Siri and Daeng fell back into a routine. It wasn’t the first escape from near death for either of them, but they weren’t getting any younger. Survival was hard work and even a week after the incident they were drained. They couldn’t get the scent of lighter fluid out of their nostrils. Both were philosophical about death and had no ambition to claim more life than they were owed. Daeng was probably as pleased to have preserved the antique skirt collection as she was to have preserved herself. They still had their lives thanks to a dog and a naked Indian and for that they would be forever grateful. But, until Dom was caught there could be no rest.

Siri had packed all of his chicken bones, each one exactly three centimeters long with a yellow stain at one end. He’d had no template for his design but decided it didn’t matter. It was most certainly the thought that counted. Before her sad demise, Dr. Porn had arranged transport for his cargo to three refugee camps on the Thai side. Madam Khunthong, who had taken on the responsibility for this shipment, had called Siri into her office to have him explain once more what it was all about. She hadn’t quite grasped the concept. Khunthong was a jolly, football-shaped woman with no chin and a high forehead.

“Tell me again what they are,” she said.

“They are small lengths of chicken bone with dobs of yellow paint at one end of each,” he said.

“And how many, in total, do we have here?”

“Twelve-hundred in each box.”

“And we give them to . . . ?”

“One to every single man in the camps under the age of twenty-five,” said Siri. “And a handful for families to hand out to single Lao men they meet in the countries they’re accepted by.”

“I’m assuming we don’t tell them these are chicken bones.”

“Absolutely not,” said Siri. “These are ancient amulets blessed by generations of shamans. They should find a strong length of string and wear them around their necks. They’re infused with magic. They are more powerful than even the most evil of night seductresses.”

“Night seductresses?”

“That’s what you tell them.”

“But it isn’t true.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You want our people to lie to them?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I can tell them to do that.”