The Destroyed Read Online Free PDF Page A

was sure there were at least a dozen others he hadn’t even considered.
    A few minutes later, the river bent to the right and straightened again. As it did, a temple came into view on the left bank about a quarter mile ahead. Like with all Buddhist temples in Thailand, the upside down, conical stupa—or, as the Thais called it, chedi —rose prominently in the middle of the temple grounds. This one, unlike some others he’d seen, was not covered in gold. Its pitted surface had been white once, but dirt and mold had worked their way into the nooks and cracks, dulling its long forgotten brightness.
    The temple building itself was undergoing renovations. An intricate, clearly makeshift wooden scaffolding had been erected around most of the structure. A small group of men was spread out along it, working on the temple walls.
    The boat’s engine began to throttle back, and the man at the wheel steered the craft toward the small pier that served the temple. Through the bushes at the edge of the bank, Nate thought he could see movement on the temple grounds. When the boat was only a hundred feet away, three monks wearing bright orange robes, their heads shaved bare, stepped onto the dock and watched them approach.
    The boat’s pilot eased them forward, and with a perfect touch, brought the side of the vessel up against several old tires that buffered the dock.
    “Wat Doi Thong,” he said, announcing the name of the temple. “How long do you think?”
    “I don’t know,” Nate told him.
    “I don’t want to spend night out here.”
    “Neither do I, but you’re being paid enough, so if it happens, it happens.”
    Nate stepped onto the dock.
    “Mr. Quinn.”
    Nate looked back. “Yes?”
    “You like one of us come with you?”
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    The pilot seemed relieved. “Okay. No problem. We be here.”
    Nate walked over to the monks and gave them a deep wai . “ Sawadee, krap. ”
    The monks returned the wai and the greeting, almost as one.
    “ Khun phood phasa Angrit, dai mai? ” Nate said, asking if any of them spoke English.
    The middle monk seemed to think for a moment, then said slowly, “Sorry. Only Thai.”
    Nate was about to call to the boat pilot and have him do some translating, when a new voice said, “I speak English.”
    A man was standing on the shore just past where the dock ended. Nate was sure he hadn’t been there a moment before. He, too, was wearing a saffron robe, but unlike the other monks, he sported a goatee and had a full head of black hair that fell almost to the base of his neck. On his exposed shoulder, Nate could see a tattoo of a tiger peeking up over the top, like it was ready to pounce off the man’s back.
    Nate walked toward him. “Great. I believe I was expected. My name’s—”
    “I know who you are,” the man said. Surprisingly, though he looked Thai, he sounded as American as Nate did. “I’m afraid you’ve wasted the trip, though.”
    Nate stopped at the edge of the dock. “He’s not here?”
    “He’s made it clear he has no desire for visitors.”
    “This isn’t a social call.”
    “I’m sorry,” the man said, then glanced at the boat. “If you leave now, you might get back to Bangkok before it gets too late.”
    Nate stepped onto the shore. “If he doesn’t want to see me, he can tell me that himself.”
    A wry smile appeared on the long-haired monk’s face. “That would be defeating the purpose, don’t you think?”
    “I don’t care about the purpose. I’m not leaving until I see him.”
    “Then I think you should make yourself comfortable. You’re going to be waiting a long time.”
    “Yeah?” Nate said, taking another step forward. “Well, I don’t have time to wait, either.”
    The man laughed. “You’re playing right into the American stereotype. Always in a hurry.”
    Nate walked up the short path, straight toward the monk. When he neared him, he said, “Excuse me.”
    The man, still smiling, stepped to the side,