Harlan Wolff - Bangkok Rules

Carl was counting on the bodies not being found for a long time, putting distance between him and his brief stay at the house. George had used an alias so given time they would not link a Hollywood film crew to the time of the shooting of two known assassins and there would be no way of putting Carl or George in the area. They probably wouldn’t try, as it would offend them to believe mere foreigners had killed such notorious assassins.

He closed up the house for the night and took a shower and went to bed. He was totally exhausted. He had had a very long day. As he was going to sleep he thought to himself that it was a good thing he was moving out the next day. It wasn’t that he hadn’t fallen in love with the place; he had. It was that it had suddenly occurred to him that if there weren’t any ghosts before there sure as hell were now!

It was already noon when Carl heard the car coming up the dirt driveway. He had slept seven hours and was still in bed. He had been so sound asleep that even Pretty Boy Floyd had been unable to wake him in spite of giving it his best vocal effort to date. Carl rallied his aching body and went out to the deck. The clear blue sky and bright sun alleviated some of his aches and pains. It looked like it was a very nice day.

A few minutes later George came and sat at the table. He seemed excited.

“What’s up George?”

“Boonchoo went to the court building like you asked him to. This morning was his second day there. As you told him to expect, there were arguments over the application for a search warrant on the Phetchburi Road address. The drug squad boys were in and out of the court since yesterday afternoon. There were strange people sitting around since early this morning. They called someone on their phone and told them what was happening. Boonchoo said they must’ve been talking to someone very important. Lots of grovelling was taking place from what he could hear.”

“Good.”

“What does it mean?” George asked.

“It means they’ll be circling the wagons and so you have to tell the owner of the house that Hollywood is not interested at present. We are leaving today. I’m going to miss this place.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s time to end this. Everything should be ready and there is work to be done. I assume everybody showed up and did what was asked?”

“They did.”

“How were Damien’s Finns?”

“Speaking techno babble in three languages as usual.”

“You paid them well?”

“Just like you told me to. It may not have been necessary; they are still grateful for what you did for them with their visa problem at immigration.”

“It is always important to pay people well.”

“Maybe that’s why you are always broke.”

“And Damien doesn’t know what they are doing?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Not that it would make much difference,” Carl said. “Better for him if he doesn’t know.”

“They’re professionals and have IQs through the roof. They said they could meet your time requirements and I saw no reason to doubt them. They said to tell you not to worry, they won’t let you down.”

“That’s good. Then we need to pack up and leave. We’ll wipe the house down for fingerprints before we go.”

“Is that necessary?” George asked.

“You can never be too careful,” Carl told him and went to the bedroom to pack his belongings back into their shopping bags. He wasn’t going to tell George about his revenge on the two assassins. The trick to getting away with murder is not telling anybody.

They left the house late that afternoon. Carl watched through the rear window of the car until he couldn’t see the Thai roof any more. After a while the car left the rough laterite and they were driving on smoother asphalt. The car was making good time towards Bangkok. When they reached the early evening traffic on the outskirts of the city their progress slowed to a snail’s pace. Carl wasn’t worried about the gridlock. He knew that they had plenty of time.

He picked up his phone and called Bart Barrows.

“You need to get General Amnuay to Inman’s old office on Phetchburi Road tonight at midnight. You can tell him that I’m ready to make a deal. If he doesn’t show up tell him he will be able to find me at the Foreign Correspondents Club buying drinks for foreign journalists.”

“What makes you so sure I can get him there?” Bart asked.

“He knows police and journalists are already sniffing around Inman and his safe house.”

“So why will he meet you?”

“Because you all want me to go away Bart so of course you’ll all come,” Carl told him. Bart stayed silent so Carl hung up.

“Can I ask the question?” George requested.

“Go ahead,” Carl told him.

“I know how it works Carl. You don’t tell people your whole plan. I go along with that, but in the past I’ve always understood your process. This plan you are playing out worries me because it seems overly complex. So complicated that I have no idea what you are up to.”

“That’s because what you are watching is the absence of my standard type plan. I gave up days ago. There is no magical solution this time. I don’t have jigsaw pieces juggled in the air ready to fall neatly into place. The system here is conveniently corrupt but this time it’s working against me. I’m up against somebody that has been manipulating the system for longer than I have. He has the large amounts money and the connections to get away with murder, literally. His friends are now my enemies and they have all the power, it’s their country and I’m nothing but a foreigner they choose to tolerate, at least for now, like all foreigners.”

“So what does all that mean?” George asked.

“It means I am running a bluff and if they don’t fold their cards I’m finished, game over. What I’ve done will eventually bring them down anyway but I won’t be alive to see it. For me to win they must fold their cards.”

“Why don’t you want me there?”

“I need to surprise them. If you are there it will appear confrontational and if they choose violence over dialogue then the game is over.”

“But what if they send the soldiers I saw following you at the airport?”

“They won’t,” Carl told him.

“I hope you know what you are doing.”

Then Carl explained to George where they were going and why. He told him that they were dumping the car and leaving for the islands the following morning. Carl told him that they would reinvent themselves and the islands would make everything good for a while. He told George that his dead wife would want him to move on and give up his house full of memories where every corner he turned he still expected to bump into her. And Carl told him that, after what was going to happen that night it would be time to start living again. George had no more questions so they drove the rest of the way in silence.

Through the heavy soundproof window Carl could see the cars on the road outside flashing past the building. It was late and the roads of Bangkok had sped up. A stream of headlights flowed in both directions either going to or coming from one of Bangkok’s nocturnal pleasures. He wondered how many crimes were being committed that would never be discovered. Some of the drivers had to be transporting drugs, taking bets on their mobile phones, trafficking underage girls, or possibly even preparing to commit murder. The statistics said that some of the cars’ occupants had to be breaking the law, drunk driving at least. Laws are about controlling society. Their purpose is not to make sense of it. Law enforcement became involved when, often by sheer accident, they were made aware of a crime and it was topical enough to deserve their resources. Unfortunately, in Thailand, even then it did not always get the desired result.