False Flag

by Jay Tinsiano

  Checking out of the gated hotel under his false identity, Chiu walked up the relatively quiet Sol Prida promenade towards the main Thanon Sukhumvit road. The street gradually became busier as he walked in the fading sun. Street food carts sold their spicy dishes; restaurants and bars competed for business. A couple of office girls glanced at him as they passed. The air hung thick and humid, as it always did.

  There was a bar, sheltered by umbrellas that seemed to sink into the sidewalk, with a sign offering happy hour drinks. Chiu slipped onto a table hidden from the road, ordered an espresso in fluent Thai and fixed his eyes on the apartment block opposite.

  An hour later, Richard Desmond wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he descended the stairs to his apartment. He was looking forward to getting the payoff for delivering Frank Bowen to Theo's little operation. It would give him some much needed breathing space as a few debts were starting to get out of hand.

  What would happen to Frank? Desmond didn't much care. He was just another sucker tourist who had arrived in the land of Siam looking for adventure, although he was sure his fellow Englishman had a hidden intelligence behind that mask of nonchalance.

  Richard's train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door, which in itself was strange, as no one could get into the building without buzzing first. Must be that fat prick from next door wanting to borrow something again, he thought. Desmond peeped through his spy hole and saw the side of a Chinese man, glancing down the corridor.

  "Who are you?" he said through the door.

  The face – that bubbled into an oval through the fish-eye lens – turned towards the door and smiled.

  "Mr Thang … building maintenance services. I need to look at your air conditioning unit, Sir." He held his identity card to the spy hole.

  "Really? You need to look right now?"

  "If that is possible, Sir? There is a problem in other apartments and we want to make sure there isn't a possibility of failure during the night."

  That would be a nightmare, thought Richard. Air con was the only way to sleep in Bangkok. He unchained the door and opened it. The man smiled at him and picked up a red canvas bag that he had placed on the floor. Richard stood aside and waved him in. He wondered, for a moment, how a service engineer came to get such an ugly scar but thought it might be rude to mention it.

  Richard pointed towards the kitchen, "It's in there, pal."

  The engineer moved towards the kitchen and glanced around the apartment.

  "I hope it won't take long. I just need to check something," he said.

  "No problem," Richard said as he turned to walk back into the living room, looking around for his T.V. remote. He found it under a newspaper on the sofa and pointed it at the screen, frowning in surprise as he caught the reflection of the engineer moving silently up behind him.

  Chapter 28

  Detective Inspector Brown shuffled into his desk chair and was glad to see the forensic report from the shop murder waiting on his desk. It told him what had been obvious; that the gunshot had killed the man and he had been dead for three hours by the time the body had been discovered. Various fingerprints had been found – most of which were Li's – but there was another set which had, so far, turned up no matches.

  The Detective's phone rang and he picked it up immediately. "Douglas, it's Chris…  Can we talk in my office?"

  "Sure, Chief Inspector. I'll be right there."

  Inspector Brown entered the chief inspector's office and closed the door behind him. The glassed box offered little privacy from the rest of the department, which Chris Johnson hated. He did have blinds, though, and pulled the cord to close them as was his routine.

  He smiled at the inspector and gestured for him to sit down.

  "Did much come up on that murder in Mercury Street?"

  Detective Brown still had the forensic report in his hand and placed it on Johnson's desk. "Light torture followed by a single headshot that killed him. Still running fingerprint searches but nothing has materialised as yet."

  The chief nodded and seemed to pause for thought. "I've asked for a meeting with the Special Unit chief in regards to the recent terrorist attacks," he said. Just then, there was a knock at the door; the figure of the staff sergeant was visible through the frosted glass, waiting outside.

  "Yes, come," said the chief.

  The staff sergeant held a report in his hand, eyes darting between the chief and the inspector. "I thought I'd better get this to Detective Brown as soon as possible."

  Johnson gestured to the Detective, "Be my guest."

  Brown took the report, dismissed the sergeant and read for a moment. He handed it to the chief who scanned his eyes over it and raised his eyebrows. "As I thought, there is a connection to the attack." The report in his hands featured a grainy photograph of Chiu Won On.

  The chief stood up and started pacing the room. "So this Chinese intelligence agent has been placed at the murder of Li Wu, with fingerprints. He was obviously not very careful, unless he wanted us to know. This is a very difficult situation, politically."

  "Sure, but if he's murdering people in our city he needs to be found. What's your theory?"

  "The Intel on those two British men paints them as double agents with criminal elements, but there are no records of any trials or convictions in the UK relating to the charges mentioned. We checked with London on Bowen and Duffy; according to them, they are not on any watch list nor have any records. They’re clean." The chief fished around for the MI6 report in his filing cabinet and handed it to Brown.

  "Can you look into it, Detective? I'd be interested in your angle."

  Brown took the report and starting flipping through it before looking up at the chief.

  "You think this is fake?"

  "It certainly seems that way. If it is, I need to know, especially if Chinese intelligence are involved. Officially, this is counter intelligence territory, but I'm also meeting Teng from the Special Unit to try to get some co-operation. They were at the scene of the attacks soon after and seemed to be privy to this Intel. I want to know what the hell is going on. Can you tag along to this meeting, Douglas?"

  Detective Brown looked up from the papers in his hand, "Yes, of course, Sir."

  Chapter 29

  Raksami – or ‘Mr Ron’, as he was better known – stepped into his small house just outside of Krabi town, having finished another day of teaching English at the local school. The familiar sound of chirping birds greeted him as he put down his briefcase and hung up his linen jacket in the hallway. He and his partner, Deng, had lived there for five years. They had made short work of the garden that his partner nicknamed the 'little paradise'. It was a favourite place for the butterflies and wildlife and the two men would often sit in the shade, talking and admiring the delicate bloom of white, lilac and purple parrot flowers, so called because of their resemblance to a parrot in flight.

  He called to Deng, who answered from the back in the kitchen, asking him if he'd like tea. The phone rang and Raksami picked it up, thinking it was probably the school.

  "Hello. Is that Mr Ron?" The voice was flat and spoke to him in English.

  "Yes, this is him," he replied with his usual courtesy.

  "Ah, excellent," the voice became more friendly. "My name is Mr Lee; I am visiting Krabi and would like to look at a room at the Bird House. I believe it is out of season but I am keen to have a few days’ bird watching. Are you available today?"

  Mr Ron had started opening his briefcase to search for his diary. "Oh, today? Yes, of course. Are you nearby? I can meet you there in about an hour?"

  "Excellent. I shall see you then." The man hung up.

  Chapter 30

  The overnight train journey was quiet and uneventful. There seemed to be very few people travelling. Maria suggested they take advantage of the opportunity to sleep and they both slumped, exhausted, into their bunks. Frank stared at the lights flicking past the window and listened to the rhythmic chug of the tracks.


  Jodie's face came into his mind and he wondered what she might be doing at that moment. He remembered a snapshot, one of many, when she would stare at him with her mock pleading, brown eyes; the rest of her face covered by the duvet. It was always a signal to him to get her something, like a cup of tea or toast. Frank would always relent, playfully hitting her with the pillow as he climbed out of the comfortable sanctuary of their bed.

  It had been over three months since he'd seen her and he realised that he might not ever see her again. He should have sent a postcard to at least let her know he was alright. They had been together over four years, after all, and their split had been on good terms. He felt a wave of guilt for not doing so, followed by a moment of sadness. At least he could trust her. Then the terrifying thought came to him of her reading the papers or seeing the news and gasping in shock as he was named as the main suspect for that horrible attack in Asia.

  Had the British press picked up the story? Did all his friends currently think he was some kind of secret operative blowing up innocent people for some political agenda?

  He made a mental note to ask Carl about the press coverage and drifted into a troubled sleep.

  In the morning, the train pulled into Butterworth; across the water lay the island of Penang. They hung around for an hour and then boarded a one carriage train to Hat Yai. Pulling out from the station, Frank saw the wreck of a train on unused tracks that stood like a ghost, a shell of its former self, left to rot and rust. The front engine carriage looked like it had been in some kind of collision. As the train picked up speed, the rooftops of Butterworth changed to fields and dozens of palm trees scattered across the landscape, with the waterway and the island of Penang shimmering in the distance. A wisp of cloud was the only contrast against the wide, deep blue sky.

  Ironic. Penang had been somewhere he had planned to visit when he was travelling as a tourist. Now it was passing him by as he fled as a fugitive.

  A jovial faced man, sitting opposite, tried to engage Frank and Maria in conversation, but they were both reluctant to talk or give anything away about themselves. Frank closed his eyes and tried to fend off the craving for a cigarette.

  In Hat Yai, Frank and Maria hired a Toyota Corolla and they headed north towards Phattalung and then cut across country, west towards Krabi, along the quieter roads of the rural south. On either side there was an endless sea of palms and fields, interspersed with the occasional dwelling.

  Maria glanced at Frank, "Your beard suits you."

  Frank scratched at it, "Believe me, it's not out of choice. I can't wait to get rid of it." He paused and let a silence pass before speaking again.

  "You never did tell me why you ran off in Goa," he said, eyes fixed on the road.

  She looked at him quizzically for a moment and then laughed. "Oh that. I so hate long goodbyes. Why? You think I should have made you breakfast?"

  He smiled and stroked her thigh, playfully. "Breakfast would have been icing on the cake."

  "I thought it was a one off thing, at the time," she studied her fingernails. "Besides, you weren't long out of your relationship. I didn't want to be your rebound."

  "And then I knocked on your door, a hunted man … begging for help."

  She wrinkled up her nose and laughed. "We'll laugh about it one day."

  "We're laughing now, aren't we?" he grinned at her and they both giggled.

  After a few miles, Frank glugged at a bottle of water and passed it to Maria. "You handled that chap pretty well, back at your house."

  "Yes, I've done a few martial arts classes in my time. It's a handy skill to have."

  "Are you a black belt or something?"

  "No, nothing that advanced. Just a few classes."

  That kind of makes sense, thought Frank as he pressed his foot down on the accelerator and overtook a lorry that had slowed him down.

  "It's funny how we managed to overcome him, don't you think? I mean, for an assassin, he seemed pretty unprepared," he said.

  Maria gave him a look and frowned. "Yeah, I guess so."

  "I mean, if he wanted to kill us he could have easily."

  Maria fixed her pale eyes on Frank once again, as if trying to read him and then shrugged. "I've no idea. I 'm very glad he didn't though."

  He caught sight of Maria's bare leg as she shuffled position in her seat, covered in those light freckles that also adorned her face, and couldn't imagine that she was anyone other than who she claimed to be. Frank let it drop and decided his mind was playing tricks on him.

  Chapter 31

  Frank parked the car a few yards from the entrance to the Bird House and stopped the engine. He turned to Maria.

  "Stay here and I'll have a look."

  "Let me come with you," she said. He took her hand in his and smiled at her persistence.

  "I'd rather you stay here. Please. I won't be long."

  Frank walked up the path that had overgrown even more since his first visit that seemed like an age ago. The chirping of the hidden crickets seemed to intensify in the midday heat.

  As Frank followed the curve of the pathway he caught a glimpse of Mr Ron's bicycle, propped up against the outside shower room wall. Good. That meant he was here and Frank felt a rising optimism. Perhaps he would get some information and answers after all…

  Flies spun around chaotically in the air as Frank approached the dilapidated guesthouse. It seemed they were coming from inside the communal area. He peered into the open space to see the familiar sea of palms and overgrowth on the other side, past the veranda set, like a framed painting in the gloom. An old armchair was planted in the middle with its back to him facing the marshland. As Frank's eyes adjusted to the low light, he saw an elbow leaning on the armrest. Mr Ron seemed to be enjoying the view.

  "Mr Ron?"

  No answer. The buzzing of flies seemed to intensify. Frank suddenly felt something was wrong and he felt his skin go ice cold.

  "Mr Ron?" he repeated, more cautiously.

  Frank slowly stepped towards the chair. A sickening smell hit the back of his throat, almost making him gag. He clasped his mouth and nose with his hand and inched closer. Now he saw the side of the head and a curious wire that seemed to spring out from his neck. The waxy skinned corpse of Mr Ron sat upright in the chair, buttery fingers grasping the armrest like an alert spider. A thin wire was tightly wrapped around his neck, cutting deep into the throat, and had opened a flow of dark red blood, soaking his chest and stomach through his tropical shirt.

  Frank stood transfixed, unable to fully comprehend the sight or move away from the corpse. Mr Ron's eyes stared out across the veranda in frozen terror. Flies crawled over his face, dancing like demons.

  "Hello Frank," rasped a low, quiet voice from behind him. Frank spun around, his entire body tense and electrified, heart beating almost out of control.

  Half hidden by junk, the figure of Theo slumped on an old sofa, almost in a leisurely pose—had it not been for the dark red spread across his stomach, a violent contrast to his white cotton suit. He clenched the wound, his skin like a pale moon in the shadow, whites of eyes pointed toward Frank, pleadingly.

  "Theo? What the hell are you doing here? What happened?"

  Frank's eyes stared, disbelievingly, at the familiar face and edged away from the stench of Mr Ron.

  "What the hell is going on here?"

  Theo somehow managed to grin, despite the intense pain, his handsome face distorting something close to caricature.

  "Big gangfuck, Frank. Wouldn't you say?" He coughed and gasped, bile oozing from his mouth; his face sheened with sweat.

  Frank swatted a hand at the flies. The air was thick like syrup and he badly wanted to leave, but instead he stepped towards Theo.

  "I'm sorry about Hong Kong, Frank. But you did well ... you're smart." Theo struggled with each word. Frank stopped walking and stared at Theo in disbelief.

  "Hong Kong? You were involved in that?"

  Theo's eyes rolled and he was near pa
ssing out. Frank moved towards him and shook him back to consciousness. "Theo! Who did this?"

  "Be careful Frank ... he's … psychopathic."

  Theo's glazed eyes focused on Frank for the last time, before the life ebbed away from him. Frank shook him again, but knew he was dead. He glanced around once more at Mr Ron and slowly moved away from the sofa before turning to run down the pathway as fast as he could.

  "Everything OK?" asked Maria, glancing at him with concern.

  "Not really," Frank said drily and started the car. "Mr Ron and Theo were in there—both dead. Well, Theo died in front of me. I don't know what the hell is going on. Let's get out of here."

  Maria held her hand over her mouth in shock. "Oh God!"

  As they drove down towards the town to get onto the main highway, a blue Nissan weaved past them in the opposite direction.

  Chapter 32

  Chiu caught a flash of Frank – at the wheel of the car driving past him – looking like he'd seen a ghost. Chiu didn't think the Englishman had seen him. They must have been at the Bird House and seen his handy work. He had gone down to the town to get supplies, intending to clean up the scene and hide the bodies, but had been delayed for days as he waited for a local contact to get him new equipment. Now, an opportunity had arisen to finish off Frank and the woman. He stopped the car and backed into a driveway to turn around and sped down the hill until he saw the back of their hired white Toyota.

  Chiu bitterly regretted not taking them both out back in Hong Kong when he had a chance. Why he had hesitated? He had never flinched when it came to his work before. Stepping into the room, the sight of the woman had thrown him. A thought had come to his mind. He had heard there was a double agent based in Hong Kong but was never privy to the identity of that agent for security reasons. No one was, apart from Oracle. He wondered if his hesitation was because for a split second he had thought it was her?

  Or was it because he blanched from killing female targets? He found it hard to do, even if they were the enemy.

  Chiu had been brought up by women. His mother and aunt were all he could remember and, as there had been no men around, he became the man of the house. It had helped his self confidence no end. He fought his peers like a mad dog, never afraid of anyone and he felt aggrieved, angry that his father, who constantly worked away, in a different province to the north, never came back. There were rumours of course. That he had met another woman or had been kidnapped by bandits and his family could not afford to pay. Chiu bore the brunt of constant teasing about it from his school peers which only fuelled his frustration.