Timothy Hallinan - The Queen of Patpong

"A storm?" Arthit says. "It must be nice to have the time to be metaphorical."

"Mapmakers used to use figures of gods or beasts blowing on the water to indicate prevailing winds and storm areas. That's what we're going to do, we're going to blow on the water. We're going to create a magical storm area just for Howard Horner, one that won't affect anyone else. We'll fix it so every bar worker and every vendor in Patpong, hundreds of people, will recognize him on sight. We're going to find the bar his current girl works in, and if he hasn't taken her already, we're going to spirit her away. When he comes into the bar, he'll be told she's gone out to eat and that he should wait for her. Then they'll call us. If he goes into a different bar, or if someone spots him on the sidewalk, they'll call us."

"Who will?" Rose asks.

"The mama-san. The girls. The only real problem is if he's already taken her down to Phuket, but I doubt that, because we just saw him and we hurt him."

"He's not going to slow down because he's hurt," Rose says. "As long as he can walk, he'll come up with some story and use it to make the girl feel sorry for him. Then he can flatter her, tell her only she can make him feel better."

"Even if he's on his way down there," Arthit says, "there are two cops at the airport in Phuket with these pictures. He won't make it out of the terminal."

"So," Rafferty says, "here's what we're going to do: In half an hour or so, we're going to go to the copy shop on Silom at the foot of Patpong and make about ninety color photocopies of the picture Rose is holding. Then the women here tonight, the ones who agree to help, will go into the bars they used to work in and talk to the mama-san. The idea is to get the mama-san to let you stand at the edge of the stage as each shift comes off and to make sure all the girls see the picture. Every girl, even the ones who are in the restroom. If girls are out on short-times, the mama-san will show them the picture when they come back in."

"And you think they'll all remember him if he comes in?" Arthit asks.

"If we tell them that he killed those women. That should get their attention." Rafferty looks back at the women. "Oh, I kind of messed his face up-"

"Good for you," Nit says.

"So you should tell them he might have some injuries, maybe even bandages."

Kosit, who's been standing near Rose with the photo still pressed to his stomach, says, "Wait a minute." He navigates between the seated women to the dining room and shows the picture to Arthit, then leans down and whispers into Arthit's ear. When he sees the photo, Arthit's upper lip lifts to reveal his teeth, and he darts a look at Rose. He turns his attention back to the photograph.

He says to Kosit, "Good idea."

Kosit says, "This is ugly, but you should see it." He holds up the picture as the women crane at it and, one by one, turn away. They look at the window, at the floor, at their laps, at each other. The room is completely silent.

"Girl number two, the second one we found in the files," Kosit says. "From 2007."

Even from where Rafferty's sitting, the photograph is a window into horror. The woman is colorless and cold-looking, with skin like white wax. Her eyes are rolled back as though she's seeing something high above her head, and her wet hair streams out onto the dented table. The water-puckered, fish-slick skin has been sliced to ribbons. The cuts, long bled out and laundered by the sea, open into more whiteness.

Rose gets up and goes to Kosit. She takes the photograph from him and holds it up to the room and says, "We show them this one, too. We tell all of them that he did this. We show them. Even the girls who are on drugs will remember."

"Will they believe you?" Arthit asks.

Rose starts to answer, but Nit pushes her way in. "We're sisters," she says. "Whether we like each other or not, we've all been through the same thing. We all have the same story. And we all know there are men like this one."

"They'll believe us," one of the others says to Arthit, "faster than they'll believe you."

Arthit nods and says, "You haven't finished, Poke. Go through the rest of it. And I mean step by step. What keeps these women safe?"

"First thing they do when they walk into the bar is say hello to anyone they know. The pictures will be in folders we'll get at the copy shop so no one will see anything until it's time. Second thing they do is sit for a few minutes with the mama-san and make sure he's not there. If he is, she never takes out the pictures. She just leaves and calls us from outside. If he's not there, they do the third thing, which is to show the picture of Horner to the mama-san and ask if she's seen him. If the answer is yes, the next question is when. If the answer is this evening, or recently, they ask whether he's been taking one girl regularly and, if so, whether she's in the bar. If the answer to that is yes, then the woman with the picture gets the girl's name and calls us and leaves without showing the picture around, and we go in a few minutes later and get Horner's girl. If the answer is no, then we revert to normal procedures and we make sure all the girls see both pictures as they come off the stage. These women will never get near any action, if any takes place."

Rose says, "Who here doesn't want to do this?" There are no responses.

"You keep saying they'll call us if he shows or if he's just been there," Arthit says. "Where are we going to be?"

"Right there, on Patpong. There are six bars that no one here worked at, so we'll take care of those. Anand and Kosit, if you'll let them, will show the pictures to the vendors in the street market and the touts working the sidewalk. If we don't get him tonight, we'll go back tomorrow, and the next night. My phone number will be written on the back of every picture."

Arthit says, "My phone number."

Rafferty nods, trying to conceal his elation.

"As if you didn't know I'd say that."

"Oh, well," Rafferty says, and then dumps the rest of what he was going to say because of the way Arthit's looking at him.

"If we find him, Poke"-Arthit's voice is soft-"what then?"

"You guys are three cops," Rafferty says. "I'm one me. I suppose it'll be whatever you want to happen."

"You know," Arthit says, "I could do this without you. I could forbid you from getting anywhere near Patpong."

"I guess you could."

"Will it be necessary?"

Rafferty says, "I'd be more comfortable about answering your question if I hadn't seen the picture of that girl."

"But you have seen it. Am I going to have a problem with you?"

It's almost a minute, with all the women looking at him, before Rafferty replies. "If you do," he says, "I'm sure you'll be able to handle it."

Above the bright lights of the night market, the sky flickers chalky white and darkens again, like a loose lightbulb. A moment later a breeze kicks up, carrying the sweat of the crowd to Rafferty's nostrils.

"Could rain," he says.

"So what?" Arthit says, bulling his way through the slow-moving throng. "You afraid you'll shrink?"

"Rudeness one, small talk zero," Rafferty says.

Arthit grunts.

Rafferty says, "Not so busy, is it?"

"If you need to chat, it's not busy because it's early," Arthit says. "Only seven-twenty. It'll pick up."

Ahead of them Arthit watches Nit go into a bar called Bamboo, her folder held against her hip in a businesslike fashion.

Rafferty says, "Don't worry about them. They know what to do."

"You're the one I'm worried about." Arthit stops, the shirt of his uniform already wet in back. "Look at this junk," he says. "Patpong was always a sewer, but it used to be a good-natured sewer."