“His name is Baptiste Crocé. He used to live in Laos and he still has a lot of contacts there. Corsicans, mainly.”
“He’s protected?”
“Highest levels of the Thai military and the Border Police. He's not one of the major players in Bangkok. There’s five chiu-chao Chinese run most of the business here. What we hear is your Eddie Lau ran foul of one of them so he needed a new supplier. That's why he went to Crocé.”
“How long have you had Ruby under surveillance?”
“Ever since she got to Bangkok. She got careless.”
“You think it was Crocé's heroin she had in the boot of the car?”
“She's spent a lot of time in his bar since she got here. Plus she's been sleeping with Crocé's son. It's all very cozy.”
“How did she plan to ship the product out?”
“The Thai police found boxes of mien lap - they're these padded jackets the Chinese wear - in her apartment. We think she planned to sew the heroin into the linings for export. But we don't know where to.”
A black Mercedes pulled into the alley beside the Soixante Neuf.
“Here's Crocé now,” Lee said.
A tall, sallow man in a black suit and open-necked white silk shirt got out. The most arresting thing about him was the black eye patch over his left eye. He looked like an aging gigolo and Keelan said so.
Lee laughed. “I've seen photographs of him when he was younger, he was a pretty good-looking guy. He's got health problems now. Smokes and drinks too much.”
Crocé disappeared inside the club.
“He's pretty well untouchable here,” Lee said. “So we need to keep the pressure on Ruby Wen. I figure she's the key to this. She knows all the players. You've got to persuade her to do the right thing.”
“She's a stranger to that concept, Dave. But with any luck we will become her only way out.”
Chapter 54
Maha Chai Prison
SHE woke late and stumbled outside. There was a crowd gathered at the end of the veranda. Soong sat cross-legged in the middle, the other Thais clustered round her. She had drawn a chalk square on the concrete, and divided it into four quadrants. Little piles of bank notes had been tossed into each of the squares. To one side lay a small pyramid of rambutan and lychee stones. Soong scooped some up with her tin rice bowl and then counted them out in lines of four.
When she had done, she announced the result, pulling some of the notes towards her, tossing money back at the winners.
Fan tan.
Ruby went to the trough and put her head into the water. There was a nagging pain in her temples.
Fan tan.
She fumbled in the breast pocket of her shirt, found the ragged twenty baht note that was all the money she had left after the cockroach races. There wouldn't be any more now until Prassaran's next visit. She looked over her shoulder.
Fan tan!
She shouldered her way through the crowd and tossed the note into the square with its crude chalk marks in Sanskrit and Chinese:
She chose Two.
Soong scooped up a pile of the fruit stones with the bowl and began to count them out with the flat of her hand in an easy practiced motion. Ruby made her gambler's prayer to her ancestors and her Chinese gods to favor her over the others.
It was over in less than a minute. Soong finished counting. Two stones left.
Ruby left her winnings in the square for the next game.
No matter what game you play, odds always against you, she thought. But does not matter about odds, if you have good luck. If gods want you to win, never can lose.
She won again.
Then a third time.
Some of the other prisoners wandered over to watch, even the two Swiss girls. The game had turned into a straight contest between Ruby and the bank. Soong looked angry.
Ruby was oblivious, did not pay her any attention. Her concentration was focused on the game. She pushed her stake to three, then to one, then back to three. She kept winning. Six times in a row. It was impossible, against all odds.
Soong hesitated. Her own bank was almost broken. The other women were betting with Ruby now. She glanced at the pile of dirty notes at Ruby's feet. One more win would finish her.
***
Take the money, a voice said. But if she took the money she would have to come out of this lucky place and back to the prison, to the heat, to the filth. to Prassaran and Louis Huu and Kee-Lan. Could not stop now, heya! She pushed her stake to her lucky number, two.
Soong divided up the small pyramid of fruit stones in front of her.
Must be a two.
The last few stones.
A rustling sigh passed through the crowd, like breeze through the trees. Soong's face betrayed no emotion.
Two left.
Ruby had won again.
Soong paid off the game, stood up and walked away. All the money she had made from her drug deals was gone in less than half an hour.
Ruby clutched the pile of notes in her fist. Nobody spoke to her or touched her. They all drifted away. The game was over and the spell was broken. She felt the lucky tiger slipping away.
Nan screamed inside the cell. She had forgotten about Nan.
She ran after Soong, caught up with her halfway across the compound. She thrust a handful of notes at her. “Here,” she said. “Now you give me powder for my number four lady, okay?”
***
Ruby drew water from the trough with a syringe. She emptied it into a tin cup and went back to the cell. Nan lay on the floor, fitting. The spasm passed and she lay still again, her eyes rolled back in her head.
Ruby opened a little twist of foil and emptied the white powder into the cup, where it quickly dissolved in the water. She drew the solution back into the syringe.
She looked for a vein. Scabs marched up Nan’s forearm to her elbow, a few had turned to running sores from the filthy needle. Her ankles were the same.
Nancy moaned and arched her back.
So would have to be her arm, Ruby decided. She removed the belt from her shorts and used it as a tourniquet. Her hands were shaking, she had never done this before. Heroin had only ever been powder in a plastic bag, a commodity to buy or sell like rice or gold or tapioca.
Can never go back to that old life after this, she thought.
It was more difficult to push a needle into an arm than she thought. Especially this blunt thing! Finally she felt the soft pop as the needle broke the skin and pierced the vein. Ruby emptied out the syringe. Nancy groaned and twisted with the first rush, then retched on the floor.
The trembling stopped. Ruby had bought Nan some peace.
She thought about Eddie, wished he could see her now, feeding little four into the arm of a gwailo junkie. Would laugh if he knew, would probably think it is all very funny.
Chapter 55
THE monsoon had begun. When Ruby had arrived at Maha Chai the compound had been baked hard, and the grit and dust stung her eyes and parched her throat. Now it was a sea of mud, the air was ripe and damp and the whole world smelled of wet blotting paper.
In the three months she had been in Maha Chai, Ruby had become fastidious about washing. Sometimes she would bathe up to four times a day, sometimes even in the rain. The other women thought she was crazy. She didn't care. Wouldn't wallow around in filth like a pig. Not Ruby Wen.
She trudged to the middle of the compound and stripped off her t-shirt and shorts next to the cement trough. She scooped water over her head. She no longer cared about the guards looking at her from the watchtower. Let them look all they want.
She was drying herself off with an old sarong when she heard shouts from the prison block, saw Sumalee and two of the women guards kicking their way through the prisoners huddled on the veranda. They went in to the cell.
When Ruby got there they were sorting through Nan's bed-roll and her pathetic pile of belongings. The guards often made intermittent searches for drugs and weapons. Only Soong was never searched be
cause she had enough money to pay them off.
Sumalee found Nancy's little stash of heroin. Nan screamed as the two guards beat her over the shoulders with their batons. When she went down they piled into her with their heavy black boots.
“Stop!” Ruby shouted.
One of the Swiss girls grabbed her arm. “Stay out of it, fancy pants! It will only be bad for you. If you try to stop them, they will beat you too!”
Ruby shook herself free and grabbed Nan's arm, tried to pull her free. She felt a stinging blow across her back and dropped to her knees. Sumalee hit her again, but Ruby twisted away and grabbed Nan's arm a second time. Sumalee's next blow landed on Ruby's head. The world turned white. More blows rained down on her back, her shoulders, and the backs of her legs, until she no longer had the strength to try and avoid them.
***
Nancy's skin was damp and cold, and she was breathing too fast. Ruby rested Nan's head on her lap, and stroked her hair. She unbuttoned Nan's shirt. There were liver-colored bruises all over her body where the guards had kicked her. She felt her stomach; it was rigid down one side.
There was a pulpy bruise over her cheek and blood had seeped into the white of her eye, so that it looked like an over-ripe plum. Her lip was torn and her skin was white as chalk.
Nan's good eye flickered. “How ya doin', fancy pants.” She tried to smile and some watery blood leaked down her chin.
“Doing okay,” Ruby said.
“You're a pal,” Nan said.
Ruby leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt around her mouth with her tongue. Lost no teeth, okay. Hurt to breathe, perhaps just broken rib. She gingerly touched her scalp where dried blood had crusted in her hair. It hurt to move her head. Perhaps die tomorrow, Ruby thought. Die for this gwailo hippie! Eddie-ah really love to see that!
***
Nan was snoring. Her color was even worse. Ruby tried to wake her up. “Nan.” She shook her harder, pinched her ear lobes, pulled at her eyelid. Her eyes had rolled right back in her head. “Nan!”
One of the Swiss girls crawled across the cell. “Is she all right?”
“Something wrong. More better we call the guard.”
“They never come. Not at night.”
“Have to come! She need doctor, I think.”
“They never unlock the door until morning.”
“Try!” Ruby said.
The Swiss girl stood up and banged on the door, over and over. Finally one of the guards peered through the barred window. “Help us,” Ruby shouted in Thai. “My friend is really sick. Has to go to the hospital.”
They heard the guard walk back down the veranda. Ruby thought she had gone to fetch the keys but after long minutes still no one came.
“I told you, they never unlock the doors at night,” the Swiss girl said. “They don't care if she dies. People die here all the time.”
“Told you not to try and interfere,” the other Swiss said. “You just made the beating worse.”
“Why did they do this?” Ruby said.
“Someone informed on her.” One of the Swiss looked across the cell at Soong. “She owed Soong money for dope.”
“Why they never beat Soong, heya?”
“She has protection on the outside.”
Nan started to heave. Ruby turned her on her side and she retched onto the floor. The other women groaned.
“As if it doesn't stink enough in here,” the Swiss girl said.
***
That night a monsoon storm pounded on the tin roof. Rain seeped under the door and the cell began to flood and the hong nam overflowed. Ruby had to squat, the water lapping around her ankles. She rested Nan's body on her knees to try and keep her clear of the putrid water. Her legs cramped. The rest of the prisoners stood, clutching their bundles of possessions.
Mosquitoes feasted on her ankles and arms, driven frantic by the heat and the damp and the smell of hot blood. Ruby did not even have the strength to slap them away.
When the guards finally opened the door the next morning she still had Nan on her lap. She couldn't stand up. Her leg muscles had locked underneath her.
The other women rushed out into the yard and the steaming sunshine, gasping like beached fish. Finally only the two Swiss girls remained.
“Are you all right?” one of them asked her.
Ruby had no feeling in her legs, and her whole body hurt so badly she could not move. “You help me?” she said. “Must stand up now.”
One of the girls dragged Nan onto the veranda while the other helped Ruby to her feet. She screamed as the blood flowed back into her legs. The Swiss girls helped her out of the cell and propped her against the wall outside.
“Is Nan all right?” she whispered.
“Yes, she's all right now,” one of the girls said. “She's dead, lucky bitch.”
Chapter 56
Soong had on a new sarong and a pink blouse. She looked down at Ruby Wen, squatting on the veranda and smiled. “Goodbye, Wen sui-ling.” she said.
It was a week since the beating. Ruby still hurt all over and she still felt nauseous every time she stood up. Since Nan had died she had not bothered to eat. What was the point? Going to die in here, she thought. Just like her.
“Today I go to court, for sentencing,” Soong said. “They will set me free. Everything is arranged. My cousin pay the bribe. Two million baht.”
Ruby nodded and said nothing. Why was she telling her this?
“Sorry about your frien’. Never meant for her to die. Too bad.”
“Hope you are run over by a truck and rot slowly on the road while ants eat your fingers.”
Soong shrugged. “Nan still owe me nine hundred baht, Wen sui-ling. Can make a lot of trouble for you with Sumalee. Want to pay me Nan's debt before I go?”
“Got no money,” Ruby lied.
“Too bad for you then,” Soong said.
An hour later the guards came to escort Soong to the prison van. “Too bad for you!” she repeated, and waved as she went through the gates.
***
Later that afternoon Soong came back. She did not speak to anyone. She went straight to the cell and sat in the corner, staring at the wall. The judge had given her the death sentence.
Chapter 57
KEELAN stood by the window in the ante room of the governor's office, looking over the men's compound. The prisoners were crowded into the compound below, a shuffling, hawking mass of lost souls.
How did I get here? he thought. He had grown up in a leafy suburb, gone to baseball games at Candlestick Park, shot baskets with his old man in the back yard with his two brothers. One brother was a history professor at UCLA, the other was an accountant. They thought he was crazy when he joined the cops.
What had drawn him to the police force, for God's sake? He had to blame that one on the old man. Buzz Keelan had worked for the DEA for ten years, had dragged the family around most of South-East Asia before his mom called time on it. He had finally settled for a desk job in San Fran but his stories left their mark on his youngest son. All he had ever wanted from knee-high was to work for the good guys.
The job did not touch him deeply at first. Off duty he continued to live an ordinary suburban life, driving each day into the darker reaches of the city to do his job. He only started to question his choices the day he saw a fourteen-year-old boy run through the street holding a Thompson sub machine gun. The next week he arrested two sixteen-year-old girls who were acting as holsters for their boyfriends in a criminal gang. They had both seen more action than a Vietnam war vet. He stared into the cold eyes of killers and felt as if he was staring into the bottom of the ocean. His pastor told him that all men were redeemable; but over time he came to doubt that. He now believed there were people out there who were irretrievable predators. He had seen twelve-year-old kids with nothing in their eyes. Nobody home.
But it was still just a job until he volunteered for undercover work. From that day, John Keelan became two separate p
eople; one acted and thought and dressed like a drug dealer; the other went to suburban dinner parties, mowed his square of lawn on weekends and painted the new romper room with his wife. He thought he could keep both these men apart.
He almost managed, until the day that other man followed him home.
Somehow the bad guys found out where he lived and sent a shooter to his home to stop him testifying against a mob boss called Frank Borelli. He had to suppose that his wife and baby daughter weren’t part of the contract, so they died for free.
He survived the hit, technically, at least. But when they finally patched him up and sent him home, he found his old life had ceased to mean anything to him. His old man still had contacts in the DEA and when he was declared fit he took his police pension and signed on.
That's how you got here, he answered himself. Just one bad decision at a time.
***
He looked up as two guards escorted Ruby Wen through the door. Holy Christ. What had they done to her?
“Ruby?” he said.
She slumped into a wooden chair. Keelan went over and pulled up her t-shirt. Her back was mottled with purple and custard-yellow bruises. There was a long raised scab in her hair, covered with a fine sprinkling of antibiotic powder.
“Should have seen the other girl, John.”
“They beat you?” he said.
“Beat everyone. Nothing personal. Be very boring here if they don't beat you, okay.”
He perched on the edge of the governor's metal desk. “You don't have to do this anymore.”
“Can get me out?”
“If you co-operate. Tell me everything you know about Baptiste Crocé, about Louis Huu, about Eddie Lau, about every deal you've done; where the heroin comes from, where it goes to, everything.”
“If I tell you, you tell judge to let me go, okay?”
“We will do everything we can to help you.”
Chasing the Dragon: a story of love, redemption and the Chinese triads (Opium Book 2) Page 23
