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Slash and Burn (Dr. Siri Paiboun, #8) Slash and Burn by Colin Cotterill
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“A good communist,” the man had said, “does not let go of the plough halfway across the paddy and leave the buffalo to find its own direction. He eats with her, tends to her injuries, and sleeps with her until the job is done.” Siri had resisted the temptation to spread the word that the Party was advocating bestiality.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash and Burn
“Don’t tell me you’ve offended that one too.” Daeng shook her head. “Have we offended that one?” Siri asked. “Don’t recall,” said Civilai. “Wait. Isn’t he the one whose limousine we filled up with ducks?” “No. That was the Vice-Minister of Agriculture.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash And Burn
“When did we get too old for this, Daeng? What happened to those days when we were somersaulting through the air with a cutlass in each hand taking out the enemy twenty at a time?”

“I don't think that was us, Love. That was Bruce Lee.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash and Burn
“Old man,” she said. “Don’t you want to prepare or something?”
“Prepare what?”
“Yourself. For death.”
Siri laughed.
“Well, Bpoo. Let’s see. If the Buddhists are right, I’m just on my way to the next incarnation. Unless there’s a manual for how to behave correctly as a gnat I’m not sure how I’d prepare for that. If the Catholics are right, nothing short of an asbestos suit and a glass of iced water will help where I’m going. And if the communists are right, you do your best and when you’re gone they put up a statue in your honor and the locals dry their laundry on it. So, if I’m going, you’re the heir to today’s legacy.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash and Burn
tags: death
“Aren’t there any rules for … I don’t know, fair war?” Dtui asked.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash And Burn
“Two-point-three million tons of ordnance were rained upon the land. Almost half of this was in the form of cluster bombs; “bombies” as they were affectionately known.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash And Burn
“A good communist,’ the man had said, ‘does not let go of the plough halfway across the paddy and leave the buffalo to find its own direction.”
Colin Cotterill, Slash and Burn