The field marshal looked impressed. “You are well informed, but it is heroin we are targeting, which has a less organised chain of command. That is, until Kronsky came on the scene. He helped traditional tribal enemies combine into something resembling a single group. You will avoid the United Wa State Army base and venture deeper into the Golden Triangle. That is where the traditional poppy is still grown and heroin processed.”
Less than happy at what he was hearing and pissed at the urgent need for cash which had placed him smack bang in the middle of such an adverse scenario, Steven interrupted. “I now realise why Montgomery-Fairfax wanted me on this mission, and why he was willing to increase the size of the fee so fast. I should have asked for more.”
James Chang said nothing.
“Cor toh krap, my apologies,” Steven said, realising his interruption would be considered impolite in any eastern nation. Thailand was no exception.
“There is also the possibility with a man such as Kronsky, his real aim is to double cross us and keep the bank draft for three hundred million dollars without assisting you to complete the mission. If he were to do that, we would be unable to expose him. Not only would many individuals in high places be held up to ridicule, it would advise the public that their administrations were prepared to enrich known criminals with taxpayers’ money. That would be a public relations disaster which could topple governments.”
James Chang again allowed Steven time to absorb the ramifications of the plan.
“If drug supplies can be destroyed at source, they cannot be sold on to infect the West. This would create a situation where the cost of fighting drug related crime, funding rehabilitation units for drug abusers, lost working days in industry and the many social costs that surround the widespread breakdown of law and order which accompany the drugs trade, could be dramatically reduced. It is an economic decision which makes financial sense to our various governments.”
“Is that all?” Steven observed, an ironic inflection in his voice.
The field marshal nodded his head. “That is the mission for which you have been paid ten percent of your fee of two million dollars. The balance will be payable only after completion. That is, if you manage to come out alive. As you will ascertain, it is a mission fraught with danger, double-cross and risk.”
Realising Field Marshal Chang had been aware of the size and terms of his fee all along - even though he had earlier feigned ignorance - Steven remained silent.
The strains of “Happy Birthday To You” signalled an incoming call to the field marshal’s mobile phone.
“Please excuse me, my wife is in another part of the building and wishes to see me,” James Chang said as he got up from behind his desk and left.
Alone in the office, Steven walked across the room to examine an antique Buddha statue. The field marshal’s absence allowed time to consider the mission and the reasons behind its implementation - perhaps the reason why James Chang had temporarily departed.
From the Siamese perspective, officially and at a public relations level, the Thai government would express embarrassment regarding the amount of heroin reaching its Western allies. Unofficially, it would be more concerned with the potential loss of its overseas aid packages.
As to the UK, the increasing levels of violence and street crime on the council estates of Glasgow, Newcastle, Manchester, and even once sleepy rural areas such as Bath and Bristol - much of it revolving around the drugs trade - was obvious cause for concern. If something was not done soon, the politicians in power would risk being voted out of office. They would not relish losing their well paid, tax-free parliamentary salaries.
Fast following the crime ridden, no-go areas of Detroit, New York, LA, Montreal and Sydney’s Kings Cross, the British government didn’t even want to think about what might happen next. So an important section of MI6 - with tacit approval high up in government circles - decided it would be worth a bit of sideways thinking to try and knock at least part of the drugs trade on the head directly at source. The alternative was to risk the continuing deterioration of civilisation as ‘Great’ Britain had once known it, as more and more of the deadly white powder - heroin and its derivatives - hit the UK streets.
Broke as always, Britain had negotiated a deal to share costs with the Australian and North American administrations, all of whom had problems of civil disorder emanating from drug related sources. As Thailand was a long time ally of the West - and of any nation willing to supply financial aid - the Golden Triangle was a good place to start. It made sense in a lateral kind of way.
Allowing a polite minute after the field marshal’s return, Steven voiced his concerns. “The odds of success are pretty slim. No wonder so much money was on offer. Perhaps no one believed they’d have to pay it out. But you said ‘party’. So far only myself, Kronsky, and Montgomery-Fairfax are involved. As Kronsky works for himself, who else are you considering including in my party?”
“I wondered when you would ask that,” James Chang said, a look of inscrutability on his face.
Ashort silence followed Steven’s pointed question and James Chang’s uncertain answer.
“Because your language skills and knowledge of the geography and culture of the far north of my country are understandably limited, you will require the services of a guide and interpreter. I will be sending a third person to provide those services.”
“The sooner we get introduced the better. I’ll need a few days to liaise with him and work out a more detailed plan of action. Hope he’s ex-military, same as me,” Steven said, anxious to get things underway.
Field Marshal Chang spoke into his desk top intercom. “Please send in our operative.” After a short wait, the door to James Chang’s ornately furnished office opened. “This is your interpreter and guide,” James Chang politely said.
Steven looked up to see a beautiful, velveteen skinned young woman enter the room.
“Hullo Steven,” Gunn said.
“I think you two have already met,” the field marshal stated.
“We have ‘connected’ up a few times,” Steven replied.
Steven’s ego had fooled him into believing he was enjoying the fruits of a holiday romance, and the irritation of the girl having got the better of him, hurt his pride. Albeit, Steven had learned that ego and pride usually came before a fall. But right now, testosterone and Western cultural conditioning were prejudicing his judgement.
“Your work was impressive. I’d give you a commendation for services over and above the cause of duty. Sexual services, that is. So you were checking me out to see if I was who I was supposed to be and if I was up to the job.”
“Possibly,” Gunn replied.
“I guess I should apologise for making things so ‘hard’ for you. But perhaps not, you did seem to enjoy it. On the other hand, maybe you are the greatest actress on the planet and were faking it. A plant, and I thought I’d found something resembling true love.”
Gunn replied in a cool, matter-of-fact manner. “I’m sorry we had to meet under false pretexts. It was necessary to gain some insight and advance knowledge of your character. We needed to ascertain if you and I could work closely together. Anyway, you can’t blame me for enjoying my work,” Gunn added, knowing Steven knew exactly what she was referring to.
“You are to play the part of lovers on a trekking holiday in the Chiang Mai region and the far north, so it was important for you to gel on a personal level,” the field marshal explained.
“We certainly got stuck together a few hundred times, so I guess you could say we gelled,” Steven said.
Mildly embarrassed, the field marshal attempted to explain. “I am sure you will understand that Gunn was only doing her job. You are a professional in the field of covert action and must have played many roles yourself in the past.”
“Gunn brought a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘penetrating’ someone’s security,” Steven joked. “Thai people are the best friends money can buy,” he added, repeating the gag
expatriates had coined to describe the indigenous population.
Gunn sauntered across the room with the rhythm of a model on the cat walk. Fastidiously avoiding Steven’s gaze, she stopped and faced the field marshal.
Having fucked with his emotions as well as his body, Steven was annoyed with himself for being taken in by the Thai operative - the young woman he mistakenly thought had liked him for himself. But it was difficult to dislike someone so aesthetically pleasing, particularly one who had made love to him right up to the morning of that very day.
James Chang made a further attempt to placate and explain. “It was important to ascertain if your cover would work. We had to determine if Gunn and yourself would pass as lovers. Age is respected in the East as is money, and it is normal for a rich older farang to be seen with a beautiful young Thai girl in my country.”
Despite the comment about his age, Steven smiled, using the gesture as a Thai would - to cloak his embarrassment at losing control of his emotions.
His annoyance diminishing, Steven saw the humorous side - as Gunn had metaphorically penetrated him, he had literally penetrated her. She had also managed to keep up the charade of something resembling a romance for the whole of the summer. If the rest of her work was as professional, she would clearly make a first class partner to accompany him on the proposed mission. Her in-depth geographic knowledge and regional language skills would also be essential if things were to go well.
“We definitely fitted well together,” Steven said, controlling his emotions. “She’ll be perfect. But I won’t expect her to play her part to the full. I mean, inside the bedroom. That would be taking Stanislavsky too far. In fact it could end up being a cock-up from start to finish.”
The field marshal stared at Steven, not fully understanding what he meant. Prolonged eye contact would be regarded as a threatening gesture in Thailand - an invitation to fight - and the field marshal quickly averted his gaze.
“It is an odd time to be making jokes when your lives are about to be placed at risk. We simple Orientals will never understand farang humour.” James Chang delicately utilised irony to explain Steven’s remarks and score a point.
“If the Oriental mind was simple, Westerners were positively Neanderthal,” Steven reflected, but refrained from vocalising his thoughts. His recent sarcasm had already lost him enough face.
“If you are happy with Gunn, I will send for Mr. Montgomery-Fairfax. He is waiting in one of the adjacent offices.”
“So that’s who he went to see, not his wife,” Steven silently surmised. “But maybe he’s gay and regards Rupert as his wife,” his thoughts added, realising that in a place like Thailand where there are few rules, your brain could get fucked as much as your body.
“Do you find her acceptable?” the field marshal asked. “If not, I can attempt to locate someone else. However, that will delay the mission and he or she may still not be to your liking.
“I can live with her,” Steven advised.
Gunn stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge Steven’s chauvinistic, sexually loaded reply.
“Then I will accompany you to the basement armoury,” the field marshal advised. “There you may choose whatever weaponry your judgement suggests will be suitable for the task. We have almost every type of armament in stock.”
42
Rupert’s Weapon
In the basement armoury of the government building, Rupert’s limp-wristed handshake touched Gunn’s outstretched hand as if she had an incurable disease. “Are we supposed to know you?” Rupert asked, as he stared at Gunn.
Typical of so many of the British ruling classes, Rupert’s arrogant and condescending manner demonstrated a complete lack of courtesy. Steven was embarrassed for Gunn and ashamed of his own heritage.
“You condescending prick. I suppose you mean is she important enough for you to bother to get to know. The arrogance of the so-called ruling classes.”
“Touchy, aren’t we,” Rupert replied with a very slight lisp.
“Never mind, Steven. I have met assholes before,” Gunn said.
“I think Gunn has got your measure, Rupert,” Steven confirmed.
“Please, gentlemen, lady. This is not a good start. You have to work together, your lives could depend upon it,” the field marshal said with a degree of unease.
“Who in the British civil service thought this apology for a human being would be suitable to head an important and dangerous mission?” Steven asked with a distinct element of contempt.
“Please Steven, your military dossier confirms you are able to keep your cool in tight situations. Please adhere to your past record when it comes to personal relationships. Khun Rupert’s lack of courtesy to Gunn is not important in the overall picture.”
Not entirely convinced, never the less Steven cooled down.
There were enough arms in the basement armoury to fight World War Two all over again, but with vastly increased firepower.
Gunn moved around the building with familiar ease. Clearly, Steven’s new partner - this time on a professional level - possessed talents over and above those which her beautiful, feminine exterior would have suggested. Steven looked on admiringly.
“So this is where your nickname came from,” [*] Steven stated.
“In part,” Gunn replied.
“Which part?” Steven asked, a satirical tone in his voice.
Gunn ignored Steven’s double-entendre.
“I can shoot, it’s a hobby of mine,” she advised.
“Good, I can do with all the help I can get,” Steven confirmed, respect for Gunn growing by the minute. “Incidentally, what is your family name?”
“Name on house paper and birth certificate too difficult for farang to pronounce.”
“That’s the end of that conversation,” Steven thought, but did not take the matter further. There were more important things on his mind - like surviving.
Gunn chose a tiny .22 Berretta pistol plus a thin stiletto dagger for personal protection. As a practising Buddhist, she had no wish to kill anyone. Should some life-threatening situation occur, she would damage her opponent just enough to make them wish they had not made her acquaintance. Her task apparently complete, Gunn placed the items in her leather designer handbag.
Rupert Montgomery-Fairfax seemed totally out of his depth. He had never remotely been a good soldier, having joined the military through a combination of family tradition and his need as a practising homosexual for close contact with the male sex. To make matters worse, during the five years he’d been out of the service, he’d grown flabby and unfit from a sedentary life of long lunches at the ministry and late nights at his kinky, sadomasochistic meeting places. Courage and weapons expertise, if ever he had any, were long since forgotten.
Rupert’s concept of ‘taking the enemy out’ - a wonderful phrase utilised in so many Hollywood war movies of the past - would be to invite one of them to an intimate dinner followed by a late night bop in a gay disco. Probably a handsome young private. Rupert would show him his medals and carry out an inspection, confining the soldier to barracks if anything about his kit was not thoroughly clean, well presented and standing to attention!
Gazing at the ageing, overweight, effete-looking English civil servant, Steven wondered why he’d accepted the mission without knowing in advance what it would entail. Recalling his previous financial distress, he instantly knew the answer.
“What about you, Rupert? I suggest you take something along for personal protection,” Steven advised.
“It would not be appropriate for a civilian serving member of Her Majesty’s government to bear arms. Wouldn’t be cricket.”
Steven wondered whether Whitehall secretly hoped neither he or Rupert would return from the proposed mission. Perhaps the British government considered three hundred million dollars a small price to pay to get rid of an ineffectual civil servant and an upstart like himself, in one foul swoop.
British politicians had donated three hundred million dollars
of taxpayer’s money to a Malaysian dam project which certain ministers on the Malaysian side had shares in. After investigation by the national press, it was discovered that directly or by proxy, various ministers on the British side had interests in the arms’ company awarded a major contract by the Malaysian government soon after. Probably not by coincidence, the Conservative administration in power at the time, were soon after voted out of office with the largest majority against a ruling party since records were kept.
So, three hundred million in pounds or dollars was a pittance compared to the cash which regularly got siphoned off from government budgets, in side deals involving taxpayers’ money that benefited government connected individuals, rather than the country at large.
A minister in the following British administration which leant to the left, had been put in charge of sealing offshore tax loopholes. The press later discovered he had personally benefited from such arrangements. To ensure the public lost further faith in the ethics of the political ruling class, he was found to have misled parliament as to his position. Left or right, East or West; it was common knowledge to all but the most naive, that politicians of every political shade, were self-serving and bent to some degree. In more ways than one, since so many ministers and civil servants had admitted to being homosexual. In fact the British public had come to believe homosexuality was virtually a requirement for the job.
Steven was unsure whether it was the heat or the thought of having to work with Montgomery-Fairfax again that was making him think so abstractly.
“We’re not here to play cricket, Wupert. It will probably be a smidgen more dangerous than a leather ball between your nuts. Besides, you might enjoy that.”
Steven satirised Rupert’s imperious approach, his sexual deviance, his inability to pronounce the letter ’R’, and his pretentious, strangulated mode of speech. A left over from the colonial era, Rupert was a complete prat.
“Must stand by my initial decision,” Rupert stated, firmly. “Not correct form, old thing.”
Sleepless in Bangkok Page 12