The Tsunami File by Michael E. Rose Read Free Book Online Page A

sir.”
    â€œWell, let me tell you about how things are in this particular little case I have been assigned to solve,” Braithwaite said. “There is the matter of a tidal wave killing twenty thousand people all around the Indian Ocean, that big body of water a little way off Brighton Pier. As you have been working alongside sworn police officers on this particularly difficult little case, you will be aware that there are still some fifteen hundred unidentified bodies here in Phuket alone, which makes it one of the biggest forensic disaster scenes in history, along with, let’s see, Bosnia after the unpleasantness over there when Yugoslavia was falling to bits. Or, of course, that other bit of unpleasantness back in Europe, the Holocaust.”
    Smith said nothing, simply waiting for the tsunami of Braithwaite bile to recede.
    â€œYou’re not Jewish are you, Smith? No offence intended,” Braithwaite asked with a tight smile.
    Smith said nothing.
    â€œI have been given the unfortunate task of overseeing along with my esteemed Thai police colleagues the whole damn identification process, from start to finish. From start to bloody finish,” Braithwaite said, gathering steam now. His cigar ash glowed red.
    â€œI have problems and cock-ups and catastrophes every bloody day here in this sweltering office in this godforsaken little southeast Asian country,” he said. “Every day of my bloody life now there is some major cock-up. I am not even going to begin to give you details of the problems I have running this operation, Smith, as you are not a sworn police officer. I am just going to tell you that I have no time to waste whatsoever. I have no time to talk to a civilian Scotland Yard fingerprint technician who after mislaying a file, one file out of how many, fifteen hundred or so, comes into my office on the hottest day in history and begins yammering on about some bloody conspiracy theory he has hatched over too many Singha beers at the Whale fucking Bar about how someone has taken the time, as we all have time on our hands here, to remove pages from a pathologist’s report and then to remove fingerprint evidence from that same file and then to tamper with an AFIS computer file and to then steal . . .”
    â€œI did not say steal, sir,” Smith said.
    â€œ. . . and to then steal a file from under the noses of some of the most experienced police officers from, what, two dozen countries who have been foolish enough to volunteer or to be volunteered for this most thankless investigative task.” Braithwaite’s face had become very red. “I strongly believe something odd is happening with this particular file, sir,” Smith said.
    â€œSomething odd is happening in this goddamn cubbyhole of an office, Smith,” Braithwaite said. “Too many people are coming in here to whine to me about minor problems they face in their work. If you have lost a file, or if some little Thai secretary has lost a file, that is a very, very small problem compared to the ocean of problems I am facing here each and every day, along with Colonel Pridiyathorn and some other very, very senior sworn police officers who are trying to get a big job done.”
    â€œI’m sorry you feel that way, sir,” Smith said.
    â€œEvery identification is important.”
    â€œWhat on earth is that supposed to mean, Smith?”
    â€œWith respect, sir, I don’t believe we can just say ‘oh well’ when a file goes missing. Any file.”
    Braithwaite looked like he was going to spontaneously combust in the heat and in his rage.
    â€œAre you accusing me of saying ‘oh well’ about something, Smith?”
    â€œNot accusing you, sir,” Smith said.
    â€œWho are you accusing, exactly? And what are you accusing someone else, not me, of, exactly?”
    â€œI am not accusing anyone for the moment,”
    Smith said.
    â€œFor the moment,” Braithwaite