The Honourable Assassin

by Roland Perry

  He was fifty metres from the end when he saw a flash from the jungle on the Thailand side at about forty-five degrees. Border guards were firing at him from both sides. He fired the rifle and handgun at where the flash had come from but didn’t stop moving until he was off the bridge and into the scrub near where Rose had left her motorbike.

  Cavalier lay flat on his stomach, his heart pounding. He could only hear commotion from the Burma side. The shooting had stopped. He pushed the handgun and the pills he had in his pocket into the pack. Clutching the rifle, he jumped to his feet. He could see frantic efforts to salvage the truck, which was now almost submerged. The roving searchlight exposed about thirty people on the bank. A couple of them seemed more concerned with carrying off the abandoned pumpkins and dashed for the jungle.

  It was just after midnight. Cavalier decided to walk the five kilometres back to his hotel. He kept in the shadows as much as possible as he strode the path. A military jeep carrying three soldiers rolled his way from the opposite direction. He tossed the rifle and backpack into the scrub, and strolled on until he reached the jeep. It stopped.

  A soldier, wearing all his combat accoutrements, including helmet and flak jacket, jumped out, holding an automatic weapon. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Returning to my hotel,’ Cavalier replied in Thai. ‘The River Sunset.’

  ‘Are you a resident?’

  ‘Tourist.’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Walking, for exercise.’

  ‘Show me your passport.’

  ‘It’s in my hotel-room safe.’

  ‘You must carry it at all times.’

  ‘I didn’t realise that. If you want to come back to the hotel—it’s just up the road—I’ll get it for you.’

  The soldier turned to the others in the vehicle, then back. ‘Make sure you go straight to the hotel,’ he said and climbed into the jeep as Cavalier thanked him and walked on. When the vehicle was out of sight, he doubled back to the scrub and found his backpack. He decided to hide the guns in the scrub.

  Back at the hotel, he checked his iPad. The military junta had ramped up its control of the country. Ten p.m. to 5 a.m. curfews were in place around the nation, which, he thought, explained why the soldiers had stopped him. The few websites commenting without restriction were claiming that a secret ‘shoot-to-kill’ directive for any problem protesters had gone out to the military and police. The constitution had been removed and the courts were closed. In effect, if anyone were shot in Thailand, the military would decide the outcome of any possible investigation which, bloggers were speculating, meant soldiers and police would most likely be exempt from prosecution. All border crossings had been suspended and Cambodians trying to leave Thailand had been shot. Bangkok was the most affected, although Chiang Mai was restricted too. Almost all TV channels, both local and international, were off the air, even the sports channels.

  Cavalier kept checking websites, including Thaivisa, and found both CNN and the BBC were still up, but there were restrictions on them. Facebook was up again after being down for half a day, which was said to have been a glitch rather than a junta directive. Still, the junta generals confirmed that they were considering shutting down internet access ‘if the national situation deteriorated’. While this was a drastic measure, Cavalier knew they were tougher, and more decisive and experienced, than earlier coup leaders.

  He searched for reports on the king of Thailand. He was known to have been in hospital but had not been seen, even in a photograph, for months. His wellbeing and attitude to the coup were vital to the nation’s stability. So far, the generals were saying they would seek his support but not when. Wild rumours, the result of bloggers scratching around, trying to find a reason for the coup, were flying that he was dead, which Cavalier didn’t believe. It would have been impossible to cover up.

  In the eventual event of the king’s death, his son, the prince, would take over. But if the constitution were still in abeyance, or a new one was being written, the junta would decide on the king’s successor. They had few options if they favoured continuing having a monarch as head of state: the prince; or the king’s daughter, the princess. There was another rumour that the prince had left Thailand.

  Cavalier thought about how Thailand still had, at heart, a feudal system, despite being a democracy. The royals were more than ceremonial titular heads. The masses regarded them as the Buddha’s spiritual representatives on earth, and therefore to be revered and looked to for national guidance in almost all circumstances. For that reason, the nation was in a state of flux and the generals felt it was their duty to stabilise it. The BBC showed a three-minute official junta news item of the generals on their knees, waiing a three-metre-high colour photo of the king. This was intended as a prelude to announcing that the king backed the junta.

  There were no official restrictions at the airports, but he knew the generals were apt to say one thing and mean another, in order to make their swift moves effective. He could not yet judge how the coup and its draconian restrictions would impact on him. On one hand, it would impede him. On the other, Cavalier thought hopefully, it could create a cover of turmoil.

  CHIANG MAI HIGH

  Cavalier woke with a start when his phone alarm went off at 9 a.m. Memories flooded his consciousness, causing him to check his camera and phone. All the footage and conversations were intact.

  He phoned Rose, who was relieved he had made it back safely. ‘There is talk about a Thai-speaking farang beating up smugglers and driving their truck full of drugs into the river,’ she said.

  ‘Now, that’s an interesting story.’

  ‘This farang emptied the truck of pumpkins before he ditched it. There was a lot of activity at dawn, when they were found and taken away by local villagers. Pumpkins are not cheap!’

  ‘Then that’s a good thing.’ He hesitated and added, ‘Rose, it’d be better if you didn’t mention my little visit to your country.’

  ‘I understand.’

  He dressed in a hat, T-shirt, jeans and runners, wandered to the local village at 10 a.m., as planned, and found a cafe serving local fare. The sun was behind thick cloud that hovered low over the mountains. This curtailed the heat but increased the humidity and he was sweating, with just one weak electric fan blowing from the cafe’s rear. The eatery was near tourist shops that were just opening up, and the three small cement–plaster pagodas in the centre of a grass square from which the village took its name. Cavalier, scribbling notes on the night’s activity, could see Natt striding down the road towards him. He flicked over a few pages in his notepad and started writing about the location. Her perfunctory kiss on the cheek forewarned him that something was disturbing her.

  ‘I’m reporting on the area,’ he said and, pointing to a stall, asked, ‘What are they doing with those steer heads?’

  ‘They’re not making food,’ she said with distaste at the strong smell. ‘They put the liquid in bottles and sell it as a muscle liniment, for a hundred and twenty baht.’

  As Natt sat down, Rose rode past on her bike. Cavalier called to her and she stopped to greet them, going through a charade of asking him about his back. He claimed honestly that it was terrific, and she rode off with a smile and a wave. Natt’s phone rang and she left the table to talk in private. Cavalier watched her pace up and down agitatedly. After she returned to the table, a waiter approached.

  Cavalier examined the menu as if oblivious of the conversation she’d been having. He took off his sunglasses.

  ‘What do you fancy?’

  ‘What?’ Natt said. ‘Nothing!’

  ‘We’ll have two coffees,’ he said, ignoring her mood, ‘and some rice noodles, and the mushrooms and pork.’

  After the waiter had gone, Cavalier asked, ‘Your boss is riding you?’

  Natt glared at him.

  ‘She is one helluva tough bird,’ Cavalier said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘C’mon, Natt! Jacinta.’

/>   ‘She’s not my boss.’

  ‘But you’re reporting back to her on me . . .’

  Natt looked away. Cavalier could see her struggling with how to wriggle out of her half-admission of involvement with a senior operative of the Thai police special investigative unit.

  ‘I like her,’ Cavalier said.

  ‘Oh, do you?!’ Natt snapped. ‘Have you fucked her, too?’

  He ignored the remark. The food arrived. He asked for a second plate and placed it in front of her. She shoved it away.

  ‘She’s a bitch!’ Natt announced and then began to light a cigarette.

  ‘No smoking while I’m eating, please,’ Cavalier said.

  ‘Fuck you, farang!’ she said, putting away her cigarettes and lighter.

  ‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ he said.

  ‘That bitch has driven me to it!’

  ‘She’s unpredictable,’ he mused.

  ‘She still has balls!’ Natt growled. ‘And you can’t read her because you’re a farang! Just because you married a Thai, doesn’t mean you know us.’

  She had some coffee and seemed to be trying to settle down.

  ‘Why don’t you walk down there a bit and have a fag,’ Cavalier said. ‘It’ll do you good.’

  Natt hesitated, then stalked away to smoke. When she returned a few minutes later, her mood had changed. ‘I am sorry,’ she said, ‘but you are part of the problem.’

  ‘Tell me why.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I know you’re reporting on me,’ he said. ‘Perhaps I can help.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  He called for a second coffee. When it arrived, he asked, ‘What did you mean when you said she still has balls?’

  ‘You mean to tell me you don’t know?!’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Jacinta is a ladyboy.’

  Cavalier, stunned, did a double-take.

  ‘You really didn’t know this?’ she asked. ‘Jacinta was a man—a very powerful one too.’

  Cavalier pushed his food away. ‘Tell me about her,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve said enough,’ Natt replied, pulling the plate of food to her and picking at it.

  ‘I know she has some boxing match coming up in Bangkok,’ he prompted.

  ‘You must know she was a superstar Muay Thai boxer?’

  He looked blank.

  ‘She was the biggest drawcard in the sport in Thailand—as a man, Moon Tuong.’

  ‘I recall the name. That was more than a decade ago. Christ! That was her!’

  ‘She was a pre-op ladyboy then. She wore exotic clothes in the ring and sexy make-up. She had a ritual at the end of fights of kissing the opponents she’d beaten up.’

  ‘I vaguely remember reading about that,’ Cavalier said with a frown. ‘When did she have the sex change?’

  ‘Maybe eight years ago. She’s had an annual fight for about five years now. It’s a marketing bonanza for the Bangkok promoters. Each year they sell it very well and choose opponents she has a chance of defeating. She has won each fight. They have been sell-outs and had big ratings on TV.’

  ‘But her next opponent is a world champion. He’s a huge Russian.’

  ‘That will be interesting,’ Natt said. ‘I see the junta has this morning reopened a TV sports channel for the event.’

  After a pause, Cavalier removed his sunglasses. ‘We’ll have to part ways here,’ he said.

  Natt looked shocked. ‘Why?’

  ‘I really can’t do my job as a journalist with you spying.’

  ‘I’m not spying on you! I’m here to assist you on this trip!’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘but you are reporting on me to the police. Under the circumstances of the coup, that’s restricting.’

  ‘So, what will you do? You don’t have a car. I can drive you back to Bangkok . . .’

  ‘The coup’s changed things. I’m due to play cricket in Chiang Mai. I’ll have to fly there.’

  ‘There are no airports here. You’d have to go back to Kanchanaburi.’

  Cavalier motioned for the bill and pulled out his wallet. ‘Can you give me an invoice?’ he asked.

  ‘You agreed to five days at least. This is only day three.’

  ‘I’ll pay for the whole time,’ he said, putting on his glasses again. ‘And your fee for the other night.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘C’mon, Natt. We’ve established what you are. We just need to decide on the price, don’t we?’

  Natt’s expression shifted between annoyance and opportunism. ‘I’ll need compensation for losing my job.’

  ‘I’ll make sure the travel company is told you did very good work.’

  ‘You must not tell them about Jacinta. They don’t know . . .’

  ‘That you’re moonlighting as a police informer? Of course not.’

  They returned to the hotel and, alone in his room, Cavalier discovered more about Moon Tuong, alias Jacinta. He found articles on the internet that were more than a decade old, and reproached himself for not recalling her. He and his wife had even been to a Muay Thai contest in Jacinta’s adopted home city, Chiang Mai.

  In one interview he found on YouTube, she spoke of when she had first thought of herself as female. ‘I would have been four or five,’ she said. ‘I loved flowers, particularly orchids, which my parents farmed, along with rice. I loved putting them in my hair, and I was starstruck by women with long hair. I wanted to be like them. I dreamed of this. I adored putting on women’s clothes. My mother caught me doing it, but she was so lovely about it. She just smiled and encouraged me, out of sight of my brothers and father. Remember, ladyboys are treated with contempt in rural society. As I got older, I would often be called tua pralat, freak. I cried to my mother about it, but toughened up eventually.

  ‘In soccer and swimming I worked harder to win than anyone,’ she recalled. ‘Once, when I was twelve, the school bully picked on me. Finally, I snapped and challenged him to a Muay Thai fight in the gymnasium. I didn’t really know any moves but everyone knew the fight form from TV and live fights.

  ‘There must have been fifty boys watching. I had never been in a fight before. But I quickly discovered I had the heart for it, and that I was not afraid of being hit or hurt. I became aware that I had very long arms. I had exceptional reach and could strike hard with my elbows, the most lethal part of the body. Within a few minutes, I moved in for the kill and had him screaming for me to stop. It was the most exhilarating experience in my life up to that moment. Here I was, secretly wanting to be a gentle, beautiful woman, even dreaming about it. Yet I realised I had a gift for controlled physical violence!’

  ‘Were you ever picked on again?’ the Thai female interviewer asked.

  ‘No, never!’ Jacinta laughed. ‘Word spreads fast in schools and everyone was most respectful after that.’

  ‘You entered a monastery . . .?’

  ‘Yes, at fourteen. I spent just two years in the monkhood. I felt protected by the Buddha.’

  ‘Then you began boxing professionally . . .’

  ‘Well, I joined a Muay Thai camp, along with nine other hand-picked boys from the Chiang Mai province. Here I was keener than ever on becoming a woman and yet I was in a camp with nine high-testosterone lads!’

  ‘Then why did you do it?’

  ‘I thought I would try to earn money from it to support my family. My father had been injured at work. My mother was ill. The other boys thrived on the fighting.’

  ‘Did you dominate the camp fights?’

  ‘Not at first, but there was a superb instructor who gave me all the moves and kept telling me I had the Buddha’s gift. And, you know, when someone says that to a young Thai, it leaves an impression. After six weeks at the camp, none of the other boys would get in the ring with me. That was when I realised I could make a living from Muay Thai. I never worried about being hit, mainly because I could finish a fight quickly.’

  ‘Did you have a role model?’
r />   ‘Yes,’ Jacinta laughed. ‘Madonna. She was lean but with strength and muscles. Again, I wanted to put on dresses and lipstick, but desired to become a real fighter, for the money.’

  ‘And the fame and prestige?’

  ‘They were a distant second. Remember, I’m from a poor background. I admit I did not dislike the attention. But I always kept my head.’

  Cavalier wanted to learn more but knew it would have to wait until later—he had to see Natt off. He had tipped her well, but was aware the money had not really appeased her. He checked his book of maps, and found seventeen farms and properties in the region that had airstrips and private planes. He spent nearly two hours phoning them but couldn’t find anyone willing to fly him anywhere out of the area. He was just about to give up and hire a car when he found a doctor who would be flying to Chiang Mai that afternoon. The doctor was willing to take him for three thousand baht, especially when Cavalier informed him he had a pilot’s licence.

  ‘My name is Na, pronounced “Nar”,’ the doctor informed him.

  ‘Okay, Doctor.’

  ‘You have no jokes about my name?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I trained and practised in Australia. People made jokes about the James Bond movie Dr No because some Australians say “nar” for “no.”’

  ‘Do you have a steel hook for a hand?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I trust you are nothing like Dr No.’

  Dr Na, who spoke good English, picked up Cavalier from Three Pagodas Pass. During the return drive to his private airstrip, the doctor explained that there was no Thai flying doctor service, as there was in Australia. Instead, several medicos in the provinces had formed a private network that serviced much of the country’s west and north, especially in medical emergencies.

  They took off as bad weather was coming in over the mountains. A rush of air wobbled the single-engine Cessna as it gained altitude. Within half an hour, very poor flying conditions confronted them. The clouds were black. Lightning flashed close by.