Mike wasn’t surprised to be hearing all of this. If no crime had been reported or was not apparent, the local police would probably do very little. Backpackers were apt to taking off on unexplained trips without telling anybody; photographs of dread-locked westerners hanging on walls in guesthouses were testament to this, most with dates last seen and urgent numbers to call with information. Some even lost themselves for good and changed identity or dropped out completely, though this wasn’t Louise and he wholly empathised with Pemberton’s concern. She was impassioned and often highly driven if she was focusing on something, but things were always planned. She wouldn’t get involved in any half-baked adventure without giving it a great deal of thought. The fact that Louise was missing meant that there was someone or something behind it and it was almost certainly bad news.
“Don’t ramble so much dear. I’m sure Michael will appreciate your directness. This is an important matter and we should look to clarity. There can be no confusion when Michael leaves this house.” It was Mrs Pemberton who had spoken, the first time since he had entered the room. Her voice was brusque and penetrating. Mike could see how much she silently pulled the strings, the quiet, unspoken voice behind the Pembertons’ united viewpoints.
“Quite, my dear. Well, you see the thing is Michael; this is where you come in.”
Three
Mike was not a man used to propositions. The recent past had seen precious few, save an awkward moment in Burma. His temping role within the telesales office had subdued his sense for adventure, necessity becoming the new law within his life, as debts were paid off and lines to his sparse CV added. A brief fling with Rangoon, though months away seemed years down the line. The practicalities in life were steering him to a more conventional lifestyle, one which he could see remaining for a while, a hanging cloud of cultural obligation he was beginning to detest. Although a career and accompanying money were essential to live, he found the goal-line set too far away to prove tempting within any short-term time frame. It was too easy to be distracted and to take your eye off the ball. His meeting with the Pembertons now took the lid off his careful though currently unfulfilled routine. As the afternoon carefully unfolded, Mike had found himself saying yes all the more readily. Like a nodding dog, his head responded to every question. Leaving a temping job in a windowless office was not going to prove any obstacle; he would happily dance away for many lesser reasons. Given the current lack of information on Louise, it was suggested with some degree of purposeful flattery, that Mike was the best person to go over, as he had made a number of previous trips to the area and would be familiar with the backpacking traditions there. Any family member would not be so well equipped for the task, would probably get lost on the first bus out of Bangkok. If they went the private detective route images of bungling ex-soldiers might only scare Louise away. They needed somebody she could trust, somebody of her own age and background who knew her well. They needed Mike.
This was how, within four days of meeting with the Pembertons, Mike found himself in the back of a “tuk tuk”, battling through the central streets of Bangkok in search of a bug-free guesthouse. Deep in his pocket, his wallet held the folded traveller’s cheques, a roll of baht and an emergency credit card passed to him at the bequest of the Pembertons. An expense account was how it was put to him, though he guessed that few checks would be called for. This would be audit free. Despite the circumstances and uncertainties of what lay ahead, Mike pushed himself back in the seat and watched life unfold around him with a growing smile. He might be working, getting involved in the complications of a search, but he was determined to make the most of the route it took him on. If ever a city were an old friend to him it was Bangkok. As recognizable as any foreign city could be, he found its ways both baffling and familiar. This was the gateway and starting point for all his previous half-dozen or so Asian adventures. Whenever he needed to arrange onward travel, further funding or sort out any unexpected red tape, it was always through Bangkok. You never quite got away. Even a trip out to Cambodia or Vietnam invariably led to a cramped mini-bus journey back to Thailand’s capital. Things happened that way, as if you could never escape some gravitational pull. Whilst others found the pace and size of the city suffocating in the aftermath of a trip to the beaches or islands, Mike found it enticingly crazy and loved it all the more. Wherever you looked, there was always something happening, something you never saw elsewhere. In Bangkok he felt the familiarity of a distant but exciting relative, a slightly unorthodox spontaneous one he did not get to see too often but relished visiting when chance brought them together.
Back at the Pembertons he had argued for taking a friend along, someone to swap ideas with and perhaps watch his back. As much as Mike was happy with the absence of compromise from travelling alone, he felt the need to approach this trip as a twosome. There were several close friends who could be trusted and he argued, might put forward useful ideas as the journey unfolded. They would be virtually fighting over themselves to be taken along, enthusiasm that might be needed later on if leads were short on supply. A strong, almost forceful argument was quickly levied by the Pembertons against his views on travelling companions. He rarely came out of discussions heads up with Louise’s parents, especially when their daughter was on the line. The enquiry he was to undertake was to be discrete and low key. If he took a travelling partner, leave alone a small team (not his choice of phrase) there would not only be one more person privy to the undertaking, but more of a chance that the pubs of Portishead would be buzzing with further news on the disappearance of Louise Pemberton. Any plans for farewell drinks were to be discouraged; this was to be a solo departure with no excitable exchanges on twitter nor sudden scenes of Thai sunsets suddenly showing up on Facebook. This direction was largely driven by Mrs Pemberton, feeling the necessity to repeat the point several times in her iced manner. Mike had always viewed her as the more formidable of the two. Besides, Pemberton had added following his wife’s interjecting and somewhat intimidating lecture, this was a low key, no risk assignment. He should look upon it as an important adventure, one he could fully share with the world of suburban Portishead on his return. He wasn’t expecting Mike to do anything more than ask a few questions, keep his eyes open and ear to the ground. If he came across any sighting of Louise, he should follow it up only if he felt competent, otherwise any information was to be handed directly to the authorities. The best outcome was if he were able to locate and engage Louise, persuade her at the very least to make contact with Pemberton and assure him that she were all right. Otherwise, he should gather as much information as was possible and return to Portishead. Naturally, the Pembertons were to be kept fully up-to-date on all developments. This point was made very clear. He was assured that he would be suitably financially rewarded on his arrival home, though in truth Mike was more than happy with the expenses alone. It was after all a fully funded trip to SE Asia, without any exact timeframe on when he should return. No request was made for receipt copies or anything else so official or mundane. This was a cash only trip. He was simply required to get a result of some sort, preferably of the sort that came with a happy ending.
He spent his first night in Bangkok a few blocks down from the infamous travellers’ enclave around the Khao San Road district, back towards the river. His plan was to spend a couple of nights in the area, partly to acclimatise, but more importantly to begin his search and get travel arrangements underway for his trip down to the Island of Koh Chang where Louise was last known to have been. The knot of chaotic lanes and passages that surrounded the old hippy haven was crammed with an assortment of travel kiosks, change bureaus and market stalls where he could quickly source tickets and provisions that he needed for his trip South. The labyrinth contained an array of guesthouses, bars and street-traders, where he could both ask and put word out about Louise. Most backpackers entering Bangkok passed through the area, out of need as much as desire, though the latter had its part to play with
the wild array of pubs and clubs. The task served as a grim reminder to his purpose here. Descriptions and dates were passed over to English speaking Thais; those that looked intertwined with the district, largely bar staff and hawkers. Tanned, road weary backpackers were approached, those that looked like they hadn’t just got here. Perhaps this process cut at his nerves and made him unusually paranoid, for on several occasions he had the eerie feeling of being watched. The odd glance over his shoulder did little to quell his disquiet, other than remind him how busy the streets were. Nobody would attempt a mugging this time of the day and Mike felt sure that his documents and valuables were tucked away well enough to stop the lightest of hands.
Once he had pushed his way around the crowded maze of streets for the best part of two hours, he found himself feeling drained and in need of instant refreshment. The pace and heat of the big city took some initial acclimatisation. Remembering a few wooden fronted, enticing looking bars back towards his digs, he decided to call it a day. He hadn’t booked himself out from the room until the following day, which allowed plenty of time to chill and take stock. The bar was apparently popular with the travelling fraternity as despite the early hour the rushed staff were doing a good business in Thai beer and chips. Mike also noticed a large number of local students seemed to be dropping by, giving the place a very cosmopolitan and lively feel. Most of these looked to be wisely avoiding too much of the Thai beer and chips, preferring instead to sip coffee whilst leaning into unknown theological debates.
As the afternoon drew on into evening, the few unoccupied seats quickly filled up. Having had a noodle dish and several Chang Beers, Mike was happy to stay put a while, watching the clientele come and go. A couple of passing conversations elapsed with those sitting nearest to him, mostly a bunch of departing twenty something’s, before a smartly dressed Thai in his early thirties sat down. His expensive cotton shirt and labelled jeans suggested he ranked amongst the middle-class students at one of the nearby Universities, though his age hinted he was more probably engaged in a doctorate or lecturing. Mike noticed that he was less formal than most of the Thai’s that he had met, perhaps even slightly westernised. His choice of clothes certainly suggested this, as did his 80 dollar haircut, with the sides trimmed shorter to emphasis his dark mane on top. He caught a brief look pass the ebony eyes, a shot of energy he could not quite read. Was it fear or anticipation? Both? Within a second it had passed, replaced by a glimmer that hinted more of a humorous side, more open and approachable. The newcomer leaned across the table with an open packet of Marlboro.
“Hi, I’m Kaewsan; Kae is probably easier for you. How are you finding Bangkok?”
The Thai sat square on, his straightened spine lifting the head slightly above Mike’s, doubtless a practiced skill learnt long ago in the classrooms of some fee-paying school. It allowed Mike to look directly into the set of dark eyes without being under their full gaze. Curious and penetrating, they scoured the immediate environment, as if checking who might walk into hearing distance. He looked at the outstretched hand with its offerings and was happy to pull out a fake Marlboro. He immediately noted the logo on the cigarette, realising it to be the genuine article; rare in his backpacking circles of Bangkok. Accepting a light, he leant back. He was still acclimatising and had time to kill. Any conversation was very welcome, even though he felt the need to be vigilant. When new to a country or fresh from the airport, it was best to err on the extreme side of caution. In Calcutta he remembered getting ripped off barely thirty minutes into his trip, being taken for several hundred rupees for a worthless ticket to Goa. The guy sipping Chang beer over the table seemed happy to brandish elicit Marlboro smokes. This made having a third eye all the more important. You never know what people wanted, especially once the expensive cigarettes came out.
“Good! Been here before a few times, but I can’t get enough of the place! To be honest, I’m glad to be back.”
“What do they call you?”
“Michael, but Mike is probably easier for you!” Mike replied with a wry smile.
It was an easy introduction and they fell into a relaxed conversation. Mike’s initial wariness that Kae was either coming on to him or was intent on extracting his wallet and passport soon passed. Kae appeared well educated, informed and showed a sharp sense of observational humour, often picking out amusing sideshows within the crowd around them. He was also very easy-going and presented no outward signs of any hidden agenda. Mike had shared a beer with people all over the world and could generally spot the signs when he could relax and enjoy the conversation. He gradually unwound and sought out the bar tender with growing frequency.
The following hour or so revealed that Kae was a disgruntled marketing executive with a Bangkok software house. He was keen to take his skills overseas to Europe and the States, a country he was familiar with from his college days. The talk came back to Mike, who found himself recanting the extraordinary events that had led up to his latest Asian trip. He explained his uncomfortable meeting with the Pembertons and their unexpected proposition. In particular he highlighted his fears, only now finding with an audience how ill equipped he was for the portentous task ahead. Here he was - a green bounty hunter-cum- private detective striding through the tropics with no backup or equipment, no experience and none other than Louise Pemberton as his quarry. For the first time he was feeling truly out of his depth. He had accepted the proposition as a new adventure, perhaps one where he could help and make a difference, but was fast feeling how inadequately prepared he was. Initially there was an element of “Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys” at large in Bangkok, now he wasn’t so sure.
Kae leant a sympathetic ear. His willingness to patiently listen encouraged Mike to open up and pour out many of his concerns. He felt much like a patient going through a therapy session with a psychiatric specialist. In return, Kae told Mike to make light of things, he wouldn’t find Louise but she would seek him out. With no evidence of foul play, Kae felt sure that no ill or harm would have come to Louise. Hundreds of backpackers temporarily disappeared in Thailand every year, usually resurfacing within weeks, with a few colourful lines to add on their next postcard home. He suggested that in all probability she might well have moved around, but that he should start with Koh Chang to fish out any clues. He went over the more obvious routines with Mike, telling him to do the rounds with the backpacker hostels, keep an eye on Hotmail and check with tourist police, whose reputation had greatly improved over recent years. Mike had planned on this anyway, and was already making inroads through passing around details of Louise. The chances of a bite so soon into the quest were low, but it provided him with a sense of advancement, that something was being done. As the Chang beers were later exchanged for Bacardi with the growing evening, Kae was keen to learn more of Louise as a person and wanted to know what he could do to help.
“Please let me know if you find her. It’s my country and I can do much to help. I know its ways and have a few possible contacts that I can call upon. If I hear anything I can also let you know”
With this he passed a guilt-edged business card over to Mike. The smile and formal nod conveyed a sense of genuine camaraderie and trust. In Kae he could see someone he was taking a liking to, a local he could use and rely on for help. Shaking the Thai’s hand, Mike picked himself up, deciding on calling it a night as alcohol and jet-lag fought to dim his senses. He passed on his contact details with a pledge to speak soon, before taking his leave. Kae’s offer of a night-cap in a nearby cocktail bar was nearly taken up, the ambience promised a rich enough enticement, but Mike was feeling it in his legs and knew that it was time to go.
Outside he felt a faint breeze wafting the warm night air around his body. It was the evenings that he loved. You never needed to seek shelter or layer up to fight the draught. Instead the night became so much more accessible, sandals and a T-shirt the only uniform required. Daytime strolls needed no forward thinking about which cloth
es to take out for the evening. Everywhere he looked residents, tourists and backpackers relaxed alfresco style. Makeshift stalls and bars alike were stacked with people in no hurry to leave. Though alive with human electricity, the nights could be as serene as the days.
Stalling only briefly to pinpoint his way back, Mike pushed his way past a crowded corner bar and sought a smaller side road going in the general direction he was headed. It was both darker and quieter than the street behind him. This caused him little concern, as the alcohol blotted out thoughts on personal safety. If asked, he would have waived any concerns. He had visited most parts of the city and never before encountered trouble. Even amphetamine hyped youths took little notice. The streets of Portishead could be more of a danger zone, especially during firework season. In Bangkok he felt deceptively safe. He might have stated that he was no easy target, a man in his twenties, perhaps harder to knock down. Ignorance betrayed him. As he made his way his main preoccupation was whether he ran the risk of straying wildly from the route back to his guesthouse. Right now he decided he couldn’t care less about getting lost. A tut-tut could carry him back again at a fraction of the cost back home. Might as well enjoy the bright city lights a while longer.
Deep in thought he didn’t hear the footsteps nor see the knife.
Four
The blade moved swiftly, much quicker than his reflexes, slashing out at his arm from behind. Its steel tip sliced through the cotton shirt from his shoulder, drawing blood as it grazed his upper arm. Mike spun, alarmed and disorientated, but still in one piece. The glancing graze was meant to capture his attention. It worked. Mike was now wholly focused on his attacker. The fresh trail of warm blood ran unnoticed down his arm, soaking into his t-shirt as it did. Despite the darkness he could see the intensity of the eyes within a rounded youthful face. Whoever it was appeared highly pumped up. It wasn’t adrenaline alone. His whole body shuck, the tilted knife wavering in his hand. Mike recalled the problem Thailand’s capital had with Yaba, an Asian blend of amphetamine. This realisation added further unpredictability. Drugged Asian teenagers tended to leave you alone, too stoned or intent on good time. This assailant was dangerously crossing that threshold. Stunned into inactivity, Mike could only wait, playing the part of a passive audience watching for the next move. He needed an instruction, a trigger to uproot his feet from the spot. His answer came within a split second. A broken wooden crate smashed into the assailants’ side. The force and relative weight of the solid wood caused the man’s knees to buckle, sprawling him on the tarmac. Splinters fell around his falling body.
Missing Louise Page 3