“Because, whoever little Monsieur Paiboun is,” he said, “whoever he works for, we will learn of it. When I am released, I shall find him. If they foolishly decide to execute me, my brothers will find him. We will find him and we will take his life apart piece by piece, friend by friend. And when there remains only him, we will take him apart even more slowly and painfully, organ by organ, until there is nothing left. But long before the end he will have regretted this day.”

At last the guards took his arms and half-carried him to the street and the waiting van. Before climbing aboard, he looked back at me and gestured a knife across his throat. And then he smiled. And the smile was more frightening than anything he’d said.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The Widow Ghost

Siri and Daeng were sitting on their bamboo recliners on the bank of the Mekong looking out to the pinpricks of light on the far bank. Siri had crossed the river in both directions and could have been killed doing so a number of times in any number of ways. But Mother Khong always looked so innocent, as if you could just wade your way through it, pick up supplies on the Thai side and float back over. This time of year it was at its most sly. Escapees often waited for the end of the monsoon floods only to find themselves carried south on the current.

“I can’t believe you haven’t told me this story before,” said Daeng.

“Have you told me all yours?” Siri asked.

“Not yet.”

“Exactly,” said Siri. “We have a combined age of . . . several hundred years. We need untold stories to entertain each other in our dotage.”

“You don’t think your involvement in the assassination of a president is a priority A-plus story?”

“I was just a witness. I have many more exciting stories than that. If I’d killed him myself it would have been the first story out of my mouth. I just happened to follow a coconspirator.”

“One who promised to take you apart organ by organ. Did you ever find out who he was?”

“There was nothing in the press. No public trial. The only version of events on record is that of the drunken Russian émigré. Before his execution at the guillotine he claimed that he was driven in a trance to kill heads of state. Officially, the man I followed wasn’t involved.”

“And unofficially?”