Bangkok Downbeat (A Nick Teffinger Thriller / Read in Any Order)
Page 7
Shi and Zhang had one son.
Zhang died two years after his son was born.
KANJANA READ THE NEXT PASSAGE silently to herself, looked up and said, “I think we just stumbled onto something.”
Really?
Kanjana nodded.
“Oh, yeah, really.”
Like what?
“Okay, according to this last part, which was written in Shi’s final days, she and her first husband, Zheng, were concerned about having all of their wealth in one location. So what they did, unknown to anyone, was fill fifty empty powder kegs with gold coins. They put them on a small ship, sailed south and buried them.”
“Does it say where?”
Kanjana nodded.
Yes.
It does.
27
Day 2—August 14
Tuesday Afternoon
OUT OF THE THAI FOON GROUP’S OFFICE, Teffinger bounded down the stairs, all 39 flights, falling twice. He headed down the street at a breakneck pace, not having a destination, simply feeding the need to be in motion and shake the specter of Tookta from his head. He had no idea how he would explain his sudden disappearance to Jinka and didn’t care.
Vanish.
Vanish.
Vanish right now.
This second.
That’s what his gut told him.
Get out of Bangkok before the jaws snapped shut.
A big change had come today, one that started when he got distracted by Jinka’s legs this morning, but one that he didn’t fully realize until just now, namely that he didn’t want to end up in a Bangkok prison, he didn’t want his life to be over, he didn't want the pain.
He’d still pay for what he did, but he’d do it in positive way.
He’d devote his life to making the world a better place.
He’d toil tirelessly, forever.
He’d use his every waking hour to do what he did best, namely catch killers. All he asked in return was to be free to do it. If he did that, instead of going to prison, the world would end up a better place.
It made sense.
It was fair, too.
He didn’t mean to kill the woman.
It’s not like he planed it.
He needed a safe haven.
Right now.
He called the number of the private investigator that Sydney gave him this morning. She answered in Thai. “Do you speak English?” Teffinger asked.
“Yes.”
“I have a serious situation and I’d like to meet with you right away if possible.”
“Who am I talking to?”
He told her.
Nick Teffinger.
Nick Teffinger from the United States.
HE FLAGGED DOWN A TUK-TUK and got a dangerous ride to Kanjana’s office, which turned out to be on a busy side street in central Bangkok. At street level, an attractive woman came out of a doorway and tugged on his arm. It took a few moments, but he finally figured out that she wanted him to come inside for a massage.
“Happy ending,” she said. “You like.”
He said, “No thanks,” and headed into a rickety wooden stairwell for the upper levels.
He passed a woman coming down as he headed up.
Dangerously attractive.
Blond.
She locked eyes with him briefly and said, “Bonjour.”
Teffinger stopped but the woman kept going, not looking back, not slowing down. Teffinger never wanted his freedom as much as he did that second. Not being free was no longer an option.
Not even close.
THE BUILDING WAS RATTY, the stairway was ratty, the door to the office was ratty, everything was ratty. He put his hand on the knob but didn’t turn it.
This was a mistake.
No one successful would work in a place like this.
He headed back down the stairs.
A voice suddenly came from above.
“Teffinger?”
He turned to find an attractive woman in her early thirties with raven hair that tended to fall over her face and needed to be flicked off. She wore jeans, tennis shoes and pink T that played well against her skin. There was something about her face that he trusted.
“Are you Kanjana?”
She was.
“Come on up.”
He hesitated, weighing it, then headed up. The floors squeaked and the air smelled like cigarettes. Kanjana sat on the edge of a desk and studied him. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Why? What’d you expect?”
“I don’t know, but not this.”
Teffinger walked to the windows and looked down. Everything that wasn’t a building was in motion. Three mangy dogs trotted down the street, bobbing in and out of whatever got in their way.
He turned and leaned against the wall.
“I killed somebody. It was an accident, but it happened. There might be heat coming down on me. What I’m looking for is a safe harbor, if that happens. I’m looking for someone who can slip me out of Thailand. I don’t know if that’s the kind of thing you do or not.”
Kanjana wrinkled her forehead.
“Who’d you kill?”
“I’d rather not get into it.”
A pause.
“If was an accident, like you said, you don’t need a safe harbor.”
“Accident might have been the wrong word,” Teffinger said. “I didn’t intend for it to happen. I didn’t plan it. It just happened.”
“When?”
Teffinger shifted feet.
“Look—”
Silence.
“You obviously don’t trust me, so this is going nowhere,” Kanjana said.
“I’ll pay,” Teffinger said. “I’ll pay in advance, whether I end up needing you or not. You keep the money, either way.”
Kanjana studied him.
“Why don’t you just leave now? Why don’t you just get on the next plane and be done with it?”
“I have business here. Something I have to finish.”
“Like what?”
“Again—”
“Who sent you here?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” Teffinger said. “It came from a friend of a friend.”
Kanjana wrinkled her forehead and leaned back. Then she said, “I think we’re done here.”
TEFFINGER’S CHEST TIGHTENED.
Alone.
That’s how he felt.
Totally, absolutely alone.
“Okay, I understand. Sorry to bother you.” He pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“For what?”
“For your time.”
“I don’t sell time, I sell services, so you don’t owe me anything.”
He headed for the door, stepped through and started down the stairs.
Halfway down he heard, “Hey, Teffinger.”
He stopped and looked up.
Kanjana tossed a card down.
He caught it in mid-air.
It was her business card, with an additional phone number written on the front in ink.
“The number in blue is a cell that I always have with me and answer day or night,” she said. “Maybe we’ll talk again if you get serious enough to let me know what’s going on.”
Teffinger stuck it in his wallet.
“Thanks.”
28
Day 2—August 14
Tuesday Evening
WING LOVED THE NIGHT. He loved the neon, he loved the raw sexual tension, he loved the shadows, he loved the people. Night people were different than day people. They were edgier, rawer, looser, more in touch with their animal side.
They understood passion.
They prowled instead of walked.
They devoured instead of ate.
With twilight setting over Bangkok and the night looming closer, Wing and Jamaica parked a block down from Kanjana’s office and killed the engine.
“You sure you want to do this?”
Jamaica punched him on the arm.
/> “Stop it.”
Wing nodded.
Okay.
He pulled the envelope out of his suit jacket and said, “Remember, don’t say anything to her. And be sure she doesn’t follow you back to the car.”
She snatched the envelope out of his hands.
“Yes, master.”
She wore a short black skirt that swayed seductively as she headed up the street. Wing had lots of things to think about, but all that would have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight, there was Jamaica.
Only Jamaica.
Tonight would be the night.
He knew it.
She knew it.
Two minutes later, she returned and said, “No problems. I knocked on the door and she said to just slide it under.”
“So she never even saw your face?”
No.
She didn’t.
Wing smiled.
THEY GOT TO SOI COWBOY just as night fell and the neon took over. The street was already in full, seedy motion. Hundreds of barely-dressed women sat on barstools and gyrated outside strip clubs, BJ bars and massage parlors, waving signs, grabbing elbows the shaking their asses to get people in.
Music spilled from every door.
The closed-to-traffic street was already wall-to-wall, jammed to the edges with drunk Expats, gawking couples and night prowlers.
Wing wore a suit and tie.
Jamaica had her arm locked through his.
“This street is the foundation of every video I’ve ever made,” Wing said. “This place has more sexual tension per square meter than anywhere else on the planet. What I try to do in my videos is bottle that tension, keeping it just as tight and concentrated as it is here, and transfer it to film. Does that make sense?”
Yes.
It did.
Perfect sense.
“This is the place I was talking about as a backdrop for some of your video. I’ve never used it before. What do you think?”
She tightened the grip on his arm.
“I like it.”
Yeah?
Yeah.
THEY HAD A DRINK AT SERENGETI, then another. A warm drizzle was falling out of the sky when they came out. Jamaica pointed her face up and closed her eyes.
Water dripped down her cheeks.
Down her forehead.
Down her nose.
When she opened her eyes, Wing looked into them said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Done what?”
“Done that.”
29
Day 2—August 14
Tuesday Night
KANJANA WAS SERIOUS about not letting Prarie stay at the canal house tonight in the event that Petchpon came after her. “I’m not going to have your blood on my hands and that’s that.” Early evening, she got Prarie checked into the Shanghai Inn. “Promise me you’ll stay in your room until morning,” Kanjana said. “I need to know you’re safe.”
Okay.
But against her wishes.
Ten minutes after Kanjana left, Prarie headed out and walked down the street through a muggy Bangkok twilight until she found a shop that sold knives. She bought one with a 6” serrated blade and a jagged edge and stuck it in her purse.
She thought it would bring a sense of security.
It did the opposite.
She rented a small black Toyota and pointed the front end north just as night descended on the city. Petchpon, it turned out, lived in a small, standalone house at the end of a street next to a railroad yard. Prarie drove down that street, turned around at the end, then headed back out.
Lights were on inside the man’s house.
A blue car sat out front.
Prarie found a place to park in deep shadows over by the train yard and killed the engine.
You can do this.
She got the knife in hand, shoved her purse under the seat, stepped into the night and locked the door behind her. Insect sounds filled the air. A dog’s bark came from somewhere far away. The heat of the day still radiated. The moon was half full, but barely discernable through a humid haze.
Prarie headed down the tracks, took a position behind the black silhouette of boxcar and studied the house.
Binoculars.
She should have bought binoculars.
Too late now.
Movement came from inside the house.
It looked like only one person.
Music sifted through opened windows, barely audible, something heavy and violent.
She sat down on the tracks.
Blood pumped through her veins.
IF KANJANA WAS CORRECT that Petchpon was the mastermind behind the theft of her safe, then that safe was most likely right over there in that house.
Petchpon would have gotten it open by now.
He would have found the journal.
The big question is whether he read it.
Prarie pictured him starting it, to see what it was, but not reading to the end. He would have had bigger things on his mind after finding Kanjana’s file on him. As of right now he probably didn’t know about the treasure.
That could change tomorrow.
Suddenly a light turned off.
Then another.
And another.
An engine started.
Headlights punched through the darkness up the street and disappeared around a corner.
Prarie dialed Kanjana and said, “Petchpon just left his house. Be on guard.”
“Where the hell are you?”
Prarie hung up.
Then headed for the house.
30
Day 2—August 14
Tuesday Night
TEFFINGER WANDERED THE STREETS of Bangkok until his feet hurt, then flagged down a taxi and headed back to his hotel, the Grand Millennium Sukhumvit, to shower away the soot and pollution. He was drying off when someone knocked. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door.
Standing there was Jinka.
Gone were her day clothes.
In their stead was a curvy red dress and lots of skin.
“What the hell’s going on with you?” she said. “You disappear, you turn your phone off—”
Teffinger almost lied to her.
He almost told her he got panic attacks, or had claustrophobia, or something equally lame. Instead he said, “I’ve got some things going on, some personal things. I’m sorry.”
Jinka ran her eyes down to his chest.
Then his stomach.
“I found out where Tookta hung out,” she said. “It’s a place called Soi Cowboy. I’m gong to head down there and see if anyone remembers seeing her last night. I thought you might want to tag along.”
The words stunned him.
He suddenly had a vision of someone in a club pointing at him and saying, “That’s who she was with. That guy right there.” The premonition was so strong that his fingers lost their grip and the towel dropped to the floor.
He froze.
Jinka picked up the towel, handed it to him and said, “Most guys offer to buy me a drink first.”
“Sorry about that.”
Teffinger left the towel in hand and headed for the bathroom. “Give me two minutes to throw some clothes on.”
He could feel her eyes on his ass.
On his thighs.
On his back.
He could take her.
Right here.
Right now.
He knew it.
So did she.
At the bathroom door he turned and said, “Can we swing by that liquor store where Aspen Leigh’s credit card got used?”
“I already talked to the guy.”
“I know,” he said.
TEFFINGER HOPED that the liquor store would be near a bank or similar place that might have a security camera pointed at the street. That turned out to not be the case. The register guy was short and bald, with black, coke-bottle glasses. He didn’t speak English, so Jinka got in the middle. Teffinger gave the guy $2
00.00 in U.S. currency and he, in turn, promised to call Jinka right away if he saw the man again.
That was that.
Outside Jinka said, “You just threw your money away.”
Teffinger already knew that.
“Next time just give it to me,” Jinka added.
The corner of Teffinger’s mouth turned up, just a touch.
Then he got serious and said, “If he does call you by chance, call me as soon as he does.”
THEY HEADED BACK TO TEFFINGER’S HOTEL, parked in the garage and walked the two short blocks to Soi Cowboy. It was dangerous, but Teffinger had to be Jinka’s shadow to find out whether she was getting information that implicated him.
His height, six-four, was a problem.
So was the hair.
His instinct was to pull it into a ponytail, but he didn’t have anything to tie it with, because that’s the way his life worked.
Soi Cowboy was already filthy hot as they as they turned into it, even this early in the night.
Here, sex wasn’t wrong.
Passion wasn’t wrong.
Lust wasn’t wrong.
Kinky wasn’t wrong.
Bodies weren’t wrong.
The neon went straight to Teffinger’s head. Jinka linked her arm through his, the first formal advance, but not a thing that surprised either of them.
They continued down the street, not talking, just taking in the sights and sounds. Suddenly Teffinger’s brain pulled up an image of a woman in a short black dress walking towards him.
Tookta.
He now remembered how they met.
He remembered clearly.
He remembered for the first time.
He remembered not being able to take his eyes off her as she approached. Then, just as they were about to pass, she stepped in front of him. She didn’t say anything, she just looked into his eyes. Teffinger couldn’t look away. She was the most exotic, hypnotic woman he had ever seen. Then she put her arms around his neck, pulled his head down and kissed him with her lips and her tongue and her soul.
It wasn’t fake.
He’d had fake before and knew it when he saw it.
This was real.
Then she said, “My name’s Tookta. Before we fuck, let’s get drunk, okay?”