Slash and Burn

wooden variety but the partitions between the eight remaining bottles were cardboard. It was a snug fit between each one. He prised a bottle out and held it aloft. No common Johnnie Walker this. Glenfiddich single malt Scotch whiskey, 12 years old read the shiny silver and gold label. Potter was a connoisseur. Siri wondered whether eleven o’clock might be too early for a celebratory snort. But then he remembered how close he was to the end of his days and could think of no better way to go than with the taste of neat Scotch whiskey on his lips. The crate weighed far more than the bottles so he removed the pillow case from its pillow and started to load them into it, being careful not to clink them together too violently. When he pulled out the fourth bottle, the cardboard partition came away with it and Siri immediately understood. Major Potter hadn’t been asking Civilai’s help to untie his laces. He’d been pointing to the crate. And disguised as lining for that crate were three large manila envelopes.
    As an herb, marijuana adds a certain aromatic charm to cooking. It’s particularly compatible with aubergine. If the Americans hadn’t made such a fuss about it, marijuana would be dried and diced and in its rightful place in a little bottle on the spice and herbs racks around the world. Fried or boiled it is no more criminally liable than oregano or thyme. But steeped in saturated fat and served in sweet hot water it becomes clear why the director of the United States Federal Bureau of Narcotics once called it: … the most violence-causing drug in the history of mankind which produces in its users insanity, criminality, and death—makes darkies think they’re as good as white men and leads to pacifism and communist brainwashing. Which makes you wonder whether he’d ever tried it.
    In fact smoking cannabis gives one a rapid buzz that passes into a short-lived high. Euphoria is fleeting and needs continuous top-ups. Marijuana tea, on the other hand, takes its own sweet time. It could be an hour before the first effects are felt, and they linger. And there is no generic reaction. To each his own. Some may find their latent paranoia bursts to the surface like a submarine short of air. Others may trip over hilarity with every step. And, as Madame Daeng remembered correctly, until they found their own agents employing the stocks for personal use, the OSS did use weed as a truth drug, often with hilarious effects. For some, marijuana opened the floodgates of overacting and loquaciousness.
    Daeng had worked for an hour to produce her tea. Although she’d had to be careful not to overfill the tasting teaspoon, she had to admit that she’d produced a most delicious brew—twenty liters of it, judging from the size of the pot. It was served in huge mugs and she advertised it as a local herbal tea with a bit of a pick-you-up. It was the perfect thing to combat the smoke in your lungs. With the two kitchen girls by her side, she delivered the tea personally along with the lunch rations. She was selective about which doors she knocked on. In her rounds she visited General Suvan, Judge Haeng and his cousin Vinai, Peach, Senator Vogal and Ethel Chin, who seemed to spend more time in the senator’s room than in her own. Daeng refused to leave them all until they’d tasted her tea. She knew that once it caressed their lips, they’d be unable to resist finishing the cup. They might even come back for more. For good measure she gave a cup to the kitchen staff, the two old musketeers and Mr. Toua and his wife. She drew the line at the young guards newly assigned by the local garrison because they all looked as if they were already on something. The combination of drugs and AK47s was always best avoided.
    Exhausted but excited at the thought of what effect, if any, her tea might have, Daeng retired briefly to her room. Siri wasn’t there. She assumed he’d gone off with Dtui and Phosy because she hadn’t seen any of them during her rounds. Lit and Sergeant Johnson had vanished also. She supposed she’d have to resort to Civilai as backup when observation time arrived. Her legs were troubling her as always and she made the mistake of laying her head on the pillow—just for a second.
    It was 1:00 P.M . when she felt the tugging at her foot. She opened her eyes to find the room lit with spotlights and the humble wall designs dancing. Mr. Geung was at the foot of the bed holding on to her ankle. While she was asleep