Lee was incredulous. “You’ve come a long way, man.”
“Yeah, I have. You don’t remember my name, do you?”
He blushed. “Sorry. It has been nearly a year.”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s Danny. Danny Shields.”
“Right, Danny. You’re sure you’re not pissed.”
“Not in the least, man. Like I said, it was holding me back.” Malkie sat quietly, watching the conversation like a tennis match, his eyes moving to the speaker.
“And now you’re here in Southeast Asia…” His eyes betrayed his concern.
“Don’t worry! I wasn’t following you. I have been many places. After you left, I spent more time in Mexico, up and down the Baja Peninsula. Then back to California for a while. Then around South Asia. Vietnam. Cambodia. Hong Kong. Singapore. I’ve been all over! I do love it here in Thailand though, you know?”
“Oh yeah, I know.”
“How about you? Where have you been over the last year?”
“Well, after Mexico I spent a bit of time in Brazil, but it’s so hard to stay there long term…so I came back to Asia.”
“Oh, I need to get to Brazil…that would be amazing.”
“Yeah, but you gotta be careful. Lots of expats get murdered there. Have to have your wits…”
Malkie jumped in, “Especially when yer job is ripping people off, yeah?”
Danny scolded him. “Malkie, c’mon, man…that’s behind us.” Lee’s eyes were larger, and he glanced once at the doorway.
“I was just pointing out the elephant in the room, that’s all.” He took a long drink, then sat silently, pretending to care about the incessant beat of the music.
“Lee, it’s okay, man. Seriously…relax. We’re friends here.” And he leaned back and took a long drink, to show his lack of concern.
“Okay, man. But hey, let me buy a round of beers…I do owe you that.” Lee was already waving to a waitress in the green Heineken skirt.
“Oh, at least one round. Probably two or three!” Danny laughed when Lee’s eyes shot over to him.
And they drank. Loud music. Thai-bar-expat banter, saying nothing important but telling old stories. They sat and drank. Lee did relax, and as the beer flowed so their voices grew with feats of courage. The bars they had frequented. The women they had defiled. The sights they had seen. Comparisons of beaches. Comparisons of women, both sexually and in appearance. Male banter, honed to an edge that only years of being alone could create. Loneliness becomes a badge of honor, not a sore to be covered. And they drank.
“Let’s get to a go-go,” Danny finally said.
“The beers are cold here,” Malkie protested.
“Yeah, but I think I need some pussy tonight,” Danny said, standing up, bringing the waitress over. He requested the check in the little Thai he knew, “Chek bin na krup!” but he saw that she already had it ready. As they pulled out their cash to divide the bill, Danny saw that Lee’s wad of cash was far short of a third of the bill, and it looked like he was down to his last few hundred baht -- perhaps about twenty dollars’ worth or so. He quickly put in more, and enough for a tip. He saw Lee look up to him appreciatively, saving him some embarrassment.
“Lead the way my friend” Lee said, as they walked back out. He clapped Danny between the shoulder blades, and off they went into the heat of the evening. Though nearly midnight, the heat had tapered little. Malkie was already sweating profusely.
Danny led them down the street. It was crowded; hot nights were always thus on Walking Street. They walked past a few crowded clubs. Malkie was huffing, but Danny kept walking until they found a low-slung building that appeared a bit quieter and less crowded, and near the end of Walking Street.
“Hillary’s? Why this one?” Malkie asked, though he was ready to go in any building with air conditioning.
“Those others are too loud. My ears are ringing from Insomnia. This one seems nice and quiet. A bit out of the way as well. Wanna be able to hear you two ladies without us having to shout.”
Lee walked in first, saying, “This is fine with me.” He moved to a small table near the stage. The waitress quickly put out napkins and took their orders. The beers were deliciously cold, and they each took a short drink.
Danny stood up. “Okay, gents, lift ‘em up! A toast.” They held their beers up to each other, “To old and new friends, cold beer, and lovely ladies! Now drain ‘em! Last one buys!”
The challenge was on.
They each tilted back their heads, and began to chug their beers. While peeking out sideways to see how the other was faring, they opened their throats and tried to finish the beer in a few long swallows. With each gulp they watched the beer sink lower and lower, occasionally breathing heavily through their noses. Malkie had his down first, slamming his bottle to the small round table, shouting “Winner!” Then Lee finished, putting his bottle down hard. Danny was last, though just seconds behind Lee. Danny let out a loud, liquid burp.
Quickly, Danny reversed the bottle in his hand, as deftly as a drummer turning his drumstick. Narrow neck in his hand. He brought the bottle down hard on Lee’s head, which opened immediately. A gash down to his eyebrow. Lee fell off his barstool and onto his butt. Malkie was on him instantly, raining hard fists on the side of Lee’s face, away from the spreading blood. He threw hard hooks, following him down to the ground after the first couple landed, one knee down for maximum leverage. Danny landed two hard stomps to his abdomen, and then was down on his knees, hammering punches to his body and chest. The air was forced out of Lee’s lungs, and he was coughing for breath. Hard punches earned thuds and wet crunches, and the desperate gasps for air.
Pandemonium had broken out, as people ran to the door. The prostitutes shrieked, and bottles fell to the floor. Bartenders were yelling, and someone was immediately outside shouting for the police. Neither hesitated, and they continued to punch with fury. Danny saw Malkie had turned Lee’s face to a bloody mask. He was receiving misty sprays of Lee’s blood with each hammering strike. Everything inside was flowing out, and there was a puddle forming around his head. Lee was limp, and clearly unconscious, eyes rolled back and body akimbo.
As his breath began to rasp, Danny’s hand shot to the back pocket of Lee, first on one side, then the other, until he found his wallet. Malkie was punching, but running out of steam, grunting loudly.
“You leave now! You leave…poh-leese coming,” the bartender was shouting, and they saw he had a baseball bat in his hand.
“Malkie, let’s go!” and they were on their feet and moving fast. Just as he was to the door, he turned back to Lee and pointed finger pistols at him. “See you later, man!” He gave a wink, then turned and pushed Malkie out the door. Once outside, they took a hard right, away from the direction the police would come. Into the dark night. They ran as only those who are chased can run. Drained of energy, they ran on fumes and adrenaline. Malkie stopped once to vomit the beer that churned in him. Then more running. The noise died behind them. Over a fence, into a residential area. They ran more, then another fence. Low-slung cement buildings all around them. Some lit windows, most dark.
“Okay, fuck…okay…they’re not behind us…let me catch…me fucking breath…” and they stopped. Malkie’s hands were on his knees. Hoarse roaring breaths…unable to take in air fast enough…then panting…then deep ones. Then they ran again, but less urgently. Danny realized he was barefoot. His sandals must’ve come off in the bar. He was feeling the hard ground, and his toes were covered in black filth. He knew they couldn’t find directions in the dark, but he felt he was keeping Walking Street to his back.
When they had put some distance behind them, they slowed to a fast walk. Malkie’s harsh breathing was loud and through his mouth, and Danny feared people would hear him and investigate.
They found a main street they didn’t recognize. They took on a casual stride, attempting to blend in. Danny knew the ruse wouldn’t last, as both of them had bloody hands, and he was barefoot. Both were s
oaked in sweat.
“Well done, Danny me boy!” Malkie finally said, chuckling, still sucking air. “Prick never saw that one coming.”
“Yeah, I hope he needs stitches. I got his wallet, so unless he can get back to his passport, he’ll have some challenges tonight.” He pulled out that wallet now, and opened it. He was surprised to see a North Dakota driver’s license. “Alan Michael Weeks,” he read aloud. “Fargo, North Dakota. Well, well. Nice to meet you, sir.” Danny took the license out. He found an open storm drain and threw it in.
“Dummy, you could’ve sold that!”
“Yeah, but if the cops catch us with it we’re fucked.”
“Right…”
Danny pulled out two credit cards, both MasterCards. One had the same name as the license, and one had the name “David Lee Jones.” He threw those over a cement wall, hoping someone would find them and max them. He found two one-thousand-baht notes and a few US twenties, folded tightly and tucked away in a small credit card slot. He was holding out on me! He took those, then threw the empty wallet into the next storm drain they came to.
“I’m going to bar fine the nastiest whore I can find with this money…he owes me that much, at least.”
“At least!”
“Okay, give me your Ya Ba.”
“The fuck?”
“Ya Ba. Hand it over…”
“You’re not pitching that! It’s expensive!”
“Listen, Malkie, what do you think is going to happen if we get stopped by the police? They’re probably looking for two farang right now. If we cross the wrong way on a street we’re gonna get stopped and questioned. They’ll search us.”
“Oh fuck…”
“Seriously. Think about it.”
“Right…this sucks.”
He reluctantly handed over a small baggie with seven pills. Danny pitched those into the same drain.
“Goddamnit, Danny! You owe me, man!”
“Yeah, okay. Besides, those fucking things make my kidneys hurt like I’m getting punched.”
“You really are a sissy, you know that?”
They walked until they found a busier street, and were relieved to find two scooter taxis, drivers with their orange vests. They waved them over.
“Hilton Hotel na krup” Danny told them. Each climbed on behind their own driver, and they moved out into the streets of Pattaya. When they arrived at the Hilton, they ordered beers and went to Danny’s room to drink them.
XXXIII
As Danny and Malkie climbed the steps of the Rangsit Apartments, up to the third floor, they saw Danny’s neighbor, Tony, coming out of the apartment across the hall.
“Hello, gentlemen” Tony said with a slight southern Indian lilt and measured politeness. “Back from your visa run then, I see.” He gently trilled the r’s.
“Hey Tony. Yeah, just got back, though we had a quick stopover in Pattaya for a bit of R&R.”
“Pattaya? Oh! You must’ve been as surprised as I was to see the large cocaine bust there. Hard to believe someone could be that stupid.” Tony had begun to descend the same steps they had just climbed.
Malkie, over his shoulder, said, “Nah, didn’t hear it.”
Tony turned, and walked back up the couple steps he had gone down, though they were already moving into the room. “Seriously? Oh goodness, gentlemen, then you really missed something amazing. Happened yesterday. Some American was badly beaten in a drug deal gone bad…out on Walking Street…and he was caught with several large bags of that crap. What an idiot. It’s all over the news this morning. You should check it out.” Tony kept his politeness, and stood there smiling at them.
Danny and Malkie exchanged glares. Danny could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, but he assumed a casual visage and a fake smile. “Wow, thanks for the information Tony. I’m glad we missed it though. Hard to believe anybody would smuggle drugs into a country that has the death penalty for drug smuggling. Have a great day, friend.” They pulled their bags into Danny’s room and, after a smile and wave to Tony, who was still standing there, closed the door.
Once inside, they went directly to the television. An initial run through the Thai channels yielded nothing. Malkie left his gear by the door, and continued to change channels. Danny began to empty his bags and put his clothes and things away. After about ten minutes, he heard Malkie gasp.
“Danny! Danny!” Danny was next to him in seconds. Through the chatter in Thai, they both heard a heavily accented pronouncement of “Alan Michael Weeks” with the last syllables emphasized…alAN miKON Wee. In a mix of still images and video, they saw pictures of a large black gym bag. A hand pulled the US passport from the side pocket. Then an image of the open bag with several plastic bags filled with white powder pulled out. Next, in customary Thai fashion, the video of the police and a heavily bandaged Lee standing next to his drugs. His head was wrapped in a tight turban of white gauze. His nose was broken and his eyes were blackened. Very little of his face was visible, and his left arm was in a sling. He still wore the same bloody clothes he had worn that night, and his shirt was stiff and black. Thailand has no concerns about presumptions of innocence. Suspects are forced to stand by their guilt on television, while brown-clothed police officers take credit for the capture.
Lee was pointing at the bags and answering questions. He was speaking, but the voice was drowned out by the Thai translation. They could just make out the murmur of “Hong Kong then Laos” and “minding my own business” and “I was attacked.”
As the channel switched away, Malkie and Danny looked blankly at each other for a minute. Malkie then retrieved his laptop. Once connected, he read passages from the Bangkok Post to Danny, as the latter sat blankly staring at the television, not even taking in anything.
“Police officials are calling it the largest cocaine bust in several years…” followed by murmurs... “Alan Michael Weeks of Fargo, North Dakota, carrying fourteen kilos of cocaine, purchased in Laos over the weekend…” murmurs… “admitted to the hospital in what appears to have been an attempt to steal this cache of illegal drugs…” murmurs… “Starwood Hotel manager Pornchatarn Leumaimit grew concerned when the bill was not paid and Mister Weeks was nowhere to be found…” murmurs… “arrested in Pattaya General Hospital, where he was being treated for multiple injuries…”
“Holy shit, Malkie…this is serious! If we get linked to this…”
“Right, mate…I think we should think about getting the fuck out of Thailand.”
“To go where? If they are after us, every border crossing would be looking for us. If we run, we look guilty.”
“So sit here and wait for some manky cop to nab us and send us to the Bangkok Hilton? Fuck that, mate…I’m packing.”
“Malkie, I’d advise against it.”
“The fuck?”
“Sit down…sit down and talk for a second.” Danny was still focused on the distance, so Malkie sat next to him in an armed chair that was too small for his girth.
“We’re stupid if we stay, Danny…think about it.”
“No, Malkie. Think this through. If Lee fingers us, he will try to share the blame. Running makes us automatically guilty. We then get caught at the border crossing and we are implicated in a drug-smuggling operation. We sit in jail and wait for our embassies to help us out…and they won’t because it involves drugs.”
“Or we get out. Did you think about that?”
“No way…the first places they’ll block will be the airports. If Lee is fingering us, they’re already there. Next they’d send our pictures to the border crossings, which would take an overnighter to get to. In either case, we’d be nabbed, and the very act of running makes us guilty. Our pictures would be on TV along with Lee’s, and we’d be guilty as far as anybody is concerned.”
“I can’t fucking do this, Danny. No way I sit here and wait for the hammer to fall.”
“But going about our normal business makes us look above suspicion. If we are questioned, we tell th
e truth. I had a grudge against Lee. We beat his fucking ass in a bar for revenge, he pointed the finger at us to get out of it. We have hundreds of witnesses to that. Not one witness will put us in his hotel with the drugs. We didn’t cross the border with him. Nobody can put us together except for the two hours or so before we stomped him. No way a judge convicts us.”
“Bollocks! Judges get it wrong all the time, man.”
“I’ll promise you this…if we get caught trying to flee Thailand, we’ll rot in jail waiting for a trial, and our running will be all the judge needs.”
“But we both came in through Laos, Danny,” Malkie protested. “Have ye thought of that?”
“You and I came in together. He came in at a different time. Photos at the crossing will verify that. We both had our visas stamped. Nobody puts us together there. The embassy in Laos will have our photos there. Together. Without him.”
“I think I’m gonna take my chances on a bus to Myanmar.”
“Malkie, look at me.” He did. “Don’t you dare fucking run. You’ll make me look just as guilty. Don’t fucking do it, man.” Malkie saw blank eyes looking into him. He looked away.
“I have to think about it, Danny…I’m scared as fuck.”
“Don’t be.” And their eyes met again. Malkie saw more than a serious expression.
He sighed heavily. “Okay, Danny. I’ll wait…but when we’re sitting in jail yer’ll have to remember that I told ye so.”
“Okay, but if nothing happens you’re gonna be kissing my ass for weeks.”
“Kiss that manky bum? The fuck I look like?”
“Like a bum-kissing limey.”
“Cunt!”
“I love you too, Malkie. Now let’s get your shit upstairs to your room. Don’t drink tonight, in case the cops come by. Dump any Ya Ba you might have. We’d better have our shit on tight if they do question us.”
“Right. Not feeling like I need a drink right now anyway. Gonna give up the sauce after this.”
The One Way (Changes Book 1) Page 17