Peter Morgan’s head bolted up. “No,” he stated flatly. He rubbed his chin as if a vibrant new idea had crystallized. “It’s not a bad idea though. I’ll have Bart Hartin do it.”
This time Declan could not resist. “Bart the fart! You must be joking,” he said before breaking into laughter.
Morgan thrust his index finger in the direction of Hartin’s office. “Bartholomew Hartin is the one reporter here that gives this paper any semblance of legitimacy. He cut his bones in England for the Guardian lest you forget.”
That fact was quite unavoidable around the Chiang Mai Chronicle office and one that both the editor and the blubbering Mr. Hartin played up endlessly. This was no time for a sword fight though.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “I can go it alone.”
“What do you mean ‘go it alone’ Power!”
Declan rose from his chair, looked at his watch, and went for the door. “I talked with Burke down in Bangkok at The Nation. He’s been nipping at my heels looking to run with a follow-up to the TEFL scam story. I’ll go freelance on this one and run it through him.”
Declan was halfway out the door when Morgan slammed his hand on his desk. “Sit the hell down.”
Declan shrugged and returned to the chair. “What’s up boss?”
Morgan shook his head. “Ok, I’ll let you run with this. But you damn well better square things with Jaisaen. And,” he continued with a dramatic flourish, “Bart is your wing man!”
Phitak Pantrem knew he had to move nimbly. This was the reason he was chosen for this assignment. Thanat Jaisaen’s power was on the rise. It was a reality which gave the Bangkok elite pause. But there was more. The man called Jakrit was dangerous. His off the cuff remarks hinting at a return to the days of an independent Chiang Mai sounded an alarm bell within the halls of power of the Thai government.
The Martin Gay affair provided an opening. If Gay could be persuaded to talk, perhaps the Thanat Jaisaen deck of cards would come crumbling down. But Gay had gone missing. He had been warned about his foe’s ability to strike. The man was deadly. Last night bore that out. But Jaisaen was cautious. Last night was audacious. Not his style. Regardless, a message had been sent.
He was working in the dark. There was nobody he could trust. The working assumption had to be that everybody in the Chiang Mai political structure was on Jaisaen’s payroll. The Chief of Police would be no exception. Luck had shined on him in one respect though. The Chief had paid a visit to Ben Post only the day before. Hours before one of Post’s body parts would be found dangling at a murder scene. It was time to twist some crews.
“Shit Ben!” Martin Gay howled. “Do you think I ever meant for this to happen?” He took another big bite out of the beefy leg which had been deposited hours before. A surge of energy had returned to his depleted body. He slouched back down against the stone wall and met Ben Post’s hollowed gaze. “Well I bloody didn’t I can assure you.”
Gay tossed the leg from hand to hand while deep in thought. He then took another hearty bite. A smile waved over his dirt and blood encrusted face. He rubbed the wavy blonde hair on his friend’s head. “I’ve got a secret mate,” he whispered conspiratorially into Ben’s ear. “We’ve got an ace in the hole. I was thinking ahead for the both of us I was. Declan Power. That’s right. I stuffed an envelope with cash. Cash is king in this city my friend. I’ll bet my life Declan is digging for a story as we speak. Mum’s the word eh.”
Nothing is more depressing or dreary than a go-go bar the morning after a night of festivities. The smell, the haze, and the harsh glare of lights combine to add up to something hideous. The same could be said for the dancers just waking up after a hard night on the mattress. In just a few hours though, all would bloom back to life in a seductive glow.
Declan sat and waited while Oum spoke with Mamasan. He caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby mirror. He fit right in.
Oum came to his side and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know Declan. Mamasan say Rose go with Ben last night. Ben take two girl.”
Declan knew the fate of the unfortunate girl from the mountains. A nagging worry about Rose now crept into his mind. “Well we know what happened to the one don’t we. Poor Rose must have got caught up with the same business.”
“We should go to police.”
“The police are well aware sweetheart.” The sight of the investigators mulling over the spectacle last night was fresh in his memory. It was likely to remain. He looked at his watch to distract himself. “I need to make this photo shoot happen.”
Oum shot him a cross look. “Not time to think of that Declan.”
“Exactly the time to think of ‘that’! I need to set up a meeting with Thanat Jaisaen. Trust me, the last thing my boss wants to hear about is a botched photo shoot.” His mind raced to think of a substitute. “I’ve got it!”
“Got what?”
“A substitute for Rose. I had a talk with the ‘Mayor’ last night and they have a new girl over at Stairway To Heaven.”
Oum nodded. “I hear she very beautiful.”
He was always astonished how fast gossip spread through the red light district. “She is. Her name is Meow. Hopefully she’ll be available on short notice.”
“Mamasan always open for lunch,” Oum said with a snap of her fingers.
Declan sported a big grin. Oum was one of those rare people with the ability to jump in and take control of a situation on a moment’s notice. It could be a fight at the bar between two girls, two patrons, or a combination of both. Oum would soothe things over. She had spunk. His girl had ‘it.’ Oum possessed the type of positive energy that put a situation to the good. “I can go make photo shoot and you can go to appointment at World TEFL.”
Declan slapped his hands and wrapped Oum on her backside. “Get that cute arse on the bike baby.”
Oum hopped on the back of Declan’s chopper and wrapped her arms around his waist. He turned to yell: “I love you girl!” She knocked playfully on his helmet.
A black Kawasaki 250, keeping a respectable distance, pulled silently behind them.
Luckily, Meow had not been taken out of the bar for a few days. Oum quickly organized matters and sent him on his way. Declan now sat in wait in a drastically different work environment. The glossy offices of World TEFL shouted professionalism. The neatly attired staff bustled about buzzing around their desks. Declan caught another glimpse of himself in a chrome framed mirror. He decidedly did not fit in to this picture.
A young lady, an administrator, walked crisply up to him and perfunctorily greeted him. She then thrust forward a clipboard into his hands. It held an employment application and a pencil. “Fill this out,” she said drily. She looked him over with a shake of the head. It was a less than positive assessment. “We’re not hiring at the moment,” she said with a pinch of her nose before pivoting and returning to her cubicle.
Declan followed her hypnotic sway as she haughtily returned to her small corner of the universe. She looked distinctly familiar. He came across many ladies on any given day and his memory seldom failed to serve. But in this instance nothing sprang to mind.
He placed the clipboard to his side. Ben had secured a two o’clock appointment. It was a meeting that would be kept. Christopher Minor had invested a stack of chips in World TEFL. But the image of Martin Gay still clung tenaciously to the institution’s reputation. No amount of chrome and glass could alter that. On almost every day a new post would appear on the Thai Visa website conjuring up the nightmare that was Martin Gay’s TEFL scam. Declan Power could change all that. Declan Power could proclaim that World TEFL, under new ownership and management, was now an educational center which could be trusted.
He looked closer at the curvaceous young lady behind the desk. An idea sprouted into his mind and a smile to his face. Bingo! Miss prim and proper had a second job. She worked the freelancer circuit over at the Chiang Mai Entertainment Center. If nothing was happening there, she’d find her trick at Hot Shot Disco. Thi
s girl was top shelf. If a man wanted to take her back to the hotel he was laying two thousand for an hour and about five thousand for the night. ‘A real spinner,’ one of her clients had opined approvingly.
Declan tapped the pencil on the clipboard. For too long he had focused mainly on the ‘working’ girls in the pubs and go-go’s. It was time to branch out. The Chiang Mai Chronicle’s centerfold, his baby, needed a makeover. This buttoned down office administrator would be the perfect subject to launch a spin-off page. He already had a bold letter caption in mind: ‘She can shake it like a dry martini!’
Another thought crossed his mind. Riff and Raff over at Chiang Mai Land said a true stunner, a high society type, had come to see Gay and escorted him drunkenly out of the pub. Could this be the dame? It was well known Martin carried on with the female staff. Was she a holdover from the previous administration?
Christopher Minor emerged from his office. He shot Declan a glare.
“Power! This way,” he commanded in a low gravelly tone.
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“She just now into go-go on Loi Kroh. Power go away on his bike.” The man waited impatiently for his next command. He didn’t like his master’s demand to speak English at all times. Worse yet, he had to follow one or the other all day on his bike through the oppressive smog and heat. A smile crept to his face. A pleasant thought wafted into his mind. He thought of the new girl Rose. He straightened up. Tonight, perhaps, he’d be served the new girl Rose as a reward for his diligence. His lord was kind.
The person on the other end of the line paused. “Sit tight and wait. Follow the lady. Power is already heading into my web. I believe his girlfriend’s name is Oum. Do not be found out!”
The command would be followed. That was without question. If one wanted to be king one had to think like a king. The lord of Lan Na understood that and recently had begun to understand the darker exercise of power. The Lan Na Guard had been a stroke of genius. Seemingly, these rugged, well educated, graduates of King Mengrai University served as decorative pieces to stand ceremoniously around the various buildings being erected as symbolic representations of the Lan Na Renaissance. But another use had been found for their service.
Slaves were also a necessary element of a royal household. A worthy king needed courtesans. Rose was the shining jewel now locked away in the palace. The top of the Lan Na Guard, the king’s attack dogs, needed to be fed. They would be allowed to enjoy Rose tonight as a reward of service. But only for tonight, then she would be enjoyed and seen only by her lord.
The dream of a Lan Na rebirth was in full throttle. Still, work was to be accomplished.
The office phone rang to life. “Bartholomew Hartin, my Lord.”
Oum walked slowly up Loi Kroh. Meow, the newest heartthrob to grace Chiang Mai’s naughty nightlife, walked in tow. She would make a fine centerfold Oum observed silently as a pang of jealousy welled up in her. Meow was everything she was not. Tall, long-legged, curvaceous, but with that thought another feeling welled inside her heart. She knew Declan was always faithful. When he was in the room, no matter the company, in his eyes she was the flower of the ball. He had made her believe in true love.
Her daydreaming thoughts of love were invaded by a nagging suspicion. She had barely noticed a glossy black Kawasaki chopper reflected in Declan’s side mirror. It had given her no pause. They were not uncommon in Chiang Mai. Upon exiting Stairway To Heaven a flash of chrome beamed in the sun. The sharp reflection led her eyes to its source. A Kawasaki 250 sat parked across the street. Its rider sat idly, his face obscured by a helmet. That was odd in and of it-self. Why keep your helmet on in the heat? Something else stood even more: the motorcycle jockey’s boots. Black, polished, official, they appeared ceremonial even.
Now that same person was lurking far behind but not out of sight. The helmet was still on. On another day she would give it scant attention. This was Loi Kroh after all. Personal dramas played out daily and through the night. Today was different. A psychopath was on the loose. And she was stuck right in the middle of this deadly soap opera.
Martin Gay had selected a perfect location for his former business. World TEFL was located in a strip mall within the shadow of Doi Suthep Mountain, close to Chiang Mai University, and away from the dark cloud cast by the events at King Mengrai University.
Declan Power could almost see the tower in which his condo was located. This fact was important. It reminded him that the events he had become involved in struck very close to home. He had no time for niceties.
Christopher Minor had no inkling of the circumstances which had beset Martin Gay. Power would give him a peek and then follow with the steamroller. First he waited quietly.
“Where the hell is Post? I’ve no intention of conducting this interview without a witness,” Minor snorted.
Declan smirked. “Have it your way. I can roll this story with or without you. Hell, I just thought it was fair pool to air your side of the argument.” He got up to leave.
“What are you talking about Power?” he asked.
Declan leaned on the table and slapped down the palm of his hand. “Has anybody from the Department of Tax and Revenue come knocking on your door?”
“No! Why the hell should they?” Minor crowed the trepidation dripping from his voice.
“You got in bed with the wrong Aussie mate,” Declan retorted. “Hell, they’ve got a real assassin up from Bangkok poring through Gay’s finances. I’m not sure but I think they’re on to the fact that Martin laundered his money. World TEFL is exhibit number one brother.”
Bad news travels fast. Minor’s face absorbed the full impact. He sprung from his chair. Suddenly frantic, the World TEFL director paced around his office. “Everything we’ve done here has been on the up and up. Look, I’ve bent over backwards to get the odor of Gay out of this establishment and…” Minor’s voice trailed off. He sat back down. “Again, I’m not talking to the press, especially you. I need to get your stench out of here as well. Let’s just wait for Ben.”
“Ben’s not walking through that door pal,” Power stated flatly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean some serious shit is going down. Martin Gay’s gone missing and Ben too. The Bangkok brass is up here snooping through every nook and cranny. It seems somebody is quite interested in keeping Dr. Marty’s mouth shut.”
“And how do I fit into this? I took over Gay’s business and certainly have nothing to do with any of the shenanigans over at King Mengrai University.”
“Two of Martin’s instructors, Ben and Peter Fox, are still under your employ. They were well aware of, and benefitted from, the scam. If I’m not mistaken, Peter Fox, as director of teacher development signed those bogus certificates. Yet he’s still in a position of authority here is he not?”
Minor again rose from his chair and stared glumly out the bay window. “What do you want Power and how can you help me?”
Declan relaxed in his chair. Minor was spooked. He just hoped the rattled man had some information that could prove useful.
Oum thought glumly of her situation. She rued taking the money from Nam knowing full well that any dealings with Marty Gay led to a bad end. People were dead, mutilated, and put on show in the public square. Word had already begun to spread through the bars and go-go nightclubs. Her girls had already peppered her with questions. “Oum, a dancer from Foxy Lady was found dead last night! A crazy man is on our street!”
She had done her best to calm their anxious nerves. But fear could be a good thing. They would be on guard. But a lady of the night prowled for gold. A shiny phone, a sparkling ATM, and cold cash would always rule the night. She would do her best to play mother hen in Best Bar. There was only so much she could do however and there was the immediate matter of the strange biker hovering just down the way. Declan had finally reassured her with a good plan. “Go out the back door into the alley. Walk up the alley to the moat road and hop in a tuk-tuk. Tell the ta
xi driver to take you to World TEFL and I’ll meet you here.”
“Bartholomew, as always, you look spectacular.”
Bart Hartin always basked in the glow of praise. But coming from such a refined individual his ego swelled. “Thank you my lord,” he replied formerly. Bart had initially thought it odd to be requested to refer to the Lan Na aspirant in such an aggrandized way. But slowly, over time, the implications of what was unfolding became clear.
“Have you made arrangements for the interview? As you know, media will play an important role in our efforts to reestablish the Lan Na Kingdom.”
“Yes, indeed it will. Naturally I’m unhappy at having Declan Power of all people being allowed the byline of this story. Furthermore…” Bart Hartin came to a stuttering halt. He felt a cold laser beam being driven through his heart. The sheer power of the withering stare cast in his direction rendered him mute. Meekly he stammered on. “But, but, of course, your judgment in these matters is best.”
A satisfied nod of the head from his Lord was the reply. The dead of winter had turned to a balmy spring day in an instant. He caught his breath.
“I understand Bartholomew, of course I do. But Power did much damage to our cause when he exposed King Mengrai University in such a negative light.”
Hartin scowled. “Lies, all lies! Which is why I…,” but he quickly reigned in his ego, “Which is why I trust you Lord to proceed as best.”
“So it must be that Power undoes the damage with a story which better presents our side. Then he, and his slut of a girlfriend, will be dealt with in the proper fashion.”
Declan relaxed after hearing from Oum. The man on the motorcycle was still waiting outside Best Bar unaware Oum and their substitute centerfold had snuck away. Why would someone be following Oum? It didn’t add up. Perhaps Bangkok Man had put a tail on her. He’d figure that out later. It was enough to know his girl had made off safely. Now, he needed to focus on Christopher Minor.
The Chiang Mai Chronicle: A Declan Power Mystery Page 6