Bangkok Haunts

admirably modest statement, Colonel, I would have to add the rider that when porcelain collides with earthenware, it is the porcelain that suffers the most damage.”
    “I was coming to that,” Vikorn says softly.
    Meanwhile Tanakan’s secretary has started to worry that she might not be following instructions to the letter. She has found an excuse to stand up, turn to the side, inhale, and square her shoulders; her breasts are, of course, perfect, but what am I supposed to do about it? Now she has emerged fully from behind her desk and sees an urgent need to tidy up the glossy magazines on the coffee table just in front of the sofa. She frowns in concentration with
Fortune
in one hand, then finds she has to explain herself by turning to me with a confused smile. When even that fails to bring me to my knees, she swallows before speaking. “I can’t remember where this goes,” she says sweetly. More than ever I can see why Tanakan needed Damrong.
    “Of course,” Vikorn is saying, “there is an attraction between opposites, as the Buddha taught.”
    “Correct,” Tanakan admits.
    “It goes without saying that humble earthenware feels awe, admiration, even passion for porcelain, not to mention envy, but the attraction that porcelain feels for earthenware is less well documented.”
    “Colonel Vikorn’s forensic genius is well known. Your insight into even the subtlest shades is amazing.”
    “Of course, what the world does not know is the true nature of the service rendered to society by men like you. All day and most of the night you are laboring to keep our economy healthy. At Khun Tanakan’s level, the pressures are enough to kill a lesser man. You must have some rest and recreation, perhaps of a kind not entirely accepted by piety and ignorance.”
    “Not only is the Colonel a great policeman, he is a connoisseur of human nature and the embodiment of compassion.”
    “I like to practice compassion whenever possible,” Vikorn says. “However, is it not one of the great insights of the Buddha that even monks need to be sustained? Even compassion needs material help.”
    “Certainly. A great deal of help, and it is my deepest wish that I might be able to contribute in some small way.”
    “For example,” Vikorn says, “suppose at this very moment a servant entered this office, perhaps an ignorant and uneducated young woman, and in the process of cleaning dislodged that beautiful vase, which, let us say, is about to fall unless a person of practical ability were there to see the danger and save it.”
    A pause. Tanakan replies, “Such a service of compassion would be rewarded to the value of the vase and beyond.”
    “What is the value of the vase, Khun Tanakan?”
    “It is a long time since I had it valued. The Colonel is no amateur when it comes to evaluating such items, however. What value would the Colonel put on it?”
    “May I?”
    “Certainly.”
    I assume Vikorn is now holding the vase. “Look how perfectly the potter designed these dragons more than a thousand years ago. No one in this modern age would have that kind of skill and patience, much less such an eye for beauty. Exquisite. I would say a million dollars, wouldn’t you?”
    An audible sigh of relief. “Certainly, I think the Colonel has valued the vase with great precision. A million dollars, no doubt about it.”
    “I’m afraid Khun Tanakan misunderstands,” Vikorn says with irritating humility. “I was referring to each of the dragons being certainly of the value of one million dollars.”
    Tanakan, dully: “How many are there?”
    “Quite a lot, Khun Tanakan, quite a lot.”
    “Would the Colonel do me the great service of counting them?”
    “Not today, Khun Tanakan, not today. I would need to study the vase in much greater depth to be able to make an assessment.”
    Voice cracking a little: “Greater depth? I am afraid I do not understand.”
    “Well, Khun Tanakan is known to be a very prominent collector of such objets d’art. Therefore would he agree with me that two vases may look and even be identical and yet one may fetch a far greater price because of the stories associated with it? Is that not so? Fame, even notoriety, adds so much false value these days, like Elvis Presley’s guitar. Is it not so?”
    “I am afraid I am no longer following Colonel Vikorn’s brilliant train of thought.”
    A polite cough. “Suppose we change the analogy somewhat. Suppose that the servant girl herself were holding