The King’s Last Song

‘But I killed children.’

The moon purses its lips. You killed children.

Everything in Sivutha Street is dark. Even the whorehouse bar is closed.

The gates of the Phimeanakas Guesthouse stand locked and the forecourt lights are off.

Map knows Prak, the Phimeanakas security guard. Like Map, Prak stays awake all night under mosquito nets. Like all of Mrs Bou’s staff, Prak is an honest man, meaning he doesn’t steal and tells only harmless lies. Whether he is a good man is another matter. Map has known Prak in other lives, as war followed war.

‘Prak! Prak!’ he hisses.

Map peers into the courtyard that is criss-crossed with the shadows of tall fencing and palm leaves. ‘Prak?’

Somewhere in shadow Prak says, ‘Go away, gunman.’

‘Prak, this is the policeman, Tan Map. What has happened to Teacher Luc Andrade?’

‘I don’t know, come back tomorrow.’

‘Prak, they say he was taken hostage. Do you have any news, do you know anything?’

‘What do you mean? I don’t know anything about it. Go away!’

‘What are Teacher Luc’s team doing? Prak, don’t be stupid, I’m no thief. The Frenchman is my patron, come on! What are the Army doing?’

‘Mrs Bou remembers you, she knows who you are and what you did.’

‘I remember too, everybody remembers what everybody else did. Everybody did something to stay alive. So did you.’

‘I am not coming out. I am coming nowhere near that gate.’

‘What are people saying about what happened?’

‘I am not telling the whole street!’

This is getting weird. ‘Prak, have you seen a ghost or something? I just want to know about my sponsor.’

‘I don’t know anything. The Army came and talked to the guests and left. I didn’t hear what they said; it was none of my business. Now go away!’

Something clicks, a shutter closing.

Prak was always roostershit; his pants were always full of it.

OK, Teacher Luc, I am committed to helping you so I must think very hard about what to do.

The Patrimony Police didn’t know the Book was being moved, and neither did APSARA, at least the guides didn’t know and nobody from APSARA was in the car. So the Army would have been in charge.

Map smiles to himself. No gun. He only has a knife. He giggles. Stay out of trouble, Map. Me?

Trouble is my girlfriend; I love Trouble; she comes up to me all slinky and says, you want to have a party? I don’t even need a dollar to pay her, Trouble loves me so much.

OK let’s go.

There’s no one at the gate of Army HQ.

Map’s bicycle crunches its way into the forecourt over the fine gravel. Lights blaze all along the long white veranda. One of the doors is open, full of light and talk.

Oh, my old friends will be so happy to see me. They will have a party with Trouble too. Map sticks his knife into his belt and strolls towards the room.

‘Are you all happy?’ he says, sticking his head through the door.

A flicking of safety catches and a dragging of chairs; soldiers leap up from around a desk.

One of them is Map’s old officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Sinn Rith.

‘You?’ Rith demands. ‘What are you doing here?’ He looks fatter these days. Meaner too, his face behind mirror sunglasses after midnight. Map thinks: maybe moonlight blinds you, Rith.

Map’s smile goes snake-like. ‘I hear you guys got my mentor kidnapped, so I came here to find out more about it.’

Rith makes a light, swift gesture: guns down, hold back. ‘We think you already know all about it.’

Map shakes his head. ‘No, like I said. I don’t know anything. That’s why I’m here.’

Rith looks grim but amused. ‘We were just thinking maybe you did it.’

‘That would not be clever. I kidnap my boss and lose all my money.’

Slowly, the guns creep back up. They really are still mad at me aren’t they?

‘It’s more like this, Private Tan Map. We didn’t tell anybody about the car. Nobody knew except the Army and the Frenchman. But at the right moment, on the airport road, out come two pick-ups from those unfinished houses side by side. One stops in front of us, one stops behind. They shoot some of our men. They take General Yimsut Vutthy and the Director of the UN project, who is an important man we are supposed to protect. We ask ourselves, who else would know when the car was going and what it was carrying? Who else would Grandfather Frenchman know and be stupid enough to trust?’

This is Trouble, all right. Trouble has strung up a hammock for me to stay overnight. All the safety catches are off, and they are all easing up to their feet.

‘I have another story,’ says Map. ‘You’ve got some old general over you and nobody is getting any promotion. Who is going to be so fast and good at kidnapping from the Army? Some Thai art dealers? Some farmers who only care that the Book is made of gold? How about some guys from the Army who want an old general out of the way?’

Rith is smiling and shaking his head. ‘Oh, I like that story. It’s a good story. A good theory, guys? So now we have two good theories. And we have you.’

The soldiers come towards Map slowly, like they’re digging out clay at the brick factory and their feet are stuck.

Map keeps smiling; he can’t help it. Bad as it is, this is his idea of fun. ‘All those guns, pointing at one little policeman.’

They stand around him in an arc but he’s backed into the doorway so they can’t surround him.

They really believe this shit. I’m going to get beaten up. I’ve been beaten up before. Then they’ll stick me in some hot little room until they can come up with something for a trial.

Also, they have reasons of their own for wanting to hurt me.

The soldiers start to hustle him backwards out of the doorway.