Russell Blake - Betrayal

“Perhaps. Obviously, Arthur is hoping that will make a difference. Time will tell.”

“Let’s head over to the far shore,” Jet said, and they adjusted course. “So what’s your plan for meeting this Rob tonight?”

“If it’s okay with you, I’d say hook up at a restaurant. A crowd. Although I know you’re staying at the Dynasty. The Die-Nasty, the locals call it.”

She was annoyed that he knew where she was staying, but then remembered. “That’s right. The tracking chip.”

“I’m the only one who has access to that info.”

“Except for Arthur. And whoever is doing the actual tracking. Which is three more people than I’m comfortable with. It’s a stupid idea. Invites disaster.”

“I’m afraid it’s not subject to debate.”

“I know.”

It took them six minutes to cross the pond in the swan boat, and when they bumped land Jet scooped up the satchel and stood.

“Sorry about the sandwich remnants,” Edgar said. “I also stuck a cell phone in there for you. I’m speed dial number two. There are no other numbers on it.”

“I guess since I’m one huge GPS tracking beacon right now, I don’t need to worry about the cell phone being a liability.”

“Freeing, isn’t it?” Edgar’s smile had no trace of genuine humor.

“I’ll call later to find out where my dream date is going to take place tonight.”

“Give Rob a chance. You may find that he’s not so bad.”

Jet stepped onto the shore and disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians moving around the water on the perimeter path.

Edgar fished a phone out of his windbreaker.

“How did it go?”

“She agreed to the meet, but I think she’s suspicious.”

“Of course she’s suspicious. She’s not an idiot,” Arthur said.

“She wasn’t happy.”

“No, I bet she wasn’t. Do you think we’ll have a problem?”

“Too soon to know. I read her the riot act about the locals. I hope she’s as good as you say or she’s going to be eaten alive before she gets within a hundred miles of the jungle.”

“She is.”

Raffle’s was bursting with diners lapping up the faux-British atmosphere. Black-and-white photographs of David Niven in cinematic triumph adorned flock-papered walls that brayed a shade gaudier than the hues of the green and pleasant land it strove to emulate. An insufferably arrogant hostess showed Jet to a table, in keeping with the behavior Thais believed would be authentically representative of the UK. Jet didn’t have the heart to break it to the girl that the food there was generally regarded as horrible. Let her have her moment.

A young man with neatly-trimmed hair and a deep tan stood as she approached, then waited until she took a seat before joining her. She looked around, confirming that nobody was within earshot.

“So you’re Rob.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rob said, affecting an obviously fake smile.

“Sure it is. What have you been told about me and why I’m here?”

“Just what you would expect.”

“Then you should know I don’t work with a partner.”

“It was mentioned.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Don’t hold back. It’s okay to let me know how you really feel.”

A waiter approached and asked what she wanted to drink. She ordered a bottle of mineral water and returned her gaze to Rob. He was a good-looking young man, fit, with a deceptively ordinary face — she wouldn’t have given him a second glance in a crowd. Brown hair, brown eyes, no scars or distinguishing features. Put a pair of glasses on him or a mustache and he would be a completely different person.

“It’s no secret that I’m against this whole idea. But I don’t have much say in it, apparently, so here we are,” she observed.

“That being the case, what’s for dinner?”

They considered the menu, and when the waiter returned with her drink, they ordered.

“We can’t just sit here and not talk,” Rob said, taking a sip of his beverage.

“Sure we can. Everyone will think we’re married.”

“Hmm. So, what’s the first move?”

“You tell me why I should ever see you again once I leave this restaurant.”

“Well, let’s see: I speak Thai, know Bangkok well but am not known in the circles you’ll want to travel, can hold my own in any situation…and because you have instructions to work with me.”

“Rob. Let me make this as clear as I can. I have no instructions. I have a man with a melted face asking me to consider using you as an asset for a short time while I’m in Bangkok. So, sweetie? It’s not the way you think it is.”

The entrees arrived after a tense back and forth. They ate in silence, Rob sulking and looking almost as unhappy as Jet did. When the bill came, he paid, then Jet stood up abruptly.

“Thanks. Come on. Let’s take a walk, and I’ll fill you in on where I’m at.”

“Yes, master.”

“I think that would be ‘mistress’.”

They exited the restaurant and strolled side by side, and she brought him up to speed on her thoughts. Once she’d finished, he nodded.

“I agree with the thinking that I can help on this. If we pose as a couple looking to swing, we’ll have an easier time in the clubs. In the meanwhile, we can put feelers out to all the informants and spread some money around through Edgar. When we get a lead, we can start hanging out at whichever one of his places Lap Pu is at, and then play it by ear. Unless you have a better idea,” he said.

“I’m not sure how else we’re going to find him. It’s not like we can just blunder in and start asking where we can find a slavery kingpin who knows a white devil somewhere in the northern jungle.”

“Then it’s decided. I’ll be your boyfriend, and hopefully, Edgar will have something for us soon. Once he does, we can play it by ear and see what else surfaces.”

She still didn’t like it, but as she’d listened to herself telling Rob about her strategy, it had sounded increasingly tenuous. Perhaps he could prove helpful after all.

“How do I reach you when I have more info?” he asked.

She fished the cell phone from her pocket and gave him the number.

“Now take me to Nana and show me around. I want to get a feel of the place.”

The streets were teeming with drunken tourists as they neared the infamous Nana Plaza — three stories of establishments catering to the sex trade. They passed several girls, who looked barely thirteen, in short skirts and six-inch heels, teetering around as they chattered at passing prospects. “Hey, sexy man. Hey, big man. What you looking for? Come on, sexy man.”

A ten-year-old boy, an emaciated street urchin, smiled shyly at them as they passed. She watched out of the corner of her eye as an older Caucasian man slowed and stopped to chat with him, then they walked off together in the opposite direction.

“Hey, big man. Want a ladyboy tonight? Who knows how to love you up right?” a young street hustler murmured to them as he leaned in to Rob. “Check it out. Crying game. Kathoey. Ladyboy?” He gestured at four stunning young women who, apparently, were transgender. One of the beauties blew him a kiss as the others tittered.

“Looks like you’ve found some fans.”

“There’s something for everyone here. But I don’t swing that way.”

“Are they all men?”

“Depends. Some have had the ultimate operation, some haven’t. But they all started off as men.”

“What’s the attraction?”

“You got me. I guess sexuality can be complicated. I’d have thought if you wanted a guy, you’d just go with a guy, but obviously not. They’re actually viewed as a third sex by many of the locals.”