Steven paused, silently congratulating himself on his almost poetic intellectual analysis.
“Or a Siamese soap opera with ironic undertones,” he added. “But thanks anyway. Kronsky was a major scumbag who probably intended to kill us both. Rupert too, once the big Slav had been handed the money.”
Steven felt good the mission was complete and that an unorthodox justice had been executed. Now he could relax. Albeit, if Gunn did ensure he spent the next decade or five in a Thai prison, he would have more time to relax than he would need.
“Kronsky was wanted for so many offences including murder and crimes against humanity, the police would have arrested him if he’d had the nerve to make charges against us. However, his understanding of the judicial process was to murder anyone who crossed him.” Gunn tried to rationalise the justice of robbing and killing Kronsky.
“Trouble is, in Thailand some well-placed tea money would have ensured his release by way of an administrative error. Some extra tea money would have ensured the accidental return of his passport. Where would that have left us?” Steven asked.
“On a major criminal’s hit list,” Gunn concluded.
“Thailand will fuck you every time,” Steven said, irony underscoring his words. “It will also un-fuck you if you have the cash,” he thought, as he considered the surrealistic scenario that is Thailand in general, and particularly so regarding the final chapters of his recent unofficial assignment to the Golden Triangle.
“So what’s the position?” Steven asked.
“With your share of the money when you unlock it, you can donate some to that charitable trust you did voluntary work for, clearing land mines in Cambodia during your last stay in South East Asia,” Gunn said.
“How do you know about that?” Steven asked. ‘No one knows about that.”
Gunn smiled. “Cannot keep secret in Thailand. Before we decided to work with you, carry out full check on ex SAS screw-up turned freelance security consultant. Find out you not 100% bad man.” Gunn smiled. “Check we do on Mr. Double-Barrel find out him screw up, not you.”
Gunn looked uncertain. “How come Rupert responsible for Arab debacle but you take blame and lose job?” Gunn asked.
“British old boy network,” Steven replied, irony influencing his tone. “The ruling classes never take the blame for anything. They own everything and they’re all bent. In Rupert’s case, in more ways than one.”
“Nothing fair in Thailand either,” Gunn advised.
“So you and Uncle Chang did a full security check on me and Rupert. At least you were fair in checking us both out,” Steven said, almost to himself. “But a moment ago you said, with my share of the money.”
“Half,” Gunn replied. “I keep to deal we made last night.”
“Half?” Steven repeated, savouring the thought. “Payback for what the British ruling classes did to my family,” his thoughts added, even though what he might be about to screw from the British establishment was a drop in the ocean compared to how much they had screwed from the general population for so long.
“We deserve a reward for our work,” Gunn said for the second time.
“Even if we did award it to ourselves,” Steven added.
Gunn had no answer, it required too much leftbrain thinking to work out.
So he would be receiving a hundred and fifty million dollars for his trouble. Steven savoured the thought a moment longer. Less bank charges of course - those dishonest banking bastards, pretending to be straight whilst ripping off every single customer on every conceivable occasion [*].
“So what’s the position?” Gunn asked. “Are you in or out?”
“Both if that’s OK with you,” Steven replied, his eyes smiling.
“You know what I mean. What’s the general position?” Gunn asked.
“Well, Kronsky has been fucked, a consortium of drug lords have been fucked, a consortium of Western governments have been fucked, I have been fucked, you have been fucked, and now I believe you want me to do it again. Neither of us has any clothes on, so we’re dressed for the part!”
“That’s not quite what I meant,” Gunn said, the hint of anticipation in her beautiful, hasip hasip Siamese eyes suggesting that maybe it was. “However, you do have a big coy and we do have some time to spare,” she added, confirming that it definitely was.
“Well it looks like you’ve got me exactly where you wanted me,” Steven said as he straddled his partner in crime. “Or have I got you in the position I would have wanted? I guess we should feel lucky neither of us is wanted - by the police.”
“Whole thing’s been a cock-up,” Gunn said without a hint of expression. At least I hope it will be,” she appended, verifying that her pass mark in English Irony qualified for a Distinction.
“Penal servitude,” Steven thought, as Gunn directed his cocked pistol towards her tiny target. Simultaneously, she grabbed his hand and forced him to create a counter offensive behind.
“Last Tango in Paris, here I go again. Into action with all the tools at my disposal,” Steven’s thoughts confirmed.
“I was never fucked both ends at the same time before. Where did you learn to do it so well?” Gunn asked with a smile on her face.
Steven gave his customary answer. “It was hard, took a lot of practise.”
“Manipulate your fingers so they go inside my buttend a little deeper. Go all the way out before you come back inside with Khun Wiggly. You are so big. Why farang big down there? Rub my clitoris at the same time but not too much, just a little. Wet your fingers so it feels soft and smooth. Can you lick my little boobies as well. Suck hard if you can, both of them alternately. Not too hard though. Your six-pack is hard, makes you look younger than your age. In fact you are hard everywhere. In a bit further please, both ends. Squeeze my little buttend sometimes, it makes me feel so vulnerable. I want to smoke you in a minute.”
“Anything else?” Steven asked.
“Yes, I lied about government people coming soon. They won’t be here until after lunch. Thai time. That and I made certain officials from my side sent officials from your side to the wrong address. Same hotel name but other side of town. They will probably stay lost for the next two days.”
“Is that all?”
“Nothing, except that I’m feeling exceptionally horny.”
“Does that mean what I think it means?” Steven asked.
Gunn’s predatory look suggested that it was.
“I do hope you have plenty of energy,” she said with just a hint of a smile, as she snuggled beneath Steven’s muscular frame.
[*] Once considered by the public to be honest and upstanding, bankers were now rated alongside politicians and journalists as being amongst the most unscrupulous people in the world.
111
One More Time
Steven put the pillow over his head as the phone rang. Thinking better of it, he picked up the receiver and got out of bed. Drawing the curtains, he looked out towards the distant snow covered mountains. He shivered even though it was warm inside his hotel room. A young girl no more than twelve or so, stared up at the window and gazed at his naked body.
“Fuck it,” Steven said. “Not you on the other end of the line. I just dropped something.”
“A bollock if the young girl tells her mother a man was flashing at his hotel window and she calls the cops,” Steven thought.
“Anyway, who is it and what do you want?” Steven asked whoever was on the phone. “And why so early in the morning?”
Steven was surprised as he listened to whoever was talking. “It’s lunchtime already? Wasn’t aware of it.”
Steven looked aghast. “Oh fuck. Is that you, Rupert?”
Obviously as naked as Steven, Gunn removed her head from beneath the bed covers. She was not happy and obviously tired.
“Can’t you speak a little quieter, it’s too early in the morning,” Gunn said from beneath the covers.
“It’s lunchtime already,” Steven replied. “Gu
ess who is on the phone?”
Gunn was intrigued, an IQ guessing game.
“Mother Teresa. No, she’s dead,” she replied. “I don’t know. Whoever it is, tell them to speak more softly.”
“It’s Rupert,” Steven advised.
“Tell him good night and not to phone so early in the morning,” Gunn said. “Anyway, what does he want?”
Steven spoke into the phone again. “What do you want?”
In the minute that followed, Steven stayed silent as he listened to Rupert. “You can’t be serious,” Steven eventually replied.
Gunn sat up in bed, making sure her tits did not fall out from beneath the sheet covering them. She spoke softly to Steven so Rupert could not hear. “That asshole, waking me so early in the morning.”
Gunn looked suddenly concerned and voiced her thoughts
“It isn’t something bad, is it? He hasn’t got wind of us taking Kronsky’s money? But you laundered that months ago in nearby Liechtenstein. I’m glad you taught me how to ski, I love it here in Switzerland. It’s so wonderfully cold. So unlike Thailand.”
“Wait Rupert, I want to speak with Gunn.” Steven lowered the phone and sat down on the bed beside her.
“I’m afraid someone is suspicious, I don’t know if it’s from the Thai side or the British,” he said, softly. “But maybe it’s a bluff, as Rupert said he has another job for us. He said he’s grateful to us both for saving his life and that he’s still in love with me. Understandably,” Steven said and smiled.
“Anything else?” Gunn asked.
“He said if we don’t want an investigation into the money we reported to our respective governments had been paid to Kronsky, he advises us to take it. The job, that is.”
Steven put the phone back to his ear and listened to Rupert again. After a few seconds he handed the phone to Gunn. “Rupert wants to speak to you.”
Gunn sat up in bed. Instantly, her tits fell out from behind the sheet she had tried to hide them behind.
“I’ve seen them before,” Steven said. “And Rupert’s on the phone so he can’t see them at all.”
“Asshole,” Gunn replied.
“Not you Rupert, I was admonishing Steven,” Gunn said into the phone. “We have missed you. Yes, both of us. Steven said you want us to help you with another mission. Don’t worry, we are always willing to help an old friend.”
Gunn paused.
“Incidentally, how much does it pay?”
Since writing this tale, the Wa hill tribe in the far north of the Golden Triangle offered to sell their annual crop of heroin to Western governments. Reality imitating art’; art imitating reality.
Their proposition was intended to prevent the destructive dust reaching the streets of Newcastle, Manchester, London, Amsterdam, Paris, Berlin, Copenhagen, Sydney, L.A., Washington, New York, Detroit, San Francisco............. It was also intended to make them a fortune.
It is not known if their inscrutably lateral proposal was accepted or refused.
Since writing this factional tale, the Wa hill tribe in the far north of the Golden Triangle offered to sell their annual crop of heroin to Western governments. Reality imitating art’; art imitating reality.
Their proposition was intended to prevent the destructive dust reaching the streets of Newcastle, Manchester, London, Amsterdam, Paris, Berlin, Copenhagen, Sydney, L.A., Washington, New York, Detroit, San Francisco............. It was also intended to make them a fortune.
It is not known if their inscrutably lateral proposal was accepted or refused!
Sleepless in Bangkok Page 30