She always suspected that Jaidee knew of the extra take she got for herself and the men. But there was always Jaidee: pure Jaidee, clear Jaidee. Jaidee did the work because he believed. Not like Kanya. Cynical Kanya. Angry Kanya. Not like the others who did the job because it had the potential to pay well and a pretty girl might pay attention to a man in dress whites, a man who also had the authority to shut down her pad thai cart.
Jaidee fought like a tiger, and died like a thief. Dismembered, disemboweled, tossed to dogs and cheshires and crows so that there was little left of him. Jaidee, with his cock in his mouth and blood on his face, a package delivered to the Ministry grounds. An invitation to war-if only the Ministry could be sure of its enemy. Everyone whispers Trade, but only Kanya knows for certain. She has kept Jaidee's last mission to herself.
Kanya burns at the shame of it. She starts up the stairs. Her heart thuds in her chest as she climbs. Why couldn't that damn honorable Jaidee keep his nose out of Trade? Take the warning? And now she must visit herself on the sons. Must tell the warrior boys that their father was a good fighter, and had a pure heart. And now I must have his equipment. Thank you so much. It is, after all, the Ministry's.
Kanya raps on the door. Goes back down the steps to give the family time to arrange itself. One of the boys, Surat she thinks, opens the door,
"I'm sorry to bother you."
"No bother." Her eyes are red. The two boys regard her solemnly. Everyone stands uncertainly together. The old woman finally says, "You'll want to collect his things."
Kanya is almost too embarrassed to answer, but she manages to nod. The mother-in-law guides her inside to a sleeping room. It is a sign of the old woman's grief that nothing is in order. The boys watch. The old woman points to a small desk jammed into a corner, a box of his belongings. Files that Jaidee was reading. "That's everything?" Kanya asks.
The old woman shrugs dully. "It's what he kept with him after the house was burned. I haven't touched it. He brought it here before he went to the
Kanya smiles her embarrassment. "Kha. Yes. Sorry. Of course."
"Why did they do this to him? Hadn't they done enough?"
Kanya shrugs helplessly. "I don't know."
"Will you find them? Will you get revenge on them?"
She hesitates. Niwat and Surat watch her solemnly. Their playfulness is entirely gone. They have nothing. Kanya ducks her head,
"Do you have to take his things?"
Kanya smiles uncertainly. "It's protocol. I should have come before. But…" She trails off helplessly. "We hoped that the tides would turn. That he would be back on the job. If there are private effects or mementos, I will return them. But I need his equipment."
"Of course. It's valuable."
Kanya nods. She kneels beside the WeatherAll box of files and gear. It is a careless mangle of files and papers and envelopes and Ministry gear. A spare clip of blades for a spring gun. A baton. His zip cuffs. Files. All piled together.
Kanya imagines Jaidee filling this box, Chaya already lost to him, everything else soon to be lost. No wonder he didn't bother being careful with any of it. She sifts through the stuff. Finds a photograph of Jaidee during his cadet days, standing next to Pracha, both of them looking young and confident. She takes it out, thoughtful, and sets it on the desk.
She looks up. The old woman has left the room but Niwat and Surat are still there, watching her like a pair of crows. She holds out the photo. Finally, Niwat reaches out and takes it, shows it to his brother.
Kanya goes through the rest of the box quickly. Everything else seems to be the Ministry's. She's obscurely relieved; she won't have to return, then. A small teak box catches her attention. She opens it. Medals from Jaidee's
"There's something in here," Niwat says. He holds up an envelope. "Is this for us, as well?"
"It was with the medals?" Kanya shrugs, continuing to go through the box. "What's in it?"
"Pictures."
Kanya looks up, puzzled. "Let me see."
