He wheeled Yayee out of the cold storage room and helped me lift her into a coffin in the back of my truck. I drove Yayee to a shophouse on a soi just off Pattaya Klang. On the ground floor there was a small family-run convenience store. I lifted Yayee onto my back and carried her to the rear of the shop and up three flights of stairs to the Lamsalee Sex-change Clinic. A little out of breath, I laid Yayee on a hospital bed as two nurses got to work on her. They began by removing her patient gown and they washed her, after which they covered her body with a sheet and left.
A doctor came over to me a few minutes later. “Are you sure? She might never wake up!” he warned.
“At least she’ll die a man,” I responded, “and if and when she does wake up, her wounds will be healed.”
The Arsonist
After picking me up, Jennifer drove the Fortuner into Hubert’s garage and held the key card over the barrier scanner. The dozing security guard woke up briefly before falling asleep again at the sight of the familiar SUV. I cursed under my breath as I noticed both parking spaces beside the Mercedes were occupied. I looked for the security cameras. Two cameras scanned the front row of parked cars, so I’d have to crawl in-between and under the cars to stay out of sight. I told Jennifer to park the Toyota as close as possible in the row behind the Mercedes. As Jennifer sought to find a space, I pulled out a disposable boiler suit from my backpack.
Before I could get out of the car, Jennifer turned to me and asked, “Why did you only want me to drive you into the garage?”
“I don’t work with gweilos,” I replied.
Jennifer stepped out of the car and I crawled between her legs and slipped under the Toyota. As instructed, Jennifer walked over to the lift in full view of the security cameras, and went up to the condo to wait there with Tony. I waited a few minutes after she’d left, and once confident I was alone, I performed a car-wireless fob-relay attack using the access codes Bao Shen had stolen from Hubert at The Gentlemen’s Club. Opening the Mercedes, I crawled inside, stuck my head under the dash and got to work. I first used a small saw to cut the air-conditioning pipe that carried cold air into the cabin, and reconnected it using the three-way elbow connector, securing it with some hose clamps. I then pulled out another hose clamp from my backpack to attach the electronic gas regulator to the remaining opening. Next, I affixed the gas canister using duct tape, and was about to connect the electronic regulator to the gas canister when a car drove into the garage and parked not far from the Fortuner. I held my breath until the driver disappeared behind the closing lift doors. Once I felt safe again, I proceeded to connect the gas canister to the regulator using a piece of flexible pipe. I wasn’t sure whether the smartphone battery would last long enough, so I connected a charger to the Mercedes electric circuit. I then hooked the smartphone to the electronic regulator and the spark plug. To create a good blast, it was important for the gas to mix with enough oxygen, so I inserted the spark plug inside the air blower. It was difficult to reach into the air vent from under the dashboard, and it took me nearly an hour before I managed to get it in position. The modified smartphone was left in airplane mode, otherwise it would be clear where and when it had been installed in the car. I’d installed an app called Tasker that would automatically bring the smartphone online again after three days, when Hubert’s Mercedes would probably be in The Gentlemen’s Club car park. I was confident that the police would assume the device had been installed there rather than at the condo. Although the fire would engulf the inside of the car, it wouldn’t destroy the smartphone, meaning that forensics would be able to find it. To cover my tracks, I set up Android’s lock and erase feature to remotely delete all the data once the job was complete. I inserted the phone into a gap within the wiring and secured it with some duct tape. After carefully checking that all the leftover materials and tools were back in my backpack, I carefully exited the car and locked it again, which reactivated the car’s alarm system. I then crawled back to the Fortuner.
Once safely inside the Fortuner I sent a text to Jennifer, who came down and drove me back to my hotel. During the ride, I removed the disposable boiler suit and latex gloves. When Jennifer dropped me off it was almost light outside, but I didn’t sleep, and a few hours later I was on a plane back to Shanghai.
Tukataa
I sneaked in to see Yayee again, but when I got there I saw hospital staff putting her body into a body bag. I couldn’t move or breathe as they took her down to the morgue. I didn’t cry though. I’ve witnessed death many times in my life already. I immediately left the hospital, desperate to escape, sad beyond words. My mind clouded over and I forgot to pick up the medicine I was supposed to collect from the hospital pharmacy.
19
Chapter 19
Tony
Saladaeng intersection – one of the busiest in Bangkok – is connected to the BTS and the MRT lines. Jennifer and I arrived at a fast-food restaurant on the south-east corner of the junction shortly after rush hour. Jennifer went to order some drinks and I found a table by the window overlooking the junction. I wanted to see Hubert suffer.
Earlier that morning we’d used the remainder of Hubert’s Hong Kong bank-account balance to buy bitcoin from his regular crypto exchange, and had sent it to his bitcoin wallet. The transaction didn’t arouse any suspicions because it was identical to the many previous transactions between his bank account and the exchange, and then on to his bitcoin wallet. Jennifer had also created a new bitcoin wallet, and she was able to gain instant access to all his bitcoin by using Hubert’s private keys. She immediately transferred all the bitcoin to the new wallet under her control. The whole process had taken less than ten minutes. I also asked Jennifer to record all the transactions made to the Hong Kong bank account since Hubert had opened it. I reckoned this information would help me trace the other victims of Hubert’s investment scams.
We sat looking out of the window in anticipation.
The Arsonist
The smartphone hidden in Hubert’s Mercedes had come out of airplane mode the previous day as planned while the car was in The Gentlemen’s Club car park. The smartphone signal and IMEI number were registered for a second time with a Thai telecom company to suggest later that the device had been installed in the car at The Gentlemen’s Club.
I loaded EarthCam.com on the laptop. I’d used it numerous times before on other jobs as it allowed me to see live feeds from cities around the world. I navigated to the Saladaeng intersection live feed to watch the images from the handful of roof cameras on the police booth. Since returning to Shanghai I’d used the website each morning to confirm the Mercedes was there at around the same time every morning. I also had TrapCall.com loaded on a second tab, from which anonymous calls could be made using any caller ID. I used the caller ID of a Saudi Arabian landline, the only whitelisted number I’d programmed into the installed smartphone. I spotted the Mercedes pull up at the junction. I let the car continue until it was in front of Tony and Jennifer’s restaurant before making the call. The Google account settings page associated with the installed smartphone was open on the third tab, from which I would use the lock and erase function to delete the smartphone data after activating the fire.
My work was done.
Tony
The Mercedes was so close I could see Hubert take my call through the car’s hands-free system.
“It’s time to answer for all the money you stole,” I said. “You’ve destroyed a lot of lives.” I could hear a sizzling sound in the car that would be the gas being released. “That sound you hear is gas. Soon you will be burning.”
I saw Hubert’s look of confusion turn to panic. I saw him try to unlock his door, but the arsonist had overridden the car’s security system. I saw him desperately try to smash the windows using his bare hands, to no avail.
Suddenly a flash of fire filled the inside of the Mercedes, burning Hubert’s hair in an instant, eyebrows and moustache gone just like that. The air-con continued blowing a mixture of burning g
as and oxygen into the car. A second or two later, the air-con gas pipes and air vents melted, forcing the burning gas to be released under the hood and setting the engine on fire. The polyester in Hubert’s shirt and pants melted to his skin. Then the fire stopped. The gas canister had emptied, but not before Hubert had second and third-degree burns all over his body. The skin on his legs and upper torso was black. I watched as he sat conscious and screaming in pain as the car filled with smoke.
The drivers of the cars lined up behind the Mercedes began honking their horns in frustration. I could see a policeman, who had been sitting in his police booth at the intersection, happily daydreaming, quickly grab his helmet. He left the booth and approached the Mercedes, now full of smoke. Then the cop ran back to his booth, picked up a fire extinguisher and smashed the Hubert’s window. Smoke billowed out. Struggling to see through the smoke, the cop pulled Hubert out and laid him on the road. I could see from the restaurant that Hubert was beyond recognition. Most of his skin was charred and red, and his eyebrows and eyelashes had been burnt off.
20
Chapter 20
Dividing the loot
Tony had been in touch with Maura in Kentucky, and she was a little surprised by his request. But once she realized that her clients and other victims would be reimbursed, she was quite happy to comply. Tony provided her with Hubert’s Hong Kong bank account statements, dating back to when the account was opened.
Jennifer drove the Toyota to Suvarnabhumi Airport to pick up Uncle Zheng. The old man arrived on an early flight and so they reached the apartment before the worst of Bangkok’s heavy morning traffic had appeared. He looked fresh and energetic despite the 5-hour flight, with nothing in his appearance to indicate that the old man had left Shanghai shortly after midnight. He asked Jennifer for coffee, and as they sat at the dining table he opened his luggage to remove a wrapped parcel. Uncle Zheng offered the package to Tony, “I brought something for you. I’m not good at finding suitable presents but Jennifer gave me some suggestions.” Jennifer laughed in response. Tony tore open the parcel wrapping, finding it contained an old Blackberry smartphone with a physical keyboard below the screen. The smartphone had clearly been used as there were scratches all over the screen and back. A puzzled Tony looked at Jennifer. He knew that model went out of service years ago Jennifer laughed again. “Let me tell you a bit about this smartphone. I’ll give you ten million dollars for it if you don’t want it. It was bought second-hand a decade ago by a Chinese high-school student called Yang. He paid about two hundred dollars for it. It was his pride and joy, and the only valuable item he owned. He would hang out in internet cafés since he couldn’t afford a computer at home. He eventually managed to save enough to buy a second-hand PC, but decided against it after reading an article about a new currency called bitcoin. He used his savings to buy two hundred dollars’ worth of bitcoin instead.
“Back then, people stored bitcoin in wallets on electronic devices. Since Yang had only his second-hand Blackberry, he stored all his bitcoin in a wallet on it. That’s the smartphone you’re holding now. It can no longer make calls, but it has a WiFi connection and I can transfer the bitcoin stored on it to any bitcoin address you want. And it cannot connect you to the events that took place over the last few days – unlike Hubert’s bitcoin, which are very visible on the blockchain, and require some extensive laundering through underground exchanges in China. That’ll be expensive and time consuming for us, but if you accept this gift, we’ll worry about that.”
“Two hundred dollars in bitcoin?” queried Tony. Uncle Zheng smiled.
“The current value is close to thirty-five million dollars,” answered Jennifer.
Fishing his smartphone out of his pocket, Tony scrolled until he found Maura’s email. “Please send it to this address.”
Jennifer left to work in another room and Tony turned to speak to Uncle Zheng alone. “You could have ripped me off. You could have kept the thirty-five million.”
The old man smiled. “You are overlooking something important. Our business is a sensitive one. So long as we conduct our gambling operations outside China, my government will leave us alone. But stealing retirement funds from US citizens would only open a can of worms and jeopardize relations with the United States, and the authorities would close us down very soon.”
A new life
Nid entered her apartment and left her grocery bags in the kitchen. She was excited since John had proposed marriage and had given her a two-baht gold ring (about thirty grams). He explained they’d need to apply for a fiancée visa for Nid at the British Embassy, and asked to move in with her for the remainder of his holiday in Thailand. She undressed in front of the TV and walked over to the bathroom, throwing her clothes on the floor along the way. As she got in the shower, the late-night news showed the newly sworn-in Japanese Minister of Foreign Affairs being questioned by the Japanese and international press. The minister looked directly into the camera, his face resembling that of a toad. Nid had no idea that her first customer was being interviewed on international television. She applied some more shampoo and enjoyed the scent that filled the shower cubicle.
Tony
Carrying a bunch of flowers, Tony entered the private hospital and approached the front desk to ask where he could find his friend. Hubert had been placed in a private room. The burns on his torso, face and legs were covered in hydro gel, while his lungs had been severely damaged from inhaling the mixture of burning gas and oxygen. Tony walked to Hubert’s bedside and crouched down to whisper into his ear, “I told you that you’d burn. Now I’m here to thank you on behalf of your investors. They appear quite happy with the return on their investments. Oh, and by the way, you’d better check your bitcoin balance and your Hong Kong bank account. I’m not sure there’ll be enough funds left to pay for your hospital expenses.”
Yuth
It was a typically beautiful Phuket morning. Tourists sunbathed and strolled along Patong beach, the same as on any other morning. Two young farang men both covered in tattoos, with their hair in tight knots and their faces covered by hipster beards, were arguing with a Thai man. These farangs were the type that hang around Thailand’s tourist ghettos, acting as if they’re worldly experienced travellers in an attempt to impress backpackers and other tourists. But here they stood arguing with a man who had rented them two jet skis. The Thai man had clear green eyes and a nose that had obviously been broken at some point.
“We didn’t do this!” shouted the farangs as they pointed to the deep gouges on the bottom of a damaged jet ski. They’d believed they could talk their way out of it, but now a group of Thai men suddenly appeared and surrounded them. The farangs quickly realized they were in deep shit. This had become a daily routine to Yuth. Despite warnings plastered all over the internet, most farangs were just stupid and the jet-ski scam was a real money-maker. There was no doubt that the farangs would soon pay up. Yuth had settled into his new life remarkably quickly.
Yayee: Yuth
On waking up in the sex-change clinic, Yayee was upset to discover that her breast implants had been removed and her long hair cut short.
“You cannot be a beautiful girl anymore,” Ma Boxer told her soon after she woke. “Look at your nose – it’s even flatter than mine! And your face looks like you had a long Muay Thai career; longer than mine!” Ma explained how he’d lost nearly ten fights in a row, more or less ending his boxing career. A fan of his had offered him the opportunity of running a jet-ski rental business on Patong Beach. The price was too good for him to ignore, so he’d spent most of his savings on buying the business. “I spent a lot of money to get you out of this shit. Now you can work with me to pay it off,” said Ma.
The investigation
Police Sergeant Wallop had recently been promoted from the Royal Thai Police to the Department of Special Investigations (DSI). He was working on his first case in this new role, and was committed to doing his utmost to bring the assignment to a successful conclusion. He
scoured the report laid out on his desk. At first sight, the fire appeared to be caused by a short circuit in the air-con system, but the police called the DSI after finding the remains of a smartphone, together with a gas canister and a spark plug hidden under the dashboard. The DSI detectives had managed to find out where the smartphone had been registered to the telecom’s network, but the Gentlemen’s Club parking lot had no security cameras as its clientele appreciated privacy and discretion. The spark plug was the type used in motorbikes, but that wasn’t much help either because thousands of these were regularly sold in Bangkok. Attempts had been made to trace the owner of the smartphone they’d found melted under the dashboard, but the registered owner had sold it long ago. Confounding Wallop’s investigation even further was the fact that the fire had damaged the memory chip to the point that it no longer contained any data. Nonetheless, the detectives had been able to scrutinize the call logs from several telecom companies, through which they were able to identify a landline number in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. A few weeks had already passed since Wallop had submitted a request to foreign police agencies through the Thai Ministry of Foreign Affairs, as all such requests must go through that office. He’d emailed the ministry daily in the hope of expediting the case, but after not receiving any response, he picked up the phone and called the Foreign Ministry. He was first put on hold and then forwarded to several different departments. None of the people he spoke to were particularly cooperative. Finally, he was put through to someone who identified himself as the Director of Foreign Relations. “You can’t keep asking these questions,” the Director told him. “It’s embarrassing and will get you nowhere.”
The Second Poison Page 11