by Harlan Wolff
“Good morning,” Jack told her with strained politeness.
“Good morning,” she told him. “Then she turned to Carl and spoke with the accent of an English aristocrat, “Would you be a love and ask your friend to wait outside for a minute? I’m working the two-twenty flight to Johannesburg, and I mustn’t be late.”
“You heard the lady, Jack, could we meet downstairs for a coffee in ten minutes?”
“It’s important,” Jack said as he left the room.
“I don’t think your friend likes me,” she said after Jack had left.
“He probably thinks I picked you up in Nana,” Carl told her, and she smiled. She had a lovely smile.
She dressed quickly in the clothes from the night before. “I really hope you can sort out your problems,” she told Carl and gave him a lingering kiss on his mouth. “If things don’t work out for you here, come to South Africa, and I’ll show you around. It’s a beautiful country.”
“I would like that,” Carl said, “I’m going to miss you.”
“Likewise,” she said, “but now I have to run downstairs and make myself look like an air-hostess, or I’ll be out of a job.” Then she gave him another lingering kiss and left the room.
Downstairs, the Library was a small, chic hotel lounge with bookshelves. It was where they served afternoon tea, and it wasn’t open for business in the morning, but George, Clouseau, and Maria, had gone in and sat down anyway. Jack was sitting in a leather armchair on the other side of the room, so Carl walked past his friends and took the chair opposite Jack.
“Was that one of the air hostesses staying at the hotel,” Jack asked.
“We got drunk together at the hotel bar last night. I think we closed the place down.”
“Lovely looking girl,” Jack said.
“Yes, she was, so what’s up?”
“Colonel Pornchai was here yesterday. I bumped into him at the Chinese restaurant. I asked him about you, and he spat his dim sum and ranted about wanting nothing more to do with you. That’s not good, if Colonel Pornchai is against you then you’re in more trouble than I thought.”
“He doesn’t mean it,” Carl said.
“He sounded like he meant it.”
“Don’t worry about the colonel, Jack, it’s all under control.”
“Didn’t bloody sound like it,” Jack told him.
Carl laughed and reassured him, “Pornchai’s fine, he just needs a day or two to calm down. He’s been like this for over twenty years. Everything he does is just negotiation tactics, and I’m used to it.”
“As long as you know what you’re doing. Oh, and by the way, Freysinger is complaining about you parking your car in the VIP slots.”
“You know what to tell Freysinger,” Carl said.
“I’ll tell him we tried to make you move it, but it wouldn’t start.”
“Tell him what you bloody well like, Jack.”
“I will,” Jack said.
Carl joined the three at the other table and opened the proceedings by telling them what he had learned from Bart the day before. “What we are up against is a criminal organisation. A Serbian gang now based in Bangkok. The leader is a man called Milos, and he has people working for him that like to wave guns in people’s faces. I had a run-in with one of them yesterday, a Russian. The story is he has Russians working for him in the bars and nightclubs but in the really illegal stuff he only trusts his fellow Serbians. The key people in the organisation all served in the same military unit during the Balkan War, and after the war, they assassinated their leader and came to Thailand with the war loot.”
“You mean they fragged him,” George asked.
“No, not a grenade, a professional hit, a bullet in the back of the head while he was sipping tea in a hotel lobby in Belgrade.”
“I remember this story,” Maria said. “It was in all the papers.
“And they stole all his money?” Clouseau asked.
“So I am told,” Carl said.
“Wow,” Clouseau said, nodding in a way that suggested he approved of dealing with senior officers in such a manner.
“So we are up against war criminals,” George said quietly.
“Genocide was mentioned,” Carl said.
“Not all Serbs are war criminals,” Maria said.
“Of course not,” Carl told her.
“Many Serbians died in the war too,” she added.
“Nobody’s judging here, Maria. I’m just passing on the information I received,” Carl said.
Carl’s air hostess in full South African Airways attire, crossed the lobby pulling her cabin bag on wheels behind her. She entered the Library and walked up to where Carl was sitting. He got up and kissed her on the cheek. “The van’s here,” she said, “I’m leaving to the airport. Thanks for the tequila and for making me laugh so much last night.”
“Have a good flight, and I’ll see you in Johannesburg one day soon,” he promised her.
When Carl’s air hostess had left, Maria had a face like thunder and asked, “What was that all about?”
“Just an old friend,” Carl told her. “I helped her with her divorce once, and she always stops by to say hello whenever she’s in town.”
“I feel sorry for Nadia,” Maria told Carl angrily. “Living with you must have been hell.”
“Let’s get the meeting back on track,” Carl said.
“I want to know what my sister has to do with such people, these war criminals?” Maria asked, “We were children during the war.”
“She worked for Milos, and one of his mobile phones was used by the assassins. It was activated when they got to the island and ceased activity when they left,” Carl told her.
“Have you told the police about it?” Maria asked.
“Not yet,” Carl told her, “it’s not time, and they won’t be receptive.”
“That’s stupid, of course, you must go and tell them everything,” Maria said.
“The police will just use it as evidence against me, their theory is I paid those men to kill her,” Carl told her.
“Carl’s right,” Clouseau said.
“Nonsense!” Maria said. “If you don’t tell them, then I will.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Carl told her.
“You are behaving like schoolboys, making my sister’s death into your private game. Grow up! Tell the police and let them deal with it,” Maria insisted.
“This isn’t Vienna,” Carl told her.
“Don’t patronise me,” she told him, “just because I don’t share your paranoia. You’re like conspiracy theorists in tinfoil hats sneering at everybody that’s not a member of your little club.”
“It’s not like that,” George said.
“What’s it like then? The only murderers ever caught in Thailand are the ones Carl doesn’t tell the authorities about? Do you know how crazy you all sound?”
“I liked your sister,” George said, “and she never scared me like you are scaring me right now. You just got off the plane, and you are convinced you can make Thailand fit into your European thinking, and you don’t have a clue how dangerous that is.”
“So, it’s all impenetrable and mystical, like in a Victorian novel about the East? Maria snarled.
“Bloody right it is!” Carl said.
“Carl understands things,” Clouseau told her with an embarrassed giggle, “he is patient just like a Thai. Slowly is best.”
“Slowly is best? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” Maria said. “The murderers are out there somewhere, and you think the best plan is to not be in a hurry?”
“And yet, the only thing stopping us from moving forward right now is your temper tantrums,” Carl told her.
Maria got up from her chair and stormed out of the Library.
“Bloody hell,” Carl said, “she reminds me of Nadia.”
“Me too,” Clouseau said.
“Indeed,” said George.
“Who was that black lady?” Clouseau asked.
>
“That was no lady, that was an angel delivering a message,” Carl told him. “I think meeting her last night was the cosmos telling me that my luck is changing.”
They continued the meeting without Maria and, to Carl’s discomfort they all agreed they needed to add another member to their group. Carl promised to go and see the colonel, and convince him to provide them with access to his resources. So, in a way, Maria had been right, the police did need to be told. She wouldn’t have approved of the colonel though; the colonel never played by the rules.
CHAPTER 26
“There’s nothing more dangerous than a resourceful idiot.”
– Scott Adams
Carl was outside the hotel on the pavement, flagging down a taxi when he got zapped. The man came up behind him and delivered a million volts out of a stun gun the size of a household torch. Another man caught Carl as he fell, and the two of them bundled him into a van that left the scene to the sound of screeching tyres.
Maybe they zapped him again in the van, or perhaps someone hit him on the head; Carl couldn’t be sure. He knew he must have been out for a while though because when he came to, his arms and legs were duct-taped to a chair, and his head hurt. The chair Carl was duct taped to, stood alone in the middle of the floor of Bomba. The nightclub looked different because the tables and chairs had been moved out the way, there were no Russian dancers, and the flashing lights and spotlights weren’t on; instead, it was lit by overhead neon, like an office or a warehouse. It was Bomba, he was sure of that, and as confirmation, one of the two men standing behind him was Sergey. The voice gave Sergey away, even though he was speaking Russian. When the two men weren’t talking to each other, Carl could feel them there, breathing menace down the back of his neck, hungry to inflict pain.
Another man came from behind the red curtain and stood in front of the chair. Looking up Carl saw a heavily lined, sun-browned leather face full of gravitas, so he assumed this to be their leader, Milos.
“Any chance of a drink?” Carl asked the man he assumed to be Milos.
“Before or after we shoot you?” the man asked him.
“After,” Carl told him, “always after. Drink first, and shoot later, that’s the way it’s done in the movies. Do I get a last cigarette?”
The voltage had muddled Carl’s brain, and he was buying time. The only clear thought he was having was that George wasn’t coming. He’d seen George heading to the lift so he couldn’t have been aware of what happened in front of the hotel. The US cavalry wasn’t coming this time.
“No drink, no cigarette,” the man said.
“You might as well tell me why you killed her then,” Carl told him, feeling the impatience of the men standing behind him. Sergey had every intention of keeping his promise, and Carl knew it.
“You mean Nadia?” Milos asked.
“Of course I mean Nadia,” Carl said.
“But I didn’t kill her,” Milos told him.
“What’s the point of denying it now? If I’m about to die, what have you got to lose?”
“I have always been fascinated by mental illness, what if you start by telling me why you think I killed her?”
“You made a mistake,” Carl told him, “whoever you sent was using a mobile phone registered to your company.”
Milos smiled, and said, “Aha, so that’s it. I’ve been wondering why you came looking for me. Clever of you to check the phone traffic.”
“A high ranking police officer already knows about it, so killing me won’t get you off the hook. Someone from your company was there, and the police already have the evidence.”
“The only thing wrong with your theory is, I wasn’t involved,” Milos told him, smiling.
“One of your staff was there,” Carl told him. “You can’t deny that.”
“Yes, one of my staff was there,” Milos said in agreement.
“Exactly,” Carl said.
“Do you want to know the name of that person?” Milos asked him.
“Sure, why not?” Carl said.
“That person’s name was Nadia. She bought a phone when she worked for me, and she put it in the company name because her visa had expired and she lacked the required paperwork to put it in her own name.”
“But it only logged onto the tower when the killers showed up, and it logged off when they left,” Carl said, head spinning.
“You’re the detective,” Milos said, “you tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know,” Carl said.
“Me neither,” Milos said.
“What you are saying is, Nadia turned her phone on when the men arrived, and then switched it off again,” Carl told Milos.
“I’m not saying anything, you’re the detective. You tell me.”
“Answer me this, if you didn’t kill her then why have you kidnapped me?”
“You think I’m going to let people go to my office and make threats, or bring people to my club to beat up my men,” Milos told him, and Carl heard an angry grunt from one of the men behind him.
“It looks like all this was a mistake,” Carl said.
“Not my mistake,” Milos said.
“True, but tell me something, did you like Nadia?”
“Sure,” Milos answered, “she was a great fuck, but you already knew that.”
Carl was too busy worrying about staying alive to feel jealous, and he was confused because he believed Milos, that he had nothing to do with the murder. Carl’s strategy of shaking things up usually worked, but this time he had clumsily kicked the wrong hornets’ nest.
“If you want justice for Nadia, let me go, and I’ll find the men that did it,” Carl said.
Milos looked thoughtful, then said, “What is justice? We are not familiar with this word,” and the men behind the chair laughed in unison at their master’s joke.
“Alright, let’s just call it restoring balance. There’s no point in killing me now because if you didn’t do it, then I have no issue with you, and I should be left to get on with finding them. You knew her too, don’t you want me to nail them?”
“I don’t let people investigate my business affairs,” Milos told him.
“I have no interest in your business, all I want is the men that killed Nadia.”
“Why?” Milos asked him.
“Does it matter? Let’s just say, I have my reasons.”
“OK, let’s say that. It still doesn’t forgive your behaviour.”
“If you let me go, the investigations into your business will stop. As soon as I tell my people it wasn’t you, they will have no reason to look at you anymore. So the investigation stops, and I balance the books for Nadia. We all win.”
“Sounds logical, but why should I trust you when you say you believe I didn’t do it? You have to say that. Anybody strapped to a chair would say that.”
“But I do believe you. If you’d done it why would you be talking to me? I’d be dead already, and you certainly wouldn’t let me go, not if you did it. So, the fact I believe you’re going to let me go tells you that I already know you didn’t do it. So tell your boys to take this tape off me and let me get on with finding the real murderers,” Carl told him.
Milos spoke to his men in a foreign language and then started to walk away.
“Much appreciated,” Carl said.
Milos turned back and said, “Don’t thank me, I just told my men to give you a beating. I’m not standing for people coming to my club and knocking my staff unconscious. The good news is I was never going to kill you. That was never my intention. I brought you here to teach you a lesson, so you were wrong about that too. It’s been nice meeting you Mr Engel, but now I must go and leave you with Sergey, and I don’t think he likes you much.”
CHAPTER 27
“Everyone has a plan until they get hit.”
– Mike Tyson
George, Clouseau, and Maria arrived at the emergency room of Samitivej Hospital to find Carl sitting up on a gurney, getting stitches put in a wide gash
on his cheek. His ribs were strapped, and his face was black and blue. It was clear from the body language that Carl had been flirting with the nurse before they arrived, and Maria’s face showed her disapproval.
“What happened to you?” Maria asked.
“I was interrogating a witness, and I fell down the stairs,” Carl replied.
“You’re not very good at this detective stuff, are you?” she told him.
“What makes you think that, Maria? It’s a tried and tested torture technique: I throw myself down a flight of steps and tell the prisoner if he doesn’t start talking, he’ll be next. Works every time.”
“Please stay still,” the nurse told him firmly, as she pushed the hooked needle through his cheek. On her best behaviour now, because she assumed the disapproving women that had shown up was Carl’s wife.
“You’re insane,” Maria told him. “Can’t you ever be serious?”
“Cracked ribs are serious,” Carl said.
“Are they keeping you here overnight?” Maria asked.
“I wanted to stay the night,” Carl said, “but Nurse Annie here, insists we don’t know each other well enough yet. I tried to reason with her, but she’s adamant: no bed baths until the second date.”
“Stop talking and sit still, please,” the nurse told him.
“Do what the nurse tells you,” Maria said.
“Yes mummy,” Carl said.
“Stop it,” Maria told him.
“Nadia must have known the men that came to kill her, George. She had a mobile phone, and she turned it on just before they showed up. She must have been expecting them,” Carl said.
“What do you mean?” George asked.
“The phone registered in the company name was Nadia’s, she got it when she worked for Milos. The other phone, the anonymous prepaid one, would have been carried by the killers. I think Nadia switched her phone on and made a call to them when they landed on the island. Probably to tell them where the hut was.”
“Are you certain about this?” George asked him. “She told the killers where to find her?”
