Read Online Slash and Burn by Colin Cotterill - Free Book Online Page B

one. If they find a live one there’s a lot of bucks to be had to keep looking. It’s a sensitive issue in Washington. Big political strides to be made by supporting the vets, and, in turn, the military. And, two, he’s Senator Bowry’s best pal. Their kids played together. He knew Boyd. The family want him over here keeping tabs on the investigation.”
    “But he doesn’t want to roll up his sleeves and help us dig,” Siri remarked.
    “It doesn’t matter,” said Peach. “He’s in Bangkok. If you’re on your recliner TV chair in the States that’s every bit as good as being in the Lao jungle. “Senator Ulysses Vogal the third is in Southeast Asia supervising an MIA joint force mission.” Good line. Nobody questions whether he’s in the sweaty forests of northern Laos or doing cocktails in the lounge. Just the word “Asia” is scary enough over there. He’ll be a hero. If we find Boyd it’ll be his photo on the front page of the Post with his arm around the young man, sweat stains around his armpits. You and your team won’t so much as crack a mention. “Local diggers” they’ll call you.”
    “What if the boy’s dead?” Daeng asked.
    “Same difference. ‘After a prolonged search, Senator Vogal sadly carries the remains of his best friend’s war hero son across the bitumen to board the TWA flight home.’ Votes a-plenty there from the female electorate. He’ll do great in farming communities.”
    “You’re impressively cynical for such a young thing,” Daeng smiled.
    “Madame Daeng, you try growing up white in Southeast Asia during an American war. The lines between them and us and right and wrong get real fuzzy. It was people like Vogal who decided there should be intervention over here to stop the communist takeover of the world. It was a policy experiment to prop up the fading popularity of the president. Another snow job to con the gullible general voters of North America.”
    There was a long silence in the misty room.
    “Very well,” said Siri. “As we haven’t even begun to look for the pilot, we’re still quite a way from finding him. It’s possible we won’t have to disturb the senator from his cocktails. Let’s take it from the introduction breakfast and see how we progress from there. Little Peach, do you foresee any disasters over our communal rice porridge?”
    “Do you really want to know?” she asked.
    “Major Harold Potter would like to welcome all the Lao delegates and says that he greatly respects the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos for everything the socialist administration has achieved in the past three years.”
    Judge Haeng’s cousin Vinai, the director of the Office of Interpretation Services, was standing at the end of the dining room at a beautifully carved but wonky dais. The audience sat at two long parallel tables. The Friendship Hotel restaurant had once been the entire building. It was constructed of sturdy hand-sawn lumber and its pillars were sunk deep. But the tin roof had been replaced with concrete tiling and, apart from the doors and window frames, very little wood had been used to complete the new lodge. Perhaps this was why only the dining room felt comfortable. It was as if the laid-back ghosts of the Corsicans watched over their inn from the solid rafters. Even the inevitable breakfast speeches seemed mellow.
    Siri turned to Daeng.
    “The major said all that in four words?”
    “You’d have to assume English is a lot more succinct than Lao,” Daeng decided.
    Siri had studied French at a Lao lycée then become fluent during his years in Paris, but he’d had no cause to dally with the English language. Cousin Vinai’s English rendition of the American major’s comment had sounded authentic but he had no idea how accurate a trans lation it was. It was the conflicting word count and the bewildered faces of Peach and Nurse Dtui that alerted him to the possibility that something might be amiss. Cousin Vinai had been allotted the