Timothy Hallinan - The Queen of Patpong

"I only got them an hour ago." Arthit stands, too, unwilling to give Rafferty the height advantage. "They're on rush, they'll be ready soon. But I don't know whether I'll let you have them."

"Whether you'll-"

"This can't continue. It's time for the cops."

Several responses go through Rafferty's mind, all of them hurtful. He says, "Let me call Elson."

"Poke." Arthit stops, breathes deeply, and continues. "What in the world does an American Secret Service agent have to do with any of this?"

Rafferty says, "I want this guy to go down. Forever."

"And I don't? Every time the phone rings, there's another dead girl in those records in Phuket."

"They found Oom," Rose tells Rafferty. "The right time, the tattoo."

Arthit says, "You don't trust the police? The Thai justice system?"

Rafferty doesn't even think about it. "No."

His face reddening, Arthit says, "You're slandering a lot of good people."

"If the police are such crackerjacks, tell me how a dozen bodies, or however many it is, all killed the same way, can just wash up in Phuket, like Japanese glass fishing floats, with nobody hearing about it?"

Arthit's shaking his head by the time Rafferty is halfway through the sentence. "That's different."

"How? How is it-"

"Phuket is a tourist destination. It's still recovering from the tsunami. They're not going to publicize a serial-"

"Oh, well, that inspires confidence. Let the girls die, but, please, no bad PR."

"They were working the case," Arthit says, barely moving his lips. "But quietly."

"And look at all the progress."

Arthit holds up both hands. "You can argue with me until the sun comes up. The police are getting involved. Now."

"If you bring the cops into this, you'll regret it until you die."

"This country is not completely corrupt, no matter what you believe."

"If it makes you feel any better," Rafferty says, "I don't trust my government either."

Rose says, "He should be dead."

They both look at her. Arthit is expressionless, wearing what Rafferty thinks of as his cop face. "Obviously, I can't guarantee that," Arthit tells her. "But what are you saying, Poke? That if the police aren't involved, you're going to kill him?"

"Here's what I'm saying: Your colleagues may catch him, but they won't keep him. Where are you going?"

Halfway to the dining room, Arthit says, "You dodged my question. That's another reason for me to do what I should have done this afternoon."

"He'll never see a Thai courtroom," Rafferty says.

"I'm not a judge," Arthit says. He picks up his cell phone from the dining-room table. "I don't try them, I just arrest them."

Rafferty raises his voice, knowing it means he's losing the argument. "He killed four women- Wait, how many is it now?"

Rose says, "Five."

"All cut?"

"Just like Oom," Rose says.

"Okay, then, five women. Five that we know of. And you said it yourself, Arthit, there are going to be more. He tried to kill Rose. He and the other one cut and beat a woman in her sixties just because she came down the hall to see what the noise was."

Arthit says, "All the more reason to catch him."

"They tried to steal my daughter so she could lead them to Rose. What would they have done to Rose? What do you think they would have done with Miaow afterward? Buy her candy?" Rafferty hears the stridency in his voice but can't modulate it. "She's a kid, Arthit."

Arthit lowers the phone. "Listen to yourself. Look at the case against Horner, the one you've just laid out. Look at the witnesses: Rose, about both her and Oom. You and two cops, about what happened to you and Miaow today. Mrs. Pongsiri, since the doctors seem to think she'll make it. He'll never see daylight again."

"He'll never stand trial," Rafferty says. "He'll get sold."

Arthit says, "Sold?"

"Like the cheapest car on the lot."

"To whom, Poke?" Arthit's mouth is pinched tight. "Think about it for a minute. Even if my colleagues were corrupt enough, or stupid enough, to sell a serial killer after all the publicity this case will get, who'd have enough money? Because for that kind of corruption, we're talking seven figures, and I don't mean baht."

Rose says, "He only killed bar girls. That's not the same as killing people."

Rafferty says, "Let me call Elson."

Arthit starts to reply to Rose and then looks from her to Rafferty. Something seems to unfold behind his eyes. He puts the cell phone on the polished table and spins it with his forefinger. Glances down at it and then back over at Rafferty. He says, "You're shitting me."

"Let me make the call."

Arthit spins the phone again, giving it all his attention. "You can't mean what I think you mean. But even if you do, it's not going to change anything."

"Then there's no reason not to call."

"This is your government we're talking about."

"Times have changed," Rafferty says. "My government has changed with them." He pulls out his own cell phone just as Pim and Miaow come into the room, each carrying a big tray full of take-out containers, plates, and glasses. Miaow has cleaned herself up from the scuffle of the afternoon and is once again the kind of shiny-faced immaculate that Rafferty always associates with her, but her eyes are a little too quick, a little too skittish. She looks as if a loud noise would send her diving through the window. Pim has discarded her garish street clothes in favor of one of Arthit's T-shirts as a dress, belted with a necktie. The shirt comes down almost to her knees.

Rafferty looks at the necktie and tries to lower the room's temperature by asking, "Are those snakes?"

"Cobras," Arthit says. "Thanom gave it to me for Christmas. I think there was some sort of threat implied."

"Can you make room on the table?" Miaow asks. "These are heavy."

Arthit says, from the dining room, "Over here."

"Listen," Rafferty says. "I need everybody to be quiet. I'm putting this call on speaker, but I'm not going to tell the guy I'm talking to. He'd have a heart attack."

He waits until Miaow and Pim have put down the trays, and then he waves everyone quiet again and dials. On the third ring, he checks his watch-6:21 P.M.-but then Elson picks up.

Rafferty raises the phone to his lips so he won't sound like he's on speaker. "Richard. Poke Rafferty."

Elson says, "Yeah?" He sounds like someone who expects to be asked for a loan.

"And a big hi to you, too."

"You're calling after hours. Means you don't want to talk on an office phone. How'd you get my cell number?"

"You gave it to me. Back when Frank-my father-was here."

"You should have torn it up."

"You should have changed it. But how's this? I'll erase it after this call."

Elson sighs into the phone. "What is it, then?"

"It's a hypothetical."

"I've been waiting all day for a hypothetical."

"Good. Then I'll lay it out and you tell me how probable or improbable it is."

There's a pause, and then Elson says, "Do you need a prompt to get started?"

"No. Okay, a guy working for a defense contractor, let's say Grayhawk or one of those, he's engaged on missions for the U.S. in… oh, I don't know, the Middle East, and while he's in a third country-"

"Third?"

"Neither the U.S. nor the country his mission is in."

"Okay."

"So in this third country he gets into very serious trouble. Let's say he kills several people. Kills them ugly. Let's say they're defenseless women. Let's say there are more than several."

In the silence that follows, Rafferty can hear Elson doing something that sounds like jingling the change in his pocket. "Is this public knowledge? In your hypothetical, I mean."

"No. Nobody's heard a word about it except the people who are directly involved. And then let's say he's arrested in the third country and the American embassy is contacted as a courtesy, as they always are."