Thirty-Three Teeth

The Randy Russian

Dtui, reflecting the bright sunlight from her crispy white uniform, stood at the gates of Silver City. This was neither a city nor silver. It was a walled-off compound two minutes’ walk from the new Monument to the Unknown Soldier. It was reputedly from here that the kgb did its spying. Some said it was the Soviet Union’s response in Southeast Asia to the American spy factory in Bangkok. But very few people had actually been inside to report on what other evils it contained.

Ironically, before they were turfed out, the American Secret Service had operated from this same compound. Some people speculated that “silver” referred to the glint of sunlight from the refined opium on its way to the troops in ‘Nam.

Dtui scanned the tall green gate and the walls to either side, but saw no sign of a bell. The paint was dusty, so she kicked at the metal. It sounded much louder than she’d intended. There were a few silent moments before she heard a soft “Who is it, and what do you want?”

“I’m nurse Chundee Chantavongheuan.”

Such was the name with which she had been christened, although it didn’t get a lot of use. At birth, it was customary in Laos to give your children ugly nicknames to ward off baby-hungry spirits. There were Pigs and Prawns and Camels and no end of Dtuis-Fatties. Many Dtuis grew up to be slim and beautiful, but Chundee Chantavongheuan lived up to her name. “I’m here to see Mr. Ivanic. I have an appointment.”

A small square spyhole opened near the top of the gate, and a man looked down at her. He was either very tall or standing on a chair. She held up her paperwork from Civilai.

“Okay.”

One flap of the gate was unlocked and held ajar, barely wide enough for her to squeeze through the gap. A second guard stood inside with a brand-new ak47. The stock was still in its plastic wrapping. Guard One wasn’t tall. He had a stepladder.

Dtui found herself between two sets of gates, like a security airlock. Before they could let her through the second gate, they had to lock the first and follow certain procedures. The small guard reached out as if to frisk the big nurse, but she took a step back.

“Think again.”

“I have to search you.”

“Over my dead body. Look in the bag if you like.”

He did look in the bag and found the agar molds.

“What are these?”

“Top secret.”

“Oh. Okay.”

There was a pause.

“Hot, isn’t it?”

“Damned hot.”

With that, they unlocked the second gate and prodded her into the compound. It was a sprawling area with lovely old jujube trees and a mishmash of buildings that made the place look like an open-air museum of bad architecture. She’d expected one of the guards to follow her in, but the gate was re-bolted behind her and she was alone.

She walked to the nearest building, a two-story wood-and-brick affair that was neither a house nor an office. She stood in the open doorway and called out: “Sorry. Is somebody here?”

There was the sound of scurrying, as if some animal had been disturbed, then silence. “Hello?”

A good-looking young man in rolled-up shirtsleeves, slacks, and bare feet came from one of the rooms wiping his hands. He stopped suddenly at the sight of the white-clad nurse before him.

“Eh?”

“Good health.”

Over the man’s shoulder she saw a girl in a military uniform emerge from the same doorway and head off in the opposite direction.

“My name’s Chundee Chantavongheuan. I have an-”

“-appointment to see Mr. Ivanic. Yes, I was expecting you. They didn’t tell me you were a nurse.” He shook her hand and smiled. “I’m Phot. I’ll be translating for you.”

He slipped his feet into leather sandals in the doorway, and they walked across the compound. Dtui felt somewhat unnerved to be so close to this young man who must have had women falling at his feet. He wore his good looks like a comfortable old jacket.

“What do you all do here?” she asked.

“Oh. Absolutely top secret. Can’t possibly tell you.”

“All right.”

“But these two buildings are Lao secret police.”

She laughed.

“They spend most of their time planning ways to infiltrate the insurgency groups and bug foreign embassies. That little warehouse is ‘weapons training.’ Soviets and Lao with a dozen words in common learning how to arm and disarm bombs. Most of us give the place a wide berth.”

“I get the idea you aren’t secret police.”

“Hell, no. I was doing engineering in Moscow. The bastards dragged me out with a year to go on my degree so I could come here and help them make sense of their Soviet allies. They say if I give them three years, they’ll have their own people back from Russia and I can go finish my Master’s.”

They walked to the far end of the compound, and a small troupe of stocky Lao women in sequined tops and tights walked between the buildings.

“My God, why are they walking around in their underwear?”

“That’s their uniform. This is the performing arts end of the yard. Those girls are training to be acrobats. Lao girls are self-conscious about wearing tights and leotards, so the Russians make them dress like this all day till they get used to it. The Soviets have been here for six months, training them in circus skills. There are all types: jugglers, trampolinists, trapeze artists.”

“What’s wrong with Lao performing arts?”

Before he could answer, a deep roar diverted their attention. As they rounded the gymnasium, they came face to face with a black puma at the end of a long leash. It was only three bounds and a leap from the man at the other end of the rope. He was in his fifties and wore impressive thigh-high boots. Dtui doubted he could see those boots himself, as his stomach bloated out in front of him like an enormous ball of cheese. His darkly handsome eyes peered from a nest of curly red hair that wove into a wild crimson beard.

In his left hand he held a short whip, a seemingly ineffective weapon against such a potentially dangerous creature. But the beautiful black animal prowled obediently to an overturned oil drum and climbed onto it. There she sat and reared upward, clawing her fists through the warm air.

A small class of young men, most of them weighing not half of the creature they were watching, sat cross-legged in the shade of an egg yolk tree.

“That’s your Mr. Ivanic,” Phot told her. “This is what he does for a living.”

Ivanic cracked the whip lightly. The animal stepped slowly to the ground and stood looking at the students like a diner perusing a menu. Ivanic walked toward the back of the gym where cages were lined up beneath a canopy of coconut leaves. He tugged gently at the puma’s leash, and she started to follow him.

This was a duty she’d performed daily for several weeks without much thought. But on this day something got into her. Whether it was crankiness from the breezeless heat, or boredom at the unchanging diet, it’s hard to say. It was as if it just occurred to her that a rope didn’t work in both directions. There was nothing restraining her from the big man’s back.

She quickened her pace so the rope sagged, then broke into a loping run. The students gasped but were too shocked to call out. The puma was already at the base of her leap, coiling into a spring, split seconds from her prey. Dtui screamed.

Then suddenly without turning or changing his pace, Ivanic cracked the whip underarm and behind him. The very tip of the leather snapped against the animal’s snout. She shook her head angrily and stumbled over her bent front legs, turning a complete somersault and landing a foot from where the Russian now stood.

She was more humiliated than injured. The students clapped in appreciation, but Ivanic called something out to them. One of the other interpreters standing behind them translated his words.

“Mr. Ivanic reminds you how important it is to let your animal know that you’re always awake, always alert, and that you have eyes in your arse.”

The students laughed and clapped again and Ivanic led the humbled animal to its cage. It entered with no further fuss. Dtui and Phot walked over to it. There were four mesh cages the size of rattan ball courts. The puma’s neighbors were a small Lao wildcat and a very old lion whose ribs protruded like some ancient xylophone. The fourth cage was shrouded completely in long, worn stage curtains. There were other animals, untethered elephants, deer, and buffalo that wandered around the courtyard in pairs, as if in search of an ark.

Phot spoke to Ivanic, who seemed delighted to see him. They joked about something; then, with a big smile, the Russian reached out one dinner plate of a hand to Dtui and gave her the once-over with his eyes. She shook his hand but avoided the stare.

“Mr. Ivanic is always happy to see a big woman in a uniform,” Phot translated.

Although her mother had warned her that all Western men were lecherous dogs, the greeting caught her off guard. For once in her life, she didn’t have a cutting response. “I’m glad Mr. Ivanic has time to see me.”

With the Russian’s hand uncomfortably against the small of her back, they all walked into the little gym. There they sat around a small card table at one end. At the other, young women were sending their limbs in directions Dtui could never have imagined sending hers. One young lass stood on one leg and held the other against her cheek, the toes pointing to the ceiling. Ivanic noticed Dtui’s grimace.

“Mr. Ivanic asked whether you can do that.”

“Yes, easy. As long as the leg wasn’t attached to me any more.”

The Russian laughed with his whole body and went to give her a hug. She avoided it by bending down to her bag. She dug out the concrete cast and laid it on the table.

“Could Mr. Ivanic tell me what animal produced these marks?”

Ivanic took up the concrete mold and spread his huge hand over it. He looked up at Dtui, not smiling now.

“Mr. Ivanic wonders where you got this print.”

“It was from my boss’s garden.”

“So there isn’t a connection between this and the killings of the women?”

“You know about that?”

“Remember where you are, Nurse Chundee.”

“Right. Secret Police, I forgot. No, this one wasn’t connected to the killings.”

“Mr. Ivanic believes this is the print of a Malay black bear. He estimates it to be quite large for its breed.”

“Did he ever see the bear at the Lan Xang?”

The response was quite heated.

“Mr. Ivanic is very angry at the treatment that bear received. He’s delighted the animal escaped.”

“Is this print likely to have been made by that bear?”

“It’s very likely.”

“Does he believe that bear could have killed two people?”

The response was long and seemingly complicated. Phot had to ask for clarification of a number of points. Dtui’s eyes wandered again to the poor deformed girls and the knots they were tying themselves into.

“Mr. Ivanic is most concerned that there is a ‘shoot to kill’ order out on the bear. He has tried without success to convince the director here to rescind the order.”

“Why?”

“According to him, there’s no way an Asiatic bear could do the damage we’ve heard about.”

“But they are carnivorous.”

“Yes, but they’re the most passive of the carnivores. They may eat small slow animals or kill something wounded and eat that, but it’s very unlikely they’d attack a large animal. It’s unthinkable that they might attack and kill man.”

“Even if they’d been tortured by man?”

Phot asked the question and smiled at the answer.

“Revenge is a trait exclusive to us humans. Animals don’t get even. They can be very forgiving.”

“Is it totally impossible?”

“It’s so unlikely, it’s hardly worth thinking about.”

Dtui took out the two agar molds and put them on the table. Mr. Ivanic clapped his hands and said something to make Phot laugh.

“Mr. Ivanic says if he’d known we were having a party, he would have brought something to drink.”

“Well, you keep him away from these jellies. They were set on the skin of dead people.”

“These are the marks from the bodies?”

“Yes.”

Phot explained and Ivanic looked very seriously at them. Again he held his huge hands over the marks to judge the size. Then he shook his head.

“Are they bear teeth?”

“No.”

“How can he be so sure?”

“Mathematics.”

“Mathematics?”

“Mr. Ivanic says bears have forty-two teeth. Whatever bit into the flesh of these unfortunate women had fewer. Even if all the teeth didn’t leave a mark, there still isn’t enough space from the back teeth to the front. His guess is around thirty.”

“And what would that make it?”

“Mr. Ivanic says it was a cat.”

“I take it he isn’t talking about a lap cat.”

“He’s referring to a very large cat.” Ivanic said something, stood, and walked toward the door. “We should follow.”

In front of the cage where the defeated puma now lay, Ivanic formed his hand into the shape of a jaw and opened his fingers toward the animal. It responded with a relatively subdued growl and gave Dtui a view of its awesome teeth.

“Wow. What was your puma doing on the night of the ninth?” she asked through Phot. The Russian laughed and squeezed her shoulder.

“Mr. Ivanic said she was with him all night, officer. But the cat you’re looking for is even bigger than this one.”

“How much bigger?”

“Perhaps a tiger.”

“He thinks there’s a tiger on the loose in Vientiane?”

“He agrees it doesn’t sound very likely.”

“Could he be wrong about the number of teeth?”

The men got into a discussion. “Even if he were wrong about the numbers, and I doubt he is, the set of the mouth is different. Cats’ teeth are shaped for cutting. The bear’s are adapted for grinding. Your mold shows teeth that could only have been for cutting. In fact, Mr. Ivanic can’t recall ever seeing such sharp teeth. It was as if …”

A deep drowsy growl came from the covered cage. Dtui looked up and didn’t notice the exchange of glances between the trainer and the interpreter.

“What’s in there?”

“It’s just another animal.”

“What type?”

“It’s a panda.”

“Why’s the cage covered?”

“Mr. Ivanic says the animal has just recently arrived from China and it’s reacting badly to the heat, as we all are. In such circumstances, pandas are known to regress and become nocturnal until they can acclimatize.”

“So it sleeps in the day and gets rowdy at night?”

“Something like that.”

“But it’s a bear?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I could take a look at its teeth? I just want to try to understand the differences Mr. Ivanic has described for myself.”

“It’s sleeping.”

“Maybe it sleeps with its mouth open. I do.”

A discussion ensued between the men, and it was clear that they disagreed on the decision. Mr. Ivanic seemed to think it was all right as long as they didn’t wake the creature. The Russian untied the edge of the curtain, took Dtui by the hand and led her into the flap between the drape and the bars of the cage. The thick material did a good job of keeping out the sun. The only light oozed up from the points where the curtains didn’t quite reach the ground.

She could barely make out the slow breathing shape at the rear of the cage. Its face was away from her. All she could see were the contrasting black and white markings and the piles of uneaten fruit. She would have stayed longer till her eyes became accustomed to the dark, but she was suddenly aware that Mr. Ivanic’s hand was moving from her back slowly south. It was time to get out.

Phot was waiting for them, smoking a cigarette.

“See anything?”

“Not much. It was too dark. I thought pandas were bigger than that.”

“It will be. He’s still quite young. Nurse Chundee …”

“Call me Dtui.”

“Dtui, if you don’t mind, it would be better if not too many people knew about our panda. It hasn’t exactly cleared customs.”

“Illegal alien?”

“It came in on a transporter overnight from Kun Ming. The paperwork would have taken weeks. The thing would have starved to death in Customs if we’d done it officially. You understand?”

“My lips are sealed.”

He interpreted their conversation.

“Mr. Ivanic thanks you for your cooperation. He would like to show his gratitude by inviting you for lunch at his private rooms.”

“I’m sure he would. But I’m afraid that although Mr. Ivanic is marvelous with animals, he doesn’t have nice manners when it comes to Lao women.”

“You want me to translate that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good for you.”