“We are a poor family from Burma. We come many years ago across the lakes to live and fish the water. We look after crocodile farm so we can live here on this land, but the farm is not busy. The owner of the farm is called Fon. She is very nice and kind to me and my family and she will pay me some wages if she comes here. But she doesn’t come very often, maybe twice a year. She has a son or a nephew called Sak. He is big businessman. Many things come from crocodile farm, but not many crocodiles. The main things come to the farm across the lakes from Burma.”
“What things?”
“Precious stones. Ruby and Jade. There is also opium. When Fon was looking after the farm there was nothing, but she moved away and now only visit occasionally. But Sak comes more often and he has men work for him. They take care of business. Now, we just label up boxes after they pack and then they take away on trucks. The boxes are labelled to go to Sak Wannadee in Bangkok. This happen maybe five or six times a year.”
“Do you get paid by Sak Wannadee or his men for labelling the boxes?”
“No, we get nothing. Sometimes a packet of cigarettes. I told you we get to live here and we are left alone. I know that these men are not good men and I know that they are smuggling gems and opium into Thailand, but it is nothing to do with me. I just label boxes. I do this for my family.”
“So, what happened two weeks ago?”
“Usually, when the gems and opium arrives, it arrives by boat at night. But I always know when it is going to arrive, because Sak’s men arrive in the daytime. The next morning, before it gets light, there are a pile of boxes waiting outside my house with two men guarding them. My family places labels on the boxes and they are loaded up onto a truck and they all drive away. All done within half an hour. Anyway, two weeks ago, I hear noise at night. I know that no boat is due to arrive, because no men come in daytime. So I sneak out and go down to the farm near the water. When I get there I see farang on the ground. He is naked and already dead. I see men cutting him up.”
“Which men did you see cutting him up? Sak Wannadee?”
“No, I see big Chinese man. I have seen him twice before. He is gangster, business friend of Sak. He is standing over the dead farang and he is watching while four other men are butchering the body and feeding it to the crocodiles. Then another vehicle arrives and it is Sak. He gets out of car and talks to the Chinaman. They argue a lot about the dead farang. Both men are angry with each other, but I am too far away to hear what they say. Sak gets back in his vehicle and drives away. In the morning I go back to crocodile farm and look, but there is nothing left to see. The rain already wash away all the blood. Just stain on the soil a little bit, but now that’s gone too. I am afraid there is no trace left of the farang. Do you know what he did wrong to get killed?”
Nok shook her head. She had tears filling her eyes and she knew that if she tried to speak then she would start crying. Pon looked at Danny and nodded. Danny could see that Nok was shaken. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek and stood up. He followed Pon down to the farm and, even though Pon knew that Danny could not understand a word of what he said, he still told him all about what he had seen and pointed out where everything had taken place. Danny did not need to speak Burmese to understand what Pon was telling him, but there was nothing left to see at the farm. Danny still did not know exactly what he had told Nok yet, but he knew that he had told the truth. He knew that he had told Nok about the murder. He took his wallet from his pocket and gave Pon 10,000 baht (£200). Pon took the money, dropped to his knees, holding the money between his hands and wai’d to Danny with a ‘high wai’; with his hands held on top of his head. Danny helped him up and this time it was Pon who had tears in his eyes. They walked back to the shack and Pon went into the shack. He reappeared with one of the sticky labels he used to label the boxes. It was addressed to
‘ Sak Wannadee Ltd
Animal feed suppliers,
Rama IV Road
Bangkok ,Thailand.
Danny spoke to Nok.
“Tell him I want to help his daughter. Ask him, if I give him the money, will he take her to hospital to get the best care he can for her polio?”
Nok related what Danny had said and, once again, Pon collapsed onto his knees with emotion.
“Yes” said Nok. “He will take good care of family if you help him.”
“I believe him” said Danny and he took out another 10,000 baht and handed it to Pon.
“Tell him I will be back to check on them all in a few weeks.”
Nok passed it on and they got back into the pickup truck. They reversed away back along the track, waving to the happy, but tearful family from Burma, as they left. Nok chatted away quickly. She was excited to tell Danny everything that Pon had told her. Now she felt like a detective. They turned around when they could and finally got back onto the main road.
“Where we go now, tee rak?”
“Now we go to Bangkok.”
Danny and Nok were totally unaware of two black land cruisers, which waited with six Asian men sitting silently inside. The two men reappeared from the jungle and climbed into the first vehicle. The driver flicked on the ‘sat nav’ device and the red flashing dot showed the position of Danny’s Mazda pickup truck, now eight miles in front of them. They pulled onto the road in convoy and followed the red dot.
Chapter 36: Undercover Operations
When Detective Chief Inspector Chris Lovatt walked into his office at 7:30am to be greeted by a stern faced Deputy Chief Constable and two men in suits, he knew it was not going to be a good day. As he said good morning to them his mind was racing, but he could not think of anything that he had done wrong. However, the atmosphere felt serious.
“Nothing to worry about Chris” said the Deputy Chief, unconvincingly. “These two gents are from MI5. They need to speak to you.”
The taller of the two men stepped forward and offered his hand. His smile was fleeting and business like.
“Mike Jones. This is Nick Walker. Please have a seat.”
Chris was a Chief Inspector and not one to be easily intimidated, but these men wore sharp suits and looked smarter and more professional than Chris. Wearing a suit had never been his strong point. He always looked more like the accused than the detective in any court case.
The Deputy Chief was sitting at Chris’s desk, so he sat in one of the available chairs along the wall.
“And what can I do for you, gentlemen?” he asked.
“You were doing some checks yesterday on someone called Jack Morgan. We want to know why?”
Chris was taken aback by the directness of the question and had already decided that he did not like Mike Jones, or his sidekick Nick Walker.
“Can I ask what this is all about?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, as the men in suits and the Deputy Chief Constable all waited for each other to take the lead.
“OK” said Mike, after the silence got just a little too uncomfortable. “I’ll start at the beginning, so you get the full picture. We are all on the same side after all. Since the war in Afghanistan, the supply of heroin from that region has been erratic and expensive. We have seen a resurgence in opium coming from the ‘Golden Triangle’ in south east Asia. The organisation is beyond anything we have ever seen. It is well organised and professional, but even worse, it is untraceable. We know it’s coming into Europe and the States in vast quantities. We are picking it up at street level, but we have no leads; no clues as to who, where and when. Well, nothing other than it is coming in from Thailand, Laos and China. We have no names, no locations, no intelligence. We have no information exchange with China and, even now, the opium wars are still a delicate issue. In Thailand we have no established protocols, no information exchange, no extradition treaty, and no cooperation. The problem is in their backyard and they either cannot, or will not, do anything a
bout it. About a month ago the name Jack Morgan was hitting all the intelligence systems, both here and across the Atlantic. He seemed to come out of nowhere and was all over the supply of drugs from the Golden Triangle via Thailand. Then, a couple of weeks ago, he disappeared from the intelligence radar as quickly as he appeared. We think it must have been a blip in his own security procedures that allowed his name to flag up all over the place. We have no clue as to who he is, or where he is, but something has happened that has started turf wars over the heroin supply, both in Europe and in America. People are being killed because of the supply, or non-supply, of the drugs. It seems to be getting back to normal again now, but we cannot miss this window of opportunity. This has come from the highest level on both sides of the pond - ‘Find Jack Morgan’. We are running an operation with the CIA, trying to find the people responsible. The Thai authorities have no idea that we are operating on their turf and there would be severe political implications if it was discovered. Our objectives are quite clear. We find these people and either ghost them into our custody on allied soil, or eliminate them from the game. Either way they will not be a problem anymore. As you can imagine Chief Inspector, there are thousands of Jack Morgan’s on intelligence systems, but none who jump out as international drug dealers of the highest calibre. There are hundreds of thousands of Jack Morgan’s who are not on any system. It is difficult to find what you are looking for when you do not know what it is that you are looking for. Jack Morgan might not even exist, or could be code for something. We have people in the CIA and MI5 working on every possibility. This is serious business Lovatt. So now you can imagine our interest when a Detective Chief Inspector from the West Midlands Police starts searching PNC (Police National Computer), CRO (Criminal Records Office), and intelligence systems to find Jack Morgan and gives reason for checks as ‘Believed to be ex-policeman, missing in Thailand. Concern for welfare/safety’. So Detective Chief Inspector Lovatt, the question is, how and why. I’m listening.”
Mike Jones’s manner barely concealed some kind of threat of consequences if cooperation was not forth coming and Chris Lovatt could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He knew he was being accused of something and he did not like it. When he was a young Detective being trained by Danny O’Brien, he earned the nickname ‘Nails’, because he was as hard as nails. He had the reputation of going from naught to nasty in half a second. It was only maturity and promotion that had ironed out his natural aggression. Now it took him all his years of experience to keep a calm outward appearance. He took a moment to take in what Mike Jones had just told him.
“What do you know that we don’t know?” prompted Mike.
“I was contacted by an ex-D/Sgt. from Scotland Yard called Danny O’Brien. I worked under cover with him years ago, when I was in the Met. He rang me from Thailand, telling me that he was on a case looking for a missing person called Jack Morgan. He said that he thought the bloke was an ex-policeman from the West Midlands Police and that he might even be dead, but he was trying to find him. He asked me to do some checks in case it was of any interest to us. I told him that, if I came up with anything, then I would ask him to go the British Embassy in Bangkok and talk on a secure line. But, as you are aware, I did the checks and came up with nothing. Like you say, there are hundreds of Jack Morgan’s, but no ex-policemen from this force with that name.”
Nick Walker was already typing details and searching on the MI5 laptop that they had brought with them. He nodded at Mike.
“I’ve got him. Daniel Sidney O’Brien, known as Danny O’Brien. Retired Detective Sergeant from the Met. The bloke’s a drunk. He has been arrested 12 times for drunk and disorderly offences since he retired six months ago. Long discipline record of drunkenness. This bloke is just an alcoholic bum.”
“He has also been decorated by the Queen for his police work and is the best detective I have ever worked with” said Nails. He could feel his anger with the two suits rising.
“Who did Danny O’Brien say he was working for?” snapped Mike Jones.
“He didn’t” snapped Chris Lovatt, through gritted teeth. The atmosphere in the room was tense.
“How on earth did he get involved in this? There must be a connection. How does an old drunken Detective Sergeant get onto a case looking for the same man that the CIA and MI5 between them can’t find? He is a loose cannon in a delicate situation and I don’t like loose cannons.”
“He was on a case in Thailand for Scotland Yard just before he retired” chipped in Nick Walker, who was an expert on research and computers.
“Look into it. Find the connection.”
“Danny O’Brien is one of the good guys. I’d bet my life on it” said Nails.
“You should be careful which horse you decide to back in this one Inspector. How were you going to contact him?”
“He gave me a mobile number. I think it is his girlfriend’s phone.”
“OK. Here is what you are going to do. You ring Danny O’Brien and tell him to drag his drunken arse to the Embassy. Tell him you want to talk to him on a secure line. When he gets to the Embassy you have to find out everything he knows and everything he is trying to find out. Names, dates, places and faces. Who he is working for and why. Don’t say anything to alert him or worry him and, whatever you do, do not give him any information. We will let him run a little longer when he leaves the Embassy, but we’ll have a team there to pick him up. He is in more danger then he can possibly imagine. Do not worry Inspector Lovatt, we are the people to look after your old friend. You might have just saved his life.”
Nails did not believe him. He did not like him and he took exception to him addressing him by a lower rank then he was.
“It’s Detective Chief Inspector Lovatt, not Inspector.”
“Whatever. Make the call.” Mike Jones had a reputation for not suffering fools and he didn’t like Chris Lovatt anymore than he liked Danny O’Brien.
Nails found the phone number that he had scribbled on his desk pad and rang. The phone clicked and bleeped. Then a Lady Gaga song came on the line before a female answered, speaking in Thai.
“Hello?” said Nails.
No reply.
“Hello is Danny O’Brien there?”
“One moment please.”
“Hello, O’Brien speaking.”
“Danny. It’s Nails. I need to talk to you. Can you get to the British Embassy in Bangkok?”
“I’m on my way to Bangkok now, Nails. I can call into the Embassy later this afternoon. What’s the name of your contact there?”
“My contact is called Michael Hands. He’s an ex-bobby too, but I don’t know if you’ll be seeing him. Just get to the Embassy as soon as you can mate and they’ll be expecting you. I’ll talk to you later.”
“You’re a good man yourself Nails. See you later.”
The line went dead. Nails looked at the men in suits.
“He will be there later this afternoon.”
“Good. Can we move to a bigger office? We need more phone lines and quick access to more computers.”
“We can use the conference room. Follow me gentlemen” said the Deputy Chief Constable. “Chris, can you arrange some tea and biscuits and join us in the conference room. We probably need to plan a strategy for your next contact with O’Brien.”
Chapter 37: Bangkok
Nok was as lost in Bangkok as Danny was. Some cities in the world are easy to get your directional bearings and find your way around, but Bangkok is not one of them. It is a maze of four lane roads, fly-overs and by-passes, all clogged with traffic that does not move. There are concrete bridges, little side streets, markets and temples packed with Thais, Chinese and farang tourists, canals and, of course, the famous Chao Phraya River, dotted with cross river piers and express boat launches.
Bangkok is one of the busiest cities in the world, but
is totally unique. Here ancient and modern mix seamlessly. Everything is tolerated; temples, businesses, bars and brothels can share the same streets. There is the noise of tuk-tuk’s, motorbikes, car engines, speeding motor boats, policemens’ whistles being blown in hopeless attempts to move traffic. Millions of people are walking around, all busy doing something or trying to go somewhere, trying to buy something or sell something.
Bangkok has its own smell and it’s not just the smell of the traffic pollution mixed with the oppressive heat and humidity. It’s the smell of cooking food. Everywhere is the smell of food being cooked, the clatter of pots and pans, the sizzle of the oil, the chatter of the cooks and customers. Bangkok is like no other city in the world and now Danny and Nok were lost in this city.
They ended up driving over the Rama VIII bridge, probably for the second or third time, before they made a left turn and came across the New World City Hotel in a little side street in the ‘old town’. There was parking for the pickup, so they pulled in and checked into the hotel. It was a bit more up market then Danny was used to. Nok was hungry, so they had some spicy noodles in the hotel restaurant overlooking the canal. They picked up a tourist map from the hotel reception and made their way towards Wireless Road and the British Embassy. Danny enjoyed the walk. He felt like a tourist and he looked like one with the beautiful, smiling Nok on his arm.
Mike Jones and Nick Walker had over three hours to turn the conference room into a mini incident room before they got the notification that Danny and his Thai girlfriend had arrived at the British Embassy. Nick Walker had printed out everything there was on Danny O’Brien, but there was no mention of the letter from Nui sent to Scotland Yard asking him to find her missing boyfriend Jack Morgan. Nobody had bothered to record it on any computer system. For the last three hours the MI5 men had studied his police records. They easily dismissed the first twenty years of his service, the high profile cases that he had cracked and the murders that he had solved. Their attention was drawn to the last ten years that he had spent in a drunken stupor. They could not believe that he had not been sacked or ended up in prison. There were reams of low grade intelligence about sightings of him drinking with ‘Undesirables’, gangsters and IRA suspects. These intelligence printouts were of the most interest to them. They had all the records and transactions from all his credit and bank cards and already had them tagged for any future use. Mike Jones had arranged for Danny and Nok to be taken into one of the surveillance rooms. He had an open line to the people next door ready to watch them. He also had the CCTV of the room screening live on one of the computers in the conference room. Detective Chief Inspector Lovatt had been briefed several times by Mike while they waited. Relations between the two men had deteriorated by the minute, until it had become one of mutual loathing and distrust.
The Kiss of the Dragon Page 16
