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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
It's the girl’s fault
>> Kaneohe
The debriefing of Bodhicita Guzman was put briefly on hold while Kamasami Khan called Michael Tenzin-Campbell, the young lama's stunt double, to warn him of the latest Te-Wu plot to kill him.
"Beware of Muslim imams," Khan said. "The Chinese will have one of their guys dressed up in robes and a towel or whatever on his head."
"Brilliant," Michael said, "it would look like just one more craven idiot willing to die for Allah, and point attention away from the real issue, China's persecution of all religions in general, Tibetan Buddhism in particular."
"I'm betting he's not ready to die, and there's gonna be more than one guy there, to give him an exit. Anyway, we've got some time. Let's talk again in an hour."
He returned to the others.
"So what was the stuff in that vial, Khan?" Bodhicita said. The clear, tasteless, odorless liquid she'd secretly poured into Fon Du's wine.
"My friend the mad scientist, ex-CIA lab guy, amazing what he can do." The steely Khan couldn't help smiling. "Fon Du got a five-part time-release cocktail. Started with Viagra, kinda help get him aroused, help give you his full attention. Then the sodium pent. Way we figured, get him thinking with one head, then get the other one to talk. Sounds like it worked so far."
"Yeah, but I was getting scared, Khan, I couldn't stall forever, and he was randy and ready. Fortunately, all of a sudden he, um ..."
"Headed south, shall we say," Khan said.
"Yes, thank you."
"That was the muscle relaxant."
"He never recovered -- emotionally, I mean. I don't think it ever happened to him before."
"So he blamed you, like you're bad luck, bad karma, bad joss." Khan paused, looked from Bodhicita to the lama and back. "I hate to lose your ear inside Te-Wu, but thanks to you we know a lot. Above all, though, we needed to get you safely out, in a way that Fon Du would think it was his choice. He couldn't perform, he blamed you, you had to go."
"So after that he fell asleep, just knocked out ..."
"Round four, a little sleep aid."
"... and then this morning, he was rummaging through the fridge and when he looked up and saw me, there was horror in his eyes."
"For the final act, THC, the essence of marijuana. Sounds like we gave the boy a severe case of the munchies and made him paranoid."
"Wouldn't look at me after that. Sheesh, even had one of his colleagues drive me home. Anyway, thank you, Khan. Fon Du is now past tense."
"For you, for now. Not for the lama, not for me, not for Michael. And who knows what the future might hold for you?"
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com