by James Newman
A skinny kid with dreadlocks, an elfish wee beard and a ring through his bottom lip came up to Joe and looked him in the eye. Joe recognized him as the kid from the bus. He was the one who knew all about the mysteries of the east and had a way to massage kali from the cute girl’s knickers.
“How’s it going, kid?” Joe said.
“How. Is. It. Going?” He repeated the question philosophically. “I feel ‘where is it going’ would be a better question grammatically. But since you ask I will need to determine what it is that you refer to as it?”
“Life in general and all that shit?”
“Well shit has been a large part of my life recently,” The elf smiled.
“You and me both, kid,” Joe glanced up at the row of poison. He owed something to each of them. They each owed something to him.
“Are you familiar with colonic irrigation?”
“Not intimately.”
“Well, I am. A detox diet at a resort in Phuket. A rubber tube, laxatives.”
“Shit.”
“The physical vehicle is a cumbersome beast,” He said as he picked at a beer coaster and gazed off into the distance. “Energy follows activity. I feel that my centre is off balance. A disturbance of energy flow, but thankfully my chi is still above the solar plexus. When your chi falls below the abdomen serious illness may ensue. It is a dangerous life. But nobody said it wouldn’t be.”
“I see.” All Joe could see was that the boy had been talking about his ass for so long he’d ended up talking through it. He had taken himself to a retreat on a tropical island and now he understood the universe. Joe had met these types the first time he had travelled around Asia. Sure, it’s great to get away from mummy and daddy and spend some of their money in the process, but don’t try and get all serious about it. Backpackers were tourists who used local travel agents rather than ones back home, and spent longer on holiday because they didn’t have a job to go back to. It was quite simple, Joe considered. He was jealous of them. They had nothing but time and experience to burn. They had nothing to lose.
“I take it you sir are one of those sex tourist types?” The Elf said before ordering a nam som. The orange juice arrived and he took a sip. “Concentrate,” he said. “I hate concentrate. I prefer squeezed.”
“I’m trying,” Joe’s top-lip curled up. It shouldn’t have, but it did. He looked out across the bar. The young Thai women and the old fat sex-tourists. Christ. He wasn’t one of them. He was different. He was working. He was thirty-one.
“Don’t wear yourself out, buster. Sex. Tourists.” He laughed, “
“What did you just say?”
“Sex tourists,” he smiled, “need to preserve their energy.”
Joe felt the anger hit him like a tsunami. “Look just because I don’t walk around with a silly little beard...”
“I can see you watching the young Thai girls, whom it would seem on first impression are of a socio-economic type that, shall we say, work late hours,” The elf said smugly.
“Haven’t you got a tube you should be shoving somewhere...”
“Perhaps...”
Joe sighed, shrugged and turned around on the bar stool. He handed it over to his higher power. He looked out across the dance-floor and then he saw her. The foam had settled and Gantira danced across the floor. The elf saw her at the same time and got up from his stool. “Watch and learn,” the elf said as he licked his lips and walked toward her. Joe watched the elf stride over and touch Gantira on the arm. He said something. Gantira looked at him with a puzzled expression and she began to walk away from him. The elf grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her closer to him. He tried to kiss her. Joe walked over.
“Okay kid. Let the lady go.”
“Well, look who it is? he said. “Sex tourist saves the day.” Joe swung at the elf, aiming for the beard, but he ducked and Joe punched air. The elf brought up his guard. “Hit me,” he said.
Joe swung again and was blocked. The elf danced and then crouched and took Joe’s feet away with a low swinging kick. The kid knew the martial arts. Joe hit the deck and tried to kick out from the floor but it was useless, a sandaled foot cracked beneath his jaw and a flash of surprise preceded an immense pain in his throat. Joe couldn’t breathe and he didn’t want to. The Elf had kicked the wind out of him. Joe felt a blow to the head. He lay on the floor looking up at the flashing lights until one light got larger and larger until it was all he could see.
Then blackness.
NINETEEN
JOE WOKE up in hospital. There was a fight in a bar. There was a girl. Then nothing. Thailand wasn’t working out for him. The bright lights hurt his dilated eyes. A doctor looked down at him over a clipboard held just below his chin. He was a foreigner with a brown halo of hair. The doctor spoke to him in a English accent. How long had he been knocked out? Had he been in a coma? Had he somehow made it back to England. That was it. The syndicate had flown him back. He thought about the assignment, about the coordinator, the money. Bangkok and the island. It didn’t make sense. The doctor spoke. He touched his forehead with his hand and let out a painful breath of air.
“How did I get back here?”
“A young woman brought you here in a taxi, I believe.”
“How could I have got back to England, so, fast? Aeroplane, knock-out drugs?”
“You didn’t Joe. You are at Nathon Government Hospital, Ko Samui. Nothing serious, concussion and a dislocated jaw. We managed to snap it back into place.”
“Snap it?”
“This is Thailand my friend, Land of Smiles,” he said with a wry grin. “You can be discharged today, but no more excitement. Concussion is quite serious, I think.”
“Well, I’ve always said that the Thais put the ‘Hospital into Hospitality.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “Take this slip to the pharmacist, just a little codeine to help with the pain. Are you taking any other medication?”
“No, but I could use something to repair my pride.”
“We don’t prescribe anything like that here.”
“Just a minute Doctor, you might be able to help me out.” Joe eased himself up onto his elbows. He looked at the doctor and something fell into place in his mind. He remembered the meeting with Hale. The policy. The death certificates.
“Go on.” The doctor looked down at Joe impatiently.
“I heard some stories about a couple of diving incidents on the island. I’m looking to take diving lessons. I’m worried about the safety aspect. Two divers have died. You signed the certificates.”
The doctor looked at Joe with squinted eyes below furrowed brows. It was as if he were examining a new unusual deadly tropical disease. “Yes, well unfortunately I am at not at liberty to discuss any other patients that may come through these doors. Doctors oath.”
“But would you be worried about diving on the Island?”
“That right now is the least of my worries. I would say by in large you are safer back in England.”
Joe sat up so he was almost eye-level with the doctor. “You and me both. Tell me about the Fin and the Italian, doc.”
“What do you mean?”
“The job. The death certificates you signed, doctor.”
“What certificates?”
“The ones in the file. I’m from London. The insurance company sent me, sir. How much did they pay you to sign, doctor?”
“I didn’t get paid to sign anything. Now if you will excuse me. I have emergencies to attend to.” Doctor Johnson placed the prescription in Joe’s hand and disappeared through the curtains. Joe could sense the cloud of anger left in his wake. Joe smiled and reached for a glass of water that sat on the bed-side table. He drank it. It tasted terrible. Joe laid back down and closed his eyes and fell into a fitful drug induced sleep. He saw the Finnish girl, he saw the Italian. He heard Jazz piano. It was too late. The coordinator was sat there in the desk in front of him, clicked his fingers and Joe opened his eyes. The coordinator mutated into Gantira sitt
ing at the end of the bed. He wondered if it was one of those dreams within a dream deals. She looked real enough. Her hair fell in spirals beyond her shoulders. Joe ran his hands through his hair and sat up; if it was a dream then it was one he didn’t have any desire to wake from.
“How you feeling Joe?”
“Like I just got beaten up by a tree-hugging-psycho.”
“Well we can’t all be tough guys. Here have some of these.” She put down a plastic bag containing a sliced fruit with green skin and white flesh.
“What’s this?”
“Oh come on Joe, You never have sour mango before?”
“I usually wait until it’s ripe.”
“Well, you wait too long. Have some.”
The sour taste livened his taste buds. Then he tried to bite and winced with the pain. His jaw ached. He realized that he hadn’t eaten for over a day. It was day number ninety. Day ninety and he couldn’t eat.
“Do you have any transport?” He asked Gantira.
“I have a Chopper. You want a ride, Joe?”
“I’ve had enough of Thai Hospitality already. Thanks, for bringing me here... I need to find my clothes.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get them, Joe.”
She returned with his clothes. Gantira pulled the curtain around the bed and Joe put on his clothes. They walked out of the ward, past the screams of the paediatric unit, and out through the hospital and onto the parking lot. Neatly trimmed gardens circulated around a Buddhist spirit house that glittered with red and gold paint. A boy sat with a pair of scissors cutting the grass. Bushes had been clipped into animal shapes. An elephant. A giraffe. Gantira’s motorbike was parked beneath the shade of a parched banana palm to the side of the admissions building. She strode the low-rider and straddled the seat while starting the engine. Joe got on the back.
“Where did you get the bike?”
“A friend gave it to me. He doesn’t use it anymore.” She revved the engine, the smell of exhaust fumes, away onto the road, up the ring-road, bars and restaurants, colours rushed by, a corner, another turn, the mountains. Gantira parked in the driveway of the bungalow on stilts over-looking the bay. Coconut-shell-hanging-baskets with flowers dangling in pink and yellows. A cat sat on a wicker chair on the veranda. A cockerel crowed in the distance. A large balcony, a pair of men’s sandals.
They stepped into a living area. A painting of a marina hung above the bed next to tasteful Thai silk drapes. Antique bronze statues of elephants and hornbills sat in the corners of the room. A fish tank with one lone puffer fish. A bronze Buddha sat in mediation. A well stocked drinks cabinet sat in the far corner. A leather couch with silk pillows beside a teak coffee table.
Gantira took off her crash helmet and curls of brown hair cascaded down across her back. She hit a switch and the air conditioning rumbled to attention. She walked through to a bathroom. She turned a faucet. The sound of running water.
The coffee table, one solitary cup, the faint smell of lemongrass. He sat down listening to the sounds of her clothes hitting the floor as she undressed. The sudden rush of water. A gentle Thai song.
“Joe? Come here.”
He followed the ghost of her voice. He stood outside the door and listened to her soft song singing, the sound of water against flesh.
“Come in,” she said.
The bathroom was limestone rocks. One wall was a boulder. The shower was above the boulder, and the water fell down it like a waterfall. She stood naked, her head tilted backwards, the water splashed and ran through her wavy hair and down her shoulder blades. Her body gleamed almond. It had been ninety days. Her feet were tiny, almost childlike, growing into slender calves and thighs. Her shapely behind tattooed. Ninety days. Her waist was impossibly slim, hips wide, shoulders straight and athletically broad. She was the most beautiful, well-built woman Joe had ever seen. He counted the steps, but the steps could go to hell. What did the steps know about the beauty of a woman.
Day ninety.
“Joe come and clean my back,” she said.
She turned around, the shower nozzle in her hand, breasts alert like a Gauguin painting. She was alive with sexual energy.
“What’s the matter?” She turned around. Her back was facing Joe once again.
His shirt came off and then the jeans. Joe stepped into the shower cubicle. His body was muscular. She passed him the soap and smiled. She rubbed the lather onto his body.
“In Thailand lovers pass the soap,’ she said.
He lathered the soap and put his hands on her shoulders. He began to work on the shoulders massaging the muscles beneath the neck. He felt his recovery slip away from him with each twitch of his hands. The cubicle was filled with a sweet coconut scent. She began to breathe deeply as the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Her head tilted backwards and she spun around. Her dark eyes looked up into Joe’s. She turned around and cupped him in her hands and gently moved her tiny fingers up and down his curiosity.
“Check mate,” She said. The most dangerous people were those closest to you.
“I can’t do this,” Joe said. He turned. His back was to her as he stepped out of the shower. He slipped on his jeans and grabbed his shirt. “I made a promise.”
“To who?” Gantira took a towel and wrapped it around her wet body.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t do this,” Joe sat on a cane chair and stared directly at her.
Her beauty was heartbreaking.
“It’s okay, Joe. We can take it slow.”
Joe put on his shirt and walked out onto the balcony. He could smell lavender flowering. A cockerel crowed. Joe’s head ached. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed.
“Do you like my cage?”
“Cage?” “I know why you are here.” Gantira’s voice came as a surprise. He turned to face her. She was wearing a sky blue dress. “I think that you should know who I am. Or at least who I am kept“Yes. The cage may be “Yes it “It “It may be gilded gold, but it is still a cage.”
“Right.”
“A bird inside a cage may spread her wings but never fly. He owns this bungalow, but he owns hundreds. He doesn’t know that I use it occasionally. We are safe.”
“Well, for now at least.”
“We have an agreement. Plus he has many mistresses. I am only his legal wife.”
“And the others?”
“I don’t see much of them. They live in different provinces taking care of other businesses.”
“Sounds like he has it all worked out.”
“I think sometimes that he only took me so that nobody else could have me.”
“I can’t say I blame him. But this place here...”
“...it’s ours for now. We have another house up in the mountains. That is where he spends most of his time. We are free to do what we like here. He does not love me. I think his true heart is elsewhere, with his boy, Jinx, perhaps,” Gantira lit a cigarette, passed it to Joe, and then lit herself one.
“Tell me about the boy?”
“Thai from humble background he is a great Muay Thai fighter. He is Shogun’s prodigy. Don’t you just love a cigarette. Why do we adore toxins so much?”
“If he were to find us here together he wouldn’t be too happy about it?” Joe said looking at the puffer fish in the corner tank. “Talking of poison. I believe that fish right there can pack quite a punch.”
“He would probably kill you. And maybe me.”
“The puffer fish or Shogun.”
“Both. I was planning to make love to you and then kill him. The puffer fish knows too much.”
“That’s a little bit extreme.”
“Sweet talker, something is either extreme or it is not. I hate him, but he owns me. I am inside a cage.”
“And what would you do if I opened the cage door?”
“I would travel. Fly away. Go somewhere new. I don’t know why I am telling you all this.”
“Well, we all have dreams,” Joe noticed a plane flying overhead.
“Yes, and nightmares,” She said sitting on a wicker chair. He touched her cheek with his finger. She flinched away. Joe walked the length of the balcony, the sky was darkening. He knew when he was being played.
“You deserve better than this,” he said, “Tell me about the police officer?”
“Rang is Shoguns younger brother. He has some remaining morals. Shogun asked him to do a job that involved cutting out a foreign drugs supplier. Rang refused to intervene knowing that any enquiry would lead to the investigation of Shogun as the ring leader of all the drugs supplied on the island. They fell out. Then Shogun did something that for him was beyond evil. Something that shocked even me.”
“Tell me.”
“He had Rang’s wife killed. Or did it himself. I’m not sure how it happened but I know he was responsible. I overheard him speaking to her on the telephone that night. He told her he needed to speak with her alone and in person. He mentioned a sum of money he was intending to give to her to take care of their daughter. He said to say nothing to Rang. She drove up the mountain and a truck hit her on a dangerous curve in the road. Shogun later said to his brother that the death has been caused by a foreigner. He hoped that would help bring him over to his side.”
“Why would you want to leave him, with all the money and the arrangement? And this island?”
“He only gives me a small allowance, like a child. If I had money, real money, I would leave, but it would have to be a large amount of money. Enough to last forever.”
Joe stood and went inside. He sat on the bed and looked out of the French doors. The sky was still darkening. Gantira lit a cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the sky. Her face relaxed as she smoked. Joe watched her every move with interest. He felt tired. The thunder started as a distant rumble barely audible above the humming of the rotator wall fan. Birds chattered as they returned to the trees to shelter from the oncoming storm. Palm-trees shook as the wind caught the leaves. Gatnira stood up, came inside, and closed the patio doors. The rain started slowly at first and then picked up momentum; outside torrents of water crashed onto the ground like a hammering curtain of water. Gantira locked the doors and lay on the bed next to Joe. The thunder was overhead. A tree fall in the distance, thunder crackled, lightening flashed. Quietness was directly above them in the eye of the storm. Then the storm moved over and electricity flashed outside the window. Wind punished the palm-trees blowing them side-ways. A lightning bolt struck ground nearby. A tree crashed to the ground footsteps away from the bungalow. Joe felt his body tense as another lightning bolt struck then fizzled out. Gantira lay on the bed next to Joe, “Hold me,” she said. Joe held on tightly as the storm thrashed above and around them. He closed his eyes.