hands with them warmly and left, taking the guard with him. The two old friends remained there in silence. Civilai sat scratching his head, exhausted. Siri sucked on his oxygen. Neither spoke for several minutes. Slowly their smiles turned to laughter. Civilai moved to the bed and grasped Siri’s right hand in his. They squeezed each other’s fists so tightly their knuckles turned white, and they laughed as if the funniest thing in the world had just taken place.

“What are we laughing for?” Siri asked through the tears.

“It’s a nervous reaction. We’re both scared out of our wits.”

“You think this was scary, you wait till I tell you about the other case.”