“Worked? She quit?”
“She’s out of the picture.”
Calvino picked up a thick loaf of bread. Without thinking, he took a knife and hacked off a hunk. Then another piece, until the entire loaf was in pieces.
“You never know where a woman like that will land.”
“She didn’t say goodbye.”
“She might have. But you just didn’t hear it.”
“Why’d you cut the bread?”
“I must have seen it in a dream.”
“Maybe we should get out of here.”
“I’ll go back to the bookstore for my things.”
“But Mya promised to sing tonight. I promised her I’d stay for that,” said the Colonel.
Calvino wanted to tell the Colonel what the Black Cat had done to Kati. But he left him with the impression that Kati had checked out of the party early. He just told the Colonel that he’d overheard her admit she’d been Somchai’s squeeze.
“Are you sure?”
Calvino nodded. “Afraid so.”
The Colonel hadn’t known. And he didn’t want to know. It was enough for the Colonel to file her away as the kind of woman who was the small change that moved from one high roller’s pocket to the next. She’d been like most of the pretties who worked the auto shows. Her life’s ambition had been to find a man who’d buy her all the stuff of her dreams. Somchai had been tied up on the floor a few feet away, and the only dreams left were those in the large mural above their heads. Some dreams weren’t for sale.
The house was filled with the new generation. The sons and daughters of politicians, businessmen, godfathers and generals, people who had gone to school together and were now linked by power, marriage and wealth. Yadanar’s little speech inside the room had been an indictment of Somchai’s ignorance, and the consequence of ignorance when doing business in Myanmar was a death sentence. Figuring out where one belongs is always the first order of business. The room was filled with people who were one, large extended family. What family didn’t have morons, renegades, traitors or cheaters? There was always a struggle under the surface, until someone felt lucky and tried to ambush the pack from behind.
Colonel Pratt returned to the music room to play for the guests. People laughed and hugged and danced. When the song ended, Calvino moved through the crowd to stand next to the Colonel as Yadanar stood on a stool, his hands raised, asking for everyone’s attention.
“I have a birthday announcement. Good news,” he said. “Where’s Mya?”
She was found in the back of the room on a sofa.
“Come up here with me.”
He waited until Mya was next to him.
“We have been invited to perform in Bangkok. Pratt, Mya and the rest of our band are going there.”
“Did you know about this?” Calvino asked the Colonel.
Pratt slowly turned his attention from Yadanar.
“I’m afraid I did.”
The room of people applauded.
“Our country is opening. We will take the message of a new beginning for the Burmese people to the larger world. We are changing. We are part of the new Myanmar.”
There was more applause. One of the band members handed Mya a mike, and soon her voice echoed through the room, out the hall and throughout the house as she sang “Every Step of the Way.” Yadanar accompanied her on the piano. It was just the two of them playing in the music room, before an admiring crowd of people invited to a birthday party. A going-away party.
On the way out of the grounds, before they had reached the gate and the security guards with the AK-47s, Colonel Pratt told Calvino that he had found Yadanar’s price, the amount that would guarantee no more smuggling of cold pills into Thailand. The promise of a chance at the musical big time had been it. No guarantees, but a chance. Then the matter would be in the laps of the gods. The deal was good enough for Colonel Pratt to return to Bangkok and let his boss know the cold pill smuggling operation had been closed down. The “closed” sign was hanging in the window. The owner had turned his back on pills to earn an audience with his piano and his cousin’s voice. Udom no longer had his Burmese source. It was as if the electrical generating plant had been shut down. Blackout.
TWENTY-TWO