Sleepless in Bangkok

by Ian Quartermaine

  “You may buy a small painting of it if you wish,” the monk suggested. “Perhaps it will assist in your quest for enlightenment. Your contribution will help the temple and the work we do with homeless children and the sick.”

  Steven placed a substantial sum in the temple’s offering box.

  “I can do with all the help I can get,” Steven confirmed as the monk gave him a copy of the miniature painting. Wrapped in cellophane and small enough to fit in a pocket, Steven momentarily studied the image before placing it in his wallet.

  37

  A Snake In His Pants

  Not far from Trat on the South East coast of Thailand, in a national park where elephants, bear and tiger still live on the higher slopes, Steven took Gunn orienteering. The location was almost identical to the Laotian and Vietnamese terrain where he had once fought.

  “Are you trying to get me lost?” Gunn asked as they ventured deeper into the forest.

  “I’ve got a compass. I was in the military, remember?”

  “Can think of better things to do than walk in jungle,” Gunn replied. “All farang crazy.”

  “We don’t just have to walk in the jungle,” Steven said. “But I forgot, Thai people never take their clothes off in public even if it’s private.”

  Gunn was noncommittal.

  “Pass me some nam son (orange juice) from the things we bought in the village,” Steven kind of ordered.

  Gunn removed two small plastic bottles containing freshly squeezed orange juice from a carrier bag. She handed one to Steven.

  “It’s so quiet we’d hear anything approaching. It’s a few miles from the road,” Steven said as he stared at Gunn’s young body.

  Stylishly clothed in counterfeit Gucci shorts and a tee-shirt, Gunn’s childlike breasts stood taut beneath the thin garment in the cool forest air.

  “Are you thinking what I think you are thinking?” Gunn asked.

  Steven’s eyes supplied the answer before verbalising his thoughts. “Take your top off, I want a photo of your breasts as a keepsake for my old age.”

  “Mr. Hunt old already,” Gunn replied, with a smile.

  “I let myself in for that,” Steven answered, having half set up the joke.

  “Camera ready yet?” Gunn asked as she slipped off her tee-shirt and, bare from the waist up, posed provocatively.

  “Fuck the camera, I’ll keep the image in my mind,” Steven countered.

  In the oasis of green, Gunn looked pensive as Steven placed his camera on the ground and gazed in her direction.

  Slipping out of her shorts and panties, Gunn stooped to gather some flowers. Like an innocent wood nymph, she stood naked except for a small bouquet. Piercing through the lush green foliage, a shaft of sunshine enhanced her elfin appearance.

  Steven gazed at Gunn’s innocent looking beauty before casually approaching. Placing his hand on her naked breast, he looked into her eyes. Gunn responded by standing on tiptoe to kiss him, darting her tongue inside his mouth.

  “Hello, what your name, where you come from, how long you stay in Thailand?” Steven said in a low voice.

  “Shhhh, no joking,” Gunn quietly replied as she ran her hands down Steven’s muscular back and pressed her slim frame against him.

  Unbuttoning his shirt and trousers, Steven slipped out of his boxer shorts with the speed of a man with a snake in his pants. Immediately, the snake inside his pants raised its head.

  Unclothed, the couple faced each other.

  Placing her hand between Steven’s legs, Gunn manoeuvred his penis towards her moist passage, moaning with pleasure as his erection touched the exterior of her private part. Sliding down to the forest floor, the couple laid on a soft, organic mattress of leaves and ferns.

  Uncontaminated by any Western cultural concept that sex was sinful, Gunn rolled over on top of Steven’s hard-ridged abdominal muscles. Pressing herself down, she gave a soft cry as Steven’s farang sized organ ravished her baby-sized opening.

  “I love fucking you,” Gunn whispered as she forced Steven’s rock hard presence inside her, savouring the excitement of sex in the open air.

  38

  Silence is Not Golden

  On the taxi back to Chantaburi, where they would take the blue air-conditioned coach to Bangkok, Gunn sat quietly and said nothing.

  “ Arai?” What? Steven asked, but Gunn did not immediately reply.

  “Think too much,” Gunn finally said.

  Steven knew enough about Thai culture to know that ‘think too much’ was the exquisitely cogent way in which Thai people knowingly or unknowingly, described what would be referred to as depression in the West.

  “You’ve told me almost nothing about your background so I don’t know if I can help. Is there something on your mind that’s bothering you?”

  Gunn acted as if Steven was not present, and remained silent for the rest of the four-hour journey back to Bangkok.

  39

  Breakfast in Bed

  Lying in bed the following morning, Gunn was back to what appeared to be her usual self - whatever that was and Steven believed he would never really know.

  “Would you like to visit the far north of Thailand,” Gunn asked, as they ate breakfast in bed, Siamese room service as near to perfect if you could get the bellboy to find the right room!

  “Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai and the surrounding countryside are very beautiful. Well worth a visit.”

  “I know the area and I’d like to see it again, but we’d need a week or more,” Steven replied. “I can’t leave Bangkok for more than a few days. Might still have some work to do.”

  “Too bad, it’s much cooler in the north and we could have had some fun there.”

  “We can have some fun here,” Steven confirmed, as he ran his hand beneath the sheets and slid two fingers inside Gunn’s pussy.

  Gunn shuddered, put her glass of orange juice on the bedside table, and placed her hand on Steven’s rock hard projectile. “Fuck you,” she said.

  “Yes please,” Steven replied.

  40

  No More Fun in the Sun

  After their mid morning sexual encounter, Gunn disappeared into the bathroom. Instantly, the phone rang. “Another lady want to make love with Mr. Hunt,” Gunn called out from the bathroom, as she applied what little make up she usually wore.

  Steven picked up the receiver.

  “You seem less than happy,” Gunn stated as she reappeared from the bathroom and commenced dressing.

  “Not happy or unhappy,” Steven replied. “The business I said might come up? It just has.”

  “Not only thing come up with Steven Hunt,” Gunn said, a grin on her face, farang humour starting to corrupt her personality.

  “Mai belai ka, never mind,” Gunn added. “Work usually means money and money never bad thing, only what can be done with it. Whether money good or bad, depend upon person.”

  “A female philosopher. That makes two of you in the history of mankind,” Steven stated, rather chauvinistically.

  Gunn was clever enough not to make any negative remarks concerning Steven’s display of male ego. She was an Eastern woman not a Western one, and already knew that women were generally smarter. As a result, she did not need to prove the point by making the man lose face. So Gunn allowed Steven to retain his tongue in cheek illusions concerning male superiority.

  “Will I see you tonight?” Steven asked as Gunn walked towards the door.

  “Only definite maybe on that one. Might have some business myself. Not know when or if I can see you again.”

  “I get the feeling I’ve heard that before,” Steven answered. “I’ll never understand the female sex if I live to be a hundred. Least of all the Oriental branch of your gender.”

  “I thought Mr. Hunt a hundred already,” Gunn said as she reached the door of the hotel room, scoring another point in the million-year battle between the sexes.

  “Don’t tell me,” Steven remarked.” Lord Buddha said it is important not to become
too attached or the illusion of permanence can disappoint.”

  Before leaving, Gunn hesitated for a moment, her eyes suggesting that she really did like Steven.

  41

  Essential Background

  The greeting Field Marshal Chang offered was more formal than before. Steven immediately suspected something was up.

  “I am sorry about the delays,” Field Marshal Chang said.

  “No explanation. No excuse. No reasons given. Typical Oriental,” Steven imperialistically thought, but gave nothing away. Oriental culture had taught him well.

  “Would you like some refreshment, Mr. Hunt”?

  “Cha chin, lon,” China tea served hot Steven replied.

  The field marshal’s enigmatic expression suggested bad news could follow.

  “I know you speak reasonable Thai, but I will speak in English to ensure there is no misunderstanding between us.”

  Steven nodded his thanks..

  “I am sure you are anxious to discover exactly what your mission is and if you wish to accept.”

  “I have already accepted it,” Steven quickly advised. “But I was wondering why Montgomery-Fairfax will be coming with me? Your brief was too brief. There were some very important details missing.”

  “That is the purpose of our meeting today, to brief you fully. What I am about to relate to you is strictly classified, and if news got out to the world press about what we are attempting to accomplish, many governments would be discredited.”

  The field marshal took a sip from his customary glass of mineral water with a wedge of lime and a sprig of mint.

  “That is reason why no financial transaction can be traced back to any official body, and why we utilised a private security consultant to head the mission at the sharp end.”

  “Am I working for the Thai administration or the British? There is no written contract, which leaves me in a no-man’s-land.”

  “Both,” the field marshal replied. “The American and Australian administrations are also involved.”

  “So who do I take my orders from?” Steven asked.

  “Yourself. I will give you background information and supply practical support in Thailand wherever I can, and Mr. Montgomery-Fairfax will be handling the financial side on behalf of the British government. But you are in charge of the mission on the ground.”

  “And if it goes wrong in any way, I am on my own. I’ve been there before,” Steven said with resigned cynicism.

  James Chang said nothing, just looked in Steven’s direction as if that situation was standard procedure in covert actions, and certainly in situations where the reputations of politicians were involved.

  Steven did not elaborate, allowing the field marshal to continue.

  “You are correct, if your assignment should come into the public domain, whether you succeed or fail, all would deny connection with you. And if apprehended working with known criminals in the drugs trade, you could potentially be imprisoned for a very long time. Further, the death penalty remains on the statute book in Thailand for such offences.”

  His sense of humour still intact, Steven’s reply was ironic. “What a nice cheerful start to the day.”

  Chang looked mildly confused, ironic British (and Jewish) humour a bit too subtle and dark for him.

  Steven considered the field marshal’s information.

  “Unlike military service, at least this time I’ll be well paid. Albeit, I have to pay my own expenses. That is, if the last brief you gave me hasn’t altered and if the British government hasn’t reneged on its verbal agreement. Not exactly unknown since honour went out of politics, if ever it was there. But notionally I’m being well paid, which makes a change.”

  James Chang hesitated, apparently uncertain regarding whatever it was Steven had alluded to about paying his own expenses. Neither was the field marshal understanding the concept of honour in politics. Whether the individual would make or lose money, was more often the motivating factor in Eastern and Oriental governance.

  “So the brief is still the same and the mission has not been altered,” Steven said, an element of doubt in his voice.

  “Predominately the same, and hopefully I will answer any questions you might have with what I am about to say,” James Chang replied.

  Steven said no more, allowing the field marshal to explain.

  “Mr. Rupert Montgomery-Fairfax will be responsible for the delivery of a bank draft to the order of three hundred million US dollars, to a third party.As you know, a bank draft is an irrevocable financial instrument, cash in bearer form. Understandably, such a sum could not be entrusted to a non-government officer. You have been retained to safeguard Mr. Montgomery-Fairfax and the money.”

  James Chang allowed Steven a moment.

  “You are aware that drug abuse is reaching near epidemic proportions in the West. In many locations this has been accompanied by an almost complete breakdown in law and order. Drug addiction and the whole violent trade that surrounds it, is a subversive thing.”

  Field Marshal Chang sipped from his tumbler of ice mineral water, utilising the pause for dramatic effect.

  “As much of the world’s supply of heroin emanates from the Golden Triangle, it is not exactly showing my country in a favourable light. Should the seditious substances continue to find their way to Western nations, we are at risk of losing valued aid from the United States government, the World Bank and IMF. My own country, in cooperation with a number of Western administrations, has a joint interest in cancelling supplies at source.”

  In the Orient money was all, so Steven realised there would have to be an underlying fiscal reason why the Thai government would be willing to cooperate with overseas administrations to suppress an industry which, ironically, earned considerable hard currency for many government officers charged to eradicate it!

  Then there would be the inevitable ‘face’ factor. But again, that would be connected in some way to the Siamese people’s favourite subject - money. Understanding the Oriental psyche enough to realise the importance of ‘face’ - which money bought and brought, and both were often closely entwined - Steven was aware that individual self-interest would often override issues of greater importance to the nation. That could be a problem if someone within the Thai government was not playing it straight and intended the mission should fail.

  Without a decent helping of right-brain intellect you were fucked in Thailand. You got fucked anyway, but only physically. Without right-brain, you got shafted every which way.

  Like parts in a particularly complex Chinese puzzle, Steven realised the issues behind and within the overall picture would probably be revealed one act at a time. Or, as he was currently ensconced in Siam, unravel like strands in a delicately woven measure of Thai silk. Presuming his IQ would be tested to the limit, Steven silently speculated whether the field marshal wanted the mission to succeed. If not, the opportunities for sabotage and double-dealing would be considerable. In such circumstances, his chances of coming out alive would be severely questioned.

  “But what exactly is my full part in this?” Steven asked.

  “Please be patient,” James Chang advised, as he sipped from his tumbler of ice water again, mentally preparing his brief.

  “A secret deal has been negotiated with a former American soldier called Bronislav Kronsky. Of Slavic descent, he remained in South East Asia at the end of the Vietnam War. According to the dossier we have on him, his vocation in life has been to assist the warlords in the Far North to distribute their drugs to Eastern Europe, then on to the West. Via the use of controlled violence, he was instrumental in establishing a cartel. In so doing, he realised better prices for his indigenous associates than would have been achieved without his intervention.

  “Sounds like an honest and charming man,” Steven said.

  “There is worse,” the field marshal advised. “When Yugoslavia imploded, he returned to assist his countrymen. There his reputation for brutality earned him the title the ‘Beas
t of Bosnia’. He sneaked back to South East Asia after being indicted for crimes against humanity. While he remains in the Golden Triangle he is safe, and anywhere else in the region all the time he has money,” the field marshal confirmed.

  “Nice guy,” Steven said, basically to himself.

  “We have agreed to pay Kronsky three hundred million dollars. In return, he has agreed to assist our governments to destroy the heroin crop which his associates control. That, I would add, would be a major part of the year’s harvest in the Golden Triangle. As our operative on the ground, you may utilise whatever means your professional judgement might consider appropriate to secure our objectives.”

  “Anything goes,” Steven silently speculated, as he sat absorbing the field marshal’s brief.

  “As confidant to the warlords, Kronsky will be double crossing his partners. Have no doubt he will do everything possible to ensure his part in the destruction of his compatriots business operation will not be exposed. That could include killing you and your party, should he feel your presence jeopardised his position.”

  “Does Kronsky work for the United Wa State Army?” Steven asked. “They control most of the amphetamine drug trade in the region and are so rich they’ve built their own city at Muang Yom, just 30 kilometres north of Chiang Mai, across the Thai-Burmese border. With full backing of the Burmese military, they are reputed to have manufactured 700 million amphetamine tablets last year. Infiltrating their operation would be like getting into the Pentagon.”