‘It’s a very strange story, Sir. It’s about a man who had a dark secret. He entrusted only one friend with this secret, but then another person guessed it. The man was desperate to guard his secret, but didn’t think he could do it alone. So he asked his friend to help him and together they had the person killed. The man thought all his problems would be over. But instead of giving him peace of mind, it only made things worse as now he had both a secret and a murder to hide.’
She paused to exhale smoke.
‘Then the man had an idea. He could cover up the murder by having someone else killed and making it look as if they were responsible. He did this, again with the help of his friend, all the while thinking it would protect his secret. But, of course, it only made matters even worse as now he had a secret and two murders to hide.’
Ratratarn wondered where she was taking this.
‘With each of these incidents,’ she said, ‘the man attracted more and more attention to himself, to the point where a young police officer got wise. You may not believe what happened next, Sir, but—crazy as it sounds—the man and his friend decided to kill the police officer to protect the original secret. Needless to say, he was worse off than ever, as now he had a secret and three murders to hide. A case of chang tai thang tua bai bua put mai mit, wouldn’t you say?’
Ratratarn frowned. ‘A case of covering a dead elephant with a lotus leaf?’
‘Well, of course,’ Jayne said, ‘humans are a lot easier to hide than elephants—at least, until the bodies start piling up.’
She sat back in her chair and, for the first time since she’d entered the office, her gaze met Ratratarn’s own through their cigarette smoke.
‘So, how does your little story end?’ he said.
‘That depends, Sir. There are a number of possible endings. See if you like this one. After the death of the policeman, the man’s friend decides he can’t stomach any more killings. Realising the man’s secret was never worthy of his protection in the first place, the friend turns on the man, exposes his crimes and is hailed as a hero throughout the land.’ She extinguished her cigarette. ‘What do you think of that ending, Sir?’
‘Hmm,’ he said, deciding to humour her. ‘I don’t think that’s a very realistic ending, do you? I mean, wouldn’t it be in the friend’s interests to continue protecting the man by eradicating all who threatened him?’
‘I guess that depends on who’s serving whom,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘If the man with the secret is the one calling the shots, then the friend will continue to protect him. But what if the friend’s in charge?’
Ratratarn raised an eyebrow. ‘Then it would be up to the friend to take control of the situation,’ he said.
‘One might question why he hasn’t done so already,’ she said.
Ratratarn spoke as if thinking aloud. ‘Business relationships are complex,’ he said. ‘Money made by unsavoury means can be purified when put to the right uses. The reverse is also true: money provided for good purposes can do terrible harm. It’s all a question of order and distribution.’
‘That’s a very interesting theory, Lieutenant Colonel.’ She sounded genuine. ‘Tell me, what can you do with blood money to make it clean?’
‘There are village investment schemes—’ He stopped, aware of her eyes on him again. Though there was no insolence in her voice, it was clear in the look on her face.
‘Enough!’ he said, angrily butting out his cigarette. He moved the papers on his desk aside so the pistol was in view, the barrel pointing at her. ‘No more stories, Khun Jayne, no more theories. Just tell me everything you know.’
The gun terrified her. The blood seemed to drain from her face and for a moment, she looked as if she might cry. Then the ghost of a smile played across her lips.
‘Exactly what do you have in mind, Lieutenant Colonel?’ she said. ‘Another farang suspect accidentally shot dead while to trying to avoid arrest?’ Her voice trembled, but she was no longer looking at the gun. She was looking at him.
‘You’d better make sure you have a second empty bullet casing to leave at the scene,’ she added, ‘just like you did for Didier.’
Ratratarn narrowed his eyes and looked from Jayne Keeney to the pistol and back again. ‘Actually, I have plenty of options,’ he said. ‘You know, it’s not uncommon for an ignorant farang to wander into the wrong part of town and end up with a bullet in the head.’
He clucked his teeth. ‘Sad as I am to admit it, there are some bad elements in this place and attacks on foreigners can be horrific. Face blown away, all personal effects stolen. Makes it difficult, if not impossible, to make a positive ID on the victim. Terrible tragedy that. Family back home might never know.’
She swallowed hard, her face paler than ever. ‘Be a shame to mess up your office,’ she said, gesturing towards the gun.
Ratratarn admired her attempt at bravado, but the tremor in her voice gave her away.
‘Oh, this!’ he said, picking up the pistol and waving it from side to side. ‘This has multiple uses, you know. Quick blow to the back of the head and—oh dear!—looks like my visitor has passed out. Better hand her over to Sergeant Pornsak to drive her home. Should the corpse of a farang woman turn up the following day, Sergeant Pornsak will be adamant it couldn’t be the same woman, since he saw to it personally that she got to her hotel safely.’
‘Ah, y-yes, Lieutenant Colonel,’ she said quickly, her voice shaking. ‘I meant to talk with you about Sergeant Pornsak. I presume he was acting on your orders when he went to the Kitten Club on his own last night.’
Ratratarn did a double take. The last time he’d seen Pornsak was at the canal when he’d left him to get rid of Komet’s body. Pornsak knew better than to meet with Kelly alone. She had to be bluffing.
‘Look, I’m getting tired of all these…these allegations,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you know.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Think of everything you hope I don’t know,’ she said, ‘and believe me, I know it.’
‘No fucking way—’
‘Kelly’s role in Sanga’s death, your role in Didier’s, every piece of manufactured evidence. I know it all—apart from the details of Officer Komet’s death,’ she corrected herself. ‘But I assume you got Pornsak to take care of that. He had a certain expression on his face when I saw him last night—like a hunter fresh from a kill. Look, I’ll show you.’
She held her hands palms outward and gestured towards her bag. Ratratarn tightened his grip on the gun, but nodded for her to continue.
‘You see what I mean?’ she said, holding out the photograph.
Ratratarn stared at a picture of Pornsak poised to enter the Kitten Club, date and time recorded in one corner. The sergeant did have a look on his face that seemed more smug than usual.
‘I must admit,’ she said, placing the photograph on the desk to face him, ‘I thought it was odd. I mean, the pay-off with Kelly isn’t due till tonight, right?’
‘Damn that motherfucker Komet!’
‘Sir, if I might make a suggestion,’ she said, the polite tone returning to her voice. ‘There’s a way of solving all our problems—a solution that’s in our mutual interests and doesn’t require…ah, violence.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Do you need that,’ she gestured at the weapon, ‘to improve your hearing?’
‘No,’ Ratratarn replied with a sneer, ‘but it often improves the ability of the person I’m interviewing to articulate themselves.’
He sat back in his chair, the gun still pointed at Jayne.
‘Here’s the idea,’ she said. ‘You hold a press conference to announce new findings into last weekend’s deaths: namely, that it was Doug Kelly and not Didier de Montpasse who was responsible for the murder of Sanga Siamprakorn. You’ll need to issue a statement fully exonerating Didier and expressing the heartfelt regrets of the Chiang Mai police over his death, etcetera, etcetera.’
‘This is a joke, right!’ Ratratarn said.
> ‘On the contrary, Sir. I’m making a significant concession in not demanding you retract the charge that Didier was resisting arrest when he was shot, since we know that wasn’t the case.’
Ratratarn said nothing. In a strange way, he found the farang woman’s attempt to cut a deal with him amusing.
‘Secondly,’ she continued, ‘regarding Officer Komet, you say something to the effect that he was tragically killed in the line of duty, and his expectant widow will be fully provided for by the police pension fund.’
The woman wasn’t just naive, Ratratarn thought, she was delusional.
‘And tell me, Khun Jayne,’ he said with exaggerated interest, ‘what compelling grounds do the Chiang Mai police have for complying with these demands of yours? What could you possibly offer in exchange for such…such extraordinary requests?’
‘The guarantee of my silence.’
‘What?’ he snorted. ‘That’s it?’
She shrugged.
‘I’m afraid you overestimate your importance.’ The game was no longer amusing him. He stood up and moved beside her, allowing the gun barrel to rest against her temple. ‘I have myriad ways to guarantee your silence.’
He saw her swallow hard, sweat breaking out on her forehead.
‘Ah, I-I have no doubt about that, Sir,’ she said, the fear returning to her voice. ‘I underestimate neither your resourcefulness n-nor your intelligence, which is why I’ve sent all the information I have to a friend in Bangkok. He’s been instructed to release the information to the press if something happens to me.’
‘You’re bluffing,’ he growled.
‘I don’t want to be a hero,’ she cried. ‘Not like Didier and Komet. I’m not that courageous. So I created my own life insurance policy.’
Ratratarn knew she was telling the truth, but still wasn’t willing to believe she posed any real threat.
‘Let’s say something does happen to you,’ he said, ‘and the story goes to press. What makes you think the Chiang Mai police can’t handle it with an official denial?’
‘I’ve got witnesses admitting they were forced into signing statements.’
‘Their word against ours.’
‘I can place Khun Sanga with Kelly around the time he was killed.’
‘Circumstantial,’ Ratratarn said.
‘And, of course, I have Officer Komet’s sworn statement disclosing all the facts of the case as fraudulent.’
Ratratarn hesitated, but only for a moment. ‘Komet was corrupt. His statement is a fabrication.’
Jayne bit her lip. ‘Well, I’d hazard a guess my report would at least prompt the Canadian Embassy to re-open its investigation into the death of Khun Didier.’
‘I can take care of those cocksuckers!’
Ratratarn saw her swallow again and compose herself.
‘Then it would seem I was mistaken,’ she said with a forced nonchalance. ‘I-I thought I had sufficient grounds to make a deal. But I can see now, Sir, I’m no threat to you whatsoever.’
He snorted.
‘In which case,’ she said, ‘I assume that makes me free to go.’
Ratratarn frowned. By that logic, she had him cornered. But perhaps that was the solution: to appear so indifferent—so completely unthreatened by her—that he let her go. He restored his pistol to its holster.
‘It seems you’ve wasted your time, Jayne Keeney,’ he said, resuming his seat.
‘Yes.’ The colour slowly returned to her cheeks. She picked up her bag but stayed seated, bag perched on her lap.
‘There’s one other thing, Sir. You’d know yourself the Thai government recently introduced new anti-prostitution laws with harsh penalties for those dealing in children. I’m curious why you don’t move in and arrest Kelly. I mean, a high-profile raid at a time like this—it would do wonders for the image of the Chiang Mai police.’
‘Why should I give a shit about those sons of bitches in Bangkok?’ he snorted.
‘No reason, Sir,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s just, well, I’ve been trying to figure out why a sovereign government would allow foreign law enforcement agents to conduct an operation within its territory at the expense of its own police force.’
Ratratarn narrowed his eyes. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘I’ve been trying to imagine the reverse-case scenario,’ she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘To imagine the Australian government allowing Thai agents to override the jurisdiction of local police in a rural area of my own country. But I can’t see it happening. The local police wouldn’t stand for it. They’d argue—quite rightly—that they were perfectly capable of managing matters. I also suspect they’d go out of their way to expose such arrogance for what it is by mounting their own, far superior operation.’
Ratratarn stared at her, his mind ticking over with the implications of what she was saying. If the Australians had plans to move against Kelly without involving the Chiang Mai police—he and his men would look like idiots. The press would have a field day, and the powers that be in Bangkok would use it as yet another excuse to undermine the local authorities.
‘I can tell you everything you need to know,’ she added quietly.
‘And why would you do that?’
She met his gaze squarely, all pretence of politeness gone. ‘Let’s talk again about that deal, shall we?’
Mark readjusted the pens in his pocket until he was confident the hidden camera would stay in place, checking the effect in the mirror. It was amazing, the technology these days. The camera was the size of a cigarette packet, the lens designed to look like an ordinary shirt button. He could operate it by remote control without taking his hand out of his trouser pocket.
‘The name’s Bond,’ he said to his reflection. ‘James Bond.’
He smoothed down his hair and straightened his shoulders. Then he laughed, mussed up his hair, extinguished the light and returned to the main room. He unlocked his guncase, ready to clean and load his weapon, when the phone rang.
‘Did you get my message this morning?’ Simone said, her voice shaky.
‘Yeah. Are you OK?’
‘Ah, yeah, I felt a bit sick earlier…must have been something I ate. But I’m fine now.’
‘Are you sure? I mean, maybe you shouldn’t come tonight—’
Mark hesitated, conscious of sounding too eager. He felt more uneasy than ever about letting Simone be part of this.
‘I’ll be there,’ she said firmly.
‘I could lose my job over this.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘I’d never let that happen, my love.’
In spite of his misgivings, Mark flushed with pleasure. It was the first time she’d spoken to him with such tenderness.
‘OK, OK,’ he sighed. ‘We’ll stick with Plan A.’
She seemed satisfied, though something in her voice still didn’t sound right. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he said.
‘Absolutely!’ she said with sudden vehemence. ‘We’ll make our way there separately. What time are you planning to go inside the club?’
‘I need to get there before the cops. That means going in around eleven forty-five.’
‘So, will you meet me in the surveillance booth just before eleven-thirty?’
‘I wasn’t planning to—’
‘Please, Mark. You’ve made it clear that I have to get out of there as soon as the cops are in the club. But I’d really like to see you before…before it all happens.’
He thought about it for a moment. ‘Look, I’ll do my best to drop by the booth at half past eleven. Otherwise I’ll call you from Bangkok. The embassy’s organised a six o’clock charter flight for me to bring Kelly in. After that, we could…that is, I was hoping we could meet up again in Bangkok.’
‘Of course,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll just cross my fingers that I’ll be seeing you sooner rather than later.’
Despite the affection in her voice, Mark frowned as he hung up the phone. Simone soun
ded anxious, almost frightened. Even the first time they’d met, when he’d sprung her on surveillance, she hadn’t been afraid. Startled perhaps, but not frightened.
Mark resumed cleaning his gun, and prayed he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his career. He resolved to meet her in the booth before he went inside the club—to reassure himself as much as her that everything was going to be all right.
Jayne placed her camera on the shelf in the abandoned police booth, checked the view and adjusted the focus. She had to stay busy, keep her emotions at bay. She reached for her bottle and drank a mouthful of water. She’d come this far—she wasn’t going to panic now.
She poured some of the bottled water into her hand and doused her face. She recalled her meeting with Ratratarn and imagined she could still feel the spot where he’d pressed his gun. She splashed more water on her face and before she could stop, the bottle was empty and the front of her blouse soaked through. She stared at the empty plastic container in her hand, before flinging it into a corner of the booth.
‘Get a grip, Keeney!’ she said aloud.
She pulled at the front of her blouse. The dampness could probably pass as sweat. Then again, it was only just after eleven. With any luck her shirt would be dry by the time Mark arrived.
At the thought of Mark, Jayne groaned. She was used to being on the other side of the equation, the wronged party, not the one that did wrong. While she’d only exposed his operation as a last resort to bring Ratratarn around, she had betrayed Mark’s trust. And he’d never forgive her if he found out.
Jayne told herself that cutting a deal with Ratratarn was the only way any justice would be done. And if that meant sacrificing their relationship, then it was a small price to pay. But she knew she was kidding herself. She’d never even trusted Mark enough to tell him her real name.
She wiped her face with her damp blouse and checked her watch again. The following half-hour was critical. She had to get Mark into the booth and keep him there until Ratratarn and his men made their move—a margin of fifteen minutes at most. In her negotiations with Ratratarn, it was the least controversial point.
Behind the Night Bazaar Page 20
