"I don't wish for anything else," he says. "I am content. I will go to Trade and I will make them pay. All of this is kamma. I was not meant to keep Chaya forever, or she to keep me. But I think there are still things we can do if we hold tight to our damma. We all have our duties, Kanya. To our patrons, to our men." He shrugs. "I've had many different lives. I was a boy, and a muay thai champion, and a father, and a white shirt." He glances down at the folds of his novice's clothes. "A monk, even." He grins. "Don't worry about me. I have a few more stages yet to traverse before I give up on this life and go to meet Chaya." He lets his voice harden. "I still have unfinished business, and I won't stop until it is done."

Kanya watches him, eyes anguished. "You can't go alone."

"No. I will take Somchai."

Trade: the ministry that functions with impunity, that scoffs at him so easily, that steals his wife and leaves a hole in him the size of a durian.

Chaya.

Jaidee studies the building. In the face of all those blazing lights, he feels like a savage in the wilderness, like a hilltribe spirit doctor staring at the advance of a megodont army. For a moment, his sense of mission falters.

I should see the boys, he tells himself. I could go home.

And yet here he is in the darkness, watching the lights of the Ministry of Trade, where they burn their coal allocation as though the Contraction never happened, as though there are no seawalls needed to keep back the ocean.

Somewhere in there a man squats and plans. The man who watched him at the anchor pads so long ago. Who spat betel and sauntered away as if Jaidee were nothing more than a cockroach to be crushed. Who sat beside Akkarat and observed silently as Jaidee was thrown down. That man will lead to Chaya's resting place. That man is the key. Somewhere inside those glowing windows.

Jaidee ducks back into the darkness. He and Somchai wear dark street clothes, stripped of all identifiers, the better to blend with the night. Somchai is a fast one. One of the best. Dangerous close in, and quiet. He knows his way around a lock, and, like Jaidee, he is motivated.

Somchai's face is serious as he studies the building. Almost as serious as Kanya, when Jaidee considers it. The demeanor seems to creep up on all of them, eventually. Seems to come with the work. Jaidee wonders if the Thai ever really smiled as he has heard in legends. Every time he hears his boys laugh, it is as if some beautiful orchid has blossomed in the forest.

"They sell themselves cheaply," Somchai murmurs.

Jaidee nods shortly. "I remember when Trade was just a bit portfolio under Agriculture, and now look at it."

"You're showing your age. Trade was always a big ministry."

"No. Just a tiny department. A joke." Jaidee waves at the new complex with its high-tech convection vents, with its awnings and porticos. "It's a new world, once again."

As if to taunt him, a pair of cheshires jump up on a balustrade to preen and wash. They molt in and out of view, careless of discovery. Jaidee pulls out his spring gun and takes aim. "That's what Trade has given us. Cheshires should be on their badge."

"Please don't."

He looks at Somchai. "It carries no karmic cost. They have no soul."

"They bleed like any other animal."

"You could say the same of ivory beetles."

Somchai ducks his head, but doesn't say anything more. Jaidee scowls and puts his spring gun back in its holster. It would be waste of ammunition anyway. There are always more.

"I used to be on the poison details for cheshires," Somchai says finally.

"Now it's you who shows your age."

Somchai shrugs. "I had a family then."

"I didn't know."

"Cibiscosis.118.Aa. It was quick."

"I remember. My father died with that one as well. A bad iteration."

Somchai nods. "I miss them. I hope they reincarnated well."

"I'm sure they did."

He shrugs. "One can hope. I became a monk for them. Ordained for a full year. I prayed. Did many offerings." He says again, "One can hope."

The cheshires yowl again as Somchai watches. "I've killed thousands of them. Thousands. I've killed six men in my life and never regretted any of them, but I've killed thousands of cheshires and have never felt at ease." He pauses, scratches behind his ear at a bloom of arrested fa' gan fringe. "I sometimes wonder if my family's cibiscosis was karmic retribution for all those cheshires."

"It couldn't be. They're not natural."

Somchai shrugs. "They breed. They eat. They live. They breathe." He smiles slightly. "If you pet them, they will purr."

Jaidee makes a face of disgust.

"It's true. I have touched them. They are real. As much as you or I."

"They're just empty vessels. No soul fills them."

Somchai shrugs. "Maybe even the worst monstrosities of the Japanese live in some way. I worry that Noi and Chart and Malee and Prem have been reborn in windup bodies. Not all of us are good enough to become Contraction phii. Maybe some of us become windups, in Japanese factories, working working working, you know? We're so few in comparison to the past, where did all the souls go? Maybe to the Japanese? Maybe into windups?"

Jaidee masks his uneasiness at the direction of Somchai's words. "It's impossible."

Somchai shrugs again. "Still. I could not bear to hunt a cheshire again."

"Then let's hunt men."

Across the street, a door is opening and a Ministry worker steps outside. Jaidee is already crossing the street, sprinting to catch the man. Their target strides to a rack of bicycles and bends down to unlock a wheel. Jaidee's club slides free. The man looks up and gasps and then Jaidee is on top of him, baton swinging. The man has time to raise an arm. Jaidee swats it aside and then he is inside the man's reach and clubs him across the head.

Somchai catches up. "You're fast for an old man."

Jaidee smiles. "Take his feet."

They lug the body back across the street, slipping into the puddled blackness between the methane lamps. Jaidee goes through his pockets. Keys jingle. He grins and raises them to show the prize. He ties the man quickly, blindfolds and gags him. A cheshire drifts close, watching, a molting of calico and shadow and stone.

"Will the cheshires eat him?" Somchai wonders.

"If you cared, you would have let me kill them."

Somchai ponders this, but doesn't say anything. Jaidee finishes binding the man. "Come on." They jog back across the street, slip to the door. The key enters easily, and they are inside.

In the glare of electricity, Jaidee stifles the urge to locate light switches and plunge the Ministry into darkness. "Stupid to have people working so late. Burning all this carbon."

Somchai shrugs. "Our man may be here in the building, even now."

"Not if he's lucky." But Jaidee has the same thought. He wonders if he will be able to restrain himself if he catches Chaya's killer. Wonders why he should.

They slip through more lighted halls. A few people are still present, but no one gives them a second glance as they stride by. Both of them walk with authority, have the air of men others must defer to. Jaidee acknowledges others with a quick inclination of his head as he walks past. Eventually he finds the records offices he requires. Somchai and Jaidee pause in front of glass doors. Jaidee hefts his baton.

"Glass." Somchai notes.

"You want to try?"

Somchai examines the lock, pulls out a set of tools, sets to work probing the aperture, massaging its tumblers. Jaidee stands beside him, waiting impatiently. The corridor blazes with light.

Somchai fiddles with the locks.

"Eh. Never mind." Jaidee hefts his baton. "Move aside."