Free Anarchy and Old Dogs (Dr. Siri Paiboun) by Colin Cotterill Page A

Pakse."
    "We? Civilai's going with you?"
    "He insisted."
    "Hell, Siri."
    "What?"
    "He isn't exactly low profile, is he? Do you think you can root around discreetly in the south with a politburo member at your side?"
    "Don't panic. He's going south to 'convalesce after a minor operation.' It'll be very hush-hush. It's just a coincidence we'll be there at the same time."
    "Who's going to believe that?"
    "Phosy, he knows people down there. He can get us information I probably wouldn't have access to. He knows what he's doing."
    "I should go with you anyway."
    "No, son. You need to be here. If we can trace the letter, we'll need someone here to follow up on it. I'll phone and leave messages at my house as to my progress. You can pick them up there via Dtui. That will avoid the official government phone lines and the official government phone tappers."
    "What makes you think your phone isn't bugged, too?"
    "I'm sure we can put together a little jiggery pokery of our own, a simple code that will baffle the Security Division. It can't be that difficult. We aren't beyond a little espionage of our own."
    "Dr. Siri, are you sure you know what you're doing?"
    "As I believe I've told you before, I've never been sure of anything in my life. But it's worth a try. It's even a bit exciting, don't you think?"

The Night Bruce Lee Saved Laos

    As Siri had anticipated, the Soviet ambassador did indeed make the Yak 40 available for the trip south. It helped that a politburo member had also requested passage. Civilai was driven directly to the plane and made every effort to stagger bowlegged up the steps so anyone watching might sympathize. Hemorrhoids were no laughing matter.
    Despite the short notice for the flight, there were eight other passengers on board. Siri sat on a wooden bench nurturing his paranoia. He looked at the men opposite and tried to match their faces with an identikit for traitors he carried in his mind. He dismissed the four Russian education experts on their way to the teachers college. The two forestry officials had been too vocal as they sat behind Siri in the waiting room. They'd spouted precise figures to demonstrate how many millions of kip per day the government was losing as a result of the Thai logging embargo. The two army officers, however, sat composed and apart amid the spin-dryer vibrations of the old Soviet war craft.
    Just a coincidence? Siri wondered. They wore their uniforms proudly and sat erect, like men who had acquired their self-discipline in a place other than the jungles of Laos. He'd smiled at them when he'd first climbed on board and one of them had nodded back. The other, a thin man whose skin was stretched over his cheekbones like melted cheese, had looked away, pretending not to notice. In the din of the ancient Yak there was no conversation to be had, but Siri committed the stern sunburned face to memory. For the entire journey the soldier sat still, unconcerned by the discomfort of the seat, staring ahead at portholes too small to see through.
    Civilai, being an aristocrat of the politburo, was seated behind the bored Ukrainian pilots. Not first-class accommodation, except that it gave the VIP a marvelous view of the lightning that slivered and danced above the low clouds. It was like a grand plot of the weather, secretly stirring up its storms, bringing its witches' brew of monsoons to the boil, holding back its life-giving rains till the last second. Civilai knew it would break someday soon. All this power would be unleashed, drenching the delicate earth below. His people, who for months had struggled to survive the drought, would find themselves struggling to survive the storms. Unfair really, but there was no more chance of stopping the weather than there was of ... He shuddered as he considered the enormity of the task ahead of him.

    Pakse was a city without a center. It sat in the armpit between the Se Don and the Mekhong rivers, its suburbs only recently venturing across their banks. It