Sleepless in Bangkok

by Ian Quartermaine

As an Oriental, the field marshal’s inner feelings would normally remain concealed. However, even he looked disturbed.

  “With the greatest respect, Mr. MontgomeryFairfax, the jungles of the Golden Triangle are inhabited by ruthless men dedicated to the pursuit of profit by any means. They do not exactly play by the Marquis of Queensbury rules. I would submit that you take such facts into consideration before refusing some form of personal protection.”

  Montgomery-Fairfax shook his head. “I have made my decision. Combat is to be the prerogative of these two people. That is what they are being paid for. I am assuming the young woman is being paid, same as our man Hunt?”

  If Rupert’s question required an answer, it was not forthcoming. Information about money and who was getting what or why - which was all mixed up with the concept of ‘face’ - was a highly personal matter in the Orient. However, as the word ‘no’ was considered impolite, it was never used. As a result, only silence followed Rupert’s questioning observation.

  “I don’t think you are going to get an answer if you were looking for one, so unless you have anything else to say on the subject, perhaps we should move on,” Steven suggested.

  “Is that how it is?” Rupert said in an arrogant, uptight manner. Steven ignored Rupert’s emotional statement and approached Gunn. Before he could communicate anything,

  Rupert continued his arrogant outburst. “Well I do have something else to say on the subject,” he said in a loud voice. “If I were to be captured bearing arms, it would be an open invitation to inflict violence upon me.”

  Steven refrained from vocalising his thoughts, but pondered on the fact that Rupert regularly paid for a little violence in his discreet little London clubs. Kronsky and his associates would do it for nothing!

  “And don’t think I don’t know what you are thinking, Hunt. There’s a distinct difference between a little sexual violence between friends and the kind of disordered, anarchic brutality I can imagine might emanate from our colleagues in the Golden Triangle.”

  “Colleagues? You prick, they are our adversaries. I think keeping you and the three hundred million dollars safe is going to be more of a headache than I originally thought. I hope the Arab debacle isn’t going to repeat itself, as this time life in a Thai jail could be on offer as a bonus. Have you ever been in a Thai prison?”

  Rupert remained petulant, but did not reply.

  “Thai prisons make Victorian workhouses look like the Ritz. With just one unscreened hole in the corner of a bare concrete cell, used as a communal toilet by twenty inmates or more; toilet paper an unknown product; no mattresses or beds; medical attention limited or not available at all; clean drinking water noticeable by its absence; food confined to two small bowls of rice per day and fish soup so hot and spicy, sulphuric acid is a comparable alternative; the occasional prisoner’s head being split open like a watermelon by a sadistic warder for giving the wrong look; extrajudicial killings a regular occurrence; manacles commonplace for most of the day; daily brutality from prisoners and wardens alike, with beatings so severe they make a nonsense of Thailand’s signature on various international human rights charters, a Thai prison is not exactly the place to spend the balance of an Oriental vacation for a year or fifty. In comparison, Western prisons are like holiday camps.”

  Rupert looked suitably contrite. Almost.

  Exploring the basement armoury, Steven reflected upon the problems that could lay ahead. It wasn’t exactly unknown for the Thai police to be paid for using their blind eye when it came to the activities of local drug suppliers, whilst happily bringing in the odd farang for the same offence. On occasions, the Thai police would fit up a farang with a stash of heroin at Bangkok’s international airport in order to create a diversion when their own contacts were smuggling stuff through. Not all the young hustlers and backpackers rotting in Bangkok prisons were actually guilty, although many clearly were. Analysing the downside, the balance of Steven’s fee looked farther away from collection and not nearly enough.

  His mind only half on what he was doing, Steven continued to consider the downside of the proposed assignment. However, even on autopilot he was accomplished in the military craft,

  Nothing was straight forward even when the cops were upstanding and honest - a rarity itself in South East Asia. Further, the police, military and undercover drug agencies would be unaware that Steven was working for the Thai government in cooperation with those of the UK, USA and Australia. In addition, neither Thai or Western government officials would intervene if things went wrong. If the shit hit the fan, no one would risk exposing their own role in instigating and funding a covert action paying taxpayers’ money to known criminals.

  Should the mission go wrong and apprehension by a law enforcement agency occur, Gunn would probably plead innocence and get away with it. As a woman and a Thai citizen, sympathy would be on her side. Some well placed ‘tea money’ would doubly ensure distance. In comparison, Steven’s position was one of considerable jeopardy.

  Not too heavy but able to shoot someone’s head off at thirty paces, Steven tried a US Army service pistol on for size. First making sure it was unloaded, he tucked it inside his belt. Not wishing to shoot off his equipment and end up speaking in the same kind of effeminate, high register lisp as Rupert, Steven was careful with his pistol - both of them. Knowledge of his own inadequacies having advised that he did not have what it took to become a Buddhist Monk, fucking was a pastime he would prefer to retain. A wish not to shoot off his dick, was therefore paramount in his thoughts.

  A large, standard-issue combat knife and a backpack full of grenades joined the service pistol. In preference to a Russian Kalashnikov, Steven selected a 9mm UZI sub machine gun with folding stock. For sentimental reasons mainly - a distant ancestor on his mother’s side was Jewish. But there was little to choose between either weapon for destructive power, and the fact that quality control on Israeli-manufactured products was generally superior to those from Eastern Europe, influenced the decision. His lethal shopping excursion almost complete, Steven picked up another UZI and threw it towards Gunn.

  Expertly checking the ammunition clip before snapping the weapon shut, Gunn appeared to be highly trained and proficient.

  “At least I’ve got someone with enough expertise to watch my back, now that Rupert has been ‘excused boots’ [***]. I hope you can fuck people in ways other than those I already know,” Steven said with a wry smile on his face.

  Relieved that Steven was as conversant with weaponry as she clearly was, Gunn saw the joke and smiled back. She wanted to stay alive, too.

  Steven double-checked his weapons.

  “The stun grenades will throw a coach load of drug traffickers through a window without damaging their charabanc [**]. Fragmentation grenades will send a room full of adversaries to Kingdom Come - in small pieces. As to our thousand-rounds-a-minute UZIs with folding stocks, they will hide away nicely in our tourist luggage.”

  Field Marshal Chang looked on, quietly pleased that his farang security consultant knew his stuff.

  “I think that will do the trick,” Steven concluded. “We can’t carry anything else anyway. If there are spies watching, they won’t believe we’re just innocent tourists.”

  Gunn carefully unwrapped some grenades to check their veracity, before replacing them in the standard greaseproof gift wrapping grenades normally come in.

  “My chauvinist mentality suggested that bringing a woman along would require me to be a wet nurse. But my young female partner appears to have more talents than the ones she’s shown me so far. So it looks like I’ve only got one big girl to take care of - Rupert.”

  Steven was starting to like Gunn for reasons other than her sweet face and tight pussy.

  [*] It is normal for the people of Thailand to have a nickname. When old enough to decide what name they desire, it will be accepted by all. It is logical and kind to allow the individual to choose their own name, rather than being saddled with one from birth. Some n
ames are inappropriate, and many in the West would like to change them. A few do. John Wayne never liked Marian Morrison; Cary Grant was not particularly fond of Archie Leach; and Robert Taylor hated Spangler Arlington Brough. Understandably.

  [**] Charabanc is the original name for a bus or coach in Britain. This word is sometimes used by those who heard it from their parents. It dates people as growing up before, during or not long after World War Two.

  [***] ‘Excused boots’ is the term given in the British army for someone relieved of duty, due to being sick. It is believed to be abused by soldiers wishing to avoid, or ‘skive’, off duty.

  43

  The Start of a Wonderful Vacation

  The journey north commenced with a short flight from Bangkok to Chiang Mai. Just a few hours drive from the Burmese and Laotian borders, the second largest city in Thailand would be regarded as a very small town in the West. Known for its connection to the illegal drugs industry, it had an uncertain identity.

  No longer dressed in a formal Whitehall-style suit, Rupert was more comfortably attired in a buff safari outfit. Run up the previous day by one of Bangkok’s many Indian and Chinese tailors, a crocodile attache case, Paisley cravat and a straw hat completed his aristocratic ensemble.

  Steven was mildly satirical as he explained their cover. “You’re supposed to be my friend Rupert, and Gunn’s a bar-girl accompanying a farang for money. We’re all travelling north for a few weeks trekking holiday, so let’s enjoy ourselves.”

  Field Marshal Chang had arranged for their weapons to travel in a diplomatic bag. That was fortunate, as Rupert was tipsy as they boarded the plane from Don Muang’s quiet domestic airport, and an effete-looking farang pissed out of his brain and dressed like an Edwardian, carrying a collection of knives, guns and live ammunition in his luggage, may have caused a problem!

  So the trio of ‘tourists’ passed through security without incident. But anything with the word ‘Royal’ attached to it would be treated with subservience and respect, due to the esteem in which the monarchy is held. So the words ‘Royal Thai Embassy’ stamped in gold on the diplomatic container, did the trick.

  Despite the fact there are only half a dozen flights a day to the far north, their plane was late. Thai time.

  The cabin crew were nervous as Rupert acted like a typical Briton abroad. Drinking from a hip flask, he became increasingly obnoxious in his befuddled state, bringing disrepute to his nation and himself.

  Demanding a meal then rudely shouting he could not eat the shit Thai people ate, Steven was obliged to tell Rupert they were supposed to be incognito, not making a spectacle of themselves.

  Rupert told Steven to fuck himself, and asked if Hunt was spelt with an ‘H’ or a ‘C’.

  Hunt with an ‘H’, whispered that he wasn’t the matron at Rupert’s public school, and would pay his former commanding officer back for his lost career if he didn’t stay quiet. “If I abandon you in some remote spot in the jungle, you’ll only have snakes wanting to go up your ass.”

  Steven’s whispered information had the desired effect, and Rupert stayed quiet for the rest of the short flight to Chiang Mai.

  44

  Still Pissed

  That night in the bar of their Chiang Mai hotel, Steven’s pissed off pheromones were still overriding any trace of Buddhist mindfulness.

  “Hello. What your name? Where you come from? How long you stay in Thailand? You buy drink for me?” Steven said as Gunn approached.

  Comparing a young woman of Gunn’s cultural background with a bar-girl was insulting, and she looked suitably upset.

  “I’m sorry I hurt your pride,” Gunn said, quietly and with dignity. “Either one of us could die on this mission if we don’t work together, so it would be wise not to hate each other. But even if our feelings had been genuine during the summer, or if we still felt the same now, that would also not be appropriate. Attachment leads to errors of judgement. Lord Buddha recommended the middle path.”

  Having failed to follow the influence of the Noble Eightfold Path - the bedrock of Buddhism - Steven’s unrestrained words were the physical manifestation of the deleterious thoughts which preceded them. More angry with himself than Gunn, he was suffering from what Buddhists would call ‘an unskilled state’ [*]. In other words, he was being what women might say is a typical man: egotistical, thoughtless and selfish. But when sex rears its erogenous head, a man’s drive to mate often dominates even the most trained intellect. However, Gunn’s words hit home.

  “I guess we’d better put on a show of affection to fool the other tourists,” Steven said, his brain almost in charge again. “It’ll be hard though, but not for you,” he added, his sense of humour returning.

  Gunn looked uncertain.

  “What I’m saying is I accept your proposal to keep our relationship strictly professional. I’m getting paid to guard an old queen and a consortium of government money, not as a male whore with an expensive escort agency.”

  Although confirming that his services as a stud were no longer on offer, Steven affectionately led Gunn towards the colourfully lit hotel gardens.

  [*] This is almost certainly why Buddhist monks are disallowed from having contact with the opposite sex physically or on an emotional level.

  45

  Another Fine Mess

  Steven hit the ground with the speed of a man on the run, as a burst of gunfire ricocheted around the garden. Gunn smiled and gazed into the heavens as a firework display glittered brightly in the night sky, showering the hotel garden with sound and light.

  “Another bloody festival,” Steven said, looking em

  barrassed as he lay on the damp grass, his instinct for survival having made him look foolish. “It’s a wonder Thai people do any work at all, the amount of festivals they have. [*] Any excuse to get smashed on Singha beer or Mekong whisky. That would be against the law in the West. Too much sanook in Thailand.”

  “Not in West now. In Thailand allowed to have fun,” Gunn replied. “Think West need more sanook.”

  “That’s another fine mess I’ve got myself into,” Steven said to himself, his sense of humour still intact. Realising how Olly must have felt, he tapped his fingers on the grass.

  Gunn milked Steven’s embarrassment. “Farang always play Cowboy and Indian when firework explode? Clothes dirty from grass, look like poor beggar need money for food.”

  Gunn reached inside her leather designer handbag and handed Steven fifty satang - less than a penny.

  [*] In opposition to the West, where national or regional fun times are few and far between, a festival is celebrated in one district or another on virtually any day of the year in Thailand. Sanook (joy, fun). They’ve probably got it right!

  46

  Drop Your Pants

  Travelling light and with his clothes muddy from the embarrassing hotel garden incident, Steven rose early the following morning to locate a laundry.

  Outside the Chiang Mai hotel, an ageing samlor [*] driver hustled for some business. Using a mix of English, Thai and pidgin, Steven managed to communicate his needs. With a fare of 60 baht agreed, [**] the man pedalled no more than a hundred yards.

  In comparison to the almost toothless man with a younger wife and a bunch of kids to take care of - poor but with a full life - Steven was rich beyond avarice. So Steven smiled and paid up. Yin yang.

  The short journey was worth the extortionate price to get there when Steven read the sign outside the store. For a second he thought the samlor driver had misunderstood his needs and had taken him to a gay bar. “Drop your trousers here for best service,” the sign read [***].

  The dry cleaning store was owned by a Chinese couple who never stopped talking. The novelty of a farang customer at any time let alone so early in the morning, was pretty exciting.

  Familiar with Oriental culture, Steven knew the couple’s exuberance would revolve around the fact that he was the first customer of the day. Fortunately, he would be spending a decent sum to have
his trousers, shirt, socks and boxer shorts cleaned. In Chinese culture, if the first customer was a good one, business would be propitious for the rest of the day. So under no circumstance should anyone visit a Chinese-owned store early in the morning and buy a packet of gum, or they would be cursed on their way.

  But even when they screwed up, which they did quite a lot, it was hard to dislike Thai people or the many residents of Chinese ancestry who had settled in Siam. So Steven dropped his trousers (off) and hoped for best service.

  As Steven left the small shop, he pondered on the multitude of name signs he had seen above ma and pa stores throughout South East Asia. Many were humorous to Western eyes even when no grammatical mistakes had been made. I Suk; U Suk; Long Suk; Won Long Suk; I Fuk; U Fuk; Long Fuk; Long Pong; Long Poo; Long Won; all carried greater meaning to those with an offbeat sense of humour and a native-born understanding of the English language [****]. But Won Long Fuk took the prize.

  Taking a walk round the streets of the central district of Chiang Mai, stopping to drink freshly opened coconut juice to maintain his electrolyte balance, Steven eventually returned to the dry cleaning store.

  The Chinese couple had been as good as their sign, and the pants he had dropped (off) had been fully serviced. He walked the hundred yards back to the hotel.

  [*] Samlor: A small, three-wheeled taxi with a single seat at the front and a small double seat behind. They are pedal driven or powered by a very noisy motor bike engine.

  [**] £1/$1-50 but worth five times the amount in local buying terms because of the disparity in currency exchange rates and the low cost of living.

  [***] Rewritten around a line in the Roger Crutchley column. Bangkok Post, 24/10/9.

  [****]. In their anxiety to communicate using the

  language of others, the peoples of South East Asia and

  particularly Thai people, tried harder. The consequences