“Shag?”
“Or maybe it was Shark.”
“Well, we can quickly see if either of those bars are here.”
We got up and walked the soi again.
“There,” Kang pointed at a neon sign with a large blue shark. The word “Shark” burned brightly above it.
To be sure there wasn’t a bar called Shag, we finished our loop of the soi. A few minutes later, we were sitting inside the Shark bar.
The venue itself had the typical lighting and the thumping bass of a nightclub. There were two levels of seating around a small stage where fifteen women were shaking away. I saw a couple of empty seats on the second level in the corner. Perfect for us. We had an unobstructed view of the bar entrance and most of the seating area.
I took my time letting my eyes wander the room, but I didn’t see anyone who fit the description of our guy. I looked at my watch; the night was young, only 9:30 p.m.
Kang motioned with his chin to the other side of the room. “I see dancers making their way up and down the stairs. There might be a second level, maybe even a third. I’ll go check it out, make sure our guy isn’t already up there.”
After Kang left, I fell into a trance watching the women on stage. They wore white, see-through bikini tops and matching skirts that were no longer than four inches, allowing the bottom of their G-stringed cheeks to show. Half of the dancers seemed to be into the music and were making a gallant effort at moving their bodies in a sexy-dance way, while the other half appeared bored and couldn’t wait for their time on stage to be up so they could sit next to a man or with their friends.
I wondered; if I were their age, would I have the balls to get up on stage half-naked to dance for men? I imagine that, for some, it felt empowering, but if I had to guess, the rest of them viewed it as nothing more than a job.
I continued to watch the women while sipping Jameson out of my cocktail glass. It wasn’t until he said, “Hello,” that I realized a man with blond hair and a charming smile stood next to me.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked.
Chapter 42
I was a little taken back by the stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere. There were other seats available. Why sit next to me? Better yet, why not sit closer to the stage? I scooted over a bit and, in the process realized why he sat next to me. Dress. Makeup. Got it.
He continued to smile when I crossed my legs, so I returned the pleasantry. He then leaned over and asked my name. Shit! My mind raced, searching for a believable one, a believable Thai nickname. The only one I could think of came from the nametag of the woman who had sold me coffee earlier in the day. “My name is Toon.”
“Toon?” He raised his eyebrows.
I only smiled and repeated the name.
“I haven’t heard that one before.”
I said nothing and continued to smile.
“You speak English?” His line of questioning continued.
“Yes. What’s your name?”
The man relaxed his posture and crossed a leg over his lap. “My name is John.”
John? I guess we both want to keep our identities a secret. I turned my body toward him a bit. I wanted a better look at my suitor. He wore black pants and a crisp, white button-down tucked in at the waist. He also had a large silver watch on his left wrist. He stood out from the other customers, mainly because he wasn’t interested in the women on stage. He hadn’t once glanced at them since taking a seat.
“You don’t like what you see?” I asked, motioning with my head.
“I do, but what I see here is much more interesting,” he said, quickly looking me over.
He was charming. I gave him that. Not once did he shift his eyes off me for a glance around the room. He could easily make a woman feel as if she were the only one that existed. But I knew better.
Not wanting to mislead the mama-san into thinking I wasn’t with Kang, I kept my actions sterile. Kang and I had thought about approaching her and explaining who we were and what we wanted to do, but it seemed like that would bring on more trouble than it was worth. It might have been a different story if Artie had arranged it, but he was busy chasing down the other lead.
My uninterested act didn’t work too well. Within seconds, he had placed his hand on my thigh and given it a gentle squeeze. He better not slide that hand higher.
He had moved closer, and I could smell his cologne. It had a light, woodsy scent. Not overpowering, just enough to be pleasant. I glanced at his hands; his nails were neatly manicured and his palms were smooth—an office worker? His shirt was soft, a quality blend of cotton. He wore silver cufflinks in the shape of a “C.” Is that a designer or a personal design?
“Do you work here?” he asked.
“I don’t dance.”
“I can see that.” He looked at my glass. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Where the hell is Kyle? “Yes. I’m drinking Jameson, neat.”
He signaled for the service attendant and ordered our drinks. I took that opportunity to give the room another once-over. I still didn’t see a man that fit our description. I looked at my watch again. A half hour had passed. Surely it didn’t take that long for Kang to survey the second level, unless there were more. Not wanting to blow my cover, I continued my conversation with the man who called himself John. The irony.
Throughout our small talk, I faked the sips of my cocktail to keep my head level. He didn’t seem to notice that my drink wasn’t disappearing. I continued to smile as he talked about his job and why he was in Bangkok. I suddenly felt like I was beginning to understand what these women had to endure on a nightly basis. I’m sure every man and every conversation blurred. While I wasn’t terribly bored, I found myself only half listening to him. I was more concerned about keeping an eye on the men entering the establishment.
After another fifteen minutes had passed, my patience started to wane. At that point, I had to give these women credit. I don’t know how they feigned interest all night, every night. I almost rolled my eyes when he started to tell me that he was the head regional sales rep for blah, blah, blah and how he got an award for blah, blah, blah. Getting paid to have sex might seem easy, but what I learned that night was that there was a whole lot of mind-numbing work leading up to that payday. This conversation reminds me of a few dates I’ve had.
As much as I wanted to find out what Kang was up to, I knew I needed to keep an eye on the entrance. Plus, I had John providing the perfect cover. But as my luck would have it, the dynamics changed when he slid his hand farther up my thigh and asked, “Want to come back to my hotel room?”
Chapter 43
The Creeper stood and moved across the room, away from the woman whose thigh he’d had the pleasure of groping recently. He took a seat on the upper level and barked his drink order to the server who was upon him in seconds. His charming smile had been replaced by a scowl worthy of Scrooge.
The Creeper had never had his advances rejected, at least not from a woman at a bar. But he supposed she had good reason; she already had a customer, who had returned just as the Creeper’s hand had met her lacy underwear. Not wanting to create a scene, he had taken the high road and bowed out of the situation as quickly as he had entered it.
There he sat, alone, with his grip on the beer bottle tighter than usual. An assembly line of expletives rolled off his tongue but fell upon deaf ears thanks to the large speaker mounted to the wall above his head. He continued to stare at the woman and her date. They were so stupid to think he would give up easily.
She’s my date. She’s my date, the Creeper mouthed. He didn’t care that she was someone else’s date; nobody decided who he could and couldn’t have. How dare they disrespect me? He had killed many for less. He wanted to kill them. But he knew recklessness was his enemy. It took all the strength he had to not to rush across the room and slam his beer bottle over their heads.
The Creeper reached into his pants pocket and removed his cell phone. He opened the browser and navigated to the Chasing China
town game. His curiosity of the next task had gotten the better of him the other day, even though a week ago he had sworn off playing the game.
Funny how things work out, he thought as he watched the animated scroll unravel and reveal two pictures: one of Agent Abby Kane and one of Detective Kyle Kang. While intrigued at the time, he hadn’t yet decided whether or not to pursue this task—until that night. He assumed all of the luck in the world had to have been working in his favor for him to meet the petite agent purely by chance. It had rendered a decision for him.
The Creeper looked up from his phone and focused on the transparent couple huddled across the room. His smile had returned.
Chapter 44
“Sheesh, I walk away for a minute and you’re already out on the prowl looking for some other guy,” Kang said.
I chuckled at his joke. “Excuse me, but you were gone for more than a minute. Were there other floors?”
“Nah, but I got cornered by the mama-san and two of her girls. I had to buy them a drink to get out of there.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you were faced with the same impossible escape that the inmates at Alcatraz were up against.”
Kang brushed me off and looked across the room toward the blond man who had recently occupied the seat next to me. “So who’s the guy?”
“John.”
“Yeah, I know he’s a john, but what’s his deal?”
“Actually, he said his name was John. He’s here for the same reason every other man is, except he was interested in me and not the dancers.”
Kang pulled his head back. “He just plopped himself down? You didn’t invite him?”
“Are you crazy? I know I’m undercover, but I’m not actively soliciting men.”
Kang muttered something before looking back across the room.
“Someone sounds jealous,” I sing-songed.
“Puh-lease. I have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, so I guess when you got leg-locked by that ladyboy our first night in town, that didn’t count as straying.”
“What? I was being nice. And I didn’t know she…he…was a ladyboy.”
“I’d like to hear you explain that one to Sushi.”
“It’s Suzi. And why don’t you like her?”
“I like her,” I lied as I struggled to keep a straight face.
Kang crinkled his brow. “No you don’t. I can tell.”
“What?” I continued, my eyes shot open and my mouth fell agape as I tried to conjure total innocence.
“I know you don’t like her. It’s so obvious that you’re the one who’s jealous.”
Oh, tell me he did not just go there. “Look, just because you’re attached to something and I’m single doesn’t mean I’m jealous. By the way, unless you’re blind, she’s the one who doesn’t like me.”
We both picked up our glasses to give each other the impression that we were too busy drinking to speak. At least, that was the reason why I took a thousand mini-sips in a row without removing my cup from my lips. But there was a bigger question: Why on earth was I feeling jealous? I thought for sure I had shaken off the crush I had developed on him when we had been in the hospital together. Had I only fooled myself into believing that? Did I actually like Kang, and had I only realized it when he suddenly wasn’t available?
“You’re right,” he said.
“About what?”
“Suzi’s a bit jealous of our relationship. I keep telling her that it’s strictly professional—”
“Of course it is. Nothing happening here.” I pointed between the two of us.
“It’s probably the reason why she hasn’t warmed up to you entirely.”
Warmed up? You mean the Ice Queen is capable of that?
“Don’t worry about it though. Things aren’t so great between us right now.”
Yippee! “Why?”
“Eh, it’s the same reason why we broke up in the first place. She can, at times, be a little bitchy.”
“A little?” I blurted. Wait. Did I actually just say that out loud?
Kang shot me a look.
“I mean, what do you mean by a little?”
“You know. She nags.”
“Oh, yeah. I heard men don’t like that.”
“I’m serious. She critiques every single thing I do. She’s such a perfectionist. Nothing I do is right. Yet she relies on me to do everything for her.”
“Why are you with her if she is such a nagger?” I emphasized with air quotes.
Kang shrugged and took another sip of his beer.
“You need to find a woman who appreciates you for who you are, someone beautiful but who is also independent and capable of doing for herself.”
“What, you mean someone like you?”
“Yes, like me but not actually me.” But it could be me.
Chapter 45
A crushing blow to his left cheek sent the handcuffed man flying from the chair to the wet floor of the small room. The left side of his face had swelled like a puffer fish, and his eye had disappeared between two folds of fatty skin.
Two men picked him up off the floor and sat him back in the chair. A second later, another blow to the face sent him right back to where he had just lain. That time, there was an audible pop on impact. His cheekbone had finally taken all it could and shattered. Again, the same two men picked him up and placed him back on the chair.
Before the puncher could wind up and deliver another punishing blow, the door to the room opened, and in walked Artie.
The three men, all members of the Royal Thai Police, turned to the detective. The one who had delivered the beating picked up a cloth and wiped his bloody fist clean. Artie moved closer until he stood in front of the seated man. He placed a hand on the man’s chin and tilted his face upward so he could look him in his one good eye.
“Having fun?” Artie asked, his tone expressionless.
The man, known on the street as Chan, said nothing.
“My men are not tired. They love this part of the job.”
Chan still said nothing.
Artie let go of his face and asked his men if he had said anything.
Bo, the one who lent his fist to the interrogation process, spoke up. “Nothing yet, but the night is young.”
Artie didn’t have all night. He needed answers now. He looked around the bare storage room. There were a few half-filled paint cans against the wall next to a table. But on the floor in the corner, Artie saw something of interest: a hammer.
He picked it up off the floor and asked one of his men to place a table in front of the seated man.
This got Chan’s attention. “What do you want?”
“What do we want? I think you know why we are here.”
The man shook his head and looked down. A strand of red-stained saliva stretched from the corner of his mouth and rested on his pant leg. Artie motioned for two of his men to hold Chan in place while he instructed the other to hold his right hand still.
Artie rested the flattened metal head on the knuckle bridge of Chan’s hand. “Maybe this will remind you.” He took a deep breath as he raised the hammer high above his head before bringing it down with all the force he could muster.
The hammer slammed into Chan’s fingers, shattering bone and splitting one along the left side. A splatter of blood shot up.
Artie didn’t stop there. He continued to hammer at the man’s hand as fast and as hard has he could.
A loud cry erupted from Chan’s open mouth. He screamed for them to stop as he struggled to escape.
But Artie continued to hammer away as if he were tenderizing a piece of raw meat. He was.
Only when Chan’s hand no longer resembled its original shape did Artie stop. Blood had pooled under the mound of flesh. Off to the side, a fingernail lay unattached. Chan wept, his mouth frozen open as he looked at the bloody mess at the end of his wrist.
Artie’s man released Chan’s right hand but quickly grabbed his left and held it against the table. Artie rested the hamme
r once again on the knuckles.
“No! No!” Chan cried out.
Artie raised the hammer high above his head.
“Somchai ordered us to attack the FBI agent and the detective. Please, I speak the truth.”
Artie had heard of that man, Somchai, but had not had the pleasure of actually meeting him.
“Where can we find him?”
“Chinatown… the building behind the T&L Seafood Restaurant… fifth floor.”
“Are there men stationed outside?”
“Yes, two at the entrance of the building and two more on each floor.”
“And the room, how many are in there?”
Chan took a moment to think. “Maybe three or four, not including Somchai. Please,” he continued, “you must believe me. I’m telling you the truth.”
Artie gave the man a comforting smile. “This is good. I appreciate your cooperation.” But since he had already raised the tool high above his head, he brought it hammering down one last time.
Chapter 46
Artie was well aware of the political dance that the Thai government had with the men who ran Chinatown. It frustrated him to no end that the neighborhood governed itself how it saw fit. Every police officer in Bangkok knew to tread lightly when it came to policing the area. Sure they had a presence in the area, but presence was all they had. Aside from the police issuing tickets for minor infractions, the residents were left to handle their own affairs.
Infiltrating Chinatown wasn’t something Artie took lightly. He had a lot to consider, and he needed to think hard about whether it was worth it. On one hand, all the information he had amassed to date pointed to Somchai as the man who ran the Chasing Chinatown game. On the other hand, the evidence that formed this conclusion was circumstantial.
There was another dilemma: He would be acting without Kane and Kang. He didn’t feel the need to bring them into the conversation, even though dismantling the game was their objective and his was to capture the serial killer running loose in his city. Officially, they were here to consult. Artie had already given the two more leeway than he should have. If he wanted, he could take it all back.
Lumpini Park (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 2) Page 13
