Stephen Leather - Bangkok Bob and the missing Mormon
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- Название:Bangkok Bob and the missing Mormon
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‘I told you, I sell antiques.’
‘I mean real sales. Stocks. Shares. The margins we operate on, a guy like you could make a good living.’
‘I’ll pass,’ I said. I nodded at my business card which he’d put down on the table. ‘If by any chance he gets in touch again, give me a call, yeah?’
CHAPTER 30
The Friday night poker game was at the house of John Muller, an American who I’d met soon after arriving in Thailand. John was a Vietnam vet who’d been involved in the Phoenix programme, winning the hearts and minds of the Viet Cong and occasionally throwing them out of helicopters. That’s just rumour and conjecture, John doesn’t talk much about what he did back then. He’s been married to a Thai lady for more than thirty years and runs a security company that looks after big hotels and VIP clients in Thailand and Cambodia.
John and his wife live in Sukhumvit 101 in a house they bought just after they married. I went by taxi because a lot of alcohol is consumed on poker night.
A rottweiler on a chain snarled at me as I pressed the doorbell and ignored my attempts to win it over by making shushing noises. The dog hates me, but when I visit with Noy it’s all sweetness and light.
The door opened and Muller grinned amiably. ‘Brought your money with you, Bob?’ he asked and gave me a bear hug that forced the breath out of me. I’m not a small guy but Muller is a couple of inches taller and good deal heavier. His hair and moustache are greying but he looks good for sixty-odd.
‘I’ve gotta warn you, I’m feeling lucky tonight,’ I said.
Muller laughed and slapped me on the back, then finally released me and I stumbled into the house. ‘The wife’s out with the girls so we’ve got free rein,’ said Muller. ‘And the pizzas are on the way.’
I went through to the sitting room where there was a large circular table covered in green baize.
Somsak was there, dressed casually but expensively in chinos and a pink Lacoste shirt. He raised his glass of brandy in salute. ‘The late Bob Turtledove,’ he said.
‘We’re in the middle of nowhere,’ I said. ‘And the traffic was terrible.’
Muller handed me an opened bottle of Phuket Beer and waved me to an empty chair. I sat down and took out a wad of banknotes.
Sitting opposite me was a Brit, a real estate agent by the name of Tim Maplethorpe who always seemed to be smiling, probably because more often than not he left the game as a winner. When he wasn’t selling apartments to wealthy foreigners he was usually honing his poker skills on line. He grinned as he played with his stacks. ‘Thought you’d chickened out,’ he said. He was wearing a green polo shirt with the name of his company on the back.
Muller took my money and gave me chips.
Sitting next to Maplethorpe was Annan, a muscular trainer who worked at a popular gym on Soi Ekkamai. Annan was a friend of Tim’s and had helped him lose more than thirty pounds over the past two years by setting up a vigorous exercise regime and making sure that he stuck to it. Now he wants to do the same for me but I’ve never been a fan of gyms.
Annan’s pile of chips was about twice as big as Tim’s but I was pretty sure that the position would be reversed by the end of the game. Not that Annan would be worried. His father owned one of the biggest taxi companies in Bangkok and his mother was a well-known TV presenter who everyone assumed would run for political office within a year or two. Annan was quite definitely hi-so.
Annan grinned and pointed at my waistline. ‘You need to lose a few kilos, Khun Bob,’ he said.
I took off my jacket and held it up. ‘That should do it,’ I said. ‘Gotta be a kilo or two there.’ I twisted around and hung the jacket on the back of my chair.
‘I’ll spot you in the gym, no charge,’ said Annan.
‘I prefer tennis,’ I said. ‘I always feel like a hamster on a wheel when I’m on a treadmill.’
Sitting on the other side of Annan was Andy Yates, a stockbroker in his early forties who had been in Asia for almost twenty years. He raised his bottle of Corona in salute and went back to arranging his chips.
The doorbell rang and Muller went to answer it. He returned a few minutes later with three large pizzas.
Annan grinned as I helped myself to a slice. ‘I haven’t eaten all day,’ I said.
‘Your body is a temple,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ I said. ‘I like to think of it as more of an amusement park.’
Muller sat down and began to shuffle the cards. ‘Texas Hold ‘Em, same as always,’ he said. ‘Rebuys for the first hour.’
We all nodded. We’d been playing Texas Hold ‘Em for almost a year. We’d tried other variations of poker but we’d all agreed that Hold ‘Em was the best.
Muller dealt us all a card each so see who would be the first to deal. Maplethorpe got an ace and he punched the air triumphantly.
I settled back in my chair, munched on my slice of pizza, and waited for Maplethorpe to deal.
When we first started playing poker on a Friday night, we’d tried bringing in a rule that no one could talk about business. Or politics. Or religion. But as that excluded pretty much everything we wanted to talk about the rule was quickly scrapped and now anything was fair game. Muller moaned about the hassles of doing business in Cambodia, Maplethorpe complained about the state of the Bangkok property market and Annan bitched about his new boss at the gym.
We were about halfway through the game when Muller asked me if I was up to anything interesting. I told them about Jon Junior and the lack of progress I was making in finding the missing Mormon. ‘I keep trying his phone and the cellphone he called but they’re both off,’ I said.
‘Which phone company?’ asked Muller.
I shrugged. ‘No idea,’ I said. ‘Why?’
‘If it’s AIS I’ve a guy who can get me call details and GPS position.’
Somsak wagged a disapproving finger at Muller. ‘Now John, you know that’s illegal,’ he said.
‘It’s a grey area,’ said Muller. Somsak continued to wag his finger and eventually Muller threw up his hands in surrender. ‘Yes, okay, strictly speaking I suppose it might be less grey and more illegal.’
Somsak grinned and drained his glass. He slid it across the baize to Muller. ‘Fill me up with your excellent brandy and we’ll say no more about it,’ he said.
Muller went to get a refill for Somsak and beers for everyone else. ‘Let me know the numbers and I’ll get my guy to check them out on Monday,’ he said.
‘You’re a star, John.’ I sipped my drink. ‘At least I know he wasn’t caught up in the Kube fire. That’s what his parents were most scared of, I think.’
‘How’s the Kube investigation going?’ Annan asked Somsak.
‘Slowly,’ he said.
‘Will they be charging anybody?’ asked Maplethorpe, voicing the question that was on the tip of my tongue.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Somsak.
‘It was terrible,’ said Annan. ‘Two of the girls from the gym died there. Is it right that they locked the emergency exits?’
Somsak nodded. ‘That’s true, yes.’
‘Whoever did that should be locked up and the key thrown away,’ said Maplethorpe.
‘Unfortunately it’s not my decision,’ said Somsak. ‘Who gets charged and with what is down to the Public Prosecutor.’
‘The lovely Miss Jintana,’ I said.
‘Exactly,’ said Somsak, picking up the deck and shuffling it. ‘The problem is, Khun Jintana might not be the safest pair of hands for such a decision.’
‘Why’s that?’ I asked.
‘I told you that her parents live in Chiang Mai?’
‘Her father’s an MP there, you said. I remember.’
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