Due Process

by Lyle O'Connor

  Once in the room Anna suggested we take some time to freshen up. For me it was the beach followed by the Jacuzzi and maybe a nap. Anna retired to her bed area and shut the door. I had questions, but I had trust too, and it was growing in leaps and bounds.

  Suddenly there came a tap, tap, tap of gentle rapping on the chamber door. My mind was slow to rouse my body as the tapping continued. Sporting a bad case of jet lag I stumbled to my feet to answer the door. Anna swept past me in a blaze arriving at the door well ahead of me. While the haze cleared Anna opened the door to a small-framed Asian man. Anna made customary introductions. “Walter, I’d like you to meet Nontawat, he will be our driver. Nontawat, this is Walter.” With a smile he extended his hand and repeated my name or something similar, “Wah-ter.” Anna began a dialogue with our visitor outlining our intended travels. When our driver left, Anna turned her attention to me, “Be ready to go in the morning by eight.”

  The rest of the afternoon we spent on the beach followed by cocktails and dinner at the hotel. Before turning in for bed I asked what our travel plans were for the next morning. “Pattaya,” Anna responded, “We will acquire our target then put a plan in place.”

  Nontawat was an early riser, or he didn’t know where Mickey’s hands were supposed to be at eight o’clock. Regardless, he was knocking on the door before seven. I offered him a chair but in his broken English he responded, “I stand.” Nontawat was clearly antsy. Was he anxious about what we were doing or was he eager to get it on? It was catching. Hurrying dominated my thoughts. Life was much easier when I worked alone.

  Finally loaded into our driver’s sedan we made our way south to Pattaya. Anna and I rode in the back, Nontawat was alone up front. On the seat between Anna and me was a black leather bag. As we traveled south, Anna unzipped the top of the bag revealing a variety of handguns, “Take your pick” Anna whispered. I wanted something I could rock Feller’s world with. The Charter Arms .44 Special “Bulldog” would work for my intentions. None of the weapons were semiautos like I was used to. There were no moderators or silencers of any type. When that “Bulldog” barked, there would be no silent kill.

  Loaded and ready, Anna filled me in on the recon. Richard Feller conducted his trade for the health organization out of an office near the central business district but lived a few miles south of Pattaya in Na Jotiem. He lived alone, drove a new Mitsubishi sports car, and had a modest single-dwelling bungalow. Nontawat drove straight to Feller’s place indicating to me he’d been there before. The Mitsubishi was gone as expected and so was Feller.

  Anna directed my attention to a map with her finger pointing to a street called Walking Street. “That’s a red-light district where the doctor frequents.”

  “How do we know he hangs-out in this area?”

  “Nontawat has been watching him for some time.” I caught a glimpse of our driver’s eyes staring in the rearview mirror. When we made eye contact his eyes were galvanized with resolve. He was just like me, a man on a mission. Someone was going to pay for the hurt he knew. It was the only way the pain subsided for a short while. Unfortunately, it always came back. You could never kill enough for it to vanish entirely.

  “We’ll go to Walking Street later this afternoon, for now I want to see the Global Center Alliance’s layout.” We circled the blocks where Feller had his practice and continued to cruise the streets to get a feel for the city. Nontawat, who had not spoken, broke his silence, “Doctor go to Walking Street club in afternoon.” Anna nodded, “Let’s go!”

  I considered myself a seasoned veteran of the dark and seedy underworld but it paled in comparison to Pattaya’s Walking Street in broad daylight and in clear view. This was a phantasmagoria of neon lights advertising sex shops, nightclubs, and exotic bars. Hookers galore, homosexuals, lesbians, transsexuals, and transgenders all wrapped up in one Walter nightmare.

  Hundreds of thousands of children were coerced, forced, kidnapped, and sold to sex traffickers for the sex tourism trade. Some of these young girls undoubtedly were a product of such circumstance. I was taken aback by the sheer numbers of Europeans and Americans I saw shelling out big bucks to support this 100-billion-dollar-a-year business. Walter concluded rightly, those that fronted the capital created the market where children were enslaved to make their masters rich. There were no innocent participants.

  The glare of streetlights and the cover of palm trees could not hide what was going on here. Organized crime and politicians were at the root of the business end. They were, in fact, the same thing. Russian prostitutes, tall and fair skinned, stood out among their Asian counterparts. The Russian Mafia, known for kidnapping, imported these young girls and forced them to hustle or die. Young Asian men in white shirts and ties hand out flyers advertising sex while police in helmets patrolled Pattaya’s carnival atmosphere to keep a lid on crime. What crime? The kind government didn’t get a cut of.

  Nontawat brought our attention to one sex shop, “Here, in back, he here.” The shop was considerably smaller than many around it. A middle-aged man stood quietly by a counter near a curtain. On the street, hookers were trying to engage us as we passed by—500 Baht for a quickie, 1,000 Baht if you wanted to take your time. At this quiet little shop, whatever he was selling in the back room wasn’t being flaunted.

  Nontawat spoke with the man and brokered a deal for Anna and me to go behind the curtain for 1,000 Baht. Nontawat stayed outside while Anna and I entered a very dark room; the show was already in progress. An adult Asian man and a young Asian teenage girl of maybe thirteen years of age engaged in sex acts. When that show concluded another man entered the stage and continued the sexual assault on the same young teen.

  In the audience of a half-dozen men only one was clearly of European descent. We suspected he was our target. No need to stay in the tented showroom—we had front-row seats to the exit from outside. An hour passed before Feller emerged; he was not alone. The young stage girl was being led away to some unknown destination. Anna and I followed.

  A few blocks south, Feller with girl in tow turned into an alley. We continued to watch falling back to a safe distance. Not far down the alley Feller took the little girl into a bar. Minutes later he reappeared, alone, and walked back from the direction he came. Walter, once again, put two and two together. It was his contention the girl was Feller’s property. As a sex slave, she was sold to the highest bidder or in this case to make money on a stage. Who could argue with Walter, it was the most probable scenario.

  Feller walked a couple of blocks north to an off-street parking area. He was relaxed, comfortable in his surroundings, and unaware he was targeted. I was closing the distance when Anna took me by the arm, saying, “Not now,” and led me from my prey. Feller escaped Walter’s clutches, momentarily.

  Nontawat dropped us off at the resort with a plan in place to return the next afternoon. The plan would be, according to Anna, a “live take.” This was news to me—confusing news. I thought I was going to shoot the slime and call it good. Anna explained Feller might be the tip of an iceberg and we wanted to know what he knew. It was an admirable idea but hugely risky. I’d rather kill than talk, but Anna had a point, I conjectured.

  Once inside our suite, I asked Anna, “What is Nontawat’s story?”

  “He is what we refer to as a pawn.”

  There was that word “we” again. Who is “we?” I know Anna doesn’t care for all my questions but I want to know about Nontawat. After all he will be privy to my involvement in Feller’s execution. “I don’t know a whole lot about chess but the pawn is the weakest piece on the board and pretty much useless.”

  “Not at all,” Anna replied. “Pawns have limitations, not weaknesses. They are key factors in a solid defense, probing, and imperative in endgame strategy.”

  “Okay, so I don’t understand pawns real well, what’s up with this guy?”

  Anna thought for a minute before she answered, “When he was a young child, he was kidnapped and sold into slavery. He was one of the mo
re fortunate—it was a sweat shop, not the sex industry.”

  “What about his family?”

  “He was too young to remember, he doesn’t know who they are.”

  “So what did he do, escape finally?”

  “A man called Maximillian rescued him. How or why, I really can’t say. What I can tell you is this: you can trust Nontawat to support your next move.”

  As I turned in for the night I thought to myself, I hope Anna’s right about this guy. He knows way more than I’m comfortable with. My thoughts coupled with jet lag were keeping me from a desired sound sleep. While busy tossing and turning, I slipped into a cognizant dream world. The windswept plains and thunderous dark clouds were giving way to a spectacular sunrise. As the sun shown above the horizon, the fields brought forth life, green and lush. My horse stood tall and I upon the saddle. An apparition appeared next to me dressed in glowing white. She was familiar to me and I welcomed her company. Destiny spoke serenely, “Let not your heart be troubled and be not afraid; place your faith in me and I will guide your steps. The path before you leads to all that you have asked for and sought after. Your destiny will be fulfilled.”

  I felt strangely rejuvenated in the morning and decided to approach this undertaking with a new fervor. Locating Feller’s vehicle was easy. We were creatures of habit. In an environment where almost anything goes he had no reason to be bashful about parking in the open. What Feller could not realize was how dangerous a parking lot can be. After dark this was Walter’s domain and he intended to rule it.

  Nontawat stayed with his car just in case we required a speedy getaway. Our plan was sketchy at best. If opportunity prevailed we would catch him in the parking lot and whisk him away to some remote spot our driver had picked out. If we had to wait and take him at his house, we would, and then interrogate him. One way or the other he was going to tell us everything he knew.

  Anna took up position on Walking Street. Her setup was simple; she would identify Feller and relay his movement to me via radio. Time was irrelevant now; it was just the wait that got to you. The crackle of the radio interrupted my concerns, bringing my full attention to bear. The noise of Walking Street almost completely drowned out the transmission. I listened more intently as Anna attempted to transmit again. I barely could distinguish it as her voice. I waited as instructed expecting to see Feller enter the parking area but the next transmission sounded weaker and less audible. I was troubled; Anna might be on the move away from my location. The radio crackled again and I began moving toward the hustle and bustle of Walking Street.

  My fears worsened when I was unable to see Anna anywhere on the street. I was torn between getting Nontawat to aid me in my search or to hurry down the street with some hope of getting close enough to hear Anna’s voice again. I hurried a couple of blocks south. It was a fifty-fifty chance it was the direction she had gone. I radioed Anna but there was no response. In a quandary I continued south. The radio crackled, it was Anna. The transmissions were garbled but I was able to tell her my location.

  Anna replied, “Stay there, I will meet you.”

  A couple of minutes passed before Anna showed. “There is so much electrical interference these radios are useless,” Anna spouted, rather frustrated.

  “Why did you take off?”

  “Follow me!”

  We hurriedly rounded the corner and down an alley that was filled with smaller shops. It was the same location as the previous day. The lack of neon lights didn’t seem to hinder the busy atmosphere. Anna came to an abrupt halt, “This is it!”

  A bland wood-framed building with only a lit entrance stood before us. No windows were on the street level giving it the appearance more of a prison than a bar. From the door a staircase was visible leading to a landing above street level. “Feller’s in here, we need to find out what kind of place this is and what he’s doing.” This was the kind of setup that makes me apprehensive. Spontaneity is a dangerous road map.

  While I was mulling over what Anna was saying, Nontawat came from the shadows of the alley. It was unnerving. He explained he had seen my panicked reaction and followed me to see what had gone wrong. He was still spooky.

  Nontawat was quick to volunteer to enter the establishment. As he entered the lower level Anna and I drifted back into the darkness of an alleyway cubbyhole. In a matter of fifteen minutes Nontawat rejoined us outside. He reported seeing young Asian girls; some as young as ten in his estimation. He couldn’t tell how many were being held there, but more than a dozen, he thought. He excused himself from the bartender to go get money. They were all available for sex. Feller was nowhere in sight.

  We discussed calling in the Thai police version of a task force, but what was the use? If they arrived it would be days from now and these sex slave owners would have been tipped off and gone already. Walter was still holding to the idea that Feller was involved in the trafficking. No sense ruining a good thing by calling in the cops when we could take care of business ourselves.

  Nontawat suggested he contact a friend from a worldwide religious organization that took in runaways. “They able take kids from here,” he said.

  Finally, something churchgoers were good for. The idea had my vote.

  “Do it,” Anna commanded.

  I monitored the entrance for any sign of Feller. If he showed, it was understood, game on. Any way I could make it happen was the new rule of thumb. Anna was keeping track of clientele coming and going. Maybe it was a slow night, but not many showed up, and fewer stayed. Nontawat returned with good news. The Christian group would be here shortly and would smuggle the children out of Pattaya. He urged Anna and me to do whatever it was we had planned to do. He looked up to Anna, literally and with great respect and admiration. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we were fresh out of plans. Whatever was going to happen would happen; it was just a matter of time.

  From the entrance we could see the tall figure of a white man talking with a much smaller Asian man behind the makeshift bar. From my vantage point I would swear I was looking at business partners chatting, not a customer relationship. Nontawat wanted a closer look, so back inside he went. This was getting more risky. The sex-slave merchants weren’t known for being peaceful types. If they thought Nontawat was snooping around, they might get nasty.

  Nontawat engaged the bartender, who responded with gestures indicating he needed to leave. Evidently our pawn made a sizable play and now was refusing to follow the rules of the game. Had Anna and I not made our appearance at the entry, something bad might have happened. I had a feeling something bad was still going to happen, but to whom was the question.

  The bartender gestured with his hand for us to enter, followed by his invitation, “Come, come,” which told me he didn’t connect Nontawat and us. At least not fast enough. I’m sure he thought we were well-paying Caucasian customers. A tune he would not sing for long. As I brandished my firearm he had a sudden realization—checkmate!

  Anna ordered Feller and the bartender to the back room. Nontawat stayed in the bar area, closed the entrance door and slipped the lock in place. Once in back I ordered both men to lie face down on the floor with their hands behind their backs. Anna did the honors by binding and gagging our captives.

  Anna stepped out of the room briefly to solidify our intentions with Nontawat. No sooner had Anna reentered the room than she drew a black tactical folding knife from her handbag. She made eye contact with me, placed her handbag down, and took up a position kneeling on the Asian man’s back.

  Interrupting the flow of things, I said, “Hey, I can take care of this.”

  “The gun is too noisy. Think about it, it will alert too many people. It’s better to ask our questions quietly.” With that she stuck the knife blade in the right side of the bartender’s carotid, puncturing the artery. I was shocked. I had not expected such a cold-blooded display. Without hesitation she kneeled on Feller’s back, this time removing the gag. Anna didn’t mince any words with Feller, “You have one chance t
o come clean. I want to know everything about your operation. Who brings in the kids, where do they get them, how large is the organization you’re part of, everything?”

  I thought he would divulge everything he knew to buy time or barter his way out but he made the wrong move and it cost him the game. Anna quickly pulled the gag back in place and repeated the process she had used on the first victim. Feller struggled momentarily as his life passed into oblivion. My concerns for protecting Anna on a project or getting her involved in murders faded away rapidly. She had the necessary disconnect for the job. Anna was stone-cold.

  While Anna washed up at the bar she directed Nontawat and me to get the kids together and ready to move out. We went to the second floor where the children were housed. Nontawat was able to communicate with them and hurried them down the stairs. They might not have understood much about what was going on but they understood we were springing them, which seemed to suffice.

  Anna joined me upstairs while Nontawat and the children waited in the bar. “Let’s check each room again,” Anna said. We started down the short hall that had only six visible doors. We cleared each room one by one until we were satisfied no johns or other children were there. Back downstairs Anna rifled through a makeshift office adjacent to the lounge area of the bar. She placed all the documents in her handbag. Large amounts of cash in various currencies were in the office. She collected the money from there and the bar placing it in a paper bag. Handing the bag of money to Nontawat she instructed him that the money was to be given to the church folks to be divided equally between the girls. He nodded.