“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said unconvincingly in fluent Lao. He didn’t take them to his office or invite them to sit. He’d obviously planned for this to be a brief visit. That suited Siri.

“We’ve been informed that you’re traveling to Thakhek this weekend,” said the doctor.

“By helicopter,” said Daeng.

Roper only had eyes for her.

“That’s true,” he said.

“We would like to go with you,” said Daeng.

Roper produced one of those condescending British smiles that leaves a person in no doubt they’ve said something utterly ridiculous.

“Of course that would be totally out of the question,” he said. “Even if you were a politburo member I’d be unable to give permission for such a thing.” He started walking toward the door. “I’m sorry you wasted your time here.”

He noticed the old Lao couple were not following him.

“But there is a way,” said Daeng.

“This is the United Nations,” said the man. “It isn’t a travel agency.”

“Dr. Siri?” said Daeng.

Siri reached into his shoulder bag and produced a single sheet of paper. He unfolded it and read, “Madam Wojcik. The wife of the Polish consul.”

He looked up just in time to see what little color there was in the Englishman’s face drain into his button-down collar.

“I . . .” he said.

“Recently returned from a trip to Bangkok where a confidential maternity test revealed that, despite her advanced years, the good lady is five months pregnant,” Siri continued. “Whence a decision was made to terminate the pregnancy.”

“How . . . ?” said Roper.

“You are based in a socialist state and dallying with a married woman whose husband represents a socialist country,” said Daeng with a smile. “Spying is one of our fortes. How could we not know? It would appear the only ear the story has yet to reach is that of the consul.”

“Who I believe is an insanely jealous man,” Siri added.

“I . . .” said Roper.

“Now, for a waiter or a taxi driver that would not necessarily be a problem,” said Siri.

“He could just jump on the bus and make a living elsewhere,” said Daeng.

“But for a United Nations representative, particularly one with a wife and two children of his own, this situation could be a little sticky,” said Siri.

“This is . . .” Roper lowered his voice even though they were alone in the room. “This is blackmail.”

“Not yet,” said Daeng.

“That’s coming,” said Siri.

“And when it does you’ll be pleased to learn that we don’t want money,” said Daeng.

“That would be most uncivilized,” said Siri. “All we want . . .”

“Is a helicopter ride to Thakhek,” said Daeng.

“And back,” said Siri.

“I . . .” said Roper.

Chapter Six

How Does She Smell?

6/21/1943

It was a fine evening and I was watching the sun set beyond the river. I’d had a busy but fruitful day of planting tomatoes. I was about to return to the camp and resume my Lao language studies when I smelled something awful. I turned to see Warrant Officer Ukabane Orimimi standing close behind me. It was hardly surprising that he had trouble making friends. Apart from the state of his face, which was like that of an unsuccessful boxer, he had the most horrible breath. Honestly, it was as if a rat had crawled into his mouth and died there. I’d recommended mouthwashes and pineapple juice and fennel seeds but nothing seemed to make a difference.