Bangkok Burn (17 page)

The vehicles pulled up fifty meters away and Chai got out of the driver’s side of the Cherokee Jeep holding up his arms. I dropped the muzzle of the gun and nodded to the soldier. He smiled and went back to his noodles. Priorities.

Weariness hit me like a wave. I leaned back against the tree as Chai and Cheep walked over. Chai squatted on his haunches in front me, studying my face.

“You look like hell,” he said.

“Don’t worry. I feel a lot worse than I look,” I said and smiled.

He handed me Lilly’s phone. “It’s rung five times since late morning.”

“Checking to see if we’re back together. Any sign of them?”

“The guy on the Hatteras was hired four days ago in Pattaya and joined the yacht by speed boat from Krabi. They told him they had urgent business and asked him to drive the boat to Yacht Haven to wait for them. Paid him in cash. Russian, he thought, but wasn’t sure. The guy asked to be called Alex. No sign of Uncle Mike or the woman. The cops found the truck in Kra Bhuri. They could have crossed the river and be in Burma.”

“Possible. Possible that they’ve been here all the time. So far my guesses as to their actions have been fairly off-base. I’ll just play it step by step for now. First step is to recover the goods. See down there, where the railing is torn away. That’s where I went over with the forklift. There’s a steep slope for about ten meters, then another fifteen meter drop, then there’s a ledge. The goods are on the ledge.”

The Lieutenant and sergeant had woken up. They were pretending to look out over the gulley, but their ears were pinned back, listening.

Cheep moved off, shouting to his boys. The road was sectioned off and the soldiers put on guard duty. Cheep's boys hooked up and climbed down. Within minutes shouts came up that they had found the goods. The first of many bright blue thick plastic bags was hauled up using the winch on the front of the Cherokee. I sat and watched from the shade, Chai by my side. He handed me a packet of Marlboro red. Chai doesn’t smoke, doesn’t approve of me smoking; what friends are made of.

I drew in deeply, watching as a blue bag bumped its way over the cliff and was dragged a short distance before the winch stopped. A guy untied the cable and dropped it back over the edge for the next bag.

“Do you know how much shit Mother gave me in the last twenty-four hours? No one has ever made me feel so bad about myself.”

“I’m sorry, Chai. It was my fault. I underestimated them.”

“No. Joom is right. What you do is your business. What I do is protect you. That’s my business. That’s what Joom and Por trained me for. Not to listen to you,” he turned sideways and grinned at me, “and your crazy plans.” He shook his head slowly side to side. “You are really are crazy you know. Driving a forklift out of a moving truck and over the edge of a cliff. I haven’t dared tell Mother that part yet. Anyway, I’ve learned my mistake. From now on, my only job is making sure you stay alive. Okay? I don’t want Joom talking to me like that again – reminded me of when I was five.”

“When you were being bullied and Joom told you to fight and stand up for your name or she’d cane your legs till you bled to death, if you didn’t die of shame first? You mean that time?”

Chai stared at the ground, squatting, tapping his combat booted foot on the tarmac. “Yeah, that time.”

“Wow. I’m sorry, Chai. That’s pretty scary.” I tried but couldn’t keep the grin out of my voice. He smiled at me and punched me on the shoulder. It hurt.

Last to come up were the guys who had climbed down, pulled up by the winch, the last man all smiles. Money loaded. Ropes pulled up. Cables tied away. Barrier on the road taken down and the soldiers put in the front two vehicles. Time to move.

I walked over to the gap in the safety barrier that I had flipped over in the forklift, Chai by my side like a shadow. I had the feeling the shadow would always be watching my back.

“You know how far you fell? The boys told me it’s at least forty meters to the ledge. One hundred and twenty feet. Your amulets are going to be worth a fortune.”

I smiled. It was true. The only thing I was wearing, the whole time I was in the container and on the run, was my amulets, the three of them given to me by Por, Joom and Uncle Mike. I sat in the back seat of the Cherokee, Chai next to me, Uzi on his knees, and we looked out of the window as we wound down the mountains towards Chumphon.

There was one thing that puzzled me. Why hadn’t Lisp just taken the money? Why did he need to take me? Was he planning on running the same kidnap routine on me with Mother? It didn’t fit. You’ve got the money, you put a bullet in my head, and you’re home free. Why go to all the trouble of a tranquilizer gun and more kidnapping? One hundred million was more than enough for anyone. It didn’t fit. Just another fragment of a mosaic where none of the pieces fit and the picture remains unclear.

On the outskirts of Chumphon, Lilly’s phone rang. I answered it.

“Who is this? Who is this?” Lisp was excited.

“Chance.”

“Ah, so you’re alive.”

“No, they have cell phones in hell.”

“Don’t get funny.”

“Funny – I thought we were going to make an exchange – that is until you decided to get funny.”

I heard a woman say, ‘Leon’, in the background, and the sound from the phone cut off. Silence for a few seconds. I looked at the phone, signal strength strong. Lisp spoke again, his voice quieter, almost calm.

“You want your Uncle Mike?”

“Yes. I want Uncle Mike, and I want to speak to Uncle Mike.”

“You can talk but not now. You go to Koh Kong, on Cambodian border, have the money with you. Keep this phone with you. When you get there you can talk to Uncle Mike and we make exchange. Straight exchange this time, no tricks. You go now.”

“Not today. I broke my arms I need treatment. It’ll be tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” He hung up.

Leon. What sounded like a woman had opened a door and called Lisp, ‘Leon’. A break, a lucky break. A lot can be done with a first name. Assuming of course he was using his real first name. Something nagged at me about the woman’s voice. That feeling you have when you leave the house and know that you’ve forgotten something but ignore it – and you get halfway down the street when you realize you’ve left your wallet at home.

Shades of Gray

19 May 2010 Pak Nam 6 pm

We stayed out of the city
and disembarked on the Samut Sakhon side of the river. Mother owned the land opposite her and Por's house. Her boat, a Bertram 42, was waiting for us. Even from here I could see the pall of black smoke rising above Bangkok.

The redshirt encampment had been stormed by the army about the time I was waking up on the ledge. In the early afternoon, the stage where the red shirt leaders were making their last speeches was reached and some were arrested and some escaped. A foreign journalist and at least ten others were killed in the day’s fighting. Over forty buildings had been set on fire and looting in the department stores next to the redshirt encampment had been widespread. Pockets of resistance held out and a curfew, at six pm, had just gone into effect. There was trouble in other provinces in the north and northeast. Muted whispers circulated of the potential for civil war, mostly from Farang, posturing from pseudo-intellectual backgrounds who didn’t know shit about what was happening on the ground.

I learned all of this in the backseat of the Cherokee, using twitter and the net. On the cell phone, I learned of deals made behind the scenes. Only naïve CNN and BBC reporters pitched this as a battle between rich and poor, the elite versus the downtrodden. Even the dumbest Thai knew it was a lot more complicated. Elite versus elite, each with a tapestry of past and present favors and feuds, captains and foot soldiers, all with their own agenda, to be executed with a weather eye on the way the wind was blowing. Shades of gray.

Money, cold hard cash, close to the amounts I’d just hauled around Thailand had been spent and made. Bosses putting their boys on the street for a payment to a Swiss bank account. The fight on the street had been fierce, close, and was ongoing. Points were being made, scored, and tallied. This phase, the phase of a medieval fortress in the middle of downturn Bangkok, was over, bar the curtain being dropped. The Fat Lady had sung.

There was little need to play dead now that I knew Big Tiger was the force behind the Cambodians trying to kill me. He was high on my list of priorities but first task was resting up and getting Uncle Mike back safely.

Mother and Pim came across in the Bertram. Standing in the cockpit, Pim a good few centimeters taller than Mother, it struck me how similar they looked. Not in looks but in stance. The boat boy maneuvered in and the boys waiting on the dock gathered in the lines, tying the boat off. Mother and Pim stepped off and the boys immediately made a human chain, the heavy blue plastic bags in a pile by the dock.

Mother walked over and stood in front me. I saw a look of shock flash across Pim’s face as she got close enough to see my mine. I smiled. Pim looked even more horrified. Mother reached out, held my jaw, and turned my face left and right. I had a flashback to when I was eight. She looked in my eyes – we shared the flashback. Thais are conservative by nature. We avoid “overt” public displays of affection, such as kissing or hugging. Mother hugged me, squeezing me tight. She stood back and shot a glance at Chai. It lasted a second but froze the far side of the river for a while. Chai shuffled his combat boots and studied the ground between them.

“It wasn’t Chai’s fault, Mother. He was just following me.” The flashback merged with the present, to the word.

“I ought to give the both of you a good spanking. What the hell did you think you were doing driving around on your own with that kind of money? You ought to know better.” She rounded on Chai, “and since when did you think that you were to follow his orders?” Chai wisely, did not answer this, and did not grin. I was not so wise.

“And what are you smiling about? Your father’s in a Cambodian hospital with his leg blown off, your Uncle Mike is in the hands of a sadistic madman and you’re driving forklift trucks loaded with hundred million off a cliff. Oh yes, don’t look surprised. Of course I know what happened. I had a full report from the colonel before you left for the site.” Pim’s mouth had dropped open. Fifteen grown men, stood perfectly still, me included, and I got rid of the grin. Mother was pissed off. She turned to face the others.

“Get busy loading the money,” she said quietly.

There was a mad scramble to load money and be spared the wrath of Mother. I thought about joining in but decided against it. Looking at the way Chai was sneaking sideways glances at the boat, I could tell he’d had the same thought. Mother turned her attention back to us.

“Since it appears that you have forgotten, let me remind you both. Your job, Chance, is to make sure this family is safe and healthy, and your job, Chai, is to make sure he is safe and healthy. Are we clear on what our jobs are?” She had her hands on hips. Pim was grinning. I fought the urge. I‘m not suicidal.

“Yes, Mother!” Chai and I said in unison. She turned her back on us and stalked off to the boat. Chai and I shared a grin. For all the times we’d been there. Then Pim climbed in.

“What are you two grinning about? This isn’t fucking funny. Did I hear Mere Joom say you drove a forklift off a cliff? With all the money? And you were on a boat waiting for him. While he drove around Phuket with a hundred million in cash. Is that it?”

“Well no, it wasn’t exactly like that, and it wasn’t a very high cliff.”

“I have to go help Mother.” Chai grinned at me and escaped. Coward.

“Pim, it’s done. It’s past. It was a complete fuck up but no one got killed and we still have the money. Well actually, one guy might have been killed but he was on their side.”

“You mean you’ve killed another person? That’s three in a week.” Her mouth was hanging open again.

“Let’s talk about this later. Now’s not the time. Okay? It looks like Mother’s ready to head back.” I nodded at the boat, the last of the bags on board and Mother standing in the stern.

Pim nodded, the news of my latest killing quieting her questions for the moment. In the space of a week the Chance side of my life had pretty much wiped out the half she thought Samuel Harper had been. She looked like she was trying to figure out if what remained was the half she wanted.