The 38 Million Dollar Smile - Stevenson Richard - Страница 58

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of political birth, death and rebirth will resume. It’s all

reassuring, if you really think about it. It works quite as well as the political setup in, say, New Jersey, is my impression.”

“It works,” Griswold said, “because Buddhists understand

and accept that nothing is permanent. Change is the only reality, and Thais accept that truth and even embrace it. This

attunement with life’s deepest reality is why I love this country, and it is why this time I will never again make the mistake of

leaving Thailand.”

Pugh said, “Good luck, Mr. Gary. Just don’t neglect to do

your visa runs.”

Griswold said, “I really am sorry I won’t be able to speak

with Ellen and Bill before the Algonquin Steel takeover and the

commencement of the Sayadaw project. I think I might have

been able to help them understand that it’s best for all the

Griswolds just to move on. Business isn’t permanent. Family

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 259

history isn’t permanent. The only thing permanent is the spirit

of the Enlightened One and his teachings and, of course, the

Sangha that perpetuates his teachings.”

Pugh said, “I share your sentiments, Khun Gary, and I am

deeply disappointed that apparently I will not have the

opportunity to observe, even from a distance, your explaining

these matters to your older brother and your ex-wife. That

would have been a sight to behold.”

“Well,” Griswold said, “those necessary explanations will

have to take place in retrospect.”

“It’s bound to be dramatic either way.”

§ § § § §

By three in the afternoon, no official announcement had

been made of a change of government. Speculation was

rampant on the radio stations and television news channels as

to what this might mean. Did the king change his mind? Was

the aged king perhaps unwell, or worse? At three ten, Pugh’s

operatives, who had been out and about, began to filter back to

the safe house. They all reported that the roadblocks were being removed and the military trucks and troop carriers were

disappearing. Public transportation was soon up and running.

Radio and television began to report that the roadblocks and

military operations were merely part of an “exercise” and that,

contrary to widespread rumor, no coup had taken place.

Pugh said, “This is interesting.”

Griswold said, “Oh fuck.”

Pugh said, “That too.”

Just after four, nine police vehicles pulled up in front of the

safe house. Black-uniformed commandos quickly scaled the

walls on four sides to prevent any of us from making a run for

it.

A captain in a uniform that appeared freshly washed and

pressed despite the heat had all of us gathered together in one

place. He said calmly, “Please come with me. General Yodying

wishes to speak with you.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

At the police station, we were all placed inside the same

holding cell. Four unwashed men with multiple tattoos were

already in there, lying on the concrete floor, and they looked

unhappy to see us. This was perhaps because now they would

have to share the single pail being used for urination and

defecation with the fifteen of us. The cell was unfurnished

except for the reeking bucket, and somebody had forgotten to

equip the room with air-conditioning.

“Surely they won’t keep us here for long,” Griswold said,

and all the English-speaking Thais in the cell turned away from

him and fixed their gazes instead on the cockroaches crawling

up the walls.

Timmy said, “I was once in a cell like this in rural India. It

takes me back.”

“You deal drugs?” Mango asked.

“No, I had transported a village boy trampled by a bull to a

hospital, and as a bureaucratic precaution, two policeman took

me to jail, just in case it had been I who had crushed the boy’s pelvis.”

“How long you stay?” Kawee asked.

“Just overnight. The district poultry officer came and bribed

somebody to release me.”

Now everyone looked at Griswold again, Mister Moneybags.

Pugh said, “The general may let us marinate a bit. To clear

our minds.”

“I really don’t see why he is doing this,” Griswold said.

“Obviously Yodying is in this with Anant. They have swindled

me out of just about everything I own, including my family’s

company. What more can they possibly extract from me?”

“I am sure they are at this very moment compiling a list,

Khun Gary. What else have you got?”

262 Richard Stevenson

“My condo. What’s left of the cash in the vault under my

spirit house. Minus, of course, the two hundred fifty thousand I handed over to Seer Pongsak last night. Oh. I suppose he was

also a party to the scam. And he knew where my cash reserves

were kept. So I suppose he informed Anant and Yodying, who

went over to the condo and helped themselves.”

“You’ll be lucky if they didn’t lick the paint off the walls,”

Pugh said. “They are greedy.”

“Maybe,” Kawee said, “they water plants, make offerings.”

“Let’s hope so,” Pugh said. “The general and the former

finance minister are, after all, good Buddhists.”

Griswold suddenly looked nauseated and hunkered down

with his back against the filthy wall and lowered his head

between his knees. “I think I’m going to throw up,” he croaked.

Timmy, Mr. Peace Corps, was the one who picked up the

bucket, carried it over, and set it down in front of Griswold.

Pugh said, “Let ’er rip, Khun Gary.”

Griswold did.

The Thais all averted their eyes from the violently retching

farang.

I said, “Timothy, at home you’re so careful to turn up only

in the most fastidiously kept surroundings. Maybe in one of

your past lives you learned to adapt to conditions like these.

Say, in the Crimean war.”

Would he laugh? Nope. He glanced over at me

noncommittally, but that was all.

After an hour or so, two guards returned. Were they going

to release us? We had been on the cement floor, shifting about

and trying to find comfortable positions without kicking one

another in the face. The four men who were occupying the cell

when we arrived, we had learned, were in on drug charges and

facing long sentences or even death and had been inert in this

cell for eight days. They hoped for a pretrial hearing within two or three months, they said. They knew better than to expect

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 263

anything good from the guards when they came back, but the

rest of us looked up expectantly.

The guards, however, were only delivering supper. One held

an automatic weapon while the other unlocked the cell door,

and two kitchen workers came with a cart and passed out to

each of us plastic plates of rice and bowls of dun-colored soup.

“This food makes me ashamed to be Thai,” Pugh said. “It

must be Burmese.”

The rest of us weren’t crazy about it either. Most of us ate

the rice but skipped the soup. The four tattooed drug dealers

ate the rancid soup eagerly. They considered the extra food a

treat.

Timmy said, “Is it really possible we’ll be here overnight?”

Pugh shrugged.

I said, “But Rufus, nothing is permanent. All we have to do

is wait for the transitory nature of all things to notice us here.

Am I right?”

Pugh chuckled, and he translated my joke to the non–

English-speaking Thais in the cell. Everyone laughed except the

drug dealers.

At ten o’clock, the guards came back and handed in a bucket

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