by Jake Needham
Alisa hadn’t said a word since we left Le Bouchon.
“Where are we going?” I asked her when the noise level dropped enough to make conversation possible without screaming.
Alisa gave me a look. “It’s not far.”
I gathered that was the only answer I was going to get.
After a couple of hundred yards we came to a wide place in the sidewalk where the concrete wasn’t too badly broken up. It was just in front of an office building that was closed for the night. A food vendor had taken over the space and set out a dozen battered green metal tables with three or four red plastic stools around each of them. On the other side of the tables he had a coal fire burning in a large black pot with the grill laid over it and he was cooking prawns skewered on bamboo sticks.
Only two of the tables were occupied and Alisa pulled out a stool and sat down at one as far away from the vendor and his other customers as it was possible to get. I pulled out another stool and joined her, and we sat in silence for a while and listened to the traffic rumbling past not more than ten feet away on Surawong Road. I was waiting for Alisa to tell me why we were there, but she didn’t say anything at all.
“What happens now?” I asked when I got tired of waiting.
She gave me that look again, the same one she gave me before when I asked where we were going.
“You are not a very patient man are you, Professor Shepherd?”
“Perhaps not, but I’m not a professor anymore either.”
Alisa’s shoulders moved up and down slightly in the tiniest shrug I ever saw.
“Mai pen rai,” she said.
Mai pen rai might be the most common phrase in the Thai language. It translates roughly as never mind, or it doesn’t matter, but for Thais the phrase is more than language. It is nothing less than a cultural symbol, something akin to a national motto. It encapsulates in just three words everything about what it means to be Thai. Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Who can resist that?
Over Alisa’s shoulder, I watched the vendor pile skewers of prawns on a pink plastic plate and carry it toward us. He was a wizened little man, thin and wiry with leathery brown skin and a heavily lined face. He placed the plate the middle of our table and next to it he placed a bowl of lethal looking green liquid with chopped chilies floating in it. Alisa said something to him in Thai too rapid and colloquial for me to catch. He paused and shifted his eyes up and down the sidewalk, then gave a single jerk of his head and walked away.
After a few moments, the man returned with two open bottles of Chang Beer, placed one in front of each of us, and returned to cooking his skewers of prawns. Alisa took a long pull from her bottle, wiped her mouth with her hand, and looked at me.
“It is absolutely forbidden for him to sell beer,” she said. “And it is absolutely forbidden for us to drink beer here.”
“But this is Thailand.”
“Exactly,” Alisa smiled broadly. “You do understand something about our country, don’t you, Professor Shepherd?”
Alisa inspected the prawns critically and selected a skewer. She dipped the prawn at the end of it into the green liquid and bit off a piece. I did the same, but as I lifted my skewer from the green liquid Alisa reached out with her free hand and placed it gently over mine.
“Have you ever tried that sauce before?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“You should be careful. It’s very hot.”
I touched the prawn with my tongue. Quickly I jerked the skewer away and grabbed for my beer. The beer helped to quell the pain, but not all that much.
“Maybe I’ll try them without the sauce,” I said.
“Wise choice,” Alisa smiled.
I TOOK THE prawn doused in the green sauce off the bottom of the skewer with my fingers and tried one without the sauce. It was delicious, tender with the tangy edge that came from cooking on an open coal fire.
Alisa continued eating in silence. I decided it was up to me to bring our conversation around to the point.
“Are you a friend of Kate’s?” I asked her.
“Yes,” Alisa nodded. “I am very proud to be.”
“I understand you can put me in touch with her.”
“Let me ask you something first, Professor Shepherd. How much do you know about what has happened here in Thailand since the coup?”
“Not a lot, I guess. After the military forced Kate out of office, I understand they threw the usual charges of corruption at her and they say they’re going to make her stand trial. She isn’t really under arrest as I understand it, but I gather she’s pretty restricted in her movements.”
“You make it sound as if it’s all been very polite.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“One night the army moved into Bangkok with tanks and troops in full battle dress. They announced the government the people had elected was dismissed and that they were forming what they called the National Peacekeeping Council to govern Thailand instead. Since then, the military has removed every elected government official and runs every aspects of this country at their own whim. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
I nodded, but I wasn’t sure it was fair to claim I really did understand. Americans and Europeans have never experienced the army suddenly taking over their countries at gunpoint. While we can say we understand what a military coup is, I doubt any of us have even the slightest comprehension of the sense of violation and rage that must sweep over people to whom such a thing has actually happened.
“Since then we have lived in fear,” Alisa continued. “No one is permitted to speak against the army. They have ruthlessly stamped out all dissent. People have even gone to jail for saying the wrong thing on Facebook. Others have simply disappeared. General Prasert has taken away our right to choose those who govern us and he does not plan to give it back. Not ever.”
“And yet here you sit in public telling me how you feel about what the army has done. Isn’t that a form of dissent?”
“We are very careful, Professor Shepherd, but please understand this. We are going to take our country back. You can be certain of it.”
I took a bite out of another prawn and chewed slowly to give myself a moment to think.
What in the world was going on here? Was Jello trying to suck me into getting involved in some kind of underground political resistance? Surely not. He wouldn’t do that to me, would he?
“You look uneasy, Professor Shepherd.”
“Stop with the Professor Shepherd stuff, would you please? I don’t teach at Chula anymore. I don’t teach anywhere anymore. I’m just a lawyer in Hong Kong doing his best to make a buck.”
“If you prefer. But I don’t think that is what’s making you look uneasy.”
“Of course it isn’t. A friend asked me to talk to Kate about getting her out of the country, but if I do it will be for purely personal reasons. Kate is my friend and I’ll help if she wants me to help and if I can. My friend told me to go through you to reach Kate since she was being held under what apparently amounts to house arrest. But now you make it sound like you’re recruiting me to join a resistance movement that’s plotting to rise up against the Thai army. Don’t you think I should look uneasy?”
“Look, Mister Shepherd—”
“Jesus, what am I getting into here? Is there a resistance movement?”
Alisa hesitated, but then she gave a very small nod.
“Is Kate leading it?”
“No, of course not. She is not involved at all.”
“But you are.”
“Yes.”
“And you are Kate’s friend.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Alisa, turn my palms up, and gave a little shrug.
“No, it is not the same thing. The people of Thailand chose Kate as prime minister in an open and fair election. The army rolled over this country and took power from her at the point of a gun. Kate is the symbol of all we have lost. She is a symbol of all we want to be again. If she
is lost, our hopes to return to democracy will be lost with her.”
“Don’t you think that’s being a little melodramatic?”
“No, and neither should you. Someone you trust told you she will be put to trial on these fabricated corruption charges, and she will be convicted, and she will be sent to prison. And when she is in prison, they will kill her.”
I looked away. I pulled my beer bottle toward me and picked at one corner of the label with my thumb.
“You did not think I know that?” Alisa snapped. “Is that why you haven’t said it? Or is it because you don’t believe it?”
“I’m not sure whether I believe it or not.”
“Believe it. It’s true.”
“Does Kate know all of this?”
Alisa hesitated. “I do not think she believes it either.”
“Is that why she doesn’t want to leave the country?”
“I imagine she has many reasons, but it is true she does not believe she is really in danger.”
“Then there is not much that I can do, is there?”
“You must convince her. She trusts you. I know she does. She does not trust many people.”
“I think you’re exaggerating our relationship.”
Alisa smiled, but she said nothing.
“The whole truth,” I added, “is that we never really had a relationship at all.”
“I know that, Professor… Mr. Shepherd. That is exactly why she trusts you.”
We sat in silence for a while after that, eating prawns and sipping beer. I sensed Alisa had said all she had to say and was letting me think about it. It was a wise choice on her part and, in a strange way, gave her words more weight.
“If I were going to talk to Kate, how would it be best for me to do it?” I asked after a while. “I probably shouldn’t go to her house and ring the doorbell, should I?”
“It would not be wise for the army to know you have met. Wise neither for her nor for you. That is why we did not want you to enter Thailand under your own name.”
“We?”
“I should not have said that. Please do not ask me to talk about anything except Kate and making arrangements for you to meet her.”
“Are you telling me Jello is part of—”
“There are things, Mr. Shepherd, it would be far better for you not to know.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that so I let it pass without comment.
“So what now?” I asked.
“Then you are willing to talk to Kate? Is that what you’re saying?”
What kind of friend would I be to say no? Besides, it would be nice to see Kate again. Really nice. I should probably just admit that to myself and get on with it.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“You have an iPhone, don’t you?” Alisa asked.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
Alisa reached into another hidden pocket in her tunic and produced a clear plastic kitchen bag. She pushed it across the table to me, and I saw a SIM card inside.
“Please use this in your telephone. I will call you tomorrow afternoon with instructions. After we have talked, take this SIM card out and destroy it.”
“Don’t you think this all may be a little over the top?”
“I do not think you understand how dangerous this is, Mr. Shepherd. We must be careful to protect Kate and you must be careful to protect yourself. You are going up against unpredictable men who can easily turn violent.”
“I’m not going up against anybody.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Then maybe I should start protecting myself by going back to Hong Kong and not getting involved in this.”
Alisa laughed, and it was exactly the same lovely, musical laugh I had heard her laugh before.
“Kate has told me a lot about you, Mr. Shepherd. And you walking away when a friend is in danger? I don’t think there’s any possibility of that. None at all.”
I thought about that for a while and picked some more at the label on my beer bottle. Eventually I scooped the little plastic bag with the SIM card in it off the table and put it in my pocket. If this continued, I was going to need to start a spreadsheet to keep track of my SIM cards.
“You’ll call tomorrow afternoon?”
Alisa nodded, but she said nothing else.
TWENTY-ONE
I GOT TO the Pacific City Club a little early the next morning for my meeting with the mysterious Mr. Wang. They escorted me to the lounge and very kindly offered me coffee, which I accepted. The club looked more or less the way I remembered it from the last time I had been there although perhaps it did show a bit more wear here and a little less freshness there. But then you could probably say the same thing about me.
The Pacific City Club is comfortable without being lavish. It offers members a bar, a dining room, a small gym, and the lounge where I waited for Mr. Wang. The lounge is decorated to look like a library although I’m certain the books were bought by the yard and I doubt even a single one has ever been taken from the shelf and read by anyone. The floor is polished hardwood, and blandly forgettable oriental rugs define several seating areas, each offering a dark brown leather couch, two matching leather armchairs, several teak tables, and a couple of bronze-based lamps. Since the club occupies the top three floors of Two Pacific Place, the large windows offer panoramic views over Bangkok, something only slightly more interesting to me than the shelves of decorator books lining the other walls.
The coffee was pretty good and while I drank it I thought about this Mr. Wang I was there to meet. What did a triad accountant working in Thailand look like, anyway? And why did he insist on meeting here instead of at his office? I doubted it was because Mr. Wang wanted to impress me. Clearly he didn’t want me seen at his office. But seen by whom? And, even if I were seen, why would that be a problem for him?
I was still pondering how many good questions I had, and how few answers, when I sensed someone enter the lounge and walk toward me. I glanced up and struggled to keep my surprise from showing. Mr. Wang looked nothing like the triad guys I had met in Hong Kong, and not all that much like any accountant I knew either. He didn’t even look particularly Chinese. What Mr. Wang looked like was an English gentleman coming to his club for a cup of tea.
“Mr. Shepherd?” he asked as he extended his hand.
I agreed I was, and we shook.
Mr. Wang was slight in stature, slim and not particularly tall. He had long gray hair brushed straight back at the temples and he wore gold-rimmed half glasses on the end of his nose. His dark grey pinstriped suit looked bespoke and probably cost more than I make most weeks. He even wore black lace-up wingtips, and I wondered for a moment how long it had been since the last time I saw anyone wearing lace-up shoes. It was difficult to guess at his age. Fifties maybe?
I had no idea what a triad accountant was going to look like, of course, but I suppose I had something along the lines of tats and an undershirt in mind. It never occurred to me he would be a soft-spoken little man in a five-thousand-dollar suit speaking Oxford accented English.
“Please,” Mr. Wang said, gesturing at the chair in which I had been sitting before he arrived. “Sit down.”
He took the chair opposite me and simply sat there in silence looking at me with a polite smile on his face, saying nothing. It almost appeared as if he was waiting for me to flash the secret sign. Was Uncle Benny supposed to give me a password? It certainly looked that way. I wasn’t at all certain how this triad stuff worked.
To avoid blithering like an idiot, and because I had no better idea what to do, I just sat there and smiled back. I was curious which one of us would win this staring contest. I did.
After a while, Mr. Wang cleared his throat and shifted his weight in his chair.
“I believe my assistant asked you to bring something to this meeting, is that not correct?” he asked.
For a moment I didn’t know what he was talking about, but then I remembered. His assistant had firmly instructed me to
bring identification.
I pulled my passport from one back trouser pocket, my real American passport, not the Canadian passport Jello had given me. Leaning forward, I placed it on the table in front of Mr. Wang.
“Thank you,” he said.
Mr. Wang picked up my passport, opened it, and gave the identification page his full attention. He glanced back and forth between the picture in the passport and my face several times. Apparently satisfied that we matched, he folded back the cover, held the page up to the light, and examined the watermark in the paper. After that, he slowly paged through the entire passport booklet and scrupulously examined all of my visas and entry and exit stamps. When he came to the last page, he closed the passport with what seemed to me to be a degree of reluctance, like a man who had been reading an interesting book and regretted seeing it come to the end.
I might have laughed out loud at that, but I knew the real laugh was yet to come.
Reaching into my other back pocket, I took out the Canadian passport Jello gave me, leaned forward, and placed it on the table as well. Mr. Wang looked at me a moment, saying nothing. Then he put down the American passport, picked up the Canadian one, and went through exactly the same careful examination routine with it. When he was done, he lined up both passports on the table in front of him and folded his arms.
“Are you with the CIA?”
“No, sir,” I chuckled, “I’m Jack Shepherd, the lawyer from Hong Kong you were told to expect.”
“Then what is this?” he asked, tapping one finger on the Canadian passport.
“You have been told you can trust me to speak to a man whose whereabouts apparently only you know. I don’t want you to find out somehow that I entered Thailand under a different name and decide I have deceived you. It is better for me to be honest with you right from the beginning. Besides, I’m not very good at keeping my names straight. If I get them mixed up, I don’t want to take you by surprise.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”