Resisting the urge to take over, Rajiv talked her through the search function. The computer was archaic, the hard drive whirring and clunking as it scanned the files. Finally, they had a hit on ‘Mayuree’, a document listing her places of work and the services she used at the centre, but no home address. They tried searching for Kamolsert, waiting another noisy minute before they hit paydirt.
‘Sixteen stroke two Thanon Mae Nam Kwae,’ Jayne read aloud. ‘That’s it.’
She scribbled it down on a scrap of paper, stuffed it in her pocket and was halfway to the door when Rajiv said, ‘Don’t forget to shut down the computer.’
‘Do it for me?’
Rajiv hesitated. He hadn’t touched a thing and turning off the computer meant leaving his fingerprints on the keyboard. Was it a test of his loyalty? Or was he being paranoid?
‘No problem,’ he said.
Blocking her view of the keyboard with his body, he pulled his sleeve down over his hand and shut it down. He was about to head for the door when Jayne grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him to the floor.
‘Don’t move,’ she said. ‘Someone’s coming.’
28
Chaowalit lingered in the street, leering at the girl selling dried squid from a rot khen on the corner. He liked that she used matching pink pegs to hang the stiff squid from the lines on her push-cart. The elastic bands she used to fasten her take-away bags were pink, too. He liked to watch her tenderise the squid through the mangle: it showed the muscles in her forearms and made sweat bead above her upper lip. As he bit into his salty pla meuk, he imagined he could taste that sweat.
Of course, the girl barely noticed him.
To watch her work the mangle, Chaowalit ordered extra squid and sold the surplus at a marked-up rate to the nurses at the centre. He had more mobility than most of his colleagues on the late shift and used it to his advantage, handling orders for food and other goods, and occasionally, in collusion with the night-shift nurses, off-loading surplus medicines.
His role as guard was largely symbolic: his employers didn’t hesitate to send him off-site for more than an hour at a time when there was a baby to be despatched. Once he summoned the nerve to question Mister Frank about this.
‘I thank you for your concern, brother Chaowalit,’ Mister Frank said, ‘but I trust in the Lord to watch over us.’
Chaowalit supposed the risk of theft or property damage was low, given their quiet location. Besides there wasn’t much worth stealing; he’d looked into it. The good stuff was kept at the other compound where security was outsourced to a private company and the guards rotated on an eight-hourly basis.
Chaowalit wasn’t complaining. The job was pretty easy and the sideline business gave him more power than any security company flunky.
He carried his bags of squid back to his post, locking the gate behind him. He took a fortifying mouthful of Krating Deng and resumed his post. The moon was on the wane, just as it was the night the farang girl died.
He still couldn’t figure out exactly how it happened. He’d meant to set the girl straight, not send her over the edge.
He knew she liked him. She flirted with him, even when she was seeing Sumet. But Sumet couldn’t protect her the way Chaowalit could. And he’d gone along with Sumet’s ridiculous plan to show her that. Her response was not what they’d expected.
Chaowalit shook his head to dislodge the memory and reached beneath his chair for a second bottle also labelled Red Bull but filled with Mekong whisky. He took long gulps, feeling the fire in his belly. He bit his dried squid and this time imagined he could taste the push-cart vendor’s tender cunt. The more he thought about it, the stiffer his cock grew until he couldn’t sit still.
Putting aside the squid, holding on to the bottle, Chaowalit veered around to the back of the building and unzipped his pants.
‘Someone’s coming all right,’ Jayne said, peering through a gap beneath the blind. ‘It’s the guard.’
‘Get away from the window,’ Rajiv whispered.
‘I don’t think his mind is on the job,’ she chuckled. ‘He’s having a wank.’
‘What?’
‘You know, playing with himself, jerking off.’
‘Oh dear.’
The masturbating guard didn’t shock Rajiv so much as Jayne’s nonchalance.
‘We should get out of here while he’s got his hands full, so to speak,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’
They heard the guard moan as they crawled out of the office and closed the door. Jayne paused briefly at the abandoned guard post then signalled for Rajiv to follow.
They sprinted across the open compound to the gate only to find it padlocked.
‘Shit,’ Jayne swore. ‘We’ll have to climb over.’
Rajiv’s eyes widened but he nodded, scaled the gate, swung his lanky legs over the top and dropped to the ground on the other side like a cat.
‘You’ve done this before,’ Jayne whispered.
Rajiv nodded. It was true. The same could not be said for Jayne. Lacking his dexterity and height, it was an awkward climb for her. She managed to get to the top and had one leg over when there was a shout from the compound. They looked up to see a guard running in her direction. Rajiv’s heart sank.
‘Hide,’ Jayne hissed, ‘I’ll handle this.’
As he slipped into the shadows, Rajiv heard her call out. He angled his watch to check the time and sighed.
Jayne was about to launch into an explanation when she remembered that as far as Chaowalit was concerned, she couldn’t speak Thai. She adopted her best guesthouse English.
‘Hello, where you go? I call you. I not ring bell because I not want to wake babies.’
Chaowalit had been running towards the gate, baton drawn, but slowed to a shuffle when he saw Jayne straddling the gate. She had one leg either side of a row of metal spikes, her weight resting on her hands. A slip-up would split her in two.
‘You help me down?’ she added.
Chaowalit took pleasure in her predicament. He stopped and, smirking, took much longer than was necessary to restore the baton to his belt. He muttered an expletive and shuffled closer.
‘What you doing?’ he growled.
Jayne bit back none of your business, and wracked her brain for a plausible excuse.
‘I no have ATM card. Maybe I lose here when I meet Mister Frank.’
Chaowalit frowned.
‘I lose ATM card,’ she said in a louder voice. ‘I think here.’
It would be easier if she could free her hands to make gestures, but she couldn’t let go of the gate.
‘No have money,’ she pleaded. ‘Need money…’ She finally hit on a word he recognised. Chaowalit reached and helped her down.
‘Thank you,’ she said through gritted teeth.
She drew a small rectangle in the air with her fingers.
‘Need to find card for bank machine.’ She pointed to the administration building.
Before he could respond, Jayne made a beeline for the entrance, eager to put some distance between them. She slipped back into the foyer and pretended to pick something up off the floor whilst fishing through her wallet for her card. She stood up and turned to leave, almost crashing into Chaowalit, hot on her heels.
‘Found it—’ she waved the card at him. ‘Lucky me!’
‘Lucky,’ Chaowalit agreed with an unpleasant smile.
Jayne turned towards the gate but Chaowalit grabbed her by the wrist. She caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath.
‘You want I tell Mister Frank you come here?’
‘Take your hands off me,’ Jayne said firmly.
‘You want I tell Mister Frank you come here?’ he repeated, tightening his grip.
She shook her head, more annoyed than frightened.
‘Then what you give me?’
He had her in a bind. If she offered him money, he’d know she was lying about not having any. What else did she have? He was too strong for her to fight and, assuming she could
rouse him, Rajiv would be no match for Chaowalit either.
‘Open the gate,’ she said, nodding towards the entrance.
‘What you give me?’ He tugged at her wrist, probably with the same hand he’d used to pull his cock.
‘Listen pal,’ she said in her best Thai slang. ‘You let me go now and I won’t report you to Mister Frank for jerking off behind the admin building and being drunk on the job, okay?’
Chaowalit released his grip. ‘Older sister, you speak Thai,’ he said, shocked enough to use the polite form.
‘That’s right, little brother. Let’s make that our secret, okay? Now it’s late. Please, open the gate.’
Chaowalit nodded and stepped forward to remove the padlock. He seemed dazed.
‘Mister Frank doesn’t need to know we’ve seen each other at all tonight,’ she said.
Chaowalit closed the gate, restored the padlock. Instead of returning to his post, he stared after her. Jayne willed herself to turn and smile, but she was seething. Chaowalit now knew she spoke Thai, that made her vulnerable. She’d need to watch her back.
‘Chowk dee nong Chaowalit,’ she shouted over her shoulder, hoping both to dismiss the guard and attract Rajiv’s attention.
She scanned the street and caught sight of his lanky frame pacing across the soi, impatience in his gait. She’d set out hours earlier determined to find Mayuree without alienating Rajiv. But she’d failed on both counts and it was nearly two in the morning.
She joined Rajiv on the corner and hailed a songthaew.
They barely spoke on the way back to the hotel, Rajiv fading before her eyes. Jayne half-carried him to the reception desk, where the concierge handed over her room key, no doubt used to guests’ tendencies for sudden couplings.
Jayne steered Rajiv through the door. He disappeared into the bathroom. After a few minutes, he re-emerged with damp hair, wearing nothing but a white towel slung low over his hips. Jayne noted the curve of his pelvic bone, slender waist, navel encircled by wiry black hair that tapered into a narrow line and disappeared beneath the towel like a question mark.
Yes, she wanted to answer, whatever the question.
He looked at the double bed, registering it for the first time. ‘Do you want me to sleep on the floor?’
The question threw her. ‘No, of course not.’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You have my word that I will not molest you in the night.’
He kissed her gently on the forehead.
‘But—’
‘Jayne, I’m exhausted.’
She blushed at the thought her lust was so transparent.
‘Me too,’ she lied, her body pumped with adrenaline. ‘I’m sorry about tonight.’
‘Don’t be worrying about it,’ Rajiv said through a yawn.
‘I’ll make it up to you.’
He murmured something as Jayne turned to the bathroom. Reflected in the mirror, she saw Rajiv remove the towel from his waist and slip on a pair of white drawstring pants before collapsing into bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
To be on the safe side Jayne locked the bathroom door behind her so she could come in private.
29
Max gazed at the smooth brown back in bed beside him. His name, Oud, was the Thai equivalent of ‘oink’. But there was nothing porcine about this lover, a featherweight muay thai boxer, with not an inch of fat on him. Even his arse was solid muscle. Max doubted they had much of a future together. He was too old for workouts at the gym, and sooner or later someone fitter and richer would steal Oud away. Max intended to enjoy it while it lasted.
He reached to cup that sculpted ass in the palm of his hand when his mobile phone rang.
‘Bugger.’
He glanced at the screen but didn’t recognise the number. It could be a diplomatic emergency. Max couldn’t afford not to answer it.
‘Hello?’
‘Max, it’s Jayne.’
‘Jayne? This isn’t your number. Where are you calling from?’ He must have sounded as annoyed as he felt.
‘So, would you have answered if it was my number? Or I am interrupting something important?’
‘Yes, no.’ Max watched Oud roll out of bed and disappear into the bathroom. ‘Go ahead, Jayne,’ he sighed. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m still in Pattaya working on the Maryanne Delbeck case. And I’ve stumbled across something that raises significant questions about the verdict of suicide.’
‘Really?’
Max sat bolt upright, excitement and dread slugging it out in his head. While he took pleasure in his friend’s investigative prowess, Maryanne Delbeck had died on his watch and re-opening the investigation would be a diplomatic nightmare.
‘I’m still putting together the evidence but I need you to contact immigration at the US Embassy and ask them to put a hold on a visa for a recently adopted baby boy. Adoptive parents’ first names are Leroy and Alicia.’
Was one diplomatic nightmare not enough for her?
‘Jayne, I don’t think you understand. I can’t do something like that without just cause.’
‘I have reason to believe the baby was stolen from his mother and his identity falsified.’
Max whistled.
‘That would do.’ He rubbed his temples. ‘But where’s your evidence? I can’t recommend a NOID without something more concrete than your word.’
‘A noid?’
‘Notice of Intention to Deny. It’s what the embassies issue when there’s doubt raised about the legality of an adoption. It’s a very big deal. Rarely happens in Thailand these days.’
‘Well, does it have to be that formal? Couldn’t you just have a quiet word with your counterpart in the US Embassy so they lose a form or something?’
Max sighed. ‘I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do.’
‘You’re a prince among men,’ Jayne said.
Among men is where I’d much rather be, Max thought as he terminated the call.
He could hear the shower running—perhaps all was not lost. He slipped out of his boxer shorts and headed for the bathroom.
Jayne hung up the phone and sipped her plastic bag of iced coffee. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock but she’d been busy. She left Rajiv sleeping, with a note promising to be back at six to take him out for dinner. On her way to Chai’s office, she had dropped into an express photo lab and had Kob’s photo duplicated, together with the shot showing Frank and Doctor Somsri with the adoptive parents. Next she found a street café serving rice noodle soup. While waiting for her breakfast, she consulted her English-Thai dictionary— she spoke Thai with greater fluency than she wrote it—and composed a short message that Mayuree would be sure to understand: ‘I believe your son is alive. Please contact me as soon as possible.’ She included her mobile phone number.
It was too early for the post office, but Wichit’s nephew Chai was happy to add Jayne’s letter, addressed to Kanchanaburi, to his office mail. It was his phone she’d used to call Max in Bangkok. He also proved to be a good source of information on restaurants in Pattaya.
She thanked Chai and set out for the centre, keen to make sure there wasn’t any fallout from her confrontation with Chaowalit. She saw Frank on the way into the orphanage, but his brief greeting and leave-taking cry of ‘God bless’ gave her no reason to believe he suspected anything.
The day passed like any other. The Thai staff fed the babies, the volunteers played with the babies and Jayne cleaned up after the babies.
She parried another attempt by Dianne to invite her out and escaped at five on the dot. Back at Chai’s office, she drafted a letter to Police Major General Wichit. She didn’t plan to send anything until she had evidence, but it was an opportunity to collect her thoughts, get a handle on how the scam worked.
By his own admission, Frank knew which children in the nursery were sought after for overseas adoption—look kreung and Thai girls—and his first tactic was to pressure the mothers to give up their children.
To Jayne’s mind, this in itself pushed ethical, if not legal boundaries. When that didn’t work, things got really interesting. The desirable babies were given a falsified identity and forged paperwork to make them eligible for adoption. Jayne recalled Frank saying they often held the children’s official papers at the centre.
This would come in handy when putting together the bogus identity: if the child was born in Krabi in Thailand’s south, for example, the forged birth certificate would be sure to list place of birth as somewhere like Nakhon Phanom in the northeast, making it harder for the child’s family of origin to be traced. Perhaps a counterfeit maternal death certificate was produced or a fake statement of relinquishment. Jayne assumed Frank and his associates would vary the details to avoid suspicion.
Perhaps the trickiest part of the operation was to account for the child’s death when there was no way of producing a corpse. In the case of itinerant parents, excuses could be made about communication difficulties and time pressures.
Where the mother was close at hand, as in Mayuree’s case, exotic illnesses had to be invented and cremations expedited on public health grounds. Producing a fake death certificate was probably the easiest part of the operation.
Money would change hands. Jayne suspected the doctor and those behind him with access to official records took the biggest cut. Frank’s reward would be more spiritual: the knowledge he’d saved innocent souls from their prostitute mothers and sent them to good Christian families in the West.
Frank would have to keep some sort of paperwork. But what use was falsified material to Jayne without proof it was falsified? She had no way of knowing under what name Kob was adopted out or what grounds had been fabricated to explain how he became an orphan.
What she could prove was that he wasn’t dead. It followed that if she could get hold of Kob’s death certificate, she could prove it was a fake. And that should be enough to keep Kob in Thailand, if not justify an investigation into adoption fraud at the New Life Children’s Centre.
Frank Harding would have no reason to keep a copy of Kob’s death certificate. However, Doctor Somsri who’d signed it would be obliged to keep a copy on file.
The Half-Child Page 18