by Simon Royle
“Who?” I mouthed at Chai.
“Sankit.”
I held the phone to my ear.
“Do you always sleep this late? I’m always up before dawn. Anyway, I called to invite you for a game of golf. Thought we could have a talk, man to man. Two o’clock at The Royal. You know it? Just past the airport on the Motorway to Chonburi.”
“Yes, I know it.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you there.” He hung up. Golf with father-in-law. Great.
Mother had been at the showroom when we went to pick up a new car. General Montri’s Porsche Cayenne parked in the service bay. Some thoughtful person had washed it. It didn’t do much to improve the look.
Chai, one hand guiding the wrist of the other, in the polite Thai manner, when giving something to an elder, handed the keys of the Porsche to Mother. Mother, hand on hip, dangled the keys in her other hand, looking at them. Dragging Chai’s eyes with her, she looked at the Porsche, jangled the keys in her hand. She raised her eyebrows, and smiled. Chai was wise enough not to smile back.
She nodded at the black Maserati Quattroporte Sport GT parked at the rear bay to the showroom. “Take the Maserati. It cost four times as much as the Porsche. The keys are in the office.”
The Royal Golf Course’s parking lot was crowded. There's nothing like a game of golf after a little war. Chai parked the Maserati and popped the trunk. Hadn’t used the ‘Bag Drop’. Chai had stuck an Uzi and an USAS-12 shotgun in the bag. Chai believes in overkill.
I paid the green fee. Stingy old toad hadn’t even picked that up. Then I organized a cart and ordered a beer. No sign of Sankit. He was late. I took a seat at the little café next to the putting green. Been a while since I’d played golf. I’m an okay golfer. Like anything, the more you practice, and play, the better you get. I hadn’t had much time for either lately. I knew from Pim that Sankit was an avid golfer and played off 12. My handicap was around 18. On a good day I’d get around in under 90. On a bad day, under a hundred.
Sankit showed up in a flurry of wais, caddies, and a disapproving glance at the beer. I waied him with just enough humility to show him that I’d play the game of dutiful son-law-law, but only so far. We communicate a lot without saying anything in Thailand. He didn’t waste any time and jumped into the golf cart waiting for him. At the first tee, magically cleared before our arrival, he suggested a thousand a hole as a bet.
“I play off twelve. What’s your handicap?” At least he was an honest corrupt cop.
“Eighteen, last time I checked. Probably be twenty or worse now. I haven’t played in a while.”
“We’ll call it twenty. Give you a chance. Hmm.”
He didn’t ask or toss a tee for choosing who teed off first. He just went. It was hot: thirty-five Celsius in the shade, at least. Humid too, and very little breeze. Every third hole there is a drink’s stop. He waited until the fifteenth hole before he got to why we were here.
I ordered another beer, as I had done at every drink stop, knowing it pissed him off. This time he ordered one too and sat down. Leaning back in the wrought iron chair, he wiped the sweat off his face with a cool towel supplied by the waitress. He folded it carefully, and put it on the table next to his golf glove. His toady eyes accentuated by thick bushy eyebrows, focused on me.
“I heard you had a chat with my old friend from the south, Khun Chatree.” I drank my beer. No point denying or answering to it. I waited. Wanted to see what he would come up with.
Expecting an answer and not getting one, he let out a little snort and looked off down the fairway. He turned to me, leaned forward, his hands folded on the table in front of him.
“Look. I don’t like you. I never have. Doubt I ever will. Back in the day I dealt with thousands of young rich thugs like you. Killed a few, put a lot in prison. I hoped for better for Pim, but she’s chosen you. After what your mother put on the table, my wife has now also chosen you.” He blew out his cheeks and sighed. “I’m aware that Chatree told you that I knew about your meeting with Por that day. I did know. As much as I dislike you, I don’t go around killing people that I don’t like. I knew about the meeting, but I didn’t tell anyone about it and I didn’t try to have you killed.” This was the longest he’d ever spoken to me.
“Colonel Sankit, as you have probably worked out, I feel the same way about you that you feel about me. Just so you know where we stand, I’ve bribed thousands of cops like you, got hundreds on the pay roll. I honestly don’t care what you or your wife thinks. I only care what Pim thinks. Whatever I feel, I can keep to myself. Pim loves you as her father and that I understand. For her sake and for the sake of our family, I can put aside our past differences. Whatever has happened in the past, I can leave it there, as long as it stays there. A bomb ended up in that room somehow. I think I know how it got there. Now I want to know why it was there.”
“I can’t help you with that. I’ve asked around people I know, but no one knows who might have attacked you. Of course the list of people who might want to is long, but the list of who would dare to, much shorter and unknown.”
A fly buzzed around my ear. I wondered if his tongue would lash out.
“Colonel, let’s keep the need for family get-togethers to a minimum - you and I should get on fine.” I raised my beer to him. He picked up his and we clinked glasses. A truce sealed, based on as much trust as you’d give a Filipino money changer.
I had a shower, paid the Colonel the eight thousand he’d taken off me - there’s a reason I don’t gamble - and headed out past the ground floor massage room. Chai, waiting with the bag at the outside café, rose when he saw me. As I walked up, he glanced my way. I stopped. He slung the bag over his shoulder and walked to me.
“Four guys waiting on the steps by the entrance.”
He put the bag on the ground. We took a quick look around. No one was paying attention to what we were doing. I took out a Glock, quickly checked the mag, put one in the spout and shoved it down the back of my trousers. Slinging the Uzi butt first under his left armpit, Chai took a windcheater out of the bag and covered up. He moved the short irons to one side, easier access to the shotgun, and then picked up the bag.
We walked a couple of meters apart, Chai slightly behind me. By the steps, four guys who looked Japanese. The Royal is mainly a Japanese golf course, a lot of members from the Japanese factories nearby. These guys didn’t look like they worked in factories, nor like members of a golf club. The three standing in the car park below the steps looked like ex sumo wrestlers dressed in badly fitting black suits. It was like a scene from the blues brothers. The fourth guy, waiting on the steps, had a better tailor, a smaller body too.
I approached, hand behind my back. Chai one hand on the bag, another under his jacket.
The guy on the top of the steps smiled, held his hands out wide.
“Mr. Chance san.”
“Who are you?”
“Susumu Uchibori. Friends call me Steve. I work with the Yamaguchi-gumi. I’ve come to replace Ken. Can we have a talk?” He held out his hand to shake. I ignored it.
“Sure, go ahead. Say what you got to say.”
He laughed, clapped his hands together. “Come on Mr. Chance don’t be like that. Let’s go and have a drink and a talk.” Smooth smile, oozing charm. What was it with these Yakuza guys? Did they have some kind of mold they stamped them out of in Tokyo?
“We’ll follow you. You go ahead. Wait for us by the entrance.”
He nodded and then waved at a van in the car park. It pulled up. The three sumos climbed in. Mr. Smooth followed. Then the van pulled out of the car park.
The driveway into The Royal is a long way from the entrance on the main road. It gave me time to call Mother, set up a restaurant, and check our weapons. The van was parked, hazard lights on, on the main road. Chai pulled up alongside, and I wound the window down. Mr. Smooth opened their door.
“Follow me. I know a good place.” I didn’t give him time to argue. Chai took off. The government had
extended the curfew until Monday night, so we only had a few hours. We headed for a place in Thonglor. I figured Steve should be introduced to the other Japanese playground in Bangkok. I was sure he’d already been to Thaniya.
It would take us maybe forty-five minutes to get there, depending on the Sunday evening traffic. There were a lot of people on the motorway, heading back to Bangkok now that open street warfare had ended. The war was still going on. Just now it was a quiet war. The run and hide, snatch and grab war. A power shift had occurred. Normally kept away from the public, this time the disagreements had spilled out onto the streets. A Thai saying, “When elephants fight, it is the ants in the grass that are trampled…” That battle had been fought, won, and lost, but the quiet war was far from over.
Beckham and about twenty of our boys were in the restaurant just off Soi 13 on Thonglor. The owner was a friend of mine. We sat in a private room looking out at a Japanese styled garden. Steve and I sat alone. Chai, Beckham and Tum were having staring matches with the Sumos.
The waitress poured us each a cold beer and left. I’d already ordered our food.
“Salute,” Steve said and raised his glass.
“Cheers.”
“This is a nice place. Quiet.” I let the silence draw out, took another sip of my beer.
“Allow me to express my condolences on the passing of Khun Por.”
“Thank you.”
“The Yamaguchi-gumi board also expressly ordered that their grief at the loss be known. Your father was our respected partner and friend.”
“Thank you. Please do express our heartfelt thanks to the board for their kind thoughts.”
The waitresses arrived bearing food: three different kinds of suchi, sashimi, and various other appetizers. Cold sake was poured into square wooden cups, with small dishes of rock salt for the sake, placed next to them. The chefs are from Tokyo, the fish flown in daily from Tokyo, everything in the restaurant is from Tokyo, excluding the waitresses.
We ate for a while. Talked about Bangkok. He’d been here a few times. His face got red with the sake, but he was sober. Reasonable. Finally he got to the point.
“Chance, the board wanted me to tell you that they also sincerely regret any misunderstandings that may have arisen as a result of Ken’s actions. They understand and appreciate the candid nature of your response. They wanted to assure whoever acted against Ken, that there will be no reprisal for Ken. He acted without honor and betrayed us all.” Steve looked me in the eyes, holding the look.
“I’ll pass it on. I’m sure they’ll be relieved.”
“The board would also like to know when you plan to return the hundred million.”
“Well, that’s a problem, Steve, as the tapes showed the money that Ken stole went up with the warehouse during the protest.”
“The board feels that perhaps the tapes, the fire, and the ease with which the money was stolen are a convenient explanation for one hundred million in cash.”
“The board sits in Tokyo. The tapes came from DSI investigating the warehouses for Ya Baa smuggling. Your guys were filmed because you arrived with a truck in the middle of the night. In case you haven’t noticed, a good portion of the country has burned down in the last few days. The only way anyone knew we had the money in Phuket was if they traced it from Bangkok. We weren’t expecting betrayal from our old respected friend. The whole matter has been extremely inconvenient from start to finish. However, it is what it is.”
“The board is going to be disappointed. They had hoped that this was a simple misunderstanding.”
“Steve, this was Ken’s karma. He pushed his luck and his luck pushed back. What happened is unfortunate but it has happened.” I held his stare. I’m a reasonable poker player. It didn’t look like he was convinced but I wasn’t giving him a lot of room to play with.
“I will report back to the board what you have said. I can’t imagine they’ll be pleased. They were quite adamant in their belief that Ken was set up.”
“It’s possible that Ken was set up. I don’t know what Ken was up to, and I don’t know who was up Ken. What I do know is that he stole your money.”
Steve didn’t say anything, pushing his cigarette pack around with his lighter. I really didn’t want a war with the Yamiguchi-gumi, and stealing the money had only come to me after I decided to borrow the money from Ken. It was a two-birds one-stone thing. Ken had ripped off a couple of families from Chiang Mai and Chonburi. The amounts weren’t small and the families had been hit hard. I was pretty sure this was his doing and not the Yakuza. Bangkok corrupts everyone. He tapped the cigarette pack twice with his lighter. Turning the charm back on. Peace for now.
“Okay, Chance. I’ll talk to the board and tell them how it is. I understand the situation. Can I invite you for dinner, next week? Say Thursday? I should be back by then.”
“Sure, let’s talk about it in the week.”
I watched as Steve and the sumos filed into the van. For big men they were surprisingly light on their feet. Something to remember.
Conflict of Interest
23 May 2010 Pak Nam 9:55 pm
Aunts, daughters, assorted husbands and hangers-on, were in full attendance at the house when we got back. I slipped around the back and went straight to the guest house. Pichit was sitting in a chair on the deck. He stood up as I approached.
“Por is back. He’s sleeping still. Mother is with him and Doctor Thomas. There’re also a couple of nurses. One of them is cute.”
“Keep your hands off the nurses. We need them focused on Por not dreaming about you.” Pichit grinned at me, happy that Por was back from the dead.
“Yes, boss.”
I went into the house. Por was lying on a bed in the living room, Mother and Dr Tom talking on the sofa, and I heard the sound of giggles coming from upstairs. Somboon watching football on the TV with the sound turned off.
“There you are.” Mother said smiling and patting the sofa next to her. I went over and looked at Por. He looked pale and frail. Someone had brushed his hair the way he liked it. He was so still, I glanced at the heart monitor. I didn’t really understand how the scale worked but a light was rhythmically bouncing in an arc. Come on, Por, wake up, please. I need to talk to you. I studied his face for any sign he might have heard my silent appeal. The black accordion in the glass case thumped down, causing me to start.
Dr. Tom was talking to Mother, keeping his voice low.
“Pregnant by her cousin. They’re looking for a suitable husband now. Would you have any suggestions?”
“What are the chances the baby, will be…”
“Challenged?”
“Yes, challenged.”
“Minimal, less chance than of the baby having Down’s syndrome. In Thailand, less than one in three thousand at her age.”
“And the father…”
“Shipped off to the States - Minnesota. The father’s sister has an auto dealership there.”
“I’ll need to see the girl. Make sure there’s no Romeo and Juliet thing going to happen. But yes, I have some ideas. One young man in particular, good hardworking boy, could use a lift in social stature. I’ll call her mother tomorrow. Chance, how was the golf?”
“Interesting. Colonel Sankit wanted a chat about my prospects.”
Dr. Tom leaned over and peeled back the plaster over the stitches on my eye.
“I think we can get these out. Hang on I’ll just get my bag.” He stood up and walked over to the counter.
“What did Sankit, really want?” Mother asked, lowering her voice.
“He wanted to let me know that he didn’t have anything to do with the attempt on Por's and my life. I found out that he knew about our meeting. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to meet him first and see what he had to say. I haven’t said anything to Pim yet either.”
“No, I can understand that. Delicate subject. And did he?”
“Not sure. He says he didn’t, but he seemed eager to 'put the past behind us'.
After the golf, Ken’s replacement showed up at the course. It is a Japanese course so I don’t think they were tailing us. Would have been hard to stay with Chai anyway.”
“Is my Maserati still in one piece?” Mother had a smile on her lips.
“Sorry about Montri’s Porsche. Didn’t think we’d be getting into anything that night.”
“Oh it’s okay. Couple of extra days in the body shop and a few engine parts. I’m just glad that neither of you were in it. What did Ken’s replacement, what did you say…”
“Steve.”
“What did Steve say? Did they ask about the money?”
“Yes. I’m not sure he believed me. Fifty-fifty. Said he’d report what I’d said back to the board in Tokyo.”
