Slash and Burn

moved in front of the beams. Siri recognized the shapes of Sergeant Johnson and Second Secretary Gordon bowed against the downdraft. They reached their hands toward the hatch and an arm appeared. They both took hold of it and guided a man in white down the steps. All of the flashlights were now directed upon this character, the star of the spectacle. He was a physically irrelevant man in his late fifties with long but thinning blond hair combed over a round pate. He wore white shoes to complement the crisp white double-breasted suit, buttoned to hold back a rampant red tie. The trousers were flared. When he reached the ground, his long wispy hair rose and danced in the draft like deepsea anemones. With Johnson and Gordon propping him up on either side he was rushed toward the hotel entrance. Seeing Siri and Civilai seated there on the veranda, the new guest shrugged off his escorts, approached the two old men and said something with feeling. He then grabbed for their hands which he shook enthusiastically, turning slightly toward a short Chinese-looking woman. In the dim light all they could see of her was crimson lips inside a black pageboy frame. She had no eyes or nose that they could make out but she did possess a splendid-looking camera. There was a flash and before the dots had cleared from their eyes, the stranger had vanished inside the building. In his wake they saw Judge Haeng, Vinai, and Rhyme from Time . It was a colorful but very brief carnival which left Siri and Civilai breathless.
    The helicopter engine huffed a last breath. Then all was calm again save the ticking of a tired old Mi8 and the slowing whirr of its blades.
    “Who was that white-suited stranger?” Civilai asked.
    “ L’Empereur est arrivé ,” Siri told him.
    They walked over to the helicopter where the two young pilots were doing what had to be done to put the beast to bed. They held small penlights between their teeth as they fiddled with the engine.
    “What happened here?” Siri asked.
    The youngest one answered. To Siri he looked barely old enough to ride a two-wheeled bicycle.
    “The senator was supposed to stay overnight in Vientiane, Comrade,” he said. “They were going to fly him up tomorrow. But the flight control people said, given the conditions, it might be better if he flew directly up here. The military met his flight at Wattai and transferred him up to the landing strip in Phonsavan. We picked him up there.”
    “What conditions?” Civilai asked.
    “The smoke, Comrade. There’s a blanket of smoke all across the Special Zone.”
    “Slash and burn?”
    “We lose two or three months a year of flying time to it up here. The smoke just hangs around the mountains. Combined with the mist it’s like flying through soup. You can’t even make out the landmarks and, to tell the truth, none of us are that good at instrument flying. Tonight you’ve got the smoke and the mist and no moon. All we had to do was hop over from town, a couple of minutes. Even so, we almost ran into the hotel. We didn’t want to take off at all but the judge insisted. It was hairy, I don’t mind telling you, Comrade. And they’ve only just started burning. In a day or two you won’t see a hand in front of your face. I doubt we’ll be flying anywhere else for a while.”
    Siri and Civilai returned to their seats.
    “Don’t you think that’s odd?” Siri asked.
    “What?”
    “It’s August.”
    “And?”
    “Who’s slashing and burning in August? The point of it is to wait for the dry season and burn off the top growth in time to plant. I know the wet season seems to have finished early this year but the vegetation’s still damp. All they’d get now is a lot of smoke.”
    “And you believe…?”
    “I just wonder whether it might not have anything to do with agriculture. We’re surrounded by territory still occupied by antigovernment guerrilla forces. They could be burning the land for any number of reasons.”
    “Perhaps they were getting nervous about the PL air force with its new fighters. I heard a lot of air activity this evening. I’d wager they’ve evacuated the airfield so they wouldn’t be stranded here. That’s probably worth setting light to a few mountains for.”
    “You’re right.”
    “I’m always right. If we had television I’d be the one who wins all the quiz shows. I’d have a new washing machine every week.”
    They drank for a while, considering.
    “Where do you suppose they’ll put him?”