‘That’s true,’ he said. ‘It’s usually up to the US-based producers to choose. The location company in Thailand recommends a spot and asks the province to put in a bid.’
‘What kind of bid?’
‘It’s like a sporting event – the Asia Games, for example. They say how much it will cost to feed and accommodate X number of film people. Fang was given the contract because their bid was the lowest.’
‘So the district isn’t actually making a lot of money out of it?’
‘Full hotel rooms, restaurants, transportation.’
‘For two weeks.’
‘It’s a tidy sum.’
‘But surely there’s some kind of … I don’t know … fee? Local tax? Kick back?’
‘Oh, no. We would never allow it. The producers have to submit their books to the Ministry of Interior so we can check that there was no corruption at the local level. We do all we can to ensure Hollywood comes back repeatedly. We have to be certain they aren’t cheated.’
‘That doesn’t sound very Thai,’ I said.
‘Oh, you’d be surprised how strict the government can be if it thinks it’s being deprived of income. Look, excuse me. They appear to be flying a seventeenth century flag on the parapet again. I’d better go and say something. I’m sorry.’ He stood and dusted down his pants.
‘Thanks for the insight,’ I said.
‘You’re very welcome. Your Thai is very good.’ This time he meant it.
‘Yours too.’
The man laughed and walked off, leaving me deep in thought on my Styrofoam rock. If corruption were the key to all this intrigue there’d have to be better takings at stake than a few plates of fried rice and a tent. Surely that couldn’t be reason enough to kill a director and three nice siblings from Chiang Mai. There had to be something more.
Three hours later, I still hadn’t worked out what could possess anyone to kill me. It wasn’t as if Sissy or I had done anything. Sure, we’d been at the hotel the night before Boon was killed. We’d contacted Star Casting and Locations in Bangkok and failed repeatedly to get through to Northern Thai Castings. But Sissy had called from a pay phone in town so there’d be no record of his number. No way of knowing who’d called or why. No, the enemy thought we knew something. They believed we were somebody else – doing something else. It was a case of mistaken identity. That was the only explanation. Nobody was going to assassinate the amok runners for just being ourselves. But I decided there and then to let them go on thinking whatever they wanted. I was going to get to the bottom of this little mystery – even if it killed me.
On the Wednesday, filming came to a sudden halt. A forest fire was blazing out of control across the Mae Ai hills and even though the flames were heading away from the ancient city set nobody could see a spear in front of their face through the smoke. The producers had hired a dozen truck tankers to ferry water from the Kok and hose down the area around the sets, just in case. OB had filmed one or two impromptu scenes that looked mysterious, like an old London fog, but having extras on the set didn’t make a lot of sense if you couldn’t see them. At eleven o’clock, the director called it a day.
We decided to drive back into Chiang Mai to see how Mair and granddad were doing and grab some clothes. Sissy was reversing out of the cobblestone driveway of our house when he suddenly slammed his foot on the brake.
‘Nice driving,’ said Arny.
But Sissy raised his chin at the rear-view mirror and we looked over our shoulders to see Bunny Savage dressed like Lara Croft. She was standing with her hands on her hips, her lovely legs akimbo in the open gateway. Arny smiled and nudged me.
‘Notting Hill, buddy,’ I said. ‘Remember Notting Hill. She can’t get you out of her mind.’
Sissy killed the engine and we climbed down.
‘Princess,’ said Sissy. He dropped to the ground and prostrated himself in front of her as he’d been taught by John Quirk. Arny did a shy finger wave from a distance. I walked up to her and shook her hand. It was soft and clammy.
‘Don’t touch my princess,’ called Sissy from the gravel. He brandished his air saber and came at me. I produced my air submachine gun and shot him. He fell back against the jeep bleeding imaginatively.
‘Yoo hoo. Anyone notice I’m standing here?’ said the movie star.
‘If you haven’t got a weapon you can’t play,’ I told her.
‘I’ve got bazookas,’ she said and blushed at her joke.
‘Yes you have but I don’t think they count,’ I said.
She smiled and put her hands in the pockets of her shorts.
‘Well, I came to see if you guys were okay. I just got back. OB told me about your little explosion. I was worried.’
‘Where you been, princess?’ Sissy asked.
‘Up on the Mekhong River floating candles,’ she said. ‘I’m serious. How are you both?’
‘We’re just a little singed,’ I admitted.
‘How’s Khin?’
‘She’s good. We sent her back to Chiang Mai yesterday.’
‘I like her.’
I took a step back and admired her costume.
‘So, you’re off to wrestle anacondas in the Amazon?’ I asked.
‘Like it?’ She did a twirl.
‘It’s … what’s the word, Sissy?’
‘Hot.’
‘Yeah, that’s it. If I were your mother I’m not sure I’d let you go out in public like it.’
She turned to Arny who was once more traumatized into silence.
‘How’s your back?’
‘I’m taking painkillers,’ he said.’
‘Get yourself a decent lawyer and sue me,’ said Bunny. ‘I’m good for it.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t do that,’ said Arny.’
‘Where are you all off to?’ she asked.
‘We were just going down to Chiang Mai to visit the family,’ said Arny.
‘In that?’ she asked.
‘Jimm, she called my jeep a “that”,’ said Sissy.
‘No offence,’ said Bunny. ‘I was just wondering how long it might take you. What’s it got … a ten CC engine?’
‘What’s your point, princess?’ said Sissy.
‘I could get you there an hour faster.’
The Lexus LX soared over the mountain roads ignoring fallen rocks, chickens and street signs. It was like watching the journey from a VIP cinema seat. We’d covered the flatland from Fang in the blink of an indicator button and were flying over the Chiang Dao hills on a two-lane road whose other vehicles seemed to be museum exhibits. White Terns surfed the Lexus slipstream. It was all perfect but for Gus.
Gus, the minder, had a back that never ended. His bald head grew from it like a mound of play dough. There didn’t appear to be any moving parts up there. His unblinking, unlashed eyes studied the road as he drove and on the rare occasion he spoke, the words were broadcast rather than enunciated. He appeared to be devoid of body hair but he was built like an armchair on oil drums so its absence didn’t make him any less threatening.
I’d lost the jostle for the back seat so I sat beside him and tried to make conversation. But it was obvious the minder didn’t see any hope for the world in people such as us. Sissy, in the meantime was giving Bunny the unexpurgated version of our family history, leaving out only Sissy. That seemed odd to me given how my brother loved to talk about himself. In fact I couldn’t recall him being so jumpy in front of a woman. Celebrity was a threatening thing. It cloaked a person in a media-made aura that forced mere mortals to be somebody else. You were either obliged to act frighteningly cool and interesting, or defer and shower them with platitudes. Either way you looked like a dick.
There were two official stops in Chiang Mai for the Hollywood actress. We decided to tag along. The first was to the Ban Ging Gaew orphanage. We weren’t surprised to see it wasn’t a clandestine visit. Despite the short notice the world press was there to meet her. A gingery publicist rushed over to the car with a parasol. She shielde
d the star to an open-air but roofed area where everyone was gathered. Gus was always a pace behind her. We skulked from the car and stood unnoticed in the sunshine.
‘I feel like … used, man,’ Sissy said.
‘You mean she just wanted you and Arny there beside her in the car to make her look good?’
‘It’s the image thing,’ said Sissy. ‘Big car. A smooth guy on each arm.’
‘I get it.’
‘So, what do we do about … the information?’ asked Arny, his eyes trained on his movie star.
One of the main objectives of this brief Chiang Mai visit was to chart the progress of the investigation of Boon’s murder. We wouldn’t go directly to the police. Rather, we’d get an update from my buddy on the crime desk at the News. Except I was supposed to be in Fang covering the movie so I couldn’t go.
‘Sissy, you should still see Nit like we planned,’ I said.
‘What? And leave Arny here alone with my girlfriend?’
‘You don’t think Guszilla’s going to leave us alone for a second, do you?’ said Arny. ‘I doubt you have anything to fear.’
We walked under a shade tree in the orphanage grounds and watched the show. The babies at Ban Ging Gaew were neatly dressed, mostly in yellow, and sitting on the laps of the caregivers around a small cement quadrangle. The press was restricted to a central, taped off area. They could follow Bunny Savage with their cameras as she walked from baby to baby, cuddling, smooching, squeezing cheeks. It was theatre in the round except the audience was at the hub and the star orbited like a chess grandmaster.
‘Look at her, Jimm,’ said Arny.
‘I am.’
‘Doesn’t that worry you?’
‘No.’
‘It worries me. Look at all that insincerity. You never know what you’re really getting with an actress.’
‘You worry too much,’ I told him but I got the feeling that was the moment he decided not to have a relationship with Bunny Savage. I wondered how he was going to break it to her.
The next stop was to Umong Temple. We drove slowly so all the same press people could get there before us. There were much more splendid temples around Chiang Mai with more historical significance but the publicist had decided this one presented more photo opportunities. Bunny Savage in a moody temple cave; the candlelight glinting on a Buddha image. Bunny Savage on a wooden bridge feeding the consecrated turtles. Bunny Savage kneeling before the abbot, head bowed, hands together; the red and purple of her temporary sarong contrasting dramatically with the saffron. Wonderful colour magazine fodder. It had all been worked out.
‘It’s bullshit,’ said Arny. We were sitting cross-legged under a bo tree watching the circus.
‘You really think she’s got any choice, brother?’ I asked.
‘Yes, she’s got a choice. If she told the people round her to pack it in – stopped paying them or something – she could avoid all this crap. If she didn’t enjoy it why would she do it?’
I hadn’t seen Arny this animated since he came in second at the regional Body Beautiful competition the year before. The break up was already hitting him hard.
‘You sound like you’re taking this woman a wee bit too seriously, Arny,’ said Sissy.
‘Not at all. I just … Oh, oh.’
A greasy-haired westerner in K-mart clothing decorated with heavy camera equipment broke away from the herd.
‘You think he’s coming for us?’ Sissy asked.
‘Looks like it,’ I said. ‘He’s been eying us since we got out of the car. Could be the “Bunny Savage Secret Lover” shot.’
Sissy took Arny’s hand and lifted it to his lips. He looked into his eyes and kissed his fingers. Arny giggled. Greasy stopped in his tracks, shook his head, and turned back to the circus.
Chapter 15
“Love means never having to say you're sorry.”
Love Story (1970)
The show was over but two cars still tailed the Lexus. Gus hurried it along the narrow lanes but we were in town so there wasn’t much chance to outrun anyone. We threaded along the back streets that led to the university. Gus seemed to be one of those new generation hard men brought up on computer games and arcades. He negotiated the natural obstacles like Luke Skywalker. By the time we hit Suthep Road and the back fence of CMU there was just the one car on our back. We stopped briefly to let out Sissy and he blew a kiss to Arny. Nobody bothered to follow him.
We turned left on the busy road. It was crammed with student motorcycles and the beaten up old cars of lecturers whom time and wealth had cruelly passed by. We swung into the back entrance to the university. We were supposed to sport a sticker allowing us access to the campus but Gus wound down the window and glared at the boy at the checkpoint. He was lost inside his uniform, overwhelmed by his responsibilities. Too much trouble – too little salary. He waved the big SUV through and saluted the frightening farang in the front seat. I’d assumed this would shake off our tail but the guard had lost all faith in his own authority and waved the Honda through also.
I had another idea. We drove across the campus where the beautiful old trees and landscaped grounds were slowly being gobbled up by building works and re-emerged through the main gate on Huay Gaew. We turned left, passed the zoo and headed up the hill to Doi Suthep. This was home turf. The Lexus made the slope of the mountain seem level but somehow the pursuers remained in sight. We passed the entrance to Khin’s lane beside the Naval Station and climbed another two kilometres before executing a drastic U-turn. For a man with no neck Gus was an impressive driver.
We passed the press vehicle at speed, flew back down the hill and turned on two wheels into the lane. It was a job well done. Even Gus found some room on his face for a smile. The pursuit vehicle could only expect us to be heading back into the city. Gus slowed down along the lane and pulled up behind the house. When I suggested we go in for a cool drink until the coast was clear, I assumed Gus would be joining us. But I hadn’t fully grasped the concept of serfdom. Bunny said, ‘Gus, wait in the car.’ And he waited in the car. Just like that. It put the bodyguard into an entirely different category in my mind. I’d been thinking of the big man as a functioning human being, but he wasn’t. He was a military experiment – the perfect soldier, put down at the order of a mere girl. ‘Gus, vacuum the carpet.’ ‘Gus, roll me another joint.’
In front of the peculiar house, Bunny Savage stood staring at the view. It was fuzzy, the way long-sightedness might interpret a city, but it was impressive never-the-less.
‘It’s still a bit smoky,’ I said as Arny and I slid open the glass doors.
‘I’m sure it’s delightful in the winter,’ she said. ‘I imagine you all sitting here with your buddies like lords and ladies of the manor.’
‘Pretty much,’ I said and smiled at the sight of Bunny Savage on Khin’s front deck. Weird. Not for the first time in my life I wished I had my own camera. At the News if I wanted photos I’d have to take a cameraman. It was a regulation. I didn’t have one handy.
I’d left the fridge connected so there was cold coconut water in there that quenched our thirsts and cleared our pipes. At one stage, with Bunny negotiating the outside toilet, Arny marched over to me.
‘Jimm, I don’t think I can do it.’
‘Do what, Arny?’
‘Tell her we can’t be together.’
‘You wh…?’
‘You know me. I don’t like hurting people.’
‘Arny, I don’t think …’
‘Can you do it for me? Please.’
He was dead serious. I guess when all you’ve ever known is women fawning over you, you assume we’re all like that. So I promised to break the news to Bunny Savage; the woman who could have any man on earth.
‘All right,’ I said.
She came back from the latrine with a smile on her face.
‘It’s like being at camp,’ she said.
‘Was there paper over there?’ I asked.
‘Reams of it.’
>
‘Won’t be long,’ Arny called from the far end of the house.
‘Where are you going?’ I shouted.
‘Just to the store,’ he said.
The nearest store was at the bottom of the mountain and I doubted Gus would be inclined to give him a ride. I ushered Bunny to the wooden bench beneath an iron filings tree. It provided some respite from the mid-afternoon sun. We sat opposite each other smiling.
‘I could hang out here forever with you guys,’ she said.
‘You’re certainly a step up from the type of company we usually get here.’
I suppose I could have just ignored my brother’s request and pretended I’d broken up with her on his behalf. Of course there wasn’t a hope in any of the Buddhist hells that she’d be thinking about dating him. I imagined her with the more pensive, more intelligent, more animated types. Guys who’d made fortunes with their nonce. Not a young man who’d spent more hours in a gym looking at himself in a mirror than in a classroom.
But I’d promised and Arny had a sixth sense when it came to lying to him. I’d never get away with it. He’d know. So, delicately, I approached the subject.
‘Bunny?’
‘Yes?’
‘My brother.’
‘Uhhu?’
‘He’s got it into his head that you like him romantically.’
‘He’s right.’
‘Now, I reali …What?’
‘I do like him romantically.’
I was disappointed.
‘Really? Why?’
‘Jimm, are you kidding? He’s unique. He’s very attractive. And he doesn’t see me as a bimbo.’
‘But you wouldn’t … I mean, you could never date somebody like that?’
‘Why not? I think we’d have a cool time together. He’s my type.’
‘You can have your choice.’
‘Of star hunters? Sure. But guys who aren’t affected by the glitter, they’re hard to find. Jimm, he’s your brother so it’s natural you don’t see his best side. You grew up vomiting on each other and poking sticks up each other’s butts. But your brother’s real special. I’d date him at the drop of a hat.’
The Amok Runners Page 10