Bangkok Burn (10 page)

I got up in a rush and made it to the toilet before I puked. I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and looked out of the window. The vulture was staring at me.

Big Tiger

15 May 2010 Bangkok 9:15 pm

A white Lexus SUV with black tinted windows
stopped in front of me, and the door slipped open. A serious adrenalin spike, and then I saw Pim, a smile on her face, in the backseat. I got in, heart thumping. It could have been a hit. I ought to be more careful.

“Chai, Big Tiger’s place.”

“How was business in Singapore?” Pim asked.

“Good. Everything is lined up. I need Joom to sign a few documents, but we have the collateral to put up against the loan for Uncle Mike. That’s the good news. Bad news is if we don’t find Uncle Mike in the next couple of days we’re going to be wiped out financially.”

“You too?”

“Yep. Everything is on the line.”

“I have some money. Not much, a few million baht. We won’t be poor, and you can get a real job.”

Not what I needed to hear after three hours of flying and immigration. She meant well. I breathed out.

“Sorry”.

“That’s okay, I know what you meant. Just let me get us through this and then I’ll clear things with Por and Joom.”

She reached across and put her hand on top of mine.

We took the outer ring road, avoiding the curfew checkpoints on the route into Bangkok. Army Humvees stationed on high ground and trucks filled with soldiers armed to the teeth sped along the empty expressway. Bangkok was at war. Twenty-two people killed in street fighting in the last two days and over one hundred seventy wounded. Sounded like Lebanon more than Bangkok. Twitter was the main news source and it told of a Bangkok with running street battles and more dead. Pim told me the army had put up razor wire around the protest site downtown, signs hanging off the razor wire, ‘Live Fire Zone’.

Chai handed me a ringing cell phone – Mother.

“How was Singapore?”

“Good. We’re all set.”

“A couple of guys tried to lean on Tong for protection money.”

“Crazy Tong – Jesus – when did this happen? Are they still alive?”

“Earlier this evening. One escaped and we’ve got the other at the farm. He’s not said anything yet, but he’s Cambodian, same as the others.”

“Okay, I talked to Ken earlier today. I’m expecting his call but we should be moving the cash tonight. Is everything set?”

“All fixed. We’re using the warehouse in Lat Krabang. There’s too much shooting going on down in Klong Toey.”

“Okay, I’ll let Ken know. Transport?”

“Fixed. The same colonel who helped with your trip to Phuket. Careful with Ken. He’s nicely polished up, but take away the suit and he’s a cold-blooded operator.”

“I know, Mother. I’ll be careful.” She clicked off.

It was very quiet for a Saturday night and we parked easily near the pier. Big Tiger owns a seafood restaurant out in Bang Pu by the sea. Big Tiger’s, originally named, ‘Big Tiger’s Seafood Restaurant’, was on the end of the main pier.

I’d sent Pim to Joom’s home to stay there. Chai stayed with me. I wasn’t sure what I was walking into, but then I wasn’t here for me. I was here for Por. Last thing he’d told me was to keep my eye on Big Tiger and that he needed to repay a favor. I was here to repay the favor and look into Big Tiger’s eyes.

We walked up the concrete pier, Chai on the cell phone ordering a new set of wheels for us. Joom owns two luxury car dealerships in Bangkok and one in Chiang Mai. Chai used the cars sent in for service, or the second-hand cars in the lot, fake plates on them all.

The restaurant was big enough to seat a thousand, bigger than most Government Halls. There were barely a hundred on the tables outside, and fewer inside in the air-conditioning. Urban warfare will do that to a business. I’d been told by Mother on the way in that Big Tiger was on the second story on the outside balcony. We took the stairs, two at a time.

I was nearly at his table before Big Tiger or any of his boys realized we were in the place. A look of panic flicked across his eyes. Deer in headlights, I thought. He relaxed when he saw our hands were empty. What’s got you so jumpy?

“Big Tiger, sorry for arriving late. Por sent me. Said you needed me to do something for you?”

He seemed confused. I kept a pissed off look on my face focused right on his. His second in command, a guy called Daeng (all mafia gangs in Thailand have a guy called Daeng, it’s mandatory) didn’t like the look I was giving Big Tiger. Chai went over and stood next to Daeng. Daeng modified his behavior.

Big Tiger stood up, spreading his arms wide, and walked around the table. The girl eating with him, dressed in a university uniform, was trying to make herself invisible. You could’ve boiled a lobster in the atmosphere. Big Tiger stood close to me. Hand on the back of the girl’s chair, mouth open, shaking his head from side to side.

“Chance, what a shock. Well fuck everything. If that isn’t the best, then I don’t know what is the fucking best. You’re alive. I didn’t know what to fucking believe. First you’re dead. I went to your fucking funeral, then we hear you’re not, and today the fucking photos in Thai Rath from your girlfriend’s phone, showing you’re fucking dead. And now you’re here, standing in my restaurant. Well fuck me.” Big Tiger used exclamation and question marks at the end of every sentence he spoke. Mouth and eyes wide open, hands wide, shoulders hunched, “Well isn’t this a fucking miracle!?” Eloquent.

He stood, shaking his head. And then he waved at the table. “Sit, sit”.

I took a seat in front of him. He told the girl to go wait for him downstairs and invited Chai to sit with a gesture of his hand. Chai shook his head slightly and stayed next to Daeng. Big Tiger flicked a glance at Daeng, and getting the message, he sidled off to sit with Chai, at a table just out of earshot. The waiter came over and asked what I wanted to drink. A whiskey soda, tall glass, lots of ice, in front of me later, Big Tiger waved the waiter away and leaned in close. Now we could talk in private.

“Look, Chance, that thing I needed you to do. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it some other way, and tell Por that I send my best wishes.” I looked at him, not responding either way to his probe on Por.

“He is okay right? I mean, same as you, the two of you being dead, just a trick, right?” He laughed. I gave him a tight smile, took a sip of my drink, paying out rope. Letting him talk. I looked out over the railing to the gulf, fishing boat lights off in the distance, catching the squid that lends its smell to many a Bangkok sidewalk.

“So who do you think has been trying to kill you? Do you know the mother fucker?” He closed his mouth, finally.

“We’ve got a good idea. What was it that you wanted me to do?”

“What?” He looked confused, hanging out his lower lip for effect. It didn’t work, I knew he wasn’t drunk.

“The favor Por was repaying. You wanted me to help you with something. Now what was it?”

He sobered up fast at the hard bite in my tone, tonal nuance a language all its own in Thailand. I can bring the full weight of the family to bear on a sentence with the slightest alteration to the way I say something.

“I’ve got a deal going, in Australia, and the party over there wants to meet me. Here, Monday, he flies in. You know me. I don’t speak a word of that dog fucking miserable language. I was hoping you could handle it for me.”

Plausible enough. It was true. Big Tiger was renowned for his inability to speak anything other than Thai and his ability to curse.

“What’s the deal?”

“Counterfeit stuff.”

“Money?” I wouldn’t touch counterfeit money. Countries are serious about that stuff. All kinds of the wrong heat.

“No, no. Levi’s, watches, bags, that sort of thing. We get in China, truck it down, and ship through Singapore. He’s got a contact in customs on the other side.”

“How much?”

“He reckons he can move about three million a month. He’s got a network through all the major cities, the local markets…”

“What time Monday?”

“Dinner at eight, the big room upstairs.” Big Tiger’s restaurant had a large air-conditioned function room on the top floor with a balcony running around it.

“Okay. I’ll be here. Then you and Por are square, right.” It wasn’t a question and he wisely nodded, raising his glass to me.

“So Por’s still alive then. Fuck me! He’s a tough fucker, that one.” I didn’t answer the question in his eyes, just polished my drink off, stood up, and walked out.

Back down the pier I stopped and leaned my elbows on the edge. I lit up a smoke. Chai went on ahead. Looking down, the muddy brown water reflected my thoughts. I was nowhere in finding out who was trying to kill me. I had been half convinced it was Big Tiger but his reaction and answers told me otherwise. It wasn’t him. Whoever it was, their information was good. Either they’d been following me for some time, and done a very good job because I hadn’t seen them, or they had someone on the inside. Horrible but logical.

The other thing I didn’t know. Was it an attack on me personally or was it an attack on the family? It amounted to the same thing in the family’s eyes but it meant the source would be different. I thought back over recent business deals, as Chance, and as Harper. Nothing I’d done was worth killing over. At least not to me, but then I’d recently read in the Bangkok Post about a Cambodian guy killing his neighbor because the neighbor stole his melon. I breathed out. It’s stressful knowing that someone out there wants to kill you. The smoke tasted good. I smiled. It was going to be hard to kick these again if I survived.

Cambodians – why had I just thought of that? Because so far everyone who has been sent to kill you has been Cambodian. Work with what you have. I threw the butt into the sea. Time to go to work.

The Count

15 May 2010 Bangkok 10:30 pm

Ken called as we were entering Bangkok.

“I’ve got the money but I want to move it now.”

“Where do you want me to send the guy who’ll bring you to our warehouse?”

“Send him to my place in Thaniya. We’ll take it from there.”

“Okay. Aim to be at a warehouse near the airport no later than midnight. Can you do that?”

“No problem.” He hung up.

I called Mother to tell her we were on our way to the warehouse. We had to count the money and counting one hundred million dollars takes time and space.

“Chai, the Lat Krabang warehouse, but take your time.” It was only twenty-five kilometers to the airport. Chai used the back streets. It was quiet. Very quiet. We had to move the cash to Phuket. I was sure that the kidnappers would want to make the exchange at sea. If they didn’t, then I was going to persuade them it was their only option. I wanted them to stay with that boat.

And then. There’re two sides to every coin. I didn’t trust Ken. One hundred million is a lot of money, enough to tempt anyone. Ken had got the cash for us by going to his board. The deal had been approved in Tokyo, so he was covered for the action. Stealing it back from us would be a big temptation.

Moving one hundred million in cash is no simple thing. There’re eight hundred kilometers of road and seven provinces between Bangkok and Phuket. Each province has its own police force, army, and “families”. Nothing moves in or out without being at risk that one or more of those parties will take an interest in it. If it was something normal, like an errant son who’d killed someone and needed to leave the country for a while, clear passage could be obtained by connecting the dots between the “owners” of the province. Cash or favors the typical currency. But a hundred million USD in cash was too risky. The value was so high. So we had to move it “under the radar”.

Thirty minutes later we pulled into the warehouse, one of the boys, an AK47 on his back, wheeling back the chain link gate. Chai parked in the loading bay, next to the caravan Mother had organized for transport to Phuket: two black Toyota Land Cruisers with windows tinted black and a VW van to match, all covered in military badges. Very subtle. I guessed the colonel’s son could go for a doctorate.