Part 54 (2/2)

”Go on, Tony,” Threnody said. ”The Shan is calling. The land where G.o.d dwells.”

”Far from where Rodger Donovan is.”

”That's part of the briefing. The last part,” Threnody said. ”My people, who are keeping tabs on Donovan, tell me he'll be here in a matter of hours.”

”But why?” Simbal asked.

”That I don't know. In fact, I really don't care. The important thing, Tony, is for you to take immediate action.”

”I haven't agreed to anything,” Simbal said. ”I'm here to track Bennett and Curran down. Do I have to say it again? I don't work for you anymore,”

”It's all there.” Threnody's forefinger tapped the manila envelope. ”Rodger Donovan's a traitor, Tony. A lot of people have died because of him.” Threnody's gaze was steady. ”You bring Bennett and Curran down. G.o.d knows they deserve it.” It was a look Simbal had seen before. ”But it's Donovan that the President and I are concerned about now. We want him gone.” It was the look Threnody got when he had decided to take the leash off his bulldog and give him his head.

The old man had skin like gold leaf. The sun and winds racing along the Shan plateau had burnished him in precisely the same manner he burnished the products of his labor.

He was an artisan of the old school, a Burmese fast disappearing from even this remote sector of the country. He was a master lacquerware maker. He had been born in Pagan where, it was said, his art traveled into Burma sometime during the first century A.D. via Chinese of the Nan-ch'ao Empire, whose great-great-great-grandchildren now inhabited Yunnan.

Nowadays, the pearl-gray liquid, tapped from the thitsi tree in similar fas.h.i.+on to the way latex is extracted from the rubber tree, was wrapped around wooden or bamboo frames. This man still did his work the way his grandfather had, using twists of horsehair as his base so that the finished product possessed a marvelously flexible quality.

Jake spent some time squatting beside the old man. He had brought with him two bottles of Johnnie Walker Black and four cartons of American cigarettes, which lay between the old man's legs.

The old man did most of the talking, Jake nodding and occasionally asking a question while he watched the ancient hands deftly molding the lacquer, black when it combined with the atmosphere, around the horsehair.

Above, the sky was the color of cat's-eye, great ma.s.ses of cloud dimming out all blue. Perhaps it was all the foliage which turned the sky yellow or perhaps the dust along the plateau, great wings hanging like gauze turned by an artist's hand.

After a time, Jake stood up and went a little distance away from the end of the open-air market where traditional plaid silk scarves and opium weights were displayed for sale. In the shade of an overhanging tree Bliss waited. ”He knows,” Jake said. ”He's heard of Chen Ju. Although he's not known by that name here. He's known as the Naga. Very G.o.dd.a.m.ned melodramatic. The great serpent out of Asian myth.”

”Jake.”

”Uncle Tommy knows where to find the Naga,” Jake went on. All Burmese had American names and were known by them. ”We're not far. It's just about”

”Jake.” Bliss took his arm, led him around to the other side of the tree, where they were screened from the villagers. ”What is it? Since that night on my father's junk you haven't said a word about anything besides Chen Ju. You haven't slept, you've eaten next to nothing. You have a look in your eyes that frightens me.”

”It's nothing.”

”As nothing as what happened at McKenna's?”

”What about that?”

”You were never so callous. Never so, I don't know, maybe s.a.d.i.s.tic is the word.”

”I didn't enjoy what I did.”

”No,” she said, ”perhaps not. But perhaps you could have considered another alternative.”

”There was none. I told you White-Eye Kao was trained by a master.”

”If that were truly the case, he would have died rather than reveal anything.”

Jake watched her for a time. He was aware of the women in longyi, their faces roughly painted with pale yellow pigment. They watted upon the old man as if he were the Buddha himself.

”What are you saying.”

”I am saying nothing,” Bliss said steadfastly. Ever since they had come here she had gotten the impression that Jake was spoiling for afight. ”What I am asking you to do is consider the possibility that White-Eye Kao told you just what he was ordered to tell you.”

”Chen Ju wants me here.”

”Perhaps, yes.”

”But, why?” Jake asked. ”It makes no sense to lead me to where he is. Far better for him to attempt to take over InterAsia by proxy as he is doing.”

”He is afraid of you,” she said. ”Here, he can destroy you so much more easily than in Hong Kong. And there is no one to make an inquiry.”

”It's stupid,” Jake insisted. ”And Chen Ju is not stupid.” He had continued to watch her and now he caught something in her expression that he could not let go. ”Unless you know something that I don't.”

Bliss turned away. How to tell him about what had happened with his father? How to prepare him for da-hei? ”I” And then she shut her mouth. She knew, with a terrible, sinking feeling that there was no way to prepare him for what she had to tell him. But why shouldn't he understand. How many times had she seen him slip into ba-mahk? Wasn't da-hei similar?

”You've changed,” he said.

”As have you. I hope you still remember what it was like when we were together.”

Something she said pierced him like an arrow and he let go of her, sliding until he was crouched down, his back against the bole of the tree.

Bliss knelt beside him. ”Jake,” she said, ”what is it?”

”I don't know.”

She knew it for a lie and foolishly told him so before she thoughtabout it.

”You know everything now, don't you?” he flared. ”You knew when White-Eye Kao was lying and when he was telling the truth. Now you have divined a change in me. What else do you know that you aren't telling me?”

Bliss could have bitten her tongue for saying what she had. ”Don't you have it backward?” she said softly. ”It is you who can divine the truth. With ba-mahk you”

”No.”

”What?”

”I no longer possess the ability to enter into ba-mahk.” His face was in shadow but she did not need to see his expression to hear the bitterness in his voice.

”Is that what it's all about?”

He turned to her. ”Is it so little?”

She put her arm through his. ”Now you sound like a small boy who has lost his favorite teddy bear.”

”I feel like a man suddenly gone blind.”

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