5.2 Volatile Reputation

A red and black GSX250 Suzuki motorbike on its stand outside the gate of Boduberu would mean that a top-ranking military officer had gone in there. Too often this bike stood by the gate. Not that the public would care to know Colonel Beru owned the place and that business of Lui-Lui Hana facing the other road belonged to him. One of the oil-stained doors sighted over the boundary wall happened to be his private office at Boduberu.

Colonel Beru sat beside his heavy timber desk, holding a meeting with three companions. “The BBC and the Commonwealth will continue to call it a premeditated coup d’état. They claim it was launched by the opposition after holding secret talks with the vice president, which ultimately pressured President Toro into resigning on the seventh of February,” Colonel Beru spoke breaking the silence, “but the reality on the ground was different. The idea of a vigilant police kettling the crowds and using force day in and day out simply exhausted the men. The police turned on him. It came to a sudden stalemate when the defence forces intruded in a standoff that terminated in an anti-climax. He didn’t actually have to resign but he did anyway. And the Supreme Court rushed things ahead without a proper judicial review, swearing in the vice by midday.” The colonel paused, reaching into a small brass container to add a fresh betel leaf to his chew. “I took a nap right after the forces pulled back. By the time I woke up, the entire government had changed.”

“Demonstrations are mounting again,” grunted Bento. “Matador is leading in the September seventh vote, and now that the election commission has annulled that entire round, the mobs will bring about the same chaos we saw last year. Toro resigned and then he came up with ten different accounts on how he was removed.”

“At gunpoint…so he claims,” Moha uttered with a pessimistic smirk.

“Bullshit!” Bento snapped.

“He even created a ‘Common Wealth’ account on social media, stubbornly spelling it in two separate words ‘Common’ and ‘Wealth’, to hellfire the actions of the local authorities on that day, emulating a foreign voice to get international sympathy,” revealed Scripture. He was a tall thin man wearing a long tunic, a sparse little beard and a kufi hat. “Toro will do absolutely anything out of sheer desperation.”

“How can you be sure it’s him behind this social media account?” asked Bento, shifting his broad forehead and smoothing his trimmed moustache.

Scripture shrugged, “Nobody looks for a British say on this specific matter besides him.”

“Forming a coalition with either the Mogul or the Dogs will swing the vote,” expressed Moha, “Mogul keeps changing his mind. I don’t believe things are going to get any bloodier than it did last year.”

“For the most part, the protests have remained peaceful,” the colonel agreed, nodding slowly, “They are very energetic and motivated. The trouble only escalates when the police confront them to forcefully disperse the crowds. By no means is this going to spark the kind of widespread violence we witnessed in 2012. Matador has an advantage of winning forty-seven percent on virtually every round.”

“I can see that the Dogs will back Libra in favour of the Capricorn,” unveiled Scripture who kept deep ties with the religious factions in politics. “The Dogs simply cannot do the math right now with eight minor parties remaining entirely undecided.”

“I hate the Dogs,” growled Moha.

“They are just hoping to end up on the winning side of the leading coalition.”

“How, may I ask?” asked Bento.

“They wait,” Scripture replied, “Whenever they are approached by the leading factions, they demand far too many extreme terms to form a functional alliance and that makes no sense either. So, they wait.”

“Somebody must be talking behind the scenes,” Moha uttered rather worried.

“Oh, they are doing the talking,” said Scripture, “The real wildcard is Mogul’s Republican Party. They can easily topple the balance if one side gains an advantage over the minor parties. Right now, it is Libra against Toro. Everyone is playing the waiting game.”

“We too,” the colonel murmured, “we too.”

“But we must remember that some of the events on our private schedule must go on as planned,” Bento reminded him prudently, shifting the topic back to their immediate business.

“Of course,” the colonel agreed.

At that exact moment, the oil-stained office door clicked open and an Asian girl stepped into the room.

“Sawasdee ka!” she mumbled softly, bowing her head. She carried a small lacquered tray bearing a curated mixture of aromatic ingredients and lit incense sticks, moving efficiently to fragrance Colonel Beru’s private room just as the parlour staff did every morning. Before stepping out, she paused by a corner stone to observe a brief, silent prayer.

“Who is she?” Bento asked the moment the door shut behind her.

“A new girl,” the colonel answered dismissively. “Do you know the date for the second round of voting?”

“On the twenty-eighth of September,” Scripture responded.

The colonel sighed, “We are wasting our time.”

“What else would you have us do now?” asked Moha.

“We wait,” Scripture established resolutely. “We absolutely must know the certified results before taking any definitive action. Wait for the second round and see the true outcome of the vote.”

When the meeting finally was over, Moha slipped down the four-foot alleyway towards the commercial side of the property. He entered the spa lobby and popped his head over a carved wooden screen to greet the manager seated at the counter.

“You seem to have a bunch of new girls, Thana!” he noted with a casual grin.

“Only three came,” the plump lady replied.

“When did they check in?”

“About a week ago.”

“Who is that girl in a purple skirt?”

“Ah, her name is Beauty.”

Moha scoffed, “Beauty? Is that even a name?”

“That’s just how she calls herself,” Thana ogled with an ironic gesture to allow him to consider the matter seriously.