Slash and Burn

per year during the war? On Wednesday, the Senate appropriations committee, under its new chairman, Senator Walter Bowry of South Carolina, approved a budget to help out one of the poorest countries in the world. It was, as the senator told a press conference with a straight face, “for humanitarian purposes.” The good gentleman went on to add that, “despite twenty years of hostility, the US bears no personal animosity toward the Pathet Lao.” Right. We at the Post doubt the congressman has any ill feelings at all considering the fact the gentleman’s family amassed a sizeable fortune from exports from the region during the second Indochinese war. We doubt it would do him any harm at all if that channel was reopened through this new détente.
    “‘I am pleased to be in a position to assist the country in its hour of need in an official capacity,’ he told reporters. Good on you, senator. And we hope such a magnanimous gesture doesn’t damage your political standing given the anti-communist feelings in Washington. Let’s hope that nine million oiling will grease the wheels for the Lao to agree to the demands of the powerful MIA lobby. Wouldn’t that make Senator Bowry one popular gentleman on both sides of the globe.”
    The teams sat around on the rocks and lobbed views and opinions back and forth. If this editorial were factually correct—and Rhyme pointed out that the Post was known to make things up every now and then, particularly when attacking communism—then two aspects of it were particularly relevant. Firstly, they’d underestimated the power of Boyd’s father, now the chair of the appropriations committee. If he’d been influential in releasing the funds for Laos, he had a vested interest in making sure things went well here. Then there was the fact that the senator had connections in the region and had apparently done very well financially during the Vietnam War. But, more importantly, and most baffling, if the budget was approved back before June 2, the photographs of the downed pilot and his tailplane must have arrived after that decision was taken. And, if that was so, the senator hadn’t put pressure on his committee because his son was a downed pilot. To the Lao, that kind of nepotism would have been easy to understand. But that last point made no sense to anybody.
    “It might just be that the photos arrived earlier and they held back the announcement till after the committee’s decision,” said Civilai, ever aware of the subterfuge of government.
    “Not possible,” said Johnson. “The incoming mail at the embassy is time and date stamped.”
    “Then we would have to assume that the photographs were sent in response to the announcement,” said Siri.
    “And what would be the point of that?” asked Rhyme.
    “I have no idea.”
    “What I’d like to know”—Johnson shook his head—“is what the congressman was importing from here that made him so goddamned rich. And I bet you it wasn’t coconuts.”
    “All right.” Phosy clapped his hands as if he were frustrated with the direction the discussion was going. “Let’s come back to whoever it was who left the newspaper here. I suggest we take a hike back to the Phuan village. See if they remember seeing anyone around who shouldn’t have been here. Any objections?” He turned specifically to Commander Lit, who merely smiled.
    Before they left the sand bank, the teams combed the tree line and the rocks but found no other confusing evidence. As they walked, the debate continued. Were the boulders laid out by a young pilot hoping for a rescue, or were they a recent creation? Were the person who left the newspaper and the rock-speller one and the same? And if Boyd didn’t spell out his own name after the crash, what became of him? Was he captured by the PL? Killed? Did he succumb to the many dangers of the jungle? Die from hypothermia?
    “They flew a hundred hours of search and rescue looking for him,” Johnson said. “I can’t believe in all that time nobody spotted a name written on the sand. They train the boys to leave messages. It’s what the rescue pilots look for. With all the slash and burn going on, they wouldn’t have looked twice at a burned-out stretch of ground like the dead man’s field with no visible wreckage, but something like this….”
    “So what is the message?” Daeng asked. “If they left the rocks there for us, what are they telling us? That Boyd didn’t make it, or that he