Under the Dragon Read Online Free Page B

Ni had risen, ground the day’s supply of thanakha and opened the shop. Foreign coins no longer jingled in his purse. Tourists grew dissatisfied with his tired hands. Instead of sharing the world with his daughter he slumped, weary and grey, onto his sleeping mat. Ni Ni stroked his brow but the noises of the day – the droning of doves, the throaty hawk of Law San, the call of boiled-bean vendors – began to disturb his sleep. He tossed and turned through the long afternoons. She traded her favourite silver dollar for a small chicken from May May Gyi, but not even aromatic hkauk-hswe served in coconut milk could lift his spirits.
    Some ten days after the theft Law San scuttled across the street from his stall. His abrupt, sideways walk reminded Ni Ni of a yellow-toned crab. When she was smaller she had believed that Law San cut up his vermicelli with his pincer-like hands.
    ‘ Akogyi ,’ he jittered, addressing the older man with respect, ‘are you awake?’ No voice replied from the dark room, so he added, ‘I have found your bicycle.’
    ‘Where?’ cried Ni Ni’s father, sitting up in the shadows. Ni Ni hurried in from the shop and, in her excitement, dropped a jar of shampoo.
    ‘You remember my cousin who owns the bicycle repair shop in Mingaladon, off Highway No. 1?’ said Law San, jerking down onto his haunches. ‘I asked him to keep an eye open for your bike. It is a particularly uncommon model, after all.’
    ‘Mingaladon is miles away,’ said Ni Ni, scooping the coconut liquid back into the jar. ‘No one would ride it that far.’
    ‘That’s right,’ moaned her father, slumping back against the wall and cracking his knuckles. ‘It would never turn up there.’ He then added, ‘Ni Ni, please make a cup of coffee for our guest.’
    She calculated the amount of coffee powder remaining in the jar. ‘Please excuse me, but we have no limes,’ she told them. May May Gyi could have lent her one but she did not want to be sent away.
    ‘Not for me, no thank you,’ Ko Law San replied, shaking a knobbly claw. He was too agitated to idle over refreshments. ‘It is a long way away, but that’s the remarkable thing. Only yesterday a stranger brought into my cousin’s shop a machine exactly matching yours. He proceeded with caution at first, asking only a few questions, so as not to arouse suspicion, you understand.’
    ‘And what of it?’
    ‘Well, it turned out to be your bike,’ grinned Law San, jumping up onto his feet. ‘And I’m pleased to inform you that my cousin has completed all the arrangements. It is yours again.’
    ‘He’s really found it?’ Ni Ni asked.
    ‘I don’t understand,’ said her father, his optimism tempered by doubt. ‘Did the thief just hand it over?’
    ‘I do not know the specific details, my friend.’
    ‘And what do you mean by “arrangements”? Did your cousin buy it back?’
    ‘I cannot tell you that either,’ answered Law San, disappointed that his good news should be greeted by wary questions. ‘I know only that you are free to recover your bicycle tomorrow.’
    The following morning Ni Ni did not open the shop. Instead she met her father on the main road after he had finished work. Together they caught a line-bus to the northern suburbs. The small pick-up’s roof was stacked with caged ducklings and its open flat back crammed full of traders heading to the Highway Bus Centre. Ni Ni managed to squeeze onto the bench between a monk and a conscript. The muzzle of the soldier’s rifle rubbed against the acne scars on his face. Her father rode on the tailgate.
    The streets of Mingaladon are more pleasant than those of Rangoon’s other townships. The tree-lined avenues seem to suffer from fewer potholes. Its houses are in good condition and their gardens better maintained. Even the bicycle repair shop, which sat off a lane behind the Defence Services General Hospital, flaunted an unusual affluence.
    Ni Ni spotted Law San’s cousin squatting on the front