The Windup Girl

He looks up at Akkarat, trying to control his words. To make them count. To sound reasonable. "There must be some way to find out what really happened to the Somdet Chaopraya. Some connection. Something."

A Panther leans forward and whispers in Akkarat's ear. Anderson thinks he recognizes him from the party on the barge. One of the Somdet Chaopraya's men. The hard one with the feral face and the still eyes. He whispers more words. Akkarat nods sharply. "Khap." Motions his men to push Anderson and Carlyle into the next room.

"All right, Khun Anderson. We will see what we can learn." They shove him down on the floor beside Carlyle. "Make yourself comfortable," Akkarat says. "I've given my man twelve hours to investigate. You had better pray to whatever Grahamite god you worship that your story is confirmed."

Anderson feels a surge of hope. "Find out everything you can. You'll see it wasn't us. You'll see." He sucks on his split lip. "That windup isn't anything other than a Japanese toy. Someone else is responsible for this. The white shirts are just trying to get us to go after each other. Ten to one says it's the white shirts, moving on us all."

"We will see."

Anderson lets his head loll back against the wall, adrenaline and nervous energy firing under his skin. His hand throbs. The broken finger dangles useless. Time. He's bought time. Now it's just a matter of waiting. Of trying to find the next fingerhold to survival. He coughs again, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

Beside him, Carlyle groans, but doesn't wake up. Anderson coughs again and stares at the wall, collecting himself for the next round of conflict with Akkarat. But even as he considers the many angles, trying to understand what has caused this rapid change in circumstance, another image keeps intruding. The sight of the windup girl running for the balcony and plunging into darkness, faster than anything he has ever seen, a wraith of movement and feral grace. Fast and smooth. And at speed, terrifyingly beautiful.

32

Smoke billows around Kanya. Four more bodies discovered, in addition to the ones they'd already found in the hospitals. The plague is mutating more quickly than she expected. Gi Bu Sen hinted that it might, but the counting of bodies fills her with foreboding.

Pai moves along the edges of a fish pond. They've thrown lye and chlorine into the pond, huge sacks. Clouds of acrid scent waft across everyone, making them cough. The stench of fear.

She remembers other ponds filled, other people huddled while the white shirts ranged through the village, burning burning burning. She closes her eyes. How she had hated the white shirts then. And so when the local jao por found her intelligent and driven, he sent her to the capital with instructions: to volunteer with the white shirts, to work for them, to ingratiate herself. A country godfather, working in concert with the enemies of the white shirts. Seeking revenge for the usurpation of his power.

Dozens of other children went south to beg on the Ministry's doors, and all of them with the same instructions. Of the ones she arrived with, she is the only one who rose so high, but there are others, she knows, others like her, seeded throughout. Other embittered loyal children.

"I forgive you," Jaidee murmurs.

Kanya shakes her head and ignores him. Waves to Pai that the ponds are ready to be buried. If they are lucky, the village will cease to exist entirely. Her men work quickly, eager to be gone. They all have masks and suits, but in the relentless heat these shields are more torture than protection.

More clouds of acrid smoke. The villagers are crying. The girl Mai stares at Kanya, her expression flat. A formative moment for the child. This memory will lodge like a fish bone in the throat; she will never be free of it.

Kanya's heart goes out to her. If only you could understand. But it is impossible for one so small to comprehend the gray brutalities of life.

If only I could have understood.

"Captain Kanya!"

She turns. A man is coming across the dikes, stumbling in the mud of the paddies, stumbling through jewel-green rice shoots. Pai looks up with interest, but Kanya waves him away. The messenger arrives breathless. "Buddha smiles on you, and the Ministry." He waits expectantly.

"Now?" Kanya stares at him. Looks back at the burning village. "You want me now?"

The young boy looks around nervously, surprised at her response. Kanya waves impatiently. "Tell me again. Now?"

"Buddha smiles on you. And the Ministry. All roads start at the heart of Krung Thep. All roads."

Kanya grimaces and calls to her lieutenant. "Pai! I must go."

"Now?" He masters his surprise as he comes over to her.

Kanya nods. "It's unavoidable." She waves at the flaming bamboo houses. "Finish up here."

"What about the villagers?"

"Keep them roped here. Send food. If no one else sickens this week, we are likely finished."

"You think we could be so lucky?"