The Windup Girl(58)

Kit smiles nervously as he shows Hock Seng how several of the tanks have lowered levels of algae production, an off-color skim, and a fishy reek, something more akin to shrimp paste than the verdant salty smells of the more active tanks.

"Banyat said they should not be used. That we should wait until the replacement supplies came."

Hock Seng laughs harshly and shakes his head. "We won't have any replacements. Not with the Tiger of Bangkok burning everything that comes off the anchor pads. You'll have to make do with what we have."

"But it's contaminated. There are potential vectors. The problem could spread into the other tanks."

"You're certain of that?"

"Banyat said-"

"Banyat walked under a megodont. And if we don't have this line running soon, the farang will be sending us all out to starve."

"But-"

"You think another fifty Thais wouldn't like your job? A thousand yellow cards?"

Kit closes his mouth. Hock Seng nods grimly. "Make this line work."

"If the white shirts inspect us, they will see that the baths are impure." Kit runs his finger through a gray froth coating the rim of one of the tanks. "We shouldn't be seeing this. The algae should be much brighter. None of this bubbling."

Hock Seng studies the tanks sourly. "If we don't get the line running we all starve." He's about to say more, but the girl Mai runs into the room.

"Khun. A man has come looking for you."

Hock Seng gives her an impatient look. "Is it someone with information on a new spindle? A teak log ripped from some temple bot, maybe?" Mai's mouth opens and closes, stunned at his blasphemy, but Hock Seng doesn't care. "If this man doesn't have a winding spindle, I don't have time for him." He turns back to Kit. "Can you drain and scrub the tanks perhaps?"

Kit shrugs noncommittally. "It can be tried, Khun, but Banyat said that if we don't have new nutrient cultures, we can't start completely fresh. We will be forced to reuse the cultures that come from these same tanks. The problem will likely return."

"We can't sieve it? Filter somehow?"

"The tanks and cultures cannot be fully cleaned. Eventually it will be a vector. And the rest of the tanks will be contaminated."

"Eventually? Is that all? Eventually?" Hock Seng scowls at him. "I don't care about 'eventually.' I care about this month. If this factory fails to produce, we won't have a chance to worry about this 'eventually' you speak of. You'll be back in Thonburi, picking through chicken guts and hoping you aren't hit with flu, and I'll be back in a yellow card tower. Don't worry about tomorrow. Worry about whether Mr. Lake throws us all out on the street today. Use your imagination. Find a way to make this tamade algae breed."

Not for the first time, he curses that he works with Thais. They simply lack the spirit of entrepreneurship that a Chinese would throw into the work.

"Khun?"

It's Mai, still lingering. She flinches at his glare.

"The man says that this is your last chance."

"My last chance? Show me this heeya." Hock Seng storms toward the main floor, shoving aside the curtains of the fining rooms. Out in the main hall, where the megodonts lean against spindle cranks burning money that they simply don't have, Hock Seng stops short, wiping algae fines from his hands, feeling like a terrified fool.

Dog Fucker stands in the middle of the factory like cibiscosis in the middle of Spring Festival, watching the whir and clatter of the QA line as it runs through tests. Old Bones and Horseface Ma and Dog Fucker. All of them standing so confidently. Dog Fucker, with his fa' gan fringe and his missing nose, and his thug cronies, hard-edged nak leng who have no pity for yellow cards and no fear of police.

It's only dumb luck that Mr. Lake is upstairs going over the books, only dumb luck that little Mai came to him and not to the foreign devil. Mai scampers ahead, leading him toward his future.

Hock Seng motions for Dog Fucker to join him out of sight of the observation windows above, but Dog Fucker, maddeningly, sets his feet and continues to study the rumbling line and the shamble of the megodonts.

"Very impressive," he says. "Is this where you make your fabulous kink-springs?"

Hock Seng glares and motions for him to move out of the factory. "We should not be having this conversation here."

Dog Fucker ignores him. His eyes are on the offices and the observation windows. He stares up at them intently. "And is that where you do your work? Up there?"

"Not for long, if a certain farang catches sight of you." Hock Seng forces himself to make a polite smile. "Please. It would be better if we went outside. Your presence arouses questions."

For a long moment, Dog Fucker doesn't move, still staring up at the offices. Hock Seng has the unnerving feeling that the man sees through the walls, that he sees the huge iron safe sitting up there, holding its valuable secrets tight.

"Please," Hock Seng mutters. "The workers will speak enough about this as it is."

Abruptly the gangster turns away, nodding to his men to follow. Hock Seng stifles a rush of relief as he hurries after them. "Someone wants to see you," Dog Fucker says, gesturing toward the outer gates.

The Dung Lord. Now, of all times. Hock Seng glances up at the observation window. Mr. Lake will be angry if he leaves.