The Windup Girl

"Khun, I hoped it was you." He hesitates, then holds out a small card. It is painted in the old Sukhothai-style and depicts a young man in combat, blood on his face, driving an opponent down into the ring. His features are stylized, but Jaidee can't help smiling at the sight of it.

"Where did you get this?"

"I was at the fight, Khun. In the village. I was only this big-" he holds his hand up to his waist "-only like this, perhaps. Maybe smaller." He laughs self-consciously. "You made me want to be a fighter. When Dithakar knocked you down and your blood was everywhere, I thought you were finished. I didn't think you were big enough to take him. He had muscles…" he trails off.

"I remember. It was a good fight."

The youth grins. "Yes, Khun. Fabulous. I thought I wanted to be a fighter, too."

"And now look at you."

The boy runs his hand over his close-cropped hair. "Ah. Well. Fighting is harder than I thought… but…" He pauses. "Would you sign it? The card? Please. I would like to give it to my father. He still speaks highly of your fights."

Jaidee smiles and signs. "Dithakar was not the most clever fighter I ever faced, but he was strong. I wish all my fights were so clear-cut."

"Captain Jaidee," a voice interrupts. "If you are quite finished with your fans."

The young man wais and flees. Jaidee watches him run and thinks that perhaps not all of the younger generation is a waste. Perhaps… Jaidee turns to face the general. "He is just a boy."

Pracha glowers at Jaidee. Jaidee grins. "And it's hardly my fault that I was a good fighter. The Ministry was my sponsor for those years. I think you won quite a lot of money and recruits because of me, Khun General, sir."

"Don't give me your 'General' nonsense. We've known each other too long for that. Get in here."

"Yes, sir."

Pracha grimaces and waves Jaidee into the office. "In!"

Pracha closes the door and goes to sit behind the expanse of his mahogany desk. Overhead, a crank fan beats desultorily at the air. The room is large, with shuttered windows open to allow light but little direct sun. The slits of the windows look out onto the Ministry's ragged grounds. On one wall are various paintings and photographs, including one with Pracha's graduating class of ministry cadets along with another of Chaiyanuchit, founder of their modern ministry. Another of Her Royal Majesty the Child Queen, looking tiny and terrifyingly vulnerable seated on her throne, and in a corner, a small shrine to Buddha, Phra Pikanet and Seub Nakhasathien. Incense and marigolds drape the shrine.

Jaidee wais the shrine then finds himself a seat in a rattan chair across from Pracha. "Where did you get that class photo?"

"What?" Pracha looks back. "Ah. We were young, then, weren't we? I found it in my mother's belongings. She had it all these years, tucked away in a closet. Who would have guessed the old lady was so sentimental?"

"It's a nice thing to see."

"You overstepped yourself at the anchor pads."

Jaidee returns his attention to Pracha. Whisper sheets lie scattered on the desk, rustling under the breeze of the crank fan: Thai Rath. Kom Chad Luek. Phuchatkan Rai Wan. Many of them with photos of Jaidee on the cover. "The newspapers don't think so."

Pracha scowls. He shoves the papers into a bin for composting. "The papers love a hero. It sells copies. Don't believe these people who call you a tiger for fighting the farang. The farang are the key to our future."

Jaidee nods at the portrait of his mentor Chaiyanuchit hanging below the Queen's image. "I am not certain that he would agree."

"Times change, old friend. People are hunting for your head."

"And you'll give it to them?"

Pracha sighs. "Jaidee, I've known you too long for this. I know you're a fighter. And I know you have a hot heart." He holds up a hand as Jaidee stirs to protest. "Yes, a good heart, also, just like your name, but still, jai rawn. Not a bit of jai yen in you. You relish the conflict." He purses his lips. "So I know that if I rein you in, you will fight. And if I punish you, you will fight."

"Then let me go about my business. The Ministry benefits from a loose cannon like me."

"People were offended by your action. And not just stupid farang. Not everyone who ships air cargo is farang, these days. Our interests reach far and wide. Thai interests."

Jaidee studies the general's desk. "I wasn't aware that the Environment Ministry only inspected cargo at others' convenience."

"I am trying to reason with you. My hands are full with tigers: blister rust, weevil, the coal war, Trade Ministry infiltrators, yellow cards, greenhouse quotas, fa' gan outbreaks… And yet you choose to add another."

Jaidee looks up. "Who is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who is so angry that you're pissing your pants this way? Coming to ask me not to fight? It's Trade, yes? Someone in the Trade Ministry has you by the balls."