Hungry Ghosts (29 page)

30

Resentment

His father continued to keep important things from him.

The old man remained a source not only of frustration and annoyance, but of humiliation.

He was neither trusted nor considered capable. That was only too apparent.

Mongkut Sangukhon knocked back a straight whisky and poured himself another.

In his study his desk lamp was the only source of light. He preferred it that way. He liked shadow and the cover it afforded.

It was well after midnight and the house was quiet. Mongkut was in no hurry to go to bed. The toxic thoughts eating their way through his brain like acid would deny him rest.

The Thai began to draw up a mental list of recent grievances against Sangukhon Senior.

He, Mongkut, had wanted to escalate activities against the Lamphongchats but his father had
overruled him and informed him dogmatically that there was to be a meeting with the other family. To compound this betrayal – as Mongkut saw it – it rapidly became clear the meeting had been arranged some time before. How else could Edward Brown have had time to make arrangements and travel to Bangkok from England?

At the meeting his father had behaved in his usual high-handed fashion towards his elder son, relegating him to a bit-part in the proceedings. Moreover, now they were embarked on a joint project with the
despised Lamphongchats to bring down Katchai.

Mongkut had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that the scheme had some merit, even though he was displeased Khemkhaeng had been given operational responsibility for it. He recognized the removal of the gluttonous policeman would only provide a temporary respite from the rivalry between the families. Everyone seated around that Board Room table would have known that yet it
suited the
realpolitik
of the situation for all participants outwardly to treat the solution as a permanent one.

Then there was this man David Braddock, an interfering, trouble-making
farang if ever Mongkut had seen one – and he had seen plenty. Chumbol Sangukhon had agreed to leave Braddock alone. Monkut regarded this arrangement, like the families’ truce, as expedient and provisional. If Braddock stepped out of line even once there would be consequences.

Mongkut did not buy for a moment Braddock’s line of innocence on the Janus issue, and was yet inclined to believe the Lamphongchats were somehow involved. But whatever the truth of the matter, it made no difference to his view as to what should happen next.

The Bangkok equivalent of the Cold War now begins
, thought Mongkut.

This transitory peace would not last
: he would see to
that
personally. The centre would not hold. Mongkut would ensure the Sangukhons were ready to strike pre-emptively when the time was right. He would begin to put in place a strategy to obliterate the Lamphongchats and he would
not
involve his father in these plans. His father’s sentimental approach had already cost them dearly. In Mongkut’s eyes they had lost face.

When the old man died, or became so weak that Mongkut could push him aside with impunity
, the carnage would begin. And there would be only one family left standing.

There would be only one family left at all.

31

David Braddock’s Journal

Last night when I got back to my room – after a wordless car journey with Glass Face – I called Anna. She was a bit off with me to begin with for reasons I can only guess at, but she warmed up
when I advised her I’d had a tip-off from an underworld contact that Janus was in danger and he should stay out of Cambodia and Thailand; and in fact he ought to get the hell out of Vietnam too.

“His digging has upset
a few powerful, unscrupulous people,” I told her.

“I think he knows that already,” she replied. “That’s why he left Phnom Penh. But how did you know he was in Vietnam?”

“You’d be amazed what I get to hear. I know some very dodgy characters.”

“You are a very dodgy character yourself, David Braddock,” Anna sa
id, sounding a little more friendly.

“Have I done something to upset you?”

“No. No, I’m just being silly. Jenny’s not been well. Ignore me.”

“Is Jenny OK?”

“Yes, she’s fine. It was just a temperature, that’s all.”

There was an unusual
, awkward silence as each of us waited for the other one to speak.

“Anyway,” I sa
id eventually, “please talk to Janus. He’s really not safe in Hanoi and I doubt he appreciates fully the clear and present danger.”

“I’ll tell him, but I don’t think he’ll listen.
Still if he understands it’s a warning coming via you, maybe he will.”

I hope he does, for my sake. I may think he’s a pompous prick but I don’t want him murdered on the orders of one of my relati
ves, even if it is a distant relative.

“I have to go,” Anna t
old me.

“Are you sure everything is all right with you?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll talk soon, OK?”

“OK.”

Next I called Katie who was out at dinner with
the boyfriend
. We chatted about nothing in particular: no corrupt policeman or murderers or drug lords or any of the other feral creatures inhabiting the soap opera of my existence.

She sounded happy.

She sounded
normal
.

She sounded … well, to my ears she sounded a bit like Claire.

I delayed returning Vlad’s call until this morning. I needed to get some sleep before I talked to anybody else with tattoos. I was up to my jugular with gangsters yesterday and I can only control my
vomit reflex up to a point. The Impaler simply wanted to inform me that the date had been set for the Russo-Thai Underworld Summit on Samui and was keen to confirm my availability. Sure, I’m available. Just pay me the money. I’m a Mafia whore now, the same as my father.

Shortly
after this, Charlie Rorabaugh phoned to let me know he was on his way to Bangkok and that Wayan and Jingjai were with him. He was expecting to arrive mid-afternoon. Wayan was asleep in the car. “The poor girl’s washed out,” Charlie whispered. “She needs some serious TLC, Davey.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie, she’ll get it.”

I returned a few other calls none of which was of much consequence – apart from the one to Nittha Rattanakorn, who seems to be under the impression I am obligated to report to her regularly on my whereabouts. She was also rather pissed that I’d spoken to Kat.

I need to simplify my life so far as women are concerned. Maybe I should get castrated and have done with it.

After my last ‘duty’ call I switch off my phone for a while.
Charoenkul I’ll speak to later when I’ve recharged my batteries.

After I’ve confirmed with Nathon the plan for this evening, and he has attempted to reassure me that he will carry through on his promise with Chaldrakun,
I pass the rest of the time waiting for Charlie’s arrival by being studiously anti-social. I neither feel like being pleasant to my hosts nor do I feel like eating anything.

I make an attempt at meditation but there is too much going on in my head. So I let the whole festering cauldron of my subconscious bubble as it likes. I give myself up to reflection.

I think mainly about what a fucked-up mess I am. On a laptop borrowed from Nang I spend some time googling for information on anonymous letters and associated mental health issues. There doesn’t seem to be an official term for the stuff I’ve been doing to myself – or at least not one I can find.

It creeps me out a little to ruminate on how
and why I have been writing these poisonous hate notes, and even sending them to Kat and Charoenkul.

When the
Chaldrakun business in hand is taken care of I need to get some help: some
professional
help.

I really want to talk to Claire about this, but since my incarceration I haven’t seen her. I wonder if, after my horrifying insight
on the letters, the spell is broken and my wife has gone forever.

Perhaps, while the dead are always around us, they are not always
with
us. Perhaps they only appear when we need them or they need us; and in the meantime they wander the earth in the same state of confusion as the living, in search of something that remains forever elusive.

This metaphysical line of thought
in turn leads me to the Old Monk. I wonder how he will take the news of his son’s fall. I wonder whether I will ever have the courage to confess to him I am the architect of Jarun Katchi’s disgrace.

Interconnection …

I recall the Old Monk’s Zen lessons – how nothing exists in isolation – and I view my own situation now through that lens. My father’s past, Nang, the Lamphongchat family, my presence in Thailand, the ‘burning murders’, the Chaldrakuns, the employment of Jingjai, and, last of all,
me
…

The Web of Indra forever expands, enveloping us all, penetrating and
triggering so many emotions and intentions; in turn creating ever more complex actions and reactions. Like trapped flies we cannot move far yet our vibrations resonate in others as their movements resonate in us.

Blood begets blood.

The unseen forces of karma connect and cross-connect to each other and to every sentient thing.

The vehicle of time propels us forward remorselessly. There is no returning, and yet everything returns.

Oh, Claire, how I miss you.

Come back.

Save me.

“Have you warmed up your contacts?” I ask.

Over the phone Charoenkul’s voice sounds more cautious, less gung-ho than it did the previous evening. I hope he’s not having second thoughts.

“I have made provisional noises,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

He clears his throat. “Understand, Braddock, I have to be careful. I require more details from you before I am prepared to put my personal reputation on the line. I have made a couple of calls, but they were predicated on information I
might
receive.”

“
In other words you are covering your backside.”

“If you want to put it that way. I am the one whose head will be
on the chopping board.”

He is a wily bastard.

“What do you want to know?”

“I presume the parties who are interested in seeing Katchai removed are the same
ones who are setting the stage for Chaldrakun’s arrest? I am not so naïve as to think all these things are being done for my benefit.”

“None of this is being done for your benefit. We do, however, have a happy coincidence of interests.”

“And who are these parties? You referred to them as ‘business people’ yesterday. I’m still waiting to hear their names. And I want to meet them before we move in on Chaldrakun.”

“You will meet them. You will have to meet them. It will be impossible to spring the trap on Chaldrakun otherwise, since they will have to be present – or at least their people will have to be.”

“Good.”

I take a deep breath.

“It is the Lamphongchat family.”

“Ah,” he says quietly.

“You know of them?”

“I do.”

“And?”

“And in fact I am reassured.”

“How so?”

I hear a scratching noise at the other end of the phone and I guess he is rubbing his beard.

“The Lamphongchat family is one of the more powerful of the Bangkok criminal families. Everyone knows that. They have some legitimate businesses of course, but they are essentially a drug operation and very profitable, no doubt. If the Lamphongchats are involved I am sure the arrangements will be managed well.”

“So you are perfectly content to work with vicious, hardened criminals?
It doesn’t even give you the slightest twinge of conscience?” I can’t help observing.

“I like to work with professional, serious people; people who can deliver on their commitments,” he replies smoothly. “Besides, I notice that you aren’t too concerned about matters of ethics yourself, Braddock. So long as you don’t have to walk around looking over your shoulder it seems you are happy to dine with the Devil.”

“Fair comment, I suppose. But then again I’m not a public official sworn to uphold the law.”

“No, you’re an unlicensed private detective operating in my country without proper papers.
Even if my methods are a little unorthodox, at least I will be removing a dangerous criminal from the streets and a highly corrupt individual from the ranks of the Royal Thai Police. Do you want to have a discussion on relative positions of morality or shall we proceed to talking about practical arrangements?”

“The latter.”

There is little point in debating with the Chief on issues of right and wrong. He is, after all, never wrong, at least not in his own eyes. His monstrous arrogance shields him from his shortcomings even where that involves warping logic and language beyond reason.

“
Let’s talk about the Katchai dimension first,” he says.

“
Tonight a suitcase containing twenty thousand US Dollars will be deposited in Katchai’s office. As soon as it is in place we will receive a call. Then you need to make
your
call and ensure whatever needs to happen happens before Katchai gets in the office tomorrow.”

“How will the suitcase get into Katchai’s office?”

“The Currency Fairies will sprinkle some magic dust and
poof
it will appear.”

“Very droll
, Braddock.”

“You don’t need to know that.”

He considers for a moment.

“You’re right,” he says. “Let’s keep this simple.”

“I’ll keep it so simple even a policeman can understand it.”

“Tell me about how we pick up Chaldrakun.”

“He will be arriving at a specific location in Bangkok at nine o’clock tonight. We will be waiting for him.”

“I assume Chaldrakun is an employee of the family? That in view of the crimes he has committed on Samui he is now an embarrassment and they are eager to be rid of him?”

“It depends what you mean by ‘employee’. As for the rest, you can assume what you like.”

“Wh
ere’s the location?”

“That’s not relevant.”

“How am I supposed to get there if I don’t know where it is?”

“A car will collect you at seven o’clock
by the pier below Saphan Taksin Station. Be dressed in civilian gear. I will be in the car. We will then drive to the location.”

“This sounds like a scene from a low-budget spy movie and is completely unnecessary. Just tell me where the location is.”

“The Lamphongchat family also needs to protect itself, Chief.
I
know you, but
they
don’t. The last thing they want is a whole squad of police turning up and arresting everyone in sight. If you don’t know the rendezvous point, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Yet they expect me to get into a
n unknown car without any guarantee of my own safety?”

“I’m your guarantee of safety. Besides,” I add, “I am sure you will make contingency plans so that
someone
will know whom you are meeting should anything happen to you – which it won’t.”

“I’m bringing Buajan with me,” he announces bluntly. “And we will both be armed.”

“I don’t think –”

“That’s non-negotiable, Braddock,” he
states. “And we want the use of a car to transport Chaldrakun after he’s arrested.”

“Where will you take him to?”

“That’s my business.”

I think this over.

“Agreed. I’ll clear it with the Lamphongchats. Let’s do this.”

Nathon, Jingjai’s mother and I form a welcoming committee on the front steps of the house. Everyone else is inside so that Wayan does not feel overwhelmed when she gets out of the car. We wait impatiently for the gatehouse security staff to complete their checks on Charlie Rorabaugh’s SUV. Then it completes the short drive and I hurry to open the door for Wayan.