Matters Do Not Become Less Complex

This follows on from In Which We Do Not Observe Quiet Domesticity and runs to 3,554 words.


Because of the restrictions that had been put on my use of the house by the owners while they sorted out their furniture issues, the extended search of the premises was Mr Tchung’s problem and not mine.  The secret room proved to have completely separate plumbing arrangements to the rest of the house and no electricity – it had been missed when the house was wired for power sometime during the Occupation.  Speaking of plumbing, it turned out that one of the grease traps wasn’t a grease trap and although the cavity tested positive for traces of explosives, it didn’t contain anything interesting - like sweaty blasting sticks.  There was a secret compartment in the secret room itself that contained two Maksim Automatica pistols and ammunition for them – I didn’t get to see them but the police and the evaluation team had an excruciating polite discussion in front of me concerning who would have custody of those particular treasures.  The surprise, for me, was that the bathroom I’d been using on the top floor of the main house had access into a compartment in the ceiling space above which was fitted out as a radio room with the antenna running the length of the roof ridge.  I admit I hadn’t paid much attention to the little linen and toiletries cupboard thing in the corner of the room that concealed the stairs except to think that it was an old fashioned oddity.  I thought all the findings together were particularly impressive because it was clear from the objects’ nature and locations that the Lao family members who’d done this had never been caught by the Occupation forces.

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This is now followed by A More Normal Afternoon.