Lumpini Park (Abby Kane FBI Thriller - Chasing Chinatown Trilogy Book 2)

by Ty Hutchinson

  Artie plopped down in a chair opposite me and repeated the task. “Serve up your favorite Thai delicacy on the streets of Bangkok.” He thought for a moment. “So we make a dish with human parts?”

  “We could,” I said. “I don’t think there is a right or wrong answer here. It’s the entertainment factor. I suppose the goal is to surprise the creator of the game so as to gain access to the next Attraction.”

  “Would a copycat version work?”

  I shrugged. “Best not to take chances.”

  Kang took a seat next to me. “What about human sausage? You know, mimic sai krok, those fermented sausages made from pork and rice. Good stuff.” He gave us the thumbs up.

  Ever since our arrival to the Big Mango, Kang had indulged in the offerings of every street food vendor we passed. It was nonstop. The guy ate everything in sight. I had initially tried to keep up, but the sheer amount of food he ingested was too much, even for someone like me. In fact, before heading into the hotel, he stopped once again at a vendor who sold deep-fried pork. I didn’t see a pan for frying, so I assumed the food had been cooked elsewhere. I warned him. He brushed me off as though I were an overly concerned mother.

  Back in Kang’s room, the three of us continued brainstorming, looking for something that was simple and easy to fake. Eventually, we agreed on an unattended noodle cart that had balls of pork stacked inside a glass-enclosed shelving unit. Mixed in with them would be a pair of eyes.

  “This seems doable. I have a contact who can lend us a noodle cart, and I have a friend who can provide us with a pair of fake eyes.”

  It was right around that time that Kang’s stomach made a horrible whining noise that sent him hurrying to the bathroom, leaving Artie and I to laugh awkwardly. Kang’s love affair with sidewalk food had suddenly turned into the relentless pursuit of always being in butt’s reach of a toilet.

  With him moaning on the commode and clearly not able to go anywhere for a while, Artie suggested the two of us look for a spot where we could plant the food cart. He already had a few places in mind.

  “Best to leave him alone, anyway,” Artie said, pressing the call button for the elevator. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  I agreed.

  We exited the hotel, and Artie flagged a cab. “I think I have a location that will work perfectly for this,” he said as the cab pulled away. “It’s on Sukhumvit, near soi twenty-three. The area is trafficked enough at night, so a discovery should be made fairly fast. We can follow up with our staged investigation and clear the cart shortly after. The faster the better.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I don’t plan on informing anyone but those involved. This is not something I want the Ministry of Tourism to find out about. They’ll worry that the media will pick up on it and give them a PR problem.” Artie took pause and then spoke again. “Will that be a problem? I mean, are pictures enough for proof, or do you need to show the investigation? We can if it’s not a big spectacle.”

  I thought about what Artie said. I didn’t think staging a fake investigation had helped our case in San Francisco. Come to think of it, I didn’t recall any of the crime scenes that the Carlsons staged ever being reported by the media. “I think all we need is to set up the cart and snap some pictures, so a location where we could do that without being bothered would be good.”

  “Are you sure? Maybe we should go through the motions, just in case.”

  “All right,” I conceded with a nod. “If it’s not a problem, it couldn’t hurt.”

  <><><>

  Ten minutes later, our cab stopped near the Asoke BTS station just past a large intersection.

  We walked another twenty feet along the busy road. A line of cars in gridlock as far as I could see waited patiently for their turn at the green light.

  “This is the area I’m thinking about,” Artie stopped and motioned with his hand.

  I looked around. “Not much foot traffic,” I said.

  “It’ll pick up as soon as the sun sets. The famous Soi Cowboy is down that road.” He pointed. “You know what that is?”

  “Let me guess. Go-go dancers?”

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 19

  Before the Creeper’s arrival in Bangkok, Gai had heard about this man and his inability to stay the course and follow simple rules. He had a nasty habit of doing his own thing and ignoring the game. His time in Sydney, while successful, was also a disaster in terms of keeping the game under the radar. Instead of leaving after he had completed all the Attractions, the Creeper went on a rampage, slicing and dicing six other Australians. One of them was the man sent to remind him of his obligations to the game.

  Gai took that last bit of information very seriously and had resorted to keeping a hidden blade on him. He had met the Creeper once, when the killer first arrived in Thailand, and wasn’t looking forward to another encounter. It wasn’t that Gai couldn’t handle himself. He was more than able to take down another opponent. But there was something about the Creeper that, well, creeped him out.

  Team Creeper had spent the first two weeks in Bangkok off the grid. Unless he engaged with the game, the team in charge of Bangkok’s Chinatown Chase could not track his game play. Because of this, Gai had been sent to make contact and find out why there was a delay. Participants were encouraged to make their way through the game as quickly as possible. It helped to ensure that they would not be caught, and it offset the chance of two teams playing the game in any one given city.

  Gai remembered that day vividly.

  He had received news that the Creeper had been holed up in a dingy hotel in the Silom area, near Patapong 3. The area was known more for its sex shows than its go-go dancers and was heavily visited by gay men because of the numerous gay-friendly bars and ladyboys who called the place home.

  Gai never liked venturing into that part of town. Even during the day, the heavy stench from the previous nights revelry hung in the air and clung to clothing. But he forged ahead, ready to do the bidding of his boss, Somchai, no matter what the circumstances.

  He slipped into the decrepit building and climbed three flights of stairs. He kept a fast pace, even when moving down the hall. When he knocked on the Creeper’s door, a voice called out, “Come in.”

  Gai cautiously pushed the door open to reveal a dark room, save for the splinter of light that slipped through the sides of the drawn curtains. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust as he slid his hand up and down the wall, searching for the light switch.

  “Don’t,” said the same voice. “The light hurts my eyes.”

  Gai stopped and focused his gaze toward the wall across from him where a shadowy figure sat in a chair. He closed the door and moved closer, hoping for more detail.

  The figure rose out of the chair and took a step toward Gai. And another. Each was accompanied by the slow drag of a shoe across the floor. Step, drag. Step, drag. The figure closed in.

  Gai held his ground. What could a lame man do to him? He had no reason to be afraid. Yet.

  The figure drew closer. The scratchy sound of a leathered sole grating against the wooden floor grew louder. Gai could hear the man’s heavy breathing but knew fatigue wasn’t the cause. Was it excitement? With each step, the Creeper’s breaths increased in speed, and Gai’s eyes adjusted to the dark.

  And then out of the blackness, the Creeper’s face appeared into view a mere four inches away. Gai jerked back, caught off guard by the invasion of his personal space but not before a breathy mixture of garlic and sour violated his nose. Gai reached back toward the wall and located the light switch.

  The man known as the Creeper flinched at the sudden invasion of artificial light.

  “I’m not here to play games,” Gai said calmly.

  The Creeper lowered his arm from his eyes. “I don’t get many visitors.” He formed his words slowly before closing his mouth, leaving only a sliver of lip visible. Out of the corner of his light-gray eyes, deep, ravine-like wrinkles cut into hi
s skin, creating a shadowing worthy of a horror makeup artist.

  The Creeper raised his right hand and pointed at Gai. His nails were yellow, thick and sharpened into points. He reached out with his index finger, slowly moving toward Gai’s cheek. “Your skin, it’s so… inviting.”

  Gai moved his face away from the protruding finger and took a step back. “Why haven’t you initiated the first Attraction in the game?”

  The Creeper crinkled his brow, disappointed that the conversation had resorted to business. He much rather would have fingered Gai’s cheek.

  “If you must know, I’m not ready. I’m not in the mood for games at the moment.”

  Gai held the Creeper’s gaze. It was important when dealing with people of this kind to never show weakness. He must appear to be an equal. “The rules state that you must engage the game within the first two days of arriving in a new city or risk disqualification.”

  “Disqualification!” the Creeper hissed. “You think you can threaten me?” The crinkle in his brow deepened, and his eyes narrowed. “I am in control of what I do, not you.” He bared his teeth when he spoke.

  Gai, stood strong. He realized the situation had turned grim. The wrong word or even a weak smile could worsen things. Gai kept his tone neutral and his wording even. “I am simply stating the rules that you agreed to abide by when you were accepted as a participant of the game.”

  “Accepted?” the Creeper’s eyes widened. “Have you forgotten that, if not for people like me, this game would not exist? Without us, it is nothing.”

  Gai repeated the rule and left promptly after. He never forgot his initial conversation with the Creeper that day, and this time, he new what to expect during his second encounter.

  The Creeper moved around a lot, preferring to change his location every three days. Since completing the first Attraction, he had relocated to a small hotel in the Phra Khanong neighborhood.

  Gai felt for the seven-inch blade he kept in a leather sheath strapped to the waistband of his pants. He made no attempt to cover it, the bottom half protruding from his shirt. Up the stairs he went to the second floor and the last door at the end of the hall. After his quick knock, a voice called out for him to enter, just as it had with his last visit.

  Gai expected the same intimidation tactics from the Creeper and had already mentally prepared himself. He wouldn’t falter, not in the least. He turned the knob and pushed open the door. As expected, the curtains had been drawn shut and the lamps turned off. The bulb in the hallway was the only light source peering into the room.

  “Close the door,” the Creeper instructed from the darkness.

  Gai waited a bit, wanting his eyes to adjust to the dark. Satisfied that he could make out shapes in the room, he closed the door. He ran his right hand along the wall, searching for a light switch. He wasn’t about to have a conversation with the Creeper under those circumstances, again. A few seconds later, he felt what he was looking for.

  The lone light on the ceiling flickered on, and Gai immediately sucked in a quick breath. The Creeper stood only inches away from him. Before he could react, even think, Gai felt an intense pain in his gut—a searing sensation that fanned out. He reached for his blade, but the pain increased tenfold. Any movement seemed to be met with more sharp pains.

  What’s happening? Try as he might, Gai could not glance down, not even for a second. His eyes remained transfixed upon the Creeper. He couldn’t tear himself away. The Creeper held on to him with his narrow, beady eyes. They were dark. They were evil. They were the last thing Gai would ever see.

  Chapter 20

  The Creeper sat quietly on the uneven chair, humming a jazz song as he watched the dark fluid spill from the wound in Gai’s midsection. He had used a carving knife to rip him open. He knew it would immobilize the man immediately. Sadly, this was a kill the Creeper received very little joy from. It was more of a necessity—a chore, really.

  What the Creeper enjoyed most, what he longed for when toying with his victims, was a slow death. The longer his victims were kept alive while he played with them, the better. That’s what satisfied his urges. It’s what got him up in the morning.

  The Creeper had become bored of the game and knew he would be in violation of the rules by abandoning his role as a participant; the rules were clear that everyone was expected to play until a winner was determined. Once they agreed, there was no turning back. No quitting. No taking a break.

  But the Creeper didn’t care about those silly rules. No one told him what to do. He had known the keepers of the game would send someone, and he had decided he would answer with a symbol as to what he thought of their stupid little diversion.

  He stared at Gai a few moments before deciding it was time for him to move along and leave the body to do its job of conveying his message. He reached down and pulled up his right pant leg. Wrapped around his knee and running the length of his shin were two metal rods, one on each side. The homemade contraption made it difficult for the Creeper to walk. It made him limp.

  He removed the device and stretched out his leg before standing. Ah, much better. He was a stickler for details. While he could have faked a limp, the device ensured that he limped consistently with every step.

  He stood and walked perfectly toward the bathroom mirror, where he proceeded to remove the gray contact lenses he wore, revealing his light blue eyes. The Creeper blinked to clear his sight. He reached up and scratched near the corner of his left eye, which produced a flap of skin. He grabbed hold of it and removed the prosthetic, repeating the process for his other eye. Gone were the aged lines that gave life to his intense stare. He appeared younger, friendlier… trustworthy.

  The Creeper reached up to the floppy mess of chestnut hair and pulled the rug off, uncovering his short but wavy blond hair. He put on wire frame glasses—fake—then changed into pressed khakis, a striped button-down, and brown loafers. Finally, he filed his nails down to a respectable length before using nail polish remover to rid them of that ugly, aging, yellow color.

  He grabbed what few belongings he had and pocketed them before stepping around Gai and exiting the room. Creep. Creep. Creep.

  Chapter 21

  Artie and I spent the rest of the afternoon planning our fake crime. We decided it would be best to set up for that night. The toilet was still Kang’s best friend, but we had a job to do. I let him know what we were planning and that I would keep him updated.

  With our location chosen, we headed over to a warehouse where the noodle carts were stored. The first thing I noticed when we got there was that the carts were attached to motorcycles. Instead of a sidecar, it had a side noodle cart.

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to drive that thing,” I said.

  Artie laughed. “Of course not. I’ll drive.”

  Before I could question him more, I heard a woman shout Artie’s name. He’d told me he had a close friend in the medical examiner’s office, a specialist in bone reconstruction to help identify the dead. He said she could lend us a pair of realistic eyeballs. I spun around to see a stylish, chicly dressed woman walking toward us.

  “That’s the forensic scientist?” I whispered to Artie.

  “Yes. She’s different.”

  “What plans do you have for my expensive eyes?” she asked, her raised voice echoing slightly in the large space.

  “Don’t worry. Your eyes are safe with me. I’d like you to meet FBI Agent Abby Kane. She’s investigating a case that is possibly tied to the human som tam we discovered a few days ago.”

  The woman finally made eye contact with me and stuck out her hand as she reached us. “Pleased to meet you. You can call me Tip.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I said, smiling back at her.

  “She’s the best forensic investigator in the country,” Artie added.

  “Stop,” she said, swatting at his arm playfully before focusing back on me. “So, FBI. Must be something important for you to come all the way out to Thailand.”

&n
bsp; I gave Artie a quick look. I wasn’t about to discuss my business in Bangkok with just anybody, even if she was the country’s best forensic investigator.

  “It’s fine, Abby. Tip is one of the good ones and is helping out on the som tam case.”

  I cleared my throat. “The FBI has reason to believe that the person behind the human som tam is part of a bigger organization. I’m hunting the person who runs it.”

  “And you think that person is here in Bangkok?”

  “Possibly. I’ll find out soon enough.”

  Tip grabbed hold of Artie’s left hand and turned his palm up. “Here you go.” She gently, almost teasingly, placed two realistic-looking eyeballs into it.

  “They have serial numbers on the back,” she continued, still holding his hand. “I expect the same ones to be returned.” She flashed him a playful smile before letting go of his hand.

  “You have my word, Tip.”

  Clearly the two had history, and I’m not talking as coworkers or friends. I kept my smile to myself.

  Artie gave me an eye to look at. “What do you think?”

  “Looks real. Might be a good idea to dress it up with some blood.”

  “Fish guts,” he said. “Drip a little on each one, and it’ll fool anyone into thinking they were just ripped out of someone’s eye socket.”

  I didn’t doubt it.

  “I’m sorry I can’t stick around,” Tip said, “but I’ve got somewhere I need to be. Let me know if I can be of any more help.”

  With that, she left us as quickly as she had arrived. I turned to Artie. “She seems nice.”

  “Tip can be an asset. She just likes a lot of attention. That’s all.”

  Yup, they definitely had history. For a brief second, I thought of fishing for more information about his relationship with her but decided against it. It wouldn’t help the case, only my curiosity.