The Windup Girl(7)

"No. Just the rust. Why?"

"They have been contaminated. Some of the algae is not producing the…" Hock Seng hesitates. "The skim. It is not productive."

"He didn't mention it to me."

Another slight hesitation. Then, "I'm sure he tried."

"Did he say how bad it was?"

Hock Seng shrugs. "Just that the skim does not meet specifications."

Anderson scowls. "I'm firing him. I don't need a QA man who can't actually tell me the bad news."

"Perhaps you were not paying close attention."

Anderson has a number of words for people who try to raise a subject and then somehow fail, but he's interrupted by a scream from the megodont downstairs. The noise is loud enough to make the windows shake. Anderson pauses, listening for a follow-up cry.

"That's the Number Four power spindle," he says. "The mahout is incompetent."

Hock Seng doesn't look up from his typing. "They are Thai. They are all incompetent."

Anderson stifles a laugh at the yellow card's assessment. "Well, that one is worse." He goes back to his mail. "I want him replaced. Number Four spindle. Remember that."

Hock Seng's treadle loses its rhythm. "This is a difficult thing, I think. Even the Dung Lord must bow before the Megodont Union. Without the labor of the megodonts, one must resort to the joules of men. Not a powerful bargaining position."

"I don't care. I want that one out. We can't afford a stampede. Find some polite way to get rid of him." Anderson pulls over another stack of paychecks waiting for his signature.

Hock Seng tries again. "Khun, negotiating with the union is a complicated thing."

"That's why I have you. It's called delegating." Anderson continues flipping the papers.

"Yes, of course." Hock Seng regards him drily. "Thank you for your management instruction."

"You keep telling me I don't understand the culture here," Anderson says. "So take care of it. Get rid of that one. I don't care if you're polite or if everyone loses face, but find a way to axe him. It's dangerous to have someone like that in the power train."

Hock Seng's lips purse, but he doesn't protest any more. Anderson decides to assume that he will be obeyed. He flips through the pages of another permit letter from the Environment Ministry, grimacing. Only Thais would spend so much time making a bribe look like a service agreement. They're polite, even when they're shaking you down. Or when there's a problem with the algae tanks. Banyat…

Anderson shuffles through the forms on his desk. "Hock Seng?"

The old man doesn't look up. "I will take care of your mahout," he says as he keeps typing. "It will be done, even if it costs you when they come to bargain again for bonuses."

"Nice to know, but that's not my question." Anderson taps his desk. "You said Banyat was complaining about the algae skim. Is he having problems with the new tanks? Or the old ones?"

"I… He was unclear."

"Didn't you tell me we had replacement equipment coming off the anchor pads last week? New tanks, new nutrient cultures?"

Hock Seng's typing falters for a moment. Anderson pretends puzzlement as he shuffles through his papers again, already knowing that the receipts and quarantine forms aren't present. "I should have a list here somewhere. I'm sure you told me it was arriving." He looks up. "The more I think I about it, the more I think I shouldn't be hearing about any contamination problems. Not if our new equipment actually cleared Customs and got installed."

Hock Seng doesn't answer. Presses on with his typing as though he hasn't heard.

"Hock Seng? Is there something you forgot to tell me?"

Hock Seng's eyes remain fixed on the gray glow of his monitor. Anderson waits. The rhythmic creak of the crank fans and the ratchet of Hock Seng's treadle fills the silence.

"There is no manifest," the old man says, finally. "The shipment is still in Customs."

"It was supposed to clear last week."

"There are delays."

"You told me there wouldn't be any problem," Anderson says. "You were certain. You told me you were expediting the Customs personally. I gave you extra cash to be sure of it."

"The Thai keep time in their own method. Perhaps it will be this afternoon. Perhaps tomorrow." Hock Seng makes a face that resembles a grin. "They are not like we Chinese. They are lazy."

"Did you actually pay the bribes? The Trade Ministry was supposed to get a cut, to pass on to their pet white shirt inspector."

"I paid them."

"Enough?"

Hock Seng looks up, eyes narrowed. "I paid."

"You didn't pay half and keep half for yourself?"

Hock Seng laughs nervously. "Of course I paid everything."

Anderson studies the yellow card a moment longer, trying to determine his honesty, then gives up and tosses down the papers. He isn't even sure why he cares, but it galls him that the old man thinks he can be fooled so easily. He glances again at the sack of ngaw. Perhaps Hock Seng senses just how secondary the factory is… He forces the thought away and presses the old man again. "Tomorrow then?"