The Amok Runners

by Colin Cotterill

  On the set we encountered a movie scene within a movie scene. It was reality cinema – staged yet spontaneous. A cameraman on the scaffold filmed the proceedings without direction. Major Ketthai had arrived at the set. From our vantage point on a small hill we could see the entrance to the site and the valley. A short convoy of cars had come to a halt just below us. The lead vehicle was the gold SUV in front of which stood the major answering questions from the Thai press. OB was standing beside him looking tired and a little bemused.

  The sounds of the interview microphone reverberated in the valley. Ketthai held up the rope that had tethered the director and the knife with which the major had cut him loose. There had been a tragic gun fight which left the kidnappers dead. Their bodies wrapped in large blue sheets of plastic were in the back of a pickup truck behind the SUV. On a second pickup a heavily armed squad of commando-like police officers sat stiffly. They were dressed in black and shouldered assault weapons. Their cheeks had been darkened with charcoal rectangles that I realized served no purpose other than looking impressive in photographs.

  OB gazed around him and noticed us on the ridge. He waved slowly and we raised our thumbs. The gesture didn’t necessarily suggest that everything had come to a happy conclusion. I had no idea what to expect next. After his phone call, Sissy had gone off to meet his friend’s contacts in Tha Ton and nobody had heard from him since. It was possible the CCC wouldn’t be at all interested in a small corrupt police force in the north. They were busy sorting through charges against the entire cabinet of the deposed prime-minister. They had a year to bring them to justice and reclaim any siphoned-off finances before the country reverted to its usual warped democracy.

  It wasn’t unthinkable that Major Ketthai might become a world media celebrity the next day – a real life hero for the new millennium. It was likely he’d receive a commendation from the police ministry and be promoted to an influential position. Such things happened in Thailand. If corruption was handled neatly enough the common people would respect you for getting away with it.

  The crew, staff and Thai extras had gathered around the convoy. Some were photographing the wrapped bodies with their mobile phones, others were posing with the somber swat team. I knew the Wa had been moved away yet I could see there were some bold characters stripped to the waist working their way toward the convoy. They were approaching from different directions like insects that had the scent of a dropped sugar lozenge. They filtered through the onlookers and seemed intent on getting as close to the trucks as they could.

  It was a scene that could only have been noticed from an elevated angle. The police officers in the truck and the press gathered around OB would have spotted nothing unusual. Some of the newcomers were shaking hands with the commandos and slapping them on the back.

  Then there must have come an order that I could neither see nor hear and the bare-chested extras, to a man, reached behind their backs and produced pistols from the bands of their shorts. With just one brief scuffle the police in the truck were overwhelmed. Two men stood either side of Major Ketthai and his adjutant with guns pointed into their sides. They removed the weapons from the policemen’s holsters. Two uniformed army officers arrived and held up their hands to the frantic press gallery. Cameras clicked and whirred and questions were yelled. One of the soldiers began to address them in Thai. The foreign press was even more frustrated.

  ‘What’s he saying?’ Bunny asked.

  ‘He’s telling them the story,’ I said.

  ‘Beginning?’

  I listened.

  ‘Right at the start,’ I said. ‘The threat to Star Castings in Bangkok and the transfer of the contract to Northern Thai.’

  ‘They knew about that?’

  ‘So it seems. It’s pretty detailed. I guess …’

  ‘What?’

  From the scrum of onlookers below someone had called Sissy forward. He was wearing denim overalls and had darkened his five-o-clock shadow to appear in front of the cameras. He stood beside OB and began a translation for the foreign correspondents. Nobody wanted to miss a word.

  ‘I guess Sissy passed the message on to his friend,’ I said to the group gathered around me. ‘But I get the idea the army boys have been monitoring this already. You don’t set up a sting operation this fast.’

  ‘You should be down there too,’ said Bunny.

  ‘That’s not going to happen.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I’m shy.’

  Four army vehicles rolled up the dirt path from the road and the disarmed police were loaded aboard. Major Ketthai, shouting his innocence and calling for the press not to believe the word of an illegal military junta, was hurried into a jeep and driven away. Only Sissy, OB and the two military officers remained in front of the gallery. After ten minutes, the tale was almost told.

  ‘The military took over the police headquarters in Fang half an hour ago and removed all the files and computers,’ Sissy was saying. ‘The suspects will be held by the army until the central police command in Bangkok has time to go through all the evidence.’

  ‘He’s good, isn’t he,’ said Bunny.

  ‘A natural.’

  Chapter 30

  “It's been a long time since I smelled beautiful.”

  The Chronicles of Riddick (2004)

  The balcony party that night was seriously silly. We’d somehow crushed the entire crew, the international and Thai actors and two dozen legitimate journalists into the accountant’s house. Even Dan Jensen had somehow found his way to the celebrations. There was just the one official camerawoman and she seemed to be caught up in the gravity of the stars. The gate security was on double shift. The drinks cabinet was emptied very early in the piece but OB had bought out the entire stock of the Mini Mart and Drink, Tha Ton’s own general store. Even that was in danger of early depletion and one of the drivers had been sent into Fang to hunt for more.

  ‘So, OB tells me you and your brothers are leaving the picture.’ Bunny had joined me on the two-person swing seat in the side garden.

  ‘Yeah. We’ve done enough dying for one year.’

  We listened to a green-headed gecko yelling its chant above the din of the CD speakers. Sissy had pointed out once that if you listened carefully it sounded like it was saying ‘Take care, take care,’ but I’d never been able to hear that. Bunny told me I should be inside having a good time but I wasn’t in a mingling mood. I spent most of the following two hours on that swing seat and let the party come to me. I felt like Larry King. Everyone came to talk. One celebrity stood up and another took his or her place. I had my pick of second string actors that night but all I could think of was how close we’d come to losing our lives. Khin wasn’t amongst the glitterati of course. She’d taken the night bus back to Chiang Mai. She had more important things on her mind than murder and corruption. Before she left, an arrangement had been made for the Wa to stay on and see out the contract at the official rate of thirty-dollars a day. It transpired that the Wa Army would be helping themselves to half of the hundred and twenty baht wages as ‘commission’. If the extras could keep their mouths shut they’d have a healthy nest egg left at the end of it. For some it meant a chance to pay off debts and start a new life.

  To my disappointment, Khin hadn’t forgotten the deal we’d made. Her parting comment had been, ‘I’ll make the Wieng Kum Kam house as comfortable as possible for your arrival. You should all bring shovels. It shouldn’t take us more than a week to find our pot of gold.’

  OB had come to join me on the swing seat.

  ‘We’re going to miss you guys,’ he said. ‘Not on the set so much, but you’ll be notable absentees from our philosophy nights on the balcony.’

  ‘What do you mean, not on the set?’ I said. ‘You don’t think I could make it in Hollywood?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ah, I hate honesty.’

  ‘You wouldn’t want the Hollywood life. It affects people in all the worst ways. You’ve got all the heaven y
ou need right here.’

  ‘You seem to have gotten through it in one piece.’

  ‘This is me at the end of the tunnel,’ he said. ‘I went through a number of dark identities before I arrived at this one.’

  ‘Well, I like it. Hang on to it.’

  ‘Thanks Jimm.’

  Sissy made a few brief stopovers at the swing seat. He brought me refills for my Chilean red.

  ‘Hey, brother,’ I said.

  ‘Any news about …’

  The music stopped when someone changed the stack of CDs.

  ‘… the body we dumped in the river?’ he asked too loudly.

  Heads turned but we were only briefly embarrassed. We laughed as if it was a punch line and the people standing around in the garden went back to their small talk. The music started. Mary J Blige.

  ‘Shout it a little bit louder why don’t you?’ I said.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘They got two descriptions from your lady at Star Castings. The guy in our living room was probably the private eye she hired to look for her girlfriend. But that body hasn’t shown up yet so we can’t be sure.’

  ‘And the girlfriend?’

  ‘Some workers at a pomelo plantation told the military they’d seen a woman’s body in a pond. It was pretty rotten but it might have been the partner. Looks like she was tortured before they shot her.’

  ‘Shit. It’s a messed up world, Jimm.’

  ‘It sure is.’

  ‘Any theories about why Director Boon got himself shot?’ Sissy asked.

  ‘I’m guessing he found out the extras were getting ripped off and didn’t want any part of it,’ I said. ‘The cops pulled the same intimidation trick that had worked on the CEO in Bangkok. But he didn’t have family to threaten and they knew his reputation so I’d bet they were afraid he’d go to the authorities. The meeting was the deadline. If he didn’t show up with the money they had no choice but to execute him.’

  ‘Poor guy,’ said Arny. ‘This is a tough life for honest people.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Which reminds me. Did Khin forget?’

  ‘Sadly, not.’

  ‘So we’ve still got to go down there and dig?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I did kind of promise her.’

  ‘It’s okay. She deserves it.’

  To my surprise, even Dan Jensen came over to pay his respects on the swing seat.

  ‘Wow, you know everybody,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m you.’

  ‘Yeah? Zen.’

  ‘Where’s your dog?’

  ‘He goes to bed at seven.’

  ‘Beauty sleep?’

  ‘Something like.’

  ‘Dan?’

  ‘Yeah, man?’

  ‘Are you into boys?’

  ‘What? A guy has a miniature dog so he has to be a faggot?’ He’d lowered his voice and pushed the frontiersman out in front of him. ‘Jees!’

  ‘Sorry.’

  Jensen looked at me. I gave him my prettiest smile.

  ‘Why you asking, anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, you’re a cute guy. I was just … oh, nothing.’

  ‘Are you hitting on me?’

  ‘Well, it’s just you’re the only guy here who hasn’t propositioned me yet so I guess you haven’t heard about my … unique gift.’

  Jensen seemed to blush and looked away. That really would have been a coup – bedded by the male lead of a big Hollywood movie. He turned back to me and French kissed me. He tasted of Lysterene. It was an oddly pleasant moment but he ruined it.

  ‘I could give you a go,’ he said. ‘Can’t say I’ve had a Thai chick before. But you do know I could have my pick of anyone?’

  So when he came back later to tell me he’d missed his helicopter and asked me where my room was I gave him directions to OB’s suite. I told him he could bed down early and wait for a surprise. That tickled me, the thought of him not getting lucky for once in his life.

  Chapter 31

  “Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating.”

  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)

  ‘Khin, put those charts away and come have a drink why don’t you?’

  My suggestion was ignored. She and Sissy and Arny sat in front of the building with their feet on a saggy, half-rolled chicken-wire fence that was unlikely to deter even the most undetermined chicken. As there’d been no chairs to move out into the concrete front yard Sissy had removed the seats from his jeep and lined them up behind the fence. It was a poor substitute for the house on Doi Suthep.

  ‘I feel like a redneck,’ I said.

  Our view was of the bungalow directly opposite and the old lady’s grey underwear hanging from a line.

  ‘Khin!’

  ‘Yes, I’m coming.’

  After two days at home recovering from the excitement we’d arrived in Wieng Kum Kam that morning. We’d spent most of the day pacing and sinking probes and scratching at the earth with spoons. I was surprised nobody had come to ask what we were doing. There was no guard or watchman as such. The head of the village was technically in charge of the site only because the ruins were in his suburb. But he didn’t seem particularly interested in its historic significance. He liked the fact that tourists came and injected modest sums into the local businesses. But, like me, he felt little love for the piles of bricks all around.

  At present there was no team from the Fine Arts Department working at Wieng Kum Kam. They came and they went with the budget. Right now, with the military occupation, a number of project funds had been frozen. Khin had flashed her CMU letter at the headman who read as far as ‘university’ and ‘Burmese expert’, and asked her if she needed a place to rent and a ‘companion’. She assumed this meant a lady housekeeper to avert the normal dangers encountered by single women rather than a lover. Khin had accepted the room but declined the chaperone. It had been a bad decision all round.

  But it wasn’t just the depressing house, the wasted effort and the view of the neighbour’s underwear that caused the atmosphere of gloom that evening. During the afternoon Sissy had received a call from his friend at the CCC. It appeared that two of the senior officers at the Fang station had been identified both on the film at the Dhara Dehvi and as the heavies who visited Tip at Star Castings. But there had been no concrete evidence to implicate Major Ketthai and none of his men was prepared to give evidence against him. They all seemed to believe that, come the November elections, it would be business as usual in the country and their cases would be dismissed.

  The military junta had no legal right to hold Major Ketthai and under pressure from the interim crime suppression division commissioner he had been released. A considerable bail sum had been ordered and summarily posted. Sissy’s friend had strongly recommended that we lay low for a while. The major had been overheard talking about the interfering bastards from Chiang Mai. He’d given the impression he wasn’t familiar with the concept of gentlemanly defeat. To our knowledge there had been four deaths to date, and two more wouldn’t add to or subtract from the major’s account in Hell. It wasn’t unthinkable that the Fang policeman might seek revenge.

  We had reached the end of our seething and were currently in a funk that only a drink and a smoke could lift. Khin had to duck as she came out through the doorway and plonked herself down into the passenger seat. I handed her a glass of neat Saeng Som rum. Ice might have made it more palatable but there was no refrigerator and the local shop closed at six.

  ‘I remain baffled,’ Khin admitted. She drank from the glass with a lack of expression. No food nor drink had ever inspired Khin to make a comment about it. She was either empty or full like a VW gas tank. On approaching empty she refuelled. She could eat anything at any time – the spiciest Thai dishes or the most flyblown roadside lunches.

  ‘I fear I may have erred in some way,’ she said.

  We weren’t surprised in the least. We expected no better from our eccentric friend. I’d listened to her
foolproof plan and failed to follow her. But it was good to have our minds off Major Ketthai.

  ‘It clearly stated,’ Khin blustered on, ‘that Mangrai had supported a temple at the furthest point from the river. The two most distant temples within the city walls were Phan Lao and Hua Nong. None of the other buildings we see here today had been built in Mangrai’s time. I have identified and located these two temples and we have covered every inch of ground within the eastern moat and been unable to find any remains of the other temple mentioned in the transcripts – the temple they refer to as Pa Tan, which may be translated as the palm toddy temple.’

  ‘Maybe they were suffering from overcrowding and they had to build it outside the city,’ I suggested. I liked to show Khin I had some interest in her research even though I did not.

  ‘Yes, Jimm,’ she said. ‘As I have explained many times, in the thirteenth century, one of the main points of building a walled city was to safeguard one’s Buddha images and valuables. It was extremely unlikely Mangrai would have favoured a temple that didn’t fall within the security of the city.’

  ‘But not impossible.’

  ‘Unlikely in the extreme.’

  We were tired of doing the ‘what-ifs’. I looked at my watch to see how many minutes remained of our three-day commitment.

  ‘Khin, relax,’ said Arny. ‘You’ll see things a lot clearer in the morning.’