“Maybe it was just a coincidence,” Bar said at last. He’d already said the same thing several times in Chuck’s car on the way from the Stardust to the embassy, but he liked the sound of it, so he said it again.
“You don’t think those guys had something to do with all this shit about Harry Austin?” Chuck’s tone was disgusted.
“Maybe not.”
“Then you figure it must have been like…who?”
“Muggers?”
“When was the last time you heard of four local muggers surrounding two farangs on Sathorn Road and waving a gun at them?”
“Thai muggers can’t afford guns.”
“There you go.”
The door to the conference room suddenly swung open and they all jumped. A young embassy guard in a marine uniform leaned in and looked them over suspiciously. When he recognized Chuck, he came to attention and snapped off a salute.
“Sorry, sir. I didn’t know it was you. This part of the building is usually empty at night. I saw the light and was just checking.”
“It’s all right, corporal.” Chuck returned the salute after a fashion. “Good night.”
“Night, sir.” The marine closed the door quietly and they all listened to his footsteps disappearing down the corridor.
“Something about a marine uniform suddenly makes me a little tense,” Bar said, his voice cracking slightly.
Chuck pushed his chair back, folded his arms, and swung his feet up onto the table. Propping his left ankle over his right, he twisted his head around until he was looking directly at Eddie. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m okay, too, in case you’re interested,” Winnebago put in, but Chuck ignored him. Winnebago finished his whiskey in one hit and fumbled for his Camels.
“Somebody wants your butt, Dare.”
Eddie just shrugged.
“Any idea who it might be?”
“Sharon Stone?”
Chuck mimed a laugh, but his eyes didn’t move.
Eddie took another sip of the whiskey and rubbed at his face. “You going to help us here, McBride, or just keep practicing your hardass routine?”
“What’s really going on, Dare?”
“I don’t know.”
‘Sure you do.” Chuck smiled unpleasantly and rubbed his palms together.
Eddie looked away, then back. There was a sudden flash like sunlight on water when his gaze crossed McBride’s. The chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. Still, he didn’t respond.
Chuck watched him for a moment with a half smile and then he shifted his gaze to Lek. “Let me see that stuff from the safety deposit box again.”
Lek rummaged in her purse and handed Chuck the papers she had shown them at the Stardust. He leaned against the table on his right elbow and smoothed out the stack with his left hand.
“And this is all there was in the box?”
Lek nodded, and Chuck slowly lifted up his head and looked sideways at her.
“No bank statements or investment records? Nothing like that.”
“No.”
“But you said Austin had a lot of money at Bangkok Bank when you met him. What happened to it?” Eddie asked.
“I don’t know,” Lek said. Eddie noticed she didn’t meet his eyes. “After I stopped working at the bank, Harry didn’t mention it again. I didn’t think it was my business to ask.”
Chuck didn’t look up so Eddie decided his suspicions were probably misplaced. He let it go.
“Are you sure you don’t know any of these other guys on the list or in the photos?” Chuck asked her.
“No, no one,” Lek said.
Chuck tilted his head toward Eddie and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Eddie held out his hand for the papers. He studied the list again and stared at the pictures while he made a little whistling sound between his teeth. The smell of his past was coming distinctly to him now. It was a worrying smell, alarming even, and he didn’t know what to make of it.
“These may have been the guys in our company,” Eddie said, “but I’m not sure. It’s been a long time.”
He looked down at the photographs again and saw, not the past, but a blurry message from the future. He could sense a door swinging open somewhere. But where did it lead? He had no idea.
Chuck took the papers back from Eddie, swung his feet flat onto the floor, and put the list of names on the table in front of him. Then he started to run his finger carefully down it.
“Thomas Mark? Ring a bell?”
“No, I don’t think so.” Eddie reconsidered briefly. “No.”
“Marion Morris?”
Eddie thought about it for a moment. “I think he might have been a guy we called Bang-Bang, but I’m not sure.”
“Heluska Jones?”
“That’s me,” Winnebago spoke up and everybody looked at him.
“So how’d you end up nicknamed after an RV?” Chuck seemed genuinely interested.
“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie pointed to the list. “Why are we doing this?”
Chuck ignored him and kept reading. “Effrun Carter?”
“Wasn’t that Donkey?” Winnebago asked Eddie.
“Could’ve been. I think his name was Carter, but I never heard of anyone called Effrun before.”
“Patty O’Connell?”
“No, but he sounds like a black guy.”
Chuck gave Eddie a long look. “This list doesn’t really interest you a lot, does it, Dare?”
“It’s bullshit. I already told you. I’m not sure about anybody on that list other than Winnebago.”
“That’s not true. You’re sure about at least one other guy.” Chuck smiled and tapped his forefinger on the top sheet. “Rupert Edward Dare. There’s even an address and telephone number here: 469 Grant, San Francisco. 415-555-7104. Those both right?”
“Yeah, they’re right. What’s your point?”
“My point?” Chuck reared back in his chair and folded his arms. “You’re connected to Harry Austin, Dare. You claim that somebody hired you to find out what happened to him, but that’s crap. You’re in this for yourself.”
“That’s not true,” Eddie said.
But he thought to himself, well, maybe it was.
“Suit yourself,” Chuck said. “But I’m not going to sit here all night and let you blow smoke up my ass. I’m done.”
“So you’re not going to help us?” Eddie asked.
“Hey, I’m an agent of the United States government, not a fucking PI.”
“You’re a cop and I need your help.”
“Nah, I’m not a cop. I’m just a DEA observer out here. I got no jurisdiction in Thailand. I observe.” Chuck drew the word out as if he really enjoyed the sound of it.
“That’s it?” Bar looked surprised. “You’re not going to do anything at all for them.”
“Sure. I’ll do something for them. I’ll tell them what this is all about. Dare already knows, of course, but maybe it will help him out to understand that I know, too.” Chuck spread his hands and leaned forward in a gesture of mock confidentiality. “This has something to do with money.”
“Everything’s got something to do with money,” Bar snorted.
“Yeah, but this has something to do with a shitload of money.”
Chuck shot a look at Lek, but Lek didn’t seem to notice. She continued to stare expressionlessly at the tabletop.
“I think Austin was involved in some kind of scam while he was still in the service,” Chuck said. “Maybe a few other people were in on it, too.”
Chuck looked pointedly at Eddie for a long moment and then he went on in a casual voice.
“Now it seems like somebody has worked that out besides me. These pictures here…” Chuck waved toward the copies stacked on the table, “were obviously a warning to Austin that the game was up; the time had come for him to share the money he had scammed.”
“Are you saying that somebody murdered Harry over money?” Lek’s v
oice seemed to come from a distance and everyone looked at her.
“Yep.” Chuck’s nose twitched.
“What about the other pictures?” Bar demanded. “The ones we got.”
“Whoever sent them figures that Dare knows something; maybe even how to get at the money now that Austin’s dead. The pictures sent to Dare and Jones were a warning to them stay away and leave the dough to whoever killed Austin. The picture you got means you’d better not get involved either.” Chuck paused, reviewing his words. “How does that sound? Pretty sensible?”
“Who are these people you’re talking about?” Eddie asked.
“How the fuck should I know?” Chuck’s eyes were hooded, a shooter’s eyes. “You want to know who’s after you? Don’t come crying to me, Dare. Kick some ass and take some names.”
“Forget it,” Eddie answered. “I’m just a middle-aged lawyer from San Francisco. Soldier of fortune stuff is way over my head.”
Chuck looked pensive, but he didn’t say anything. He reached down with his forefinger and sketched a little design on the tabletop as if he were drawing a map.
“So what now?” Bar eventually asked him.
Chuck stopped drawing on the table and yawned, stretching in a way that Eddie thought was particularly unconvincing. “I’m tired. I’m going home,” he said.
“That’s fine with me.” Eddie pushed back his chair and stood up. “I’m sick of all this attitude, McBride. I’m out of here.”
“What?” Bar was puzzled. “You just had four guys try to grab you on the street and now you’re just going to walk back outside?” He turned toward Chuck. “How about getting them some protection at least?”
“Oh, jeez, sure,” Chuck nodded. “I almost forgot. I’ll just call Bubba right now and get you covered around the clock. Maybe the Secret Service is available. How about that, Dare? Would you like Secret Service protection?”
Eddie examined Chuck’s face closely, but he quickly decided that irony was beyond the man and dismissed his reference to the Secret Service as nothing more than a coincidence.
“I’m serious, Chuck,” Bar went on. “Somebody may be waiting outside right now. What do you expect these guys to do?”
“I don’t have the first fucking clue, Bar.” Chuck stood up and held the door open. “Don’t get lost, Dare. Just follow the hall all the way to the left and it will take you right out to the main gate.”
“Oh, man,” Winnebago said, as he stood up to follow Eddie. “Like I asked for this shit or something.”
Eddie glanced back when they got to the end of the corridor. Chuck McBride was still standing with Bar and Lek at the conference room door. Bar was talking and angrily chopping at the air with his hands, but Eddie sensed Chuck was only pretending to listen. Instead, his eyes were following Eddie and Winnebago intently and his face nearly glowed with excitement.
All at once, Eddie got it.
McBride had known for a long time that Harry Austin had hijacked the Bank of Vietnam’s reserves in 1975. He just didn’t know how Austin had managed it or what he had done with the money. Eddie was willing to bet that McBride had been hot on Austin’s trail once. He had probably gotten so close he could almost taste it, but he had been pushed out of the game when someone killed Harry and he wanted back in.
Just when McBride had almost given up on finding a way, Eddie had appeared like a sign in the sky. McBride didn’t know if Eddie had been part of Harry Austin’s scam or not, but he knew for sure that somebody thought he had been. Best of all, whoever that was seemed to be closing in on Eddie fast, looking to get at whatever was left of the Bank of Vietnam’s money through him. Just as they had once, no doubt, tried to get at it through Harry Austin.
Now Eddie knew for sure he wasn’t going to get any help from the embassy. McBride wouldn’t let that happen. McBride’s game was to use Eddie to draw the opposition out into the open. He wanted to keep Eddie dangling out there, a hopelessly conspicuous white man stumbling around Bangkok, a slow-moving, easy-to-hit target. McBride was setting a trap, and he had picked Eddie for the cheese.
Opening and closing his fists, his gaze lingering on McBride, Eddie felt transported for a moment by righteous anger, but it quickly faded. Keeping his eyes locked on McBride’s, Eddie slowly lifted the middle finger of his right hand until it pointed straight at the ceiling.
Then he turned away and walked out the door and was swallowed up by the languid, pungent soup of the Bangkok night.
Twenty-Three
FLAGGING down the first taxi he saw, Eddie slid in, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back against the seat while he left Winnebago to convince the driver to take them to the Oriental Hotel instead of to a massage parlor.
Eventually the taxi pulled away, turned right into Rama IV Road, and immediately bogged down in heavy traffic. Eddie concentrated on the flaking paint of the green and white bus wedged in next to them until he slid into something approaching the edge of sleep. He teetered contentedly there until Winnebago gently shook his arm.
“You awake?”
“Mostly,” Eddie yawned as he straightened up.
“My new friend here…” Winnebago tilted his head toward the driver ,”has offered to show me some of the…ah, sights of town.”
“I’ll bet.”
“You coming?”
Eddie fumbled at his sleeve until he tilted his wristwatch up into the light. It read a little after eight-thirty and that immediately confused him. How could it be eight-thirty? They hadn’t even gotten to the Stardust until nine.
As the cobwebs cleared, it occurred to him that he hadn’t reset his watch to Bangkok time and that it must be eight-thirty in San Francisco. But was that morning or night? He tried briefly to work it out, but San Francisco had become such a vague concept for him that he suddenly realized he didn’t care.
“Many number one girl!” the driver sang out jubilantly. “Give you good price. Two for one deal.”
Eddie looked around and noticed they had barely covered a mile in the crawling traffic. He saw the Dusit Thani Hotel on their left and knew that they were just edging into Silom Road a few hundred yards north of Patpong. It would still take another half hour at least to make it back to the Oriental through the traffic. Maybe more.
“What are we doing in this shithole, Eddie?”
Winnebago’s question had a wistful sound to it, and Eddie glanced over.
“Why don’t we just get laid a few times, eat some Thai food, and go back home?” he asked.
Eddie didn’t know exactly what to say to that—actually he had to admit the idea had an extraordinarily sensible ring to it—so he settled on a vague nod and closed his eyes again.
It had all started out as a frolic, an adventure to be played for laughs, a harmless, middle-aged lark in exotic Bangkok. The general had waved a big bag of money at him, tossed in the romance of faraway places, and Eddie had gone gaga. Now here they were, hip deep in something scary and out of control, something that had an unfathomable momentum all its own. Worse, Eddie figured they were sinking fast.
Winnebago was right, of course. Eddie really had no doubt about it. The only sensible thing for them to do was to get the hell out of there while they still could and head for home. And yet…
“What are you thinking, Eddie?”
“Nothing.” He paused, trying to decide. “Everything.”
Winnebago chewed that over.
“Look, maybe you’re right about going back,” Eddie finally said. He glanced at his watch again and then out at the bedlam of Silom Road. “Let me out here. I’m going to wander around a little and think about it. We’ll decide tomorrow.”
“You going to be safe on your own?”
“I think the fireworks are over for tonight. Besides, Patpong is so crowded that Bill Clinton could be out there cruising and no one would notice.”
“Then you think it’s okay if I—”
“Go on,” Eddie cut in. “We’ll catch up at the hotel later.”
&nb
sp; Eddie waved the driver to the curb and got out. Before he closed the door, he bent down and fixed Winnebago with a stern look.
“Don’t forget about protection.”
“Don’t worry, man,” Winnebago said pointing to the taxi driver. “My new friend here will take good care of me.”
“That’s not the kind of protection I meant, Winnebago.”
***
SILOM Road was a carnival from another planet. Sounds, sights, and smells battered Eddie until he felt almost weightless. Shouldering through the tourists trolling the street market and the expats looking for action, he couldn’t help but think back to the graceful ease with which Bar had moved through the same crowds and he allowed himself a moment of envy at his friend’s mastery of such an intense and overwhelming world. That made Eddie think of Lek again and then he remembered that she was probably still with Bar. He wondered if he ought to envy Bar that, too.
A vendor’s display of copy watches caught Eddie’s eye, and he stopped and picked up a black Casio that had enough knobs on it to do everything but tune in CNN, and for all he knew it did that, too. Perhaps he would get it for Mike, he thought, but that made him remember his call to the States that morning and left him feeling flat.
He weighed the Casio in his hand, thinking how good it looked for a fake, and he saw the old woman behind the stand peering at him. She had the puckered, sad face of someone who has lived far longer than they had ever expected, a peasant’s face, brown and flat with the skin pulled down her cheeks and hanging in flaps under her neck. The woman’s eyes tightened and Eddie tried a smile, but she would have none of it. He laid the watch gently back on the table and she glowered at him as he walked away.
When Eddie resumed his slow progress down Silom, he could feel eyes following him as he walked. He was certain of it. A half dozen teenaged girls eating sticks of satay at a small table on the sidewalk whispered to each other as he passed. An old man slicing chunks off a watermelon stopped cutting and followed him with narrowed eyes. An Indian tailor hovering in his shop watched him through the front window, playing hide-and-seek with him behind mannequins wrapped in tight, shiny suits.
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