The next day, Siri and Beer rowed past the Thai river police launch on their way to Nakhon Phanom. They glared and the police glared back. A lot of refugees made the mistake of smiling or, worse, waving: a flaming neon sign that said, Here we are, arrest us. Those with nothing to hide had no reason to be polite. They heard shots from downriver but often the river guards on the Thai side were just shooting at birds. It was a minor disincentive to smugglers and refugees but it guaranteed roast fowl for dinner.

They met Kyoko at a comparatively upmarket roadside restaurant. She welcomed them with her smile and a polite nop, which on the Thai side was called a wai. The only difference between the two was that the Lao had yet to disguise its insincerity.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“No,” said Beer, instantly. Siri answered with a smile.

“I’m buying you both lunch,” she said.

“No, you don’t have to,” said Siri.

“Oh, but I do,” said Kyoko. “You two have enlivened my life, expanded my horizons. I didn’t sleep a minute last night.”

Siri was curious to know how boring Toshi had accomplished such a feat. Many of the Lao entries—not including the fables—had put him to sleep. The waitress came and took their orders with a smile.

“Did you find it exciting?” Siri asked. “The Japanese section?”

He’d hoped for a “yes” so Kyoko’s “no” floored him.

“Fascinating, yes,” she said. “Disturbing, appalling, sickening? All of those. But not exciting.”

“What do you mean?” Siri asked.

“Well, Doctor Siri, the diary entries begin in 1937. Hiro, who was then called Toshimado, was in Manchuria. He provides us with the dates and the times and describes in great detail the places he visited and the tasks he was ordered to perform. At that time he was a major in charge of what they called ‘salvage.’ They would go in behind their victorious armies and rescue goods and equipment which could be reused or sold toward the war effort. It appears the spoils of war had no bounds: valuables in empty apartments and houses, heavy equipment in factories, rings and gold fillings from deceased enemy soldiers and civilians. It’s all documented with no emotion at all.”

“So Toshi was a noncombatant even then?” said Siri.

“So it seems.”

“Any other mention of him being a pilot?”

“None at all beyond the introduction.”

“So it’s possible he never flew.”

“Yes,” said Kyoko. “I’m only halfway through but he seems intent on demonstrating his undying devotion to the emperor and the Imperial Army. There are entries where he describes the most horrific scenes in impassive terms.”

“For example,” said Siri.

She turned to a page that she’d selected by inserting a pink cartoon bookmark.