Stephen Leather - Bangkok Bob and the missing Mormon

‘So you’re hiding?’ I said.

‘I’m not scared of the police,’ he said. He reached over and flicked a switch on the wall and the room was flooded with light. The walls, floor and vaulted ceiling were all made of polished teak and two wooden-bladed fans slowly stirred the air above our heads.

Thongchai was tall and thin, wearing a dark blue Mao jacket ands baggy pants. There was a gold watch on one wrist and a thick gold chain on the other, and five Buddha amulets were hanging from a heavy chain around his neck. Thais wear amulets for a whole host of reasons. Some are passed down from father to son, others are gifts from nearest and dearest, some are worn as good-luck symbols, some for protection.

Protection?

That’s right. There are amulets that are supposed to protect against bullets, others that are proof against poison, or car crashes. I couldn’t get a good look at the ones hanging around Thongchai’s neck but I would have bet my last dollar they were amulets that offered protection of one form or another.

He took off his dark glasses and stared at me with cold eyes. ‘Who told you about me?’ he asked.

‘You’re not an official secret,’ I said. ‘The police know that you are one of the owners.’

‘And you talked to Marsh about me?’

‘Your name come up.’

‘And you went to see Lek and Tam to find out where I was?’

I shook my head. ‘I already told you, I was looking for Jon Clare.’

‘You have a picture?’

I nodded and reached into my jacket. Lek pushed the gun against my neck and I slowly took out the photograph and gave it to him. Lek passed it to Thongchai.

‘You think he was in the club the night of the fire?’ said Thongchai as he studied the photograph.

‘It’s possible, but your men don’t remember him.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Thongchai, passing the picture back to Lek. ‘I think you can assume that he wasn’t there. One of us would have seen him.’

Lek gave me the picture and I put it back in my pocket.

‘You know that Marsh is dead?’ I said.

‘You think I killed him?’

‘The thought had entered my head, yes,’ I said.

‘And why would you think that?’ asked Thongchai.

‘Marsh thought that he was going to be blamed for the fire.’

‘It was the band that set off the fireworks,’ said Thongchai. ‘That was what started the blaze.’

‘Marsh said that the club was overcrowded and the fire exits were blocked. He seemed to think that he’d get the blame.’

‘He’s a farang,’ said Thongchai. ‘They will want the head of a Thai for this.’

‘You ordered the exits to be locked?’

Thongchai shook his head. ‘No. I said it was a bad idea, I said it was illegal and dangerous, but I was overruled.’

‘But you’re the owner.’

‘I own ten per cent and I have to work like a dog,’ said Thongchai. ‘The other investors put in most of the money but they don’t lift a finger.’

‘But you run the place, right?’

‘Marsh was the manager but I was there every night. The exits kept being opened from the inside. One guy would pay to go in, then he’d open the door and let in his friends. It happened a lot.’

‘So you had the doors locked?’

‘No, I told the other owners that we needed more security, a static guard stationed at each fire exit. I’d already brought the men in but I was told to let them go and to lock the doors instead.’

‘Told by who?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you care?’

I shrugged. He was right. It was none of my business. But a lot of people had died so yes, I cared. ‘Marsh said it was the owners. I assumed that he meant you.’

‘I wanted the doors guarded. But I was overruled.’

‘By who?’

‘The sons of one of the big investors. They used the VIP rooms three or four times a week. They’d bring in their girlfriends and order the best champagne and not pay for a thing. They liked to throw their weight around.’

‘Marsh said it was your idea to lock the doors.’ Thongchai’s face tightened and I put up my hands. ‘I’m just telling you what he said.’

‘I told him to lock the doors, yes. But I was only telling him what they had told me.’

‘And he said you left the building as soon as the fire started.’

Thongchai pursed his lips. ‘He said a lot, didn’t he?’

‘He was scared. And now he’s dead.’

‘That was nothing to do with me.’

‘He said a lawyer had been around to see him. Was that your idea?’

Thongchai shook his head.

‘Marsh reckoned that the lawyer wanted him to take the blame for the fire. Or for the locked door and the overcrowding, at least.’

‘It wasn’t his fault,’ said Thongchai. ‘It wasn’t mine either. It was the boys. But they’re dead now so there’s no one to back me up.’ He sneered. ‘Not that they would, even if they were alive.’

‘They died in the fire?’

‘Everyone in the VIP room died. There was just one narrow stairway up to it.’

‘Why did you run, Thongchai? And why are you hiding now?’

Thongchai sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. ‘How long have you been in Thailand, Khun Bob?’

‘A long time.’

‘So you understand Thai people.’

I smiled. ‘The longer I am here, the less I understand,’ I said.

‘But you know about Thais and revenge?’

I nodded. I knew what he meant. The boys had died and the parents would want retribution. It wasn’t just the police who were looking for him.

‘So someone will have to pay the price for what happened, and it won’t be a farang.’

‘Do you think they killed Marsh?’

Thongchai shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I am sure they’ll kill me if they find me.’

‘So go to the police. The guy I went to see at the Kube, he’s a police colonel investigating the case and he’s as straight as they come. He’ll give you a fair hearing.’

‘It doesn’t matter whether he’s corrupt or not,’ said Thongchai. ‘Do you think he can protect me?’

It was a good question.

And the answer was probably no. Somsak might want to help but I doubt that he would be any more effective than the amulets hanging around Thongchai’s neck.

‘My men will take you wherever you need to go, Khun Bob,’ said Thongchai. ‘Good luck with your hunt for the missing boy.’

‘Good luck yourself, Khun Thongchai,’ I said.

Of the two of us, I suspected that he would need it more than me.

Dr Ma-lee was in her mid-thirties and seemed happy in her work. She was slightly plump and wore round spectacles and there were framed photographs of her husband and three equally plump daughters either side of her computer. She was wearing a white coat and had a stethoscope hanging around her neck and she inhaled the steam from the cup of Chinese tea that she was holding as I sat down in her office. She’d called me in for a chat about what she would be doing to me in a few days. There were framed certificates on the wall behind her showing that she’d studied in Chicago and Seattle, which was reassuring.

‘Dr Wanlop explained what it is we’ll be doing?’ she asked, putting her cup down on its saucer.

‘A colonoscopy, just to check that my colon is okay,’ I said, trying to be as optimistic as possible.

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Basically there are two systems we can use. The latest device is in the form of a capsule containing a camera which the patient simply swallows. It works its way through the system and we then plug it into our computer and obtain a view of the entire alimentary canal.’

‘Sounds great,’ I said.

Well, maybe not great, but it sure sounded better than pushing a camera up the other way.