Betrayal j-2

by Russell Blake

  “That’s fine, but it could take too long. I’m thinking I need to get my hands dirty and start nosing around at the street level,” Jet said.

  “Fair enough. Arthur wanted me to tell you that he’s allocated a resource for you to use. An experienced field agent who speaks perfect Thai and who has a lot of depth in sanctions.”

  Jet bristled. “Absolutely not. I work alone. He knows that.”

  “He thought you would feel that way. He gave me a message — you should call him for more detail, but this isn’t negotiable. Look. I know this guy. He’s extremely good, knows the lay of the land, and it will make any information-gathering way easier due to the language and also because a couple looking for some kinky fun is way more believable than a woman alone asking questions. Think it through.”

  Jet had to concede that he had a point. It was a far more plausible cover. But she still had no idea who she could trust and who Hawker might have compromised.

  “Is he Caucasian?”

  “Yes. A local would raise eyebrows. This way you could be husband and wife or girlfriend and boyfriend looking for something exotic and forbidden. A lot of couples come over looking for a little spice. It’s not that unusual. But never a Thai couple — it would be socially unacceptable, or at least harder to explain, especially given that you don’t speakee speakee.”

  “Who is this agent?”

  “I’ll introduce you tonight or tomorrow, if you like. His name’s Rob Phillips. Twenty-nine, been here for six years. Smart, quick and dependable.”

  “How much contact did he have with Hawker?”

  “None. He was in the south, Hawker ran the north. Need-to-know and all that. We don’t have an annual dinner or anything for spooks. I probably wouldn’t know half the people working here, and I’ve been the top dog since Hawker went off the reservation.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. He’s clean.” Edgar paused. “You take my satchel when we get out of the boat. There’s a satellite phone in there, along with a Beretta, as you requested, and a butterfly knife.”

  Jet nodded. “Ammo?”

  “Fifty rounds. I’ll get you whatever else you need within twenty-four hours of you asking for it.” He smiled. “We aim to deliver good service here in the Far East…”

  “Silencer?”

  “Yes. As you stipulated. But try not to use the Beretta here. The Thai police tend to be very anti-gun in the hands of a farang.” Edgar hesitated. “How much do you know about Thailand and Thai culture?”

  “Just what I read on the flight over.”

  “This is a very polite society, at least on its surface. Everyone smiles at you, and it’s conflict avoidant. Nobody is direct about anything — it’s considered impolite. But as a foreigner we’re farangs. And Thais view farangs as fat, dumb, clumsy barbarians — which I suppose is true of many examples they see of us. It’s a racist society, too, as are most. Darker skin from the north is lower class, and there is tremendous class consciousness. Lighter skin, like yours, would be viewed as superior. But if you’re a foreigner, you’re almost subhuman from their standpoint — although part of the weird self-hatred that’s endemic to the culture is that marrying a white man or woman would be viewed as elevating one’s station in life. Mainly because it’s a society that worships money, and most white foreigners have more money than the average Thai.”

  Jet shook her head. “I’m not planning on marrying anyone here.”

  “I’m telling you this because you need to recognize that, in this environment, you’re the minority, so you have little chance of anyone opening up to you. Even though you look like you could be part Thai, you don’t speak it, so you’ll be treated like a farang, which means that you’ll be smiled at a lot but also lied to about anything that matters. It’s just the way it is.” Edgar increased his pace on the pedals, and Jet matched him. “If you have any problems, it will be automatically assumed that whatever happened is your fault. In any sort of situation where it’s a question of a Thai or you, the Thai will win. You need to understand that you’re operating at a distinct disadvantage at all times, and err on the side of caution, or this could go very badly for you before you’ve even begun your mission.”

  “I appreciate the background, and I’ll watch my step, but I still don’t like the idea of dead weight tagging along with me.”

  “Rob’s not dead weight. He’s anything but.”

  “He’s a kid.”

  Edgar smiled grimly. “So are you.”

  Jet conceded the point. “I probably have more experience than the average fifty-year-old agent.”

  “Perhaps. Obviously, Arthur is hoping that will make a difference. Time will tell.”

  “Let’s head over to the far shore,” Jet said, and they adjusted course. “So what’s your plan for meeting this Rob tonight?”

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d say hook up at a restaurant. A crowd. Although I know you’re staying at the Dynasty. The Die-Nasty, the locals call it.”

  She was annoyed that he knew where she was staying, but then remembered. “That’s right. The tracking chip.”

  “I’m the only one who has access to that info.”

  “Except for Arthur. And whoever is doing the actual tracking. Which is three more people than I’m comfortable with. It’s a stupid idea. Invites disaster.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not subject to debate.”

  “I know.”

  It took them six minutes to cross the pond in the swan boat, and when they bumped land Jet scooped up the satchel and stood.

  “Sorry about the sandwich remnants,” Edgar said. “I also stuck a cell phone in there for you. I’m speed dial number two. There are no other numbers on it.”

  “I guess since I’m one huge GPS tracking beacon right now, I don’t need to worry about the cell phone being a liability.”

  “Freeing, isn’t it?” Edgar’s smile had no trace of genuine humor.

  “I’ll call later to find out where my dream date is going to take place tonight.”

  “Give Rob a chance. You may find that he’s not so bad.”

  Jet stepped onto the shore and disappeared into the crowd of pedestrians moving around the water on the perimeter path.

  Edgar fished a phone out of his windbreaker.

  “How did it go?”

  “She agreed to the meet, but I think she’s suspicious.”

  “Of course she’s suspicious. She’s not an idiot,” Arthur said.

  “She wasn’t happy.”

  “No, I bet she wasn’t. Do you think we’ll have a problem?”

  “Too soon to know. I read her the riot act about the locals. I hope she’s as good as you say or she’s going to be eaten alive before she gets within a hundred miles of the jungle.”

  “She is.”

  Chapter 11

  Raffle’s was bursting with diners lapping up the faux-British atmosphere. Black-and-white photographs of David Niven in cinematic triumph adorned flock-papered walls that brayed a shade gaudier than the hues of the green and pleasant land it strove to emulate. An insufferably arrogant hostess showed Jet to a table, in keeping with the behavior Thais believed would be authentically representative of the UK. Jet didn’t have the heart to break it to the girl that the food there was generally regarded as horrible. Let her have her moment.

  A young man with neatly-trimmed hair and a deep tan stood as she approached, then waited until she took a seat before joining her. She looked around, confirming that nobody was within earshot.

  “So you’re Rob.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Rob said, affecting an obviously fake smile.

  “Sure it is. What have you been told about me and why I’m here?”

  “Just what you would expect.”

  “Then you should know I don’t work with a partner.”

  “It was mentioned.”

  “Yet here you are.”

  “Don’t hold back. It’s okay to let me know how you really feel.”

&
nbsp; A waiter approached and asked what she wanted to drink. She ordered a bottle of mineral water and returned her gaze to Rob. He was a good-looking young man, fit, with a deceptively ordinary face — she wouldn’t have given him a second glance in a crowd. Brown hair, brown eyes, no scars or distinguishing features. Put a pair of glasses on him or a mustache and he would be a completely different person.

  “It’s no secret that I’m against this whole idea. But I don’t have much say in it, apparently, so here we are,” she observed.

  “That being the case, what’s for dinner?”

  They considered the menu, and when the waiter returned with her drink, they ordered.

  “We can’t just sit here and not talk,” Rob said, taking a sip of his beverage.

  “Sure we can. Everyone will think we’re married.”

  “Hmm. So, what’s the first move?”

  “You tell me why I should ever see you again once I leave this restaurant.”

  “Well, let’s see: I speak Thai, know Bangkok well but am not known in the circles you’ll want to travel, can hold my own in any situation…and because you have instructions to work with me.”

  “Rob. Let me make this as clear as I can. I have no instructions. I have a man with a melted face asking me to consider using you as an asset for a short time while I’m in Bangkok. So, sweetie? It’s not the way you think it is.”

  The entrees arrived after a tense back and forth. They ate in silence, Rob sulking and looking almost as unhappy as Jet did. When the bill came, he paid, then Jet stood up abruptly.

  “Thanks. Come on. Let’s take a walk, and I’ll fill you in on where I’m at.”

  “Yes, master.”

  “I think that would be ‘mistress’.”

  They exited the restaurant and strolled side by side, and she brought him up to speed on her thoughts. Once she’d finished, he nodded.

  “I agree with the thinking that I can help on this. If we pose as a couple looking to swing, we’ll have an easier time in the clubs. In the meanwhile, we can put feelers out to all the informants and spread some money around through Edgar. When we get a lead, we can start hanging out at whichever one of his places Lap Pu is at, and then play it by ear. Unless you have a better idea,” he said.

  “I’m not sure how else we’re going to find him. It’s not like we can just blunder in and start asking where we can find a slavery kingpin who knows a white devil somewhere in the northern jungle.”

  “Then it’s decided. I’ll be your boyfriend, and hopefully, Edgar will have something for us soon. Once he does, we can play it by ear and see what else surfaces.”

  She still didn’t like it, but as she’d listened to herself telling Rob about her strategy, it had sounded increasingly tenuous. Perhaps he could prove helpful after all.

  “How do I reach you when I have more info?” he asked.

  She fished the cell phone from her pocket and gave him the number.

  “Now take me to Nana and show me around. I want to get a feel of the place.”

  The streets were teeming with drunken tourists as they neared the infamous Nana Plaza — three stories of establishments catering to the sex trade. They passed several girls, who looked barely thirteen, in short skirts and six-inch heels, teetering around as they chattered at passing prospects. “Hey, sexy man. Hey, big man. What you looking for? Come on, sexy man.”

  A ten-year-old boy, an emaciated street urchin, smiled shyly at them as they passed. She watched out of the corner of her eye as an older Caucasian man slowed and stopped to chat with him, then they walked off together in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, big man. Want a ladyboy tonight? Who knows how to love you up right?” a young street hustler murmured to them as he leaned in to Rob. “Check it out. Crying game. Kathoey. Ladyboy?” He gestured at four stunning young women who, apparently, were transgender. One of the beauties blew him a kiss as the others tittered.

  “Looks like you’ve found some fans.”

  “There’s something for everyone here. But I don’t swing that way.”

  “Are they all men?”

  “Depends. Some have had the ultimate operation, some haven’t. But they all started off as men.”

  “What’s the attraction?”

  “You got me. I guess sexuality can be complicated. I’d have thought if you wanted a guy, you’d just go with a guy, but obviously not. They’re actually viewed as a third sex by many of the locals.”

  “Is there anything off limits here?”

  “Not really. Welcome to Thailand.”

  They approached Nana, and the crowd got thicker; sidewalk peddlers touted knockoff purses and pirated DVDs as brown uniformed police filtered through the throng as a deterrent to violence or theft. Australian accents echoed off the bar fronts as groups of rowdy partygoers bellowed drunkenly at each other, to the mingled invitations to come in and have a drink from the hundreds of bar girls dressed as provocatively as possible in the interests of luring customers.

  “The joints look pretty shabby,” Jet observed. Perhaps at one time decades ago it had been a hotspot, but Nana had an air of decay about it — of an aging debutante long since past her prime, but still clinging to her partying ways.

  “They are. Same with Soi Cowboy — one of the other big sex districts. Both Nana and Cowboy have seen better days, and now with the economic downturn, many of the bars are losing money.”

  “Wow. So even the whoremongers are feeling the pinch?”

  “I’m sensing a distinct lack of sympathy.”

  Bar after bar with young Asian women beckoning to anyone walking by to sample their wares blinked with neon desperation in the perspiring night. Jet and Rob moved past the currency exchange and took the escalator to the first floor, where the motifs catered to every possible depravity — bondage and S amp;M, ladyboys, schoolgirl playpals, and straight go-go bars.

  “The real kink is on the top floor,” Rob explained, “and at the private clubs in the area. Ping pong shows. That’s what our man Lap Pu specializes in, along with prostitution.”

  They cruised the plaza and the surrounding streets, where everything imaginable was for sale.

  “I had an acquaintance tell me that if I wanted a knock-off Chinese-manufactured Benz that looked like the real thing right down to the last detail, he could get me one. There are literally no limits here.”

  She looked around at the hookers of all shapes and sizes. “How much worse could it get than this?”

  “Much. You’ll see once we start hitting his clubs. They have shows in the front and whorehouses in the back. But it doesn’t stop there. Even though the official stance is that child prostitution is vigorously prosecuted, it’s well known that it goes on every day, and Lap Pu is one of the big names in the business.”

  After another half hour wandering the streets, fending off propositions every few feet, she was done. “I think I’ve seen about enough for one night.” A man had just leaned towards them and made a distinctive popping sound with his mouth and inquired in English if they were interested in ping pong. Jet thought she would never be able to hear the words again without imagining his leering face, discolored teeth and wisps of black mustache framing his popping mouth.

  “All right. You’re lucky it’s a Tuesday. If this was a weekend, it would be three times more crowded.”

  “What about disease? AIDS has to be rampant.”

  “It’s on the increase. For about a decade, condoms were mandatory for sex workers, but that’s become more relaxed as the economy has tightened. Some of the girls will do anything for a few more baht, and they wind up paying the ultimate price. Same for the boys. It’s an ugly situation all around.”

  “How much does a sex worker make?”

  “I think the going rate is anywhere from two thousand baht to five thousand baht. Depends on where you get them. In dollars, that’s anywhere from fifty dollars to couple of hundred, again, depending on where you pick them up and how long you stay with them. A lot of
the tourists come here and want a girlfriend experience, a situation where she’ll stay with them for however long they want, twenty-four hours a day, and lay by the pool, go to dinner, the whole works. That costs more.”

  “So maybe they can take home thirty to forty thousand dollars a year?”

  “Again, depends. I’m not an expert at this, but what I’ve heard is that it’s a big piece of the Thai economy. Imagine if your options were making five or six hundred dollars a month as a bilingual schoolteacher, for instance. Starting to see where the financial driver is here?”

  She was tired from the multitude of experiences and psychically drained by the exposure to so much corruption. Bangkok was a black hole, a dwarf star for energy. At the moment, it was hard to imagine that anything good existed in the world.

  Jet said goodnight, and Rob promised to get in touch as soon as he knew something. They parted ways on the sidewalk in front of the Nana hotel, a multitude of older male tourists laughing loudly as they exited, on their way to the sex mall for a night of abandon.

  Her hotel was only a two-minute walk, and she’d never been so happy in her life to be back in a small room with working air-conditioning and a sturdy lock so she could hose off the accumulated filth that seemed to have coated her entire being — and wake up to a new day that wasn’t steeped in toxicity.

  Chapter 12

  Rob’s voice sounded excited on the cell phone the following afternoon. “We’ve got a lead.”

  “What is it?”

  “Lap Pu sighting late last night at his largest club. An informant slipped us the tip. Apparently, he’s got some meetings tomorrow night.”

  “That’s great news. Whose informant?”

  “Friend of one of the bouncers. Works club security on the evening shift. Saw the great man himself at midnight with an entourage. Overheard him agreeing to get together tonight and meet tomorrow. So we have two nights, at least.”

  “How long since his last trip north?”

  “It should be time for another one within the next week. He disappears for a week at a time. Nobody knows what he’s doing.”