Happy at the thought of his imminent increased wealth, the main man was ebullient as he tucked into his food.
“Tomorrow handsome man sample merchandise. Not bullshit. We show our horse best in world,” the warlord said with pride.
“Fuck, the last thing I need is a drive to Chiang Mai and back,” Steven whispered to Gunn.
[*] To be fair to the British jobsworth, they were generally qualified to a higher degree when judged by international standards. It would be difficult to match the smallmindedness of the British jobsworth. Albeit, other countries lacked Britain’s long tradition. It would probably take centuries of dedicated endeavour for overseas jobsworths to become as focused in their attempts to obstruct, thwart, frustrate, hamper, hinder and impede. Britain could proudly make claim to being masters of the craft!
63
Up and At It
Steven woke to the sound of a cock crowing. Apt really, as he had a hard-on. Realising that not only was Gunn lying beside him, she was actually wrapped around him, he wished his penis had not dictated during the night.
“Don’t get any ideas, we only shared a bed to maintain our cover,” Steven said, as Gunn came to and saw the bulge beneath his shorts.
Gunn responded in kind, combining ridicule for Steven with a racial insult against farangs in general.
“Same go for me. Not think I share bed with farang otherwise. What’s that bulge inside your shorts?”
“I must have dreamt I was with a beautiful young girl. Not you, obviously,” Steven replied.
“Good for dream girl. Anyway, your coi too big for normal person.” Gunn broke into a smile as she realised what she had just said.
“I’m not sure whether to take your comment as a compliment or be annoyed,” Steven said.
“Fucking you was strictly business, to help government discover suitability of Mr. Hunt for current job,” Gunn chided.
“Hope I ‘came’ up to your expectations,” Steven replied, his sense of humour still intact.
The ego-damaging scam Gunn had laid on him during the previous months still niggled in Steven’s head. As overseas governments had delayed making a decision concerning the proposed covert action, Gunn had occupied his time on the orders of Field Marshal Chang. And she had been very professional, supplying enough distractions - predominately her own body - to persuade him not to give the mission a raincheck. Steven had almost managed to meditate Gunn’s deceit away, but real men carried a considerable ego burden. It took an exceptionally enlightened mind to nullify that unskilled state. Most men didn’t measure up - upstairs or downstairs.
64
Horse Trader
Outside the small hut which Steven and Gunn had shared for the night, the ancient hill tribe woman from the previous evening stir-fried vegetables and rice in a wok. Heated by burning charcoal, the smell of hot spicy food meandered through the compound. She smiled as Steven and Gunn approached, the wrinkles on her face like elephant hide.
The appetising aroma tantalised Steven’s taste buds, and he warmed to the food and his young female companion.
“The food is great in South East Asia. Order me a portion, will you Gunn?”
Kronsky emerged from his hut and walked towards the main building. Asleep in hammocks on the outside veranda, the guards stirred as their close-to-nature intuition warned of an approaching life form.
Appearing from inside what was once a Japanese army commander’s living quarters in the Second World War, the warlord gestured to Kronsky. “Get jeep,” he said.
Standing near the vehicle Kronsky parked, the war lord cut a small hole in a plastic bag. Sprinkling a small trail of heroin on the bonnet of the motor, he gestured to Steven.
“Come here, handsome man,” he ordered.
Placing a thumb over one nostril, the wizened man snorted some of the deadly powder via what was left of his other nasal passage. After a lifetime sniffing shit through his leprous-looking nose, it was almost as if his head had been given an electric shock, as the heroin jump-started the remains of his drug denigrated brain. Almost in a trance, the distorted smile of a mad axe murderer appeared on his face.
“Try some, not doubt quality of merchandise after,” he commanded, his bloodstream fortified by the noxious narcotic.
Playing the part of a drug connoisseur, Steven tasted some of the heroin on his fingers before sniffing a sample up through each of his nostrils.
“It is good. I grow it myself,” the war lord shouted.
On cue, the guards laughed at their leader’s inane witticism. Translated into the local dialect by a bodyguard conversant in more than one tongue, for only the second time since Steven, Gunn and Rupert had arrived at the encampment, the war lord’s supporters actually understood the joke.
“Good quality,” Steven replied. “Uncut. We’ll be back in two or three days with your money. We’d better make a start.”
Steven continued to play his part, pretending that the heroin which had just damaged the most sensitive membranes in his nose and throat, was the best experience he’d had since he couldn’t remember when. Right now in fact he couldn’t remember anything, since snorting his brain to Kingdom Come with the horrifying hallucinogen. “Best horse you can buy anywhere,” the warlord said with pride, his ancestors having perfected the art of getting stoned for the last few thousand years. But there were few other recreational pastimes in the more remote regions of South East Asia. Other than fucking and killing people of course.
“Heroin called horse because have kick like mule,” the warlord said as he sniffed another blast into the frontal lobes of what remained of his brain. “Not like faggot cocaine American movie stars snort. That just for children and poseurs. Heroin real thing.”
Gunn seemed far away as the warlord demonstrated his product. “Are you OK?” Steven quietly asked.
Enigmatic as ever, Gunn did not reply.
“Many ways to get stoned,” the warlord confided as he prepared to snort another charge up through his nasal passages. “Fifty Seven Varieties, same same American company [*]. Smoke. Mainline. Snort. Chase Dragon. Much better than Heinz soup, eat popcorn or watch TV.”
Steven knew that on the rare occasions when they could not actually copy Western consumer goods - such as popcorn, where the subtle arts of manufacture belonged firmly in the West - the real thing would be freely available in just about any location in the region. Hadn’t Oriental people been the most sophisticated and widely travelled traders since time began? Anywhere there was a chance to turn a coin, they would be there. Japan, South Korea, Taiwan, Singapore and Hong Kong first; Malaysia, Thailand, Indonesia, and eventually China. Such entrepreneurial spirit also extended to the unofficial nation state known as the Golden Triangle. So the warlord knew all about popcorn, Heinz 57 varieties and TV. On TV, the warlord particularly liked Thai kick boxing
- usually when stoned out of his mind after chasing the dragon. But he hated popcorn, much too sweet. Prawn crackers were more to his taste.
Prawn crackers were a best-seller in South East Asia. Thailand in particular. Unfortunately, they had an aroma reminiscent of a bag of dead fish found rotting on a garbage heap in the back streets of Bombay. South East Asian people loved them. But just a hint of their presence made Steven feel nauseous, so they were obviously off limits to any girl wishing to retain his acquaintance for longer than a one night stand. Or a ‘short time’, as they would say in Siam.
Other than perhaps Japan and the Scandinavian nations, the smell of dead fish on a partner’s breath was not calculated to engender sweet love and affection. Only raw garlic on the tongue of a person who’d lost their sense of taste and smell, could chase Steven away as fast. So as well as girls of any race who liked prawn crackers, Italian girls had not been part of Steven’s love diet.
The heroin was starting to drive Steven’s reason south, and via the somewhat lateral route of Heinz 57 varieties, popcorn, TV, garlic and prawn crackers, had led to the subject of sex.
No wonder d
rugs were well on the way to destroying Western society. They made no sense. They also helped lose the sense of anyone who took them. If violence or avarice happened to be the driving force in an individual’s personality, getting stoned on drugs assisted the release of an uninhibited, socially unacceptable version of those emotions. The results for the individual and society were detrimental to all. Robert Louis Stevenson accurately catalogued the effect in ‘Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde’. New York streets or downtown L.A. day or night, offered a more up to date account.
Steven shook his head violently, hoping a rush of blood to his brain might help rediscover his reason.
Kronsky casually walked into the hut where Rupert had been thrown the previous evening. Dragging the usually arrogant British government queen out by the scruff of the neck, he revelled in his captive’s humiliation. Not only had Rupert lost the sanctity of his ass a long time ago, he had now lost his face.
Showing the petrified queen off to the watching audience, Kronsky played to the crowd.
“If you aint back in three days, each day late I’ll cut something off fat faggot’s body. The hard way, no anaesthetic.” Kronsky momentarily stared at Steven before bundling Montgomery-Fairfax back into his small wooden prison.
Steven spoke softly to Gunn in the minute or so Kronsky was out of earshot. “No choice but to get to Chiang Mai and back here again as fast as we can. Before Rupert loses his nuts and starts singing boy soprano again.”
As he made his way towards his jeep, Steven saluted the warlord. “Thanks for your hospitality. Great stuff, man,” he said, rather surrealistically.
[*] ‘Same same’ is used by Thai and other South East Asian people to represent ‘the same as’.
65
Heroin Heroics
Heading south literally now, metaphorically a few minutes before, when he had successfully played the part of a ‘horse’ trader, Steven’s head felt like it was coming off as he drove like the average Thai truck driver high on amphetamines and speed.
Gunn gripped the side of the jeep as Steven did his best to avoid careering over the side of the steep mountain track, driving like the devil away from the warlord’s encampment.
“At least I’ll stay awake at the wheel after that blast,” Steven yelled.
Gunn concentrated on not falling out of the speeding vehicle.
“Make certain you give me directions when we get off the mountain track, my head’s currently got a mind of its own.
No longer needing to search for an unofficial river crossing back into Thailand, the return journey was accomplished faster than the journey there.
The ferry man could not believe his luck, a rich farang in his tiny riverside village twice in just two days. Lord Buddha was truly smiling on him and his family. This time number one wife allowed husband to retain some of the Thai baht Gunn supplied, so the Mekong whisky stall did some business after all.
Reaching Thai soil again, the couple took turns driving in their endeavour to reach Chiang Mai as soon as possible.
Gunn asked Steven if he thought Kronsky would really castrate Montgomery-Fairfax. Steven replied that Kronsky would probably enjoy every moment. Such a deadly deed would help Kronsky maintain his ruthless reputation in front of the warlord and his henchmen.
The jeep stayed in one piece on the rough terrain and eventually a tarmac road came into sight. By late evening of the same day, Steven and Gunn arrived back in Chiang Mai.
Exhausted, the couple got out of their now very dirty vehicle. A bus boy at the hotel entrance took the keys. “Clean it and I’ll tip you first thing in the morning,” Steven said. The bus boy drove the jeep towards the car park as Steven and Gunn entered the hotel.
Checking into the same room as before, the couple gratefully enjoyed the pleasures of a warm shower and a soft bed. Distrustful, both ensured there was little intimate contact and definitely no sex. Neither wished to make the first move if they did actually like each other. One of them might lose face.
66
Yet Another Drive North
Early the following morning, Gunn was dressed and on the phone to Field Marshal Chang. Steven laid in bed, having just woken up.
“Yes, Field Marshal Chang. No problem, just need fifty thousand dollars American transferred to the Chiang Mai branch of the Bangkok Bank. Urgent. Need it today, straight away.”
Gunn paused to listen to the field marshal’s response before speaking again. “Thank you. We do best to take care.”
Gunn’s next remark was addressed to Steven. “Field Marshal Chang said you were supposed to pay the expenses for the mission out of your ten percent advance.”
Steven was not entirely surprised. “Is there anyone in Thailand who doesn’t know the confidential details of my mission?”
Gunn smiled. “Don’t worry, I tell him you spent most of your money on me while I kept you occupied in Bangkok. I told him that out of your advance of $200,000 you paid off some of your credit card debt, paid your air fare from the UK to Thailand business class, hotel bills for months on end, air fares from Bangkok to Chiang Mai, and a security deposit for the hire of a jeep plus vehicle spares. I told him it was not certain you actually had a spare $50,000. He only sent the money because he realised the mission might be put at risk if he did not. Not his money, so he fix for us. He has arranged for the transfer of fifty thousand dollars by tested telex to the Chiang Mai branch of the Bangkok Bank,” Gunn told Steven as he appeared from the bathroom.
“Excellent, you did well,” Steven replied. “He wasn’t going to at first. He said you were supposed to pay the expenses of the mission,” Gunn repeated, rubbing in the fact that her influence with the field marshal had got Steven out of a spot.
“Thanks,” Steven replied, irony underscoring his brief comment, realising that by now probably the whole of Thailand knew every intimate detail of his verbal contract with the British government. If you wanted to publicise something, all you had to do was tell a Thai person what you had disclosed was confidential! It would be common knowledge before the end of the day. So much for the mission being classified, after someone in the Thai civil service took a look at the papers.
Realising he had no alternative but to continue regardless of how loose the security was - Steven checked the condition of the jeep, tipped the bus boy who cleaned the vehicle the previous evening - and had looked forward to the pay off for most of the night - refuelled and stacked up with food and mineral water.
Loaded with spare gasoline, boxes of canned fruit, mineral water and back packs, Steven parked the jeep outside the Chiang Mai branch of the Bangkok Bank. Gunn entered and a few minutes later, appeared carrying a strong plastic carrier bag.
“Hope that’s what it is supposed to be or we really are in trouble.,” Steven said as he revved up the engine and commenced first shift of the second journey north, back to the Golden Triangle.
67
Back To the Triangle
The winding dirt roads were hot and dusty, and the noise of the jeep’s engine revved loudly as it bumped its way across the rugged hill country. Intermittently, the screeching of birds and yells of frightened monkeys could be heard as the vehicle approached, sending everything running for cover.
“All we’ve got to do is save Rupert from mutilation at the hands of a psychopathic criminal who enjoys torturing people; attempt to blow up most of the year’s supply of heroin in the Golden Triangle; avoid the wrath of the warlords and escape in one piece,” Steven casually observed. “What the fuck are we doing here?”
“You here for money, I think. My reasons private,” Gunn stated, refusing to elaborate further.
Suddenly a Thai army helicopter flew low above the trees. Disappearing from view as abruptly as it had appeared, the jungle went quiet once more. If it was a drug patrol, Steven wondered whether they’d be more interesting in apprehending Gunn and himself. If the army were on a commission for turning a blind eye towards the illegal activities of Kronsky and his warlord partners, the missio
n had no chance.
“Hope they are looking for drug smugglers, not us,” Steven said, voicing his thoughts. “Corruption is endemic where officers in the armed forces receive the equivalent of just four hundred dollars a month. In stark contrast, ‘tea money’ a thousand times greater is on offer from a miscellany of dubious sources. Whether chopping down the rainforest for increasingly scarce teak and mahogany; people smuggling; or narcotic growing and processing, the entrepreneurial spirit of the people of South East Asia will always be hard to restrain. Where there is a demand, they will supply it.”
“Mr. Hunt know everything,” Gunn succinctly replied.
As he drove, Steven momentarily looked sideways towards Gunn. “I’d hate to end up in a Thai jail because your country’s security forces thought we were drug smugglers. Our own people won’t bail us out. Well mine won’t. Too embarrassing for the governments involved. Some Western politicians might get a bad press.”
Gunn turned to look at Steven, her expression suggesting that she did have a degree of affection for her chauvinistic partner.
“Hope Field Marshal Chang is not on the drug cartel’s payroll,” Steven contemplated, raising his voice above the noise of the jeep as it made its way along narrow paths meandering through the hill country.
“He is not,” Gunn replied. “He is my uncle and would not sacrifice my life. Field Marshal Chang is my dead mother’s brother.”
Unless some lateral scenario was underway which he had yet to figure out, Steven was reassured there probably wouldn’t be any leaks from James Chang’s side. And as Gunn was placing her own life on the line, it was unlikely she was a security risk. However, you never knew anything for sure in Thailand.
68
Pussies
It was late afternoon before Steven and Gunn arrived at the unofficial crossing point across the Mekong into the no-man’s-land of the Golden Triangle, which they had previously used [*]. From the other side of the river, the ferryman and his two wives and many children were excited at the unexpected sight of their farang friends again, and the ferry immediately started out for the Thai side of the river.
Sleepless in Bangkok Page 20