A Killing to DIE For

by P Gaseaux

  Chapter Twenty

  Tanaka was bored out of his mind by the end of his first day on ‘stress leave’. He’d been stuck inside except a visit to the post office to mail some gifts out, down to Orlando; should make delivery time. He couldn’t get out and do much, no car and didn’t fancy walks in the park. Another storm front with blizzards had crossed over the border and was blanketing the east coast, he missed being at the office. They’d reassigned him with a new case; something to do when he made it back in.

  He thought about the old guy, felt sorry he couldn’t get up there when they buried the kid but it wasn’t a good idea to get involved in cases -- especially the victims. Only so much love to share around. Figured it may be an idea to drop him a line; nothing wrong with that.

  Staunch old bigot. Must’ve been rough on him.

  He opened his wallet and unscrewed the piece of paper, the number he’d jotted down. Hatfield’s landline. He dialed and it rang out. Tried again, rang out again. Still early…strange. The old guy could’ve been out. Now it bugged him; he had to check up; see he was okay. Dialed a third time then called the sheriff’s office in Raleigh County, got through to Lt. Roy Hernandez, the deputy he’d been dealing with.

  “You sure ‘bout this Special Agent? Hell, he should be at his place.”

  “Would’ve thought so myself,” replied Tanaka. “The old guy’s not the best; I had to practically carry him back from the Philippines.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t sound good. I’ll send one of my deputies up and check him out.”

  “Call me.”

  Two hours later Hernandez did call. It was the last thing anybody wanted to hear.

  “How long, you say?” barked Tanaka.

  “Three days ago. My man found the place empty. Checked out the neighbor though, as she tells us Jesse James Hatfield gave her two hundred dollars cash to drop him down at Charleston, Yeager Airport. Took his vehicle, she came directly back and parked up.”

  “Hatfield say where he was headed?”

  “Nothing. Neighbor told me old Gunny’d be gone a week and mentioned she’s taking care of his dog.”

  Tanaka drew a breath, resisted the urge to slam the receiver down. “Sure the neighbor had no idea-”

  “One other thing, Special Agent -- yesterday she cleared the old guy’s mailbox -- thought you should know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Two letters. Surface mail with no return address, mailed to Billy-Bob, Hatfield’s son.” There was a pause. “From the Philippines ages ago, it may have something to do-”

  “Sheriff, I’ll have a warrant done up and I’ll scan it to you. Get your guy to pick the letters up. I’ll see what’s happened to Mister Hatfield.”

  A check with Immigration Barrier confirmed his fears: Hatfield had gone out of LAX on a Thai Airways flight, round ticket.

  For PK Tanaka, it was all new. Just another case, suddenly he was in over his head. He sat in a daze, watching the screen, an old black and white, some war movie. The sound was dead.

  Tanaka snorted and tossed the phone down. Should’ve called after the funeral service; knew I should…damn! The old guy knew the place real well, that was thirty years ago. He was over there no doubt looking for her, he was clutching at straws, had nothing left to lose.

  But PK Tanaka had everything to lose, yet he couldn’t let this one go for some reason. Destiny, now; he had no idea why but he had to go and get Hatfield. He had to find him. He’d only just started and he’d see it through to the bitter end. Hang the consequences. They both knew there was a strong link between Anna and Billy-Bob and there was a possible link to her and Jackson’s murder. Jackson’s homicide had been hushed up but there were whisperings. Tanaka wanted to see Anna too and ask her, to her face.

  Whatever was inside those boxes, it must’ve been bad.

  Tanaka knocked on the super’s door. “Ma’am, yesterday you mentioned something…some vacation?”

  She glanced up, visibly relieved, one less problem. “Really? Good timing.”

  “I’ll forward it right now, ma’am. Better I take your advice, all things considered.”

  “Here’s one more.” She stood. “Tanaka you listen to me and listen good: Stay away from this case.”

  “I won’t go near anything that resembles work, ma’am. You have my word after all’s gone down.”

  “Fine,” she replied. “Where are you going, just for interest’s sake? In case we need to get in touch…”

  Tanaka poked his head back through the doorway. “Thailand. Guess I’ve always been meaning to see the temples and sample the fresh food…”

  He closed the door behind, him; didn’t wait for an answer.

  Tanaka checked his suitcase, a Samsonite he’d picked up after leaving work. Then it hit him, he was headed into a megacity he’d never set foot in. Ten million-plus people. He had two weeks to locate and hopefully find the old guy, that’s if Hatfield hadn’t been kidnapped by now, or worse. He had an idea; he dialed a contact, an attorney who defended cases. He could start with translators, interpreters, and accredited staff…somebody who knew the place. Had to refrain from panicking, he was scheduled to leave in a day. An attachment arrived, a file with a list, mostly unpronounceable names. He took the printout with the image of Anna. Her name was no different…her real name, nearly half a line of a page long. He started at the top with the first name, ‘Aroon’, some post-grad student. He dialed and she answered. They spoke agreed to meet…on neutral ground, some coffee shop near the campus she stayed.

  “Miss Leepha…pakchai…” Tanaka stumbled on the name.

  The woman at the table rose and smiled. “Tom,” she said.

  “Tom?”

  “My nickname; Aroon is my real name.”

  Tanaka didn’t flash his badge this time; he’d checked it in along with his firearm and other assets after submitting his vacation forms. He did have a stack of business cards, he handed one to her. She was his age and wore glasses. She looked academic.

  Tanaka cleared his throat. “Tom…that’s a man’s name, usually.”

  “You may call me Aroon if you like. In English it translates as ‘Dawn’.” She read the card and smiled at Tanaka. “Why did you ask to see me? You need a translator?”

  “Not exactly,” replied Tanaka. He felt uneasy. She was sanitized. Those specs. Been ages since he’d been near a lady; shared coffee and made small talk. She sat close to him like she had no sense of personal space.

  “So you’re asking me on a date then!” She laughed and Tanaka sat back, upright.

  “Why no…not at all. I need to pick your brains, if I may. And I apologize for-”

  “Mister Tanaka…what kind of name is that?”

  “It’s a Japanese name. But look, I assure you, I’m one hundred percent-”

  She cut him off again: “Are you on duty then?”

  Tanaka shook his head. “No, not exactly. I just wanted to ask about Bangkok. You’re from there?”

  “I studied there. I come from out of town…” She changed the subject. “Mister Tanaka, may I ask you something? I may also need assistance.” She moved back in her seat, sipped from her cappuccino.

  “Sure, if I can.”

  She frowned, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I have a slight problem. I have been here in Washington three years now. Study, you know. But I have some problem. I already have a green card. But I am seeking residency.”

  Tanaka moved in his seat. “You have to be patient, Aroon. These things take time-”

  She moved closer and whispered: “I am ashamed at this. But last month I have been caught DUI in a vehicle that belonged to a friend of mine. She was in the passenger’s seat. I go to court in three weeks. But I worry, you know.”

  Tanaka cringed. Always a catch with these things. “Aroon, I’m sorry to hear about that. There’s no way in the world I could interfere with this.�
��

  “No, no…that’s not what I meant.” She sat upright and shook her head rapidly. “I understand in the west, the authorities are honest. Everybody is very honest here.”

  Tanaka laughed uneasily. “Well, mostly.”

  “Mister Tanaka-”

  “PK, Aroon. My friends call me PK.”

  “Ahh…PK…would you please write me a character reference? And sign it with your name and official status?”

  She took a file from her handbag and passed it to him. “These are all cases where I have done translating and interviewing for police and other agencies since I have been here. When I appear I hope to plead guilty and accept a fine and suspension. I have a good lawyer…but a character reference may assist. My attorney hopes to have no conviction recorded.”

  He leafed through the papers; it was true. She had been busy; all that and her dissertation as well. He thought it over. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

  Her demeanor changed and she talked non-stop. Tanaka remembered he had a flight to catch in a few hours.

  “Aroon, I really came here to ask about Bangkok. I’m looking for somebody.” He opened his attaché case and showed her a page with JJ Hatfield’s face. “This man. He’s gone there without telling anybody. I fear for his safety.”

  Tanaka turned on his laptop and started typing. A character reference, saying what a nice upstanding person this woman was, someone he’d only just met. Legit, though. As he typed she made a call on a cell phone, chattering in her language, only pausing once to ask which flight he was catching and what time he would land.

  “Aroon should I email this direct or would you prefer I sign and scan it to you?”

  “Sign and scan it, please.” She passed the image of Hatfield back.

  “Any ideas then?”

  “None, sorry. Bangkok is a huge city.”

  “No idea where to start?” He was impatient now.

  “No idea at all. But my brother will help. I just called and spoke to him now. It’s morning there and he was in a traffic jam.” She giggled, cupping her mouth. “He will meet you at the airplane and take you. And he is very grateful and passes on his thanks to you.” She broke into a broad smile. “Thank you very much.”

  “Meet me at the airplane, you say? How so?”

  “My older brother is a very important man, PK. He’s a senior officer in the Thai police force. He can find anything you want.” She wrote something on a business card, one with her credentials. “Major General Leepakchai. And that’s his number. But, trust me he will meet you and escort you. Thank you -- this means a lot to me.”

  Tanaka stood and his eyes followed her as she walked to the exit. Couldn’t believe his luck. She stopped and turned.

  “Call me when you get back. Maybe we could do lunch. Tell me about your trip…”

  ‘Do lunch’. PK Tanaka chuckled under his breath -- that’s rich.

  “I’d like that,” he replied over the heads of the other patrons.

  Overnight in LA and a stopover in Seoul, by now close to midnight local time. Just like she said some officials appeared in the aisle and he was hustled off the aircraft, ahead of the first class passengers, into an electric golf buggy through to immigration and straight into a police vehicle -- a dual-cab with a driver in police uniform. The driver saluted Tanaka.

  “In the front, mister,” said General Leepakchai who yawned and was clearly tired; not a fraction of how Tanaka felt, he was beyond sleeping. Still felt strange; Tanaka had hauled suspects off airplanes before but he’d never had it done to him. The translator’s brother was a big shot; somebody high up.

  “Where you stay? You make booking already?”

  His spoken English was straightforward but not perfect, nobody here spoke it perfectly, not even the people on the flight. But Tanaka understood. And his host understood him, which was the main thing.

  “I never made a booking. Any ideas? Preferably somewhere cheap.”

  Leepakchai scowled and thought for a while. “I take you to Siam Square…not too far from my office. Maybe forty US dollars a night.”

  The toll way had taken them several miles, each time they reached a booth the driver slowed down then charged away, without paying. Now the vehicle had exited an off ramp and was stuck.

  Tanaka watched a traffic cop at work, even though the intersection had lights. He pointed. “Nobody take any notice of red lights, General?”

  “Welcome to Thailand, Agent Tanaka,” he replied with a chuckle.

  “PK,” said Tanaka. “My friends call me PK.”

  “And my friends call me Lek. Tell me something. I noticed you only have your normal passport.”

  The guy didn’t miss a trick. “Two weeks’ vacation, Lek. Plus I’m looking for something…or somebody to be precise.”

  “A friend of yours?”

  “Guess you could say that. He’s an old soldier.” Tanaka pulled the passport image of JJ Hatfield. “I’m over here for a look at Bangkok. Never been abroad much. But like to catch up with him; check he’s alright. He’s an old pal of mine.”

  The dual-cab pulled in at the lobby of a small hotel and the uniformed driver jumped out and took Tanaka’s suitcase. It was damp from the humidity. As they walked up to reception the lady behind the desk glanced up briefly then she took a long look at the uniformed man with the case. She took an even longer look when General Leepakchai flashed his ID and spoke to her. Tanaka didn’t catch any of the chatter but it was clear -- the general and his driver had given the receptionist the riot-act. They were bringing a special guest.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at three p.m., PK.” Leepakchai checked his watch and looked at Tanaka. “You’re on local time?”

  Tanaka held his arm up so the general could see. “Changed it on the airplane. Thank you very much for-”

  Leepakchai held up his hand, smiling. “Don’t mention it. It is I who must thank you for the way you helped Aroon. I’m disappointed in her…she’s normally such a good girl.”

  Girl? She would’ve been pushing forty, Tanaka thought.

  Tanaka was feeling lucky and on impulse pulled out a scan of Anna, the one he’d managed to get from the Philippines, courtesy of his PNP contact. He had thought about searching for her but his main goal was the old guy.

  “This is just one other person I am interested in…”

  The general examined it for a moment then raised his eyebrows. “Hmm…a Thai citizen. A lady-friend?”

  “Just somebody I met recently. Thought I’d look her up, now I’m here and all. Lost her address.”

  Leepakchai dismissed this. “Don’t worry, I can find anybody I want in this city. You get some sleep.” He reached into his pocket and handed Tanaka something -- his card. Looked good, too. Had the Official seal, gold borders; the works. “Call me if you need to. See you tomorrow.”

  But he couldn’t sleep. Tanaka was in the best room the establishment had, it was a room on the top floor and he was paying forty dollars a night for it. In a city where money talked loudest he was getting a bargain, most likely having a police general as a friend.

  He showered and changed then went back down to the lobby where he stood for a while outside watching the procession in the humidity and stifling heat. Three a.m. now and he strolled onward and stopped at a huge intersection. It felt different to Manila. Energy and an insane pace even at this unearthly hour. The city had bounce to it. They smiled at him here too, but not the spontaneous Filipino smile…here the Thai smile held a line of crocodile teeth behind the façade. And a feeling of menace; couldn’t quite get his head around it.

  Menace…he could feel it now. It burned like the desert sun. It flowed in the water in the gutters; it glowed from the neon signs. Menace…it came from the gorgeous freelance hookers hanging around the sidewalks, dangling in front of him like exotic fruits laced with strychnine. Stray dogs and real Siamese cat
s loitered. Fierce looking young hoods sitting on their motorcycles, they stared, they joked with one another, one of them was playing with a gun-magazine; feeding rounds in and flicking them out into his hand. PK Tanaka felt like he was inside a zoo after closing time, all alone, a park where the cages were unlocked and the denizens of the night were given free rein to roam when and where they pleased. Nobody bothered him, though. He looked like one of them.

  Menace, all around. It was everywhere.

  He entered a tiny supermarket and bought a large bottle of beer -- one with an elephant on the label -- and strolled along the curb, watching the city that never slept. Then a most incredible sight: Buddhist monks filed out from a temple and walked barefoot clutching stainless bowls. The indolent cats and dogs moved out of the way. Those very same dwellers of the city’s underworld now dropped to their knees and prayed before the holy men and gave offerings; in turn they were blessed as they kneeled down on the soaked streets…prostitutes, hired guns, drug-dealers and the homeless.

  He drained the last of his beer. One of the monks in a saffron robe drifted past, looking straight in front taking great care not to step on anything sharp.

  It was starting to get light…daybreak in the first City of Angels.