Big Mango (9786167611037) (23 page)

In the silence that followed, the sound of
rattling dishes, snatches of music from the karaoke bar upstairs,
and the sudden roar from out on Sathorn Road of a motorbike with a
broken muffler all seemed unnaturally loud.

Eddie cleared his throat. “So you’re saying
Austin got the same pictures we got before he died. That
is
what you’re saying, isn’t it?” Eddie made a question out of it, but
he knew it wasn’t. He was looking at copies of the pictures Austin
had gotten, and the only reason he was looking at them was because
Austin was dead.

“Which brings me to the reason I called this
meeting,” Chuck said. His eyes moved from Bar to Winnebago and
finally settled on Eddie. “The lady and I would like to know
exactly what the fuck you guys did back in ‘Nam that got Harry
Austin murdered in Bangkok twenty-five years later.”

Eddie mulled that over while Chuck, Lek, and
Bar watched him. Winnebago studied a spot on the table.

“I know you won’t believe this,” Eddie
finally said, “but I don’t know.”

“I’d stay away from this guy, Bar,” Chuck
yawned. “My shit detector just went off the scale.”

“Lay off, Chuck.” Bar’s jaw pinched into a
tight line. “I haven’t made up my mind about any of this yet, but
I’ll tell you one thing right now. No asshole is gonna frighten me
away with a few old snapshots.”

“You’re going to help us?” Eddie, surprised,
turned toward Bar.

“I didn’t say that. I just said nobody’s
going to scare me off from something I want to do with shit like
this.” He waved at the copies of the pictures on the table.

“I don’t get it,” Winnebago said. “Does that
mean yes or no?”

Bar gave him a long look. “I’m not saying
yes, but I’m not saying no yet either. That’s the best I can do
right now. Live with it.”

After that, the conversation wallowed along a
while longer, but Eddie had lost interest. All he really wanted to
do was get back to the Oriental, sit down quietly by himself, and
think through all the stuff that was piling up in front of him.

Chuck was right about one thing, Eddie
realized now. He did know something. He was certain of it.

He just had to figure out what it was.

WHEN
Eddie and Winnebago
walked out of the Stardust, a taxi was just unloading two wobbly
Australians. Clutching cans of Fosters the size of small trashcans,
the men struggled to steady themselves on the cracked sidewalk.

“G’day, mate.” One of the men fixed Eddie
with a beery eye and belched loudly as he scratched between his
legs. “This the place?”

“What place is that?”

A theatrical leer rolled across the
Australian’s face. “You know, mate.” The man spread his arms
slightly just below waist level, cupped both hands, and began to
rock his hips rhythmically back and forth. Eddie just shook his
head. The Australians had left the rear door of the cab hanging
open, and he and Winnebago quickly slid in and slammed it, putting
an end to the moment of cultural exchange.

“So what are we going to do now?” Winnebago
asked.

“Let’s get back to the hotel.” Eddie rubbed
the tips of his fingers over his eyelids. “I’m still half whacked
from jet lag.”

The taxi driver twisted around in his seat,
flashing a broad grin. “Where you come from?”

“San Francisco,” Winnebago answered.

The driver looked puzzled. “Where that?”

“California. America.”

“America good. You want massage?”

“No massage,” Eddie said. “The Oriental
Hotel, please.”

“I know place,” the driver persisted. “Sexy
girl. You have good time.”

“The Oriental Hotel,” Eddie repeated.

“Massage very nice. Make you feel number one.
Special price for you.”

Eddie sighed and opened the back door of the
Toyota. “Come on, Winnebago, forget it. We’ll walk a while.”

“
Pai nai!”
the driver shouted as they
got out. “American all old lady! Germany better. Germany like lady.
Much party animal!”

The Stardust was about fifty yards off
Sathorn Road on a popular soi for food vendors. The haze from the
cooking fires mingled with the hot, saturating air tinting it a
wispy blue. Toy-sized tables littered the street, most dark, a few
flickering with the little mysteries of kerosene lamps. A wave of
pungent smells rolled over Eddie and Winnebago: charcoal smoke,
exhaust fumes, boiling rice, and fish sauce. From somewhere a radio
was playing a Thai pop song and a female voice was singing, high
and wailing, plaintive as a child yet still tantalizingly sexy. It
was all half familiar, half unfathomable; half discord, half
sweetness. It was, Eddie thought, beauty bred to strangeness.

They walked past a large wok sizzling on a
gas ring that was being fed by a dented, green gas bottle. An old
woman smiled at them as she scooped a pile of something out of the
hot oil with a bamboo-handled basket and dumped it into a bowl to
drain. Winnebago regarded the contents of the bowl suspiciously and
Eddie smiled to himself. He knew the Thais loved to snack on fried
grasshoppers. He had even tried them once himself and had to admit
that they weren’t bad. Still, he found it a little disconcerting
trying to talk to someone who had a pair of tiny legs sticking out
from between his teeth.

Fishing some money from his pocket, Eddie
stopped at a cart where prawns on wooden skewers were roasting over
a charcoal fire. He bought two, handed one to Winnebago, and they
went over and sat on a low brick wall. While they were eating,
another man carrying a skewer of prawns ambled over and sat on the
wall near them. Eddie didn’t even notice him at first. He was
average and forgettable in every way: slim, dark hair, white shirt,
and khaki pants. For some reason, Eddie thought the man hadn’t
looked much like a Thai. Maybe he was Cambodian or even Vietnamese.
Eddie couldn’t be sure.

The only thing that caused Eddie to notice
the first man at all was the second man. That man was quite a bit
taller, and he bumped into Winnebago’s legs as he walked past.

When Eddie and Winnebago glanced toward the
tall man, the man who had been sitting on the wall jumped up,
jabbed his wooden skewer at Eddie with one hand, and tried to lock
his free arm around Eddie’s neck. The skewer glanced off Eddie’s
shoulder without doing any damage other than smearing smashed prawn
on his shirt, and then Eddie must have surprised the man by
reacting so quickly. He certainly surprised himself.

He jerked to his feet, ducking under the arm
groping for his throat and, slamming his right heel backward,
caught the man flush on the kneecap. As the man howled, Eddie
pulled away and saw that the tall man wrestling with Winnebago. He
hunched his shoulders and rammed his head straight into the man’s
back, catching him low, just above the kidneys.

“Head for the main road!” Eddie screamed as
the tall man turned loose of Winnebago and sagged to the ground.
“Run!”

“What the fuck’s going on?”

“Just run, Winnebago!”

After half a block, Eddie decided they would
make the road easily. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the
two men who had jumped them were just standing there rather than
giving chase. He and Winnebago must have put up more of a fight
than they expected and scared them off, Eddie thought at first, but
then he looked back toward Sathorn and realized that the men hadn’t
been scared off at all. They were merely being patient.

Two other men had emerged from the shadows
and were waiting quietly near Sathorn Road. Eddie had barely
started measuring the men and working out their chances when the
odds changed abruptly. One of the men pulled something silver from
under his shirt and held it dangling in his right arm. The lights
from passing cars splashed sparkling patterns across it and the
barrel of the gun glinted unmistakably.

Eddie grabbed Winnebago’s elbow and pointed
to the men in front of them. They made a U-turn without breaking
stride and headed back the way they had come. Eddie was just trying
to decide what they would do when they got to the men waiting at
the wall when he saw Bar, Chuck, and Lek coming out of the
Stardust.

“Bar!” Eddie screamed, pointing at the two
men with his left hand and holding up his right, making a little
gun with his thumb and forefinger. Chuck sized up the situation
quickly, and jerked a gun from a belly holster under his shirt. The
two men looked over their shoulders when Eddie shouted and they
twitched visibly at the sight of the beefy, no-neck
farang
pounding down the steps from the Stardust, unlimbering a big black
automatic. The two men apparently decided that it wasn’t necessary
to stick around for introductions. By the time they passed Eddie
and Winnebago, heading toward their friends, Eddie thought they
were moving pretty well, at least for young guys.

***

CHUCK
sloshed Johnny Walker
into the two coffee mugs with gold DEA crests and pushed them
across the table. Eddie picked up one and Winnebago took the
other.

“How about me?” Bar asked. “I’m all shook up,
too.”

Chuck ignored him and Lek studied her
hands.

It was almost eleven and the embassy annex
was dark and quiet. In the cramped conference room, a rectangular
table the color of dead leaves surrounded by six straight chairs
with dented metal frames and black plastic seats took up most of
the space. The white walls, blotched with yellow patches from the
years of accumulated nicotine, were bare except for a small
photograph of Bill Clinton in a black plastic frame and a travel
poster extolling the wonders of Detroit. The harsh white wash of
the fluorescent tubes strung across the cracked ceiling tiles made
Eddie and Winnebago look even paler than they felt. For a long
time, no one said anything.

“Maybe it was just a coincidence,” Bar said
at last. He’d already said the same thing several times in Chuck’s
car on the way from the Stardust to the embassy, but he liked the
sound of it, so he said it again.

“You don’t think those guys had something to
do with all this shit about Harry Austin?” Chuck’s tone was
disgusted.

“Maybe not.”

“Then you figure it must have been
like…who?”

“Muggers?”

“When was the last time you heard of four
local muggers surrounding two
farangs
on Sathorn Road and
waving a gun at them?”

“Thai muggers can’t afford guns.”

“There you go.”

The door to the conference room suddenly
swung open and they all jumped. A young embassy guard in a marine
uniform leaned in and looked them over suspiciously. When he
recognized Chuck, he came to attention and snapped off a
salute.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t know it was you. This
part of the building is usually empty at night. I saw the light and
was just checking.”

“It’s all right, corporal.” Chuck returned
the salute after a fashion. “Good night.”

“Night, sir.” The marine closed the door
quietly and they all listened to his footsteps disappearing down
the corridor.

“Something about a marine uniform suddenly
makes me a little tense,” Bar said, his voice cracking
slightly.

Chuck pushed his chair back, folded his arms,
and swung his feet up onto the table. Propping his left ankle over
his right, he twisted his head around until he was looking directly
at Eddie. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m okay, too, in case you’re interested,”
Winnebago put in, but Chuck ignored him. Winnebago finished his
whiskey in one hit and fumbled for his Camels.

“Somebody wants your butt, Dare.”

Eddie just shrugged.

“Any idea who it might be?”

“Sharon Stone?”

Chuck mimed a laugh, but his eyes didn’t
move.

Eddie took another sip of the whiskey and
rubbed at his face. “You going to help us here, McBride, or just
keep practicing your hardass routine?”

“What’s really going on, Dare?”

“I don’t know.”

‘Sure you do.” Chuck smiled unpleasantly and
rubbed his palms together.

Eddie looked away, then back. There was a
sudden flash like sunlight on water when his gaze crossed
McBride’s. The chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. Still, he
didn’t respond.

Chuck watched him for a moment with a half
smile and then he shifted his gaze to Lek. “Let me see that stuff
from the safety deposit box again.”

Lek rummaged in her purse and handed Chuck
the papers she had shown them at the Stardust. He leaned against
the table on his right elbow and smoothed out the stack with his
left hand.

“And this is all there was in the box?”

Lek nodded, and Chuck slowly lifted up his
head and looked sideways at her.

“No bank statements or investment records?
Nothing like that.”

“No.”

“But you said Austin had a lot of money at
Bangkok Bank when you met him. What happened to it?” Eddie
asked.

“I don’t know,” Lek said. Eddie noticed she
didn’t meet his eyes. “After I stopped working at the bank, Harry
didn’t mention it again. I didn’t think it was my business to
ask.”

Chuck didn’t look up so Eddie decided his
suspicions were probably misplaced. He let it go.

“Are you sure you don’t know any of these
other guys on the list or in the photos?” Chuck asked her.

“No, no one,” Lek said.

Chuck tilted his head toward Eddie and raised
his eyebrows in a silent question. Eddie held out his hand for the
papers. He studied the list again and stared at the pictures while
he made a little whistling sound between his teeth. The smell of
his past was coming distinctly to him now. It was a worrying smell,
alarming even, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“These may have been the guys in our
company,” Eddie said, “but I’m not sure. It’s been a long
time.”