The Maddening Model. Suzanne Simms
there is a sense of serenity. Most people believe it’s the calming influence of Buddhism.” Simon removed his cap again and ran his fingers through his hair. “However, appearances can sometimes be deceiving.”
“Everything isn’t always what it seems to be.”
“Or everyone,” he suggested.
“You mean like the man who’s been tailing us since we left the Celestial Palace?”
He was taken aback. “How did you know?”
“For our own safety, we women have had to develop a sixth sense about that kind of thing,” she said. “I must say, he looks harmless enough. I wonder what he wants.”
“Probably your handbag.”
“I can’t imagine why. It doesn’t match his outfit,” she teased, flashing him a smile.
“Here he comes. I’ll do the talking. You keep an eye on your purse,” Simon warned.
“I hardly think a purse snatcher would try to strike up a conversation first,” she said.
The man halted several feet from them. He bowed politely and said to Simon in excellent English, “If you were guests in my humble home, I would offer a glass of water to you and to your lady.”
“A glass of water would be greatly appreciated,” Simon responded with the same excruciating politeness.
The newcomer’s expression was enigmatic. “‘The man who possesses a good wife, possesses a good thing.’”
Simon looked at him with steady eyes. “The lady is not my wife.”
He tried again. “‘The man who has good health is young.’”
Sunday leaned toward him and murmured in his ear, “Are you healthy?”
Talking out of the side of his mouth, he said to her, “As a horse.” He turned his full attention back to their shadow.
“‘A coward turns away, but a brave man’s choice is danger,’” the man said this time.
“‘A living dog is better than a dead tiger,’” Simon responded with the same degree of inscrutability.
“‘The day is for honest men, the night for thieves.’”
Beside him, Sunday made an impatient sound. “Don’t tell me this man spent a year living with the monks, as well.”
The Thai gentleman turned to her and responded, “Indeed, I did, gracious lady. It is our custom.”
“Almost all Thai males spend at least part of their adolescence in a Buddhist monastery, taking vows of celibacy and poverty,” Simon explained. “Some decide it is their karma. They end up becoming monks. The rest return to the outside world.”
“Do you all learn to speak in proverbs?”
Simon ignored her.
But the stranger answered, “Truth is truth.” Then he lifted his hands beseechingly, with the palms up, and continued pleading his case. “You must understand, sir, that I have a wife and five children to feed and clothe.”
Simon put his hands together and interlaced his fingers. “You have many responsibilities.”
“A great many responsibilities. So many that I cannot leave my family and journey to the north.”
“It is a long journey, and the road leading up the mountains is difficult.”
“Just a little while ago, you said the road up and the road down are one and the same,” interjected Sunday.
Simon didn’t look at her, but he said through clenched teeth, “It has also been said that there are two days when a woman is a pleasure—the day one marries her and the day one buries her.”
That had the desired effect. It shut Sunday up.
“I regret that my station in life—I am but a lowly clerk—prevents me from giving it to you as a gift,” the man stated.
Simon was very careful not to react.
The Thai gentleman went on. “It is said that you were a stranger among us. Yet you learned to speak our language and understand our ways. You are no longer a farang.“
“Thank you.”
“You are a businessman.”
“I am a businessman.”
“Then you will not miss the few insubstantial baht that I must regrettably ask in exchange. It is worth a fortune to one who is enterprising.”
He was enterprising, all right.
“Only a few men see the world that can be theirs for the asking. You are one of these men, are you not, sir?”
Simon inclined his head slightly. Flattery: a very old and useful tool in negotiations.
The man stepped into the shade of a tree, dived into his pocket and brought out a small silk pouch. He carefully opened the top and withdrew a piece of paper which appeared to be old and yellowed.
Simon was curious, in spite of himself. “What is it?”
“It is a riddle. It is a map.”
“Where will this map lead me?”
“It will lead you to happiness and riches.”
Simon didn’t move a muscle. “Could you be more specific?”
“It will take you to the Hidden Buddha of the Heavenly Mist,” the map seller claimed.
Simon allowed his skepticism to show. “I have not heard of this hidden Buddha.”
An inscrutable smile surfaced on the man’s ageless features. “Then it is well named, is it not?”
Simon was far from convinced. “Possibly.”
Reassurance was immediately forthcoming. “All that I have said is true.”
Simon rubbed his hand back and forth along his chin. “I will give you one hundred baht for the piece of paper.”
The man appeared stunned. “But it is worth many times that, and I have a wife and six children to feed and clothe.”
“I thought you said you had five children.”
The man became animated. “There is my sister’s son who came to visit my home a year ago and now will not leave. I did not count him before.”
“Two hundred baht.“
“My eldest daughter is of marriageable age. I must be able to afford the temple offerings and the wedding feast.”
“Three hundred.”
Sunday opened her handbag and dug around for a moment. Simon assumed she was searching for another tissue. Instead, she brought out a fistful of money and said to the man, “I will give you one thousand baht for the map.”
His eyes darted from Simon to Sunday and back again. “But...”
Simon heaved a sigh of defeat and indicated his consent. “One thousand baht it is, then.”
The small man handed over the map and accepted his money in exchange. He bowed several times and intoned, “May enlightenment be yours, most generous lady, and yours, sir.”
Then he turned and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
“You paid too much,” Simon told her.
“That is a matter of opinion.”
“The paper is worthless.”
“Very probably.”
He knew she was no fool. “Then why give the man a thousand baht for it?”