by Harlan Wolff
“And you didn’t hold a grudge against her?”
“I’m a businessman, people fuck me over all the time. I always let my lawyers deal with it.”
“She told her sister she was running away from a dangerous enemy. What do you think she meant by that?”
“How would I know? Maybe she made it up. People are paranoid, and they watch too much TV. Perhaps it was the men in the video she was scared of. They would not have been happy if they’d known what she’d done, but, of course, I would never tell them. If she were smart, she would have known that. Of course, I didn’t tell them anything about it, that would have been idiotic. Only my lawyers were aware of the situation, and they’re hardly going to kill people over such things. Without people like her, they won’t make a living. Lawyers love greedy women.”
“And it wasn’t you, this enemy she spoke of?”
“If I was going to have her killed, do you think I would have put her together with my lawyers? Created a paper trail? Sent the money from my personal bank account? You do me an injustice.”
“It all very sordid,” Carl told him.
“It certainly was sordid, in and out of bed, and I still would have married her,” the tycoon said. “She was the best piece of arse I ever had.”
“Just be glad you didn’t marry her,” Carl said, “I doubt even you could afford her at those rates.”
“So, what’s it to be? Do you believe me, or are you going across the road to the Foreign Correspondents Club?” the tycoon asked, nervously.
“I’m not sure I believe you yet, but I’m not going across the road,” Carl told him. He didn’t want to believe Winston, and he still had a few nagging doubts, but his gut told him the man was telling the truth. He could leave Winston in peace for now, because as long as he kept pulling on the threads, sooner or later the fabric would unravel, and then all would be revealed, and Carl would know whether the tycoon had told him the truth.
The fat tycoon was clearly relieved. He said, “Look, I know this sounds strange, but when you work out who killed her, would you be kind enough to let me know? I was very fond of her, for a while, and I wouldn’t mind some closure. Does that sound foolish?”
“Perhaps we are both foolish men,” Carl told him.
“Yes, indeed,” the tycoon replied.
CHAPTER 39
“There’s no point being at the airport longer than needed.”
– Gillian Tans
George had just got back to Bangkok, and he was already worried. He’d just got off the phone with Louis, and the lawyer had nothing but bad news for him. Carl wasn’t in his room, and he wasn’t answering his mobile phone, so George went to Soi Cowboy and found him sitting at the bar in the Two Ladies.
“You’re not answering your phone,” George told him.
“I left it in the room so I wouldn’t be disturbed,” Carl told him. “A lot has happened while you’ve been gone, and I needed a break from it.”
“It’s a good thing I found you,” George told him, “I just got off the phone with Louis.
“He wasn’t spreading sunshine, by the look on your face,” Carl said.
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Come on, then, out with it, it can’t be that bad.”
“Don’t bet on it,” George told him, “according to Louis, the foreign journalists have been attacking Thailand in the tabloids again. This time they are screaming incompetence for not being able to solve the murder of another foreign tourist, namely Nadia. You know how it goes; clickbait headlines and conspiracy theories presented as news. Louis says somebody in the government has taken it to heart and is claiming loss of face. This minister was on the phone this morning. Louis said, ordering the chief of police to make an immediate arrest, or else.”
“I assume Louis told you it doesn’t matter who they arrest now, or whether there’s any evidence? As long as it’s a foreigner, and they get to drag him away in handcuffs in front of a lot of cameras.”
“That’s about it,” George said, “and we all know, so far, they only have one suspect.”
“I’ve been expecting something like this,” Carl said calmly. “It just means we have to leave a few days earlier than I planned. Let’s go to the hotel and pack our bags.”
“Where are we going?” George asked him.
“Have you ever been to Eastern Europe, George?” Carl asked him with a grin.
“So, that’s where we’re going?”
“I heard it’s wonderful this time of year.”
“I thought it was the middle of winter,” George said.
“Exactly right, and won’t it be wonderful?”
“If you say so, Carl,” George said, because he was already happy, right where he was, in the tropics, and winter in Eastern Europe didn’t appeal to him at all.
As soon as they got to the hotel, Carl called the colonel and told him he would be leaving Thailand for a while, and explained why. The colonel wasn’t happy but calmed down when Carl told him he could hold on to the five hundred thousand baht that was supposed to be used to fix the police station and the prosecutor, and it could be a credit against future services. He went on to assure the colonel there would be plenty for him to do in the coming weeks. Colonel Pornchai confirmed the preparation of the case against the two Serbians had begun, and an arrest warrant would be quietly achieved and held awaiting Carl’s instructions. The last thing Carl asked the colonel to do was to contact his people at the airport and get them to check the immigration computer to see if there was a flag next to his name yet. As soon as he hung up the phone, Carl got on his laptop and booked two tickets to Austria, Vienna being the best way to get to Bratislava.
“Come on,” he told George. “We are going to Slovakia.
“Is that the East?” George asked.
“It’s where it begins, and we’ll go on from there.”
“Getting out of Thailand will be a good start,” George said, “What if they’ve already flagged you at the airport?”
“Then we will cross at the border,” Carl said. “Either way, we are going to Bratislava.”
An hour later Carl and George were sitting on their suitcases outside one of the airport’s revolving doors, waiting for the call from the colonel. Carl was smoking his pipe, and George was reading the paper. When the call finally came, it was a green light, and they picked up their suitcases and entered the departure hall.
Carl had bought business class tickets to avoid the crowds, and opted for a fast track departure, with a golf cart, and paid the five thousand two hundred baht extra fee online. As soon as Carl showed his online receipt, the two men were driven through the airport, only having to make the briefest of stops at an immigration kiosk to get their passports stamped. Other passengers, standing in the endless queues, looked on with awe as the golf cart whizzed by them. From walking in the revolving door to reaching the departure gate took only a matter of minutes, which was excellent timing because they got there just before the cabin door closed. Thailand was so much fun when you knew the ropes, and had money in your pocket. Carl was wondering if he’d be coming back anytime soon.
Once they were sitting in their comfortable business class seats, they ordered drinks. The hostess brought twelve-year-old whisky and served them both with a sweet smile. As the plane taxied to the runway, Carl’s phone made a noise. The air hostess told him politely to switch it off, and as he took it out of his pocket, he saw there was a message from the colonel. He read it and then showed it to George. It said: You just got flagged.
“Was that close enough for you?” George asked.
“Hold on just a second,” Carl replied, waiting for take-off, and only then, as the wheels left the ground, he said, “Yup, George, that was really close.” And both men laughed loudly enough to get a dirty look from the air hostess. She was already convinced they were a pair of drunks. Businessmen who’d had far too much fun on their expense account in Bangkok’s fleshpots, and didn’t want the party to end. She knew the type and
was expecting they would be trouble. But Carl and George proved her wrong, and both slept most of the way to Vienna, where they would find a taxi to take them the last fifty miles of their journey to Bratislava.
CHAPTER 40
“Revenge is a powerful motivator.”
– Marcus Luttrell
Gregor had left his team in Belgrade and was back in Bratislava for the weekend. He picked Carl and George up from their hotel on the river and took them to the Old Town for dinner and slivovitz. Cars were not allowed, and getting to the restaurant had required walking on the cobblestones, through the lanes and alleys of the fortified, medieval, city centre. After Bangkok, where everything changed so fast, the continuity and permanence improved Carl’s mood.
The restaurant Gregor had chosen was as old as the cobblestones. It had been cold outside, and the three men were huddled over a wooden table beside an open fireplace. Plates of dumplings and grilled meats in creamy sauces filled the table, and the shot glasses of slivovitz and mugs of Slovak beer reflected the dancing flames from the fire. Life in the Old Town was as it had always been, and hopefully, always would be.
“So you’re saying, if these two Serbians don’t go back to Thailand, then you will be charged with your girlfriend’s murder?” Gregor said.
“Yes,” Carl told him, “I’m certain of it.”
“But if they go back, you are sure they will give up the man who hired them?”
“Maybe not at first, but the one with the scar will be identified by witnesses, and then if he doesn’t confess he’ll never see Serbia again. Staying shtum means he’ll do life in the Bangkok Hilton, but if he confesses he will be looking at twenty years with the possibility he’ll be out in ten,” Carl said.
“Then, you’re off the hook?”
“That’s the idea,” Carl said. “The only way they forget about me is when they already have everybody involved behind bars. Then they’ll have to pretend I was never a suspect, and make the arrest warrant disappear, to save face.”
“Good, then I’ll do what I can for you,” Gregor told him.
“Thank you,” Carl said. “I will have to stay in Europe while my people sort everything out. Nothing in Thailand happens quickly, and it will take a little time for the police get their facts straight, but if we pull this off, then it will eventually get sorted out, and I’ll be able to go back. In the meantime, I can bum around Europe. There’s so much of it I’ve never seen, and I need a holiday.” He hadn’t told George about promising Maria he would go to Vienna, and he wasn’t planning on telling Gregor either. Not yet, anyway.
“Have you found them?” George asked.
“Sure,” Gregor told him, “they weren’t hard to find. Country bumpkins with pockets full of money stand out like dog’s balls in a place like Belgrade.”
“Nice work,” George told him.
“So, what now, Carl? What do we do now we’ve found them?” Gregor asked.
“Do you still have your funny friends in Eastern Europe?” Carl said.
“Depends on what you mean by funny,” Gregor said.
“Funny, as in dodgy,” Carl whispered, “ex-spooks and gangsters, drinkers, womanisers, Saville Row suits and diamond-knuckle dusters, cosh and carry specialists, gentlemen smugglers to the free world; you know who I mean.”
“Oh, them? Sure, but they don’t come cheap.”
“When was I ever cheap?” Carl said.
“Tell me your plan,” Gregor said. So Carl told him everything, and when he was done, Gregor wished he hadn’t.
“That’s the craziest goddamn plan I ever heard,” George said.
“Insane,” Gregor said.
“That’s what we are going to do, my friends. It’s the only way I get out of this mess, and I will not spend the rest of my life in infamy as the man who killed his pregnant girlfriend and fled Thailand. Google would follow me around like a bloodhound, and make sure it couldn’t be forgotten. So, yes, I get it, it’s a mad plan, but we’re going to do it anyway.”
“Let’s drink another bottle of slivovitz and see if I can talk you out of it,” Gregor said.
“Don’t waste your time, Gregor,” Carl told him.
“I’ll get us another bottle anyway,” Gregor said.
“Sure,” Carl said, “it’s bloody cold outside.”
When Carl got back to his hotel, and his phone had logged on to the Wi-Fi, he called Maria on WhatsApp.
“You sound drunk again,” she told him.
“Just a little,” he told her.
“What time is it there?” she asked, “it must be four in the morning.
“It’s not that late,” he said, “I’m not in Bangkok anymore.”
“Where are you,” she asked.
“Getting closer to you, I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
“You are coming to Vienna then, really?”
“Yes, I’m coming,” he said. “It won’t be long now. I just have a couple more things to do.”
“What things?” she asked him.
“It’s not important,” he said, “just some loose ends I need to tie up before I see you.”
“Just don’t take too long,” she told him.
“It won’t be long,” he said.
“There’s just one thing,” Maria said. “When you get here, are you planning to be drunk every night? It’s worrying me.”
“Definitely not,” he assured her. “Vienna’s a new life, and I can’t wait to leave the old one behind me.”
“Good,” she said.
“It will be,” he promised. Carl didn’t make promises lightly, and Maria already knew that about him.
They both hesitated, and neither knew how to end the call. It was Carl who made the first move.
“I miss you,” he told her.
“I miss you too,” she replied in a husky voice.
Carl put the phone down and picked up his old Dunhill pipe and put it in his coat pocket. He took the lift downstairs and went outside to sit by the river. It was bitterly cold now, and the passers-by, seeing him in a long cashmere overcoat, with his battered Borsalino hat on his head, the cashmere scarf around his neck, and smoking a pungent Balkan mixture in his pipe, never imagined he’d spent his entire adult life in the tropics. Carl decided he could get used to being a European. But that was to be expected because whenever a beautiful woman entered his life, he always believed everything was possible.
CHAPTER 41
“Money can buy you a fine dog, but only love can make him wag his tail.”
– Kinky Friedman
Gregor was dragging George around Bratislava in the snow, asking his opinion on the right car to buy with his anticipated profits from Carl’s endeavour. They’d spent the entire morning looking at luxury cars, but once they got to the Audi showroom, both men agreed the Audi A8 was the dog’s bollocks.
“I’ll be back for this when it’s all over,” Gregor told George, as they stood side-by-side, arms crossed, studying the four-door saloon from the front. “When this is all over, I’m going to buy one of these beauties.”
“It’s a good car for a man your age,” George told him. “More understated than Carl’s old Porsche, that’s for sure, and a lot more comfortable.”
“More horsepower too,” Gregor said.
“I never understood why Carl loves that car of his so much,” George said.
“No way of knowing. The man’s a mystery,” Gregor said, “and it’s hard to know what makes him tick.”
George saw the price of the Audi, and asked, “Just how much is Carl spending on this plan of his?”
“Hard to say,” Gregor mumbled, “things add up fast in this game.”
“I’ll bet they do,” George said.
“Come on, don’t be like that, I’m going to earn my money the hard way. Whenever Carl shows up here, I have to stick superglue up my sphincter, and steady my hands with slivovitz.”
“I know the feeling,” George said.
“And we leave tomorr
ow,” Gregor said.
“Tell me about it,” George said.
“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” Gregor said.
“Believe it,” George said.
“Look at this machine, she’s a real beauty, no?”
“Yes, Gregor, a true thoroughbred,” George told him.
“It’s Carl who got me interested in the Audi.”
“He did?”
“Sure, George, he told me my old Mercedes was like a clitoris, and he put me right off it.”
“A clitoris?” George asked, still rooted to the same spot with his arms crossed.
“Yes, a clitoris. Because, according to Carl, every rich cunt’s got one.”
“The Mercedes is still a nice car though,” George said.
“Sure, George, but that A8 is the car for me.”
“It suits you,” George told him.
“The Audi or the Mercedes?” Gregor asked him.
“Don’t be a cunt, Gregor,” George said.
“Yeah, it’s the Audi, for sure,” Gregor said, staring down at the shiny new machine.
“I hope you’ll both be very happy together,” George told him.
“We will,” Gregor said. “Are you ready for lunch?”
“Only if you’re buying. If you can afford that car on what Carl’s paying you, then you can sure as hell afford to buy me lunch.”
“Isn’t Carl paying you?”
“No,” George told him, “I’m only in this for the free lunches.”
CHAPTER 42
“Secret operations are essential in war; upon them the army relies to make its every move.”
– Sun Tzu
Carl and George were standing on the pavement outside the Manhattan Club in Belgrade. Both men were wrapped up against the cold, and the bowl of Carl’s pipe glowed red in the dark, with every puff he took. A black, anonymous, four-wheel-drive was parked by the kerb with its engine running. Inside the vehicle, the driver was nice and warm. Outside, on the pavement, Carl and George stamped their feet and put their hands in their coat pockets to try and keep warm.
