Hungry Ghosts (31 page)

33

At the Firework Factory

Five anonymous cars, all with dark glass windows, left the Lamphongchat compound that evening.

The first to depart carried David Braddock and it was driven by the Thai whom the Englishman referred to as ‘Glass Face’. This vehicle was the one designated to collect Charoenkul and Buajan from
the pier below Saphan Taksin Station.

Half an hour later three cars drove out bearing Nathon Lamphongchat, Virote, A-Wut and f
ive other of the family’s employees. These all headed south-west in convoy towards the firework factory.

Nang Braddock and Cheepa
Patcharawat emerged from the house a short while later and climbed into the final vehicle. This one was bound for a rendezvous with Khemkhaeng and the cleaning team outside the Royal Bangkok Sports Club which was within spitting distance of the Royal Thai Police Headquarters.

Nang wore the
dark blue uniform of a Krung Thep Business Services cleaner and she carried a black attaché case containing twenty thousand dollars. She also carried with her the hopes of two families that the kleptocratic rule of Jarun Katchai would shortly be at an end.

Her husband leaned in at the car window and said, “This must be the first time in decades I’ve seen you without makeup, my dear.”

“And it will be the last time,” she replied with determination. “I look exceedingly old these days and I don’t want you trading me in for a younger model.”

“There is no chance that will happen.”

“All men say that.”

He kissed her and whispered, “Be careful, won’t you?”

“I always am, Edward.”

“Then let’s roll those dice one
final time.”

*       *       *       *       *

In a stagnant offshoot of one of the canals of Thon Buri was moored a long-tail boat that had seen better days. It had previously been used to carry tourists on trips along the river and around the canals of the capital where they could see poverty and opulence existing side-by-side and buy from the marketers who lived on or by the weed-choked waters. But a lack of care and maintenance on the part of its owner had reduced the boat to a decaying hulk powered by a rusty engine and propeller that barely functioned. These days where it was used at all it served only to carry fruit, vegetables and other low-value cargoes through the waterways.

The boat’s sorry decline had matched that of its owner, an ancient-looking individual whom everyone called ‘Kèā’, the Thai word for ‘old’. Both he and his daughter who acted as his housekeeper were heroin addicts, and that was how Bumibol Chaldrakun came to know them.

“I want to hire your boat this evening to take me down river past Khlong Toei,” he had said to the old man.

Kèā’s wrinkled face had
betrayed his misgivings. He took the yellowed cigarette from his mouth and whispered in his asthmatic voice, “I don’t know whether my boat is up to a trip like that. And after dark? With all the large vessels at the port? I shouldn’t be on the river at all.”

The cash Bumibol
had produced quickly persuaded him otherwise.

“Where are we going?”

“I will tell you on the way.”

The big Thai’s reasoning was simple. The Lamphongchats would be expecting him to arrive at the front door of the firework factory by road: either by
tuk-tuk or on foot. Arriving early and via the river would allow him to test the veracity of his boss’ offer of help.

It was already dark when the small craft began the journey downstream, its abused engine struggling with the Chao Phraya’s sluggish motion. The wash from other more powerful river traffic slopped against the sides of the peeling hull causing it to rock in the black water. Kèā stood at the back of the unlit boat steering, anxiously looking around for signs of danger, while Bumibol sat on a rough plank in the centre of the boat for balance. The big Thai’s eyes looked straight ahead towards an uncertain future.

They passed under the Chalerm Maha Nakhon Expressway and the Bumibol 1 Bridge, and soon the crane
s of Khlong Toei Port came into view along with the large ships berthed next to them. Bumibol’s boat bobbed like river flotsam beside these leviathans and Kèā’s anxiety visibly increased until the port was safely behind them.

As they approached the wharf of the firework factory, Bumibol was pleased to see the building was in complete darkness. He gave the order to the old man to cut the engine and they glided in slowly before tying
up the boat. Given the absence of artificial lighting and the overcast night sky it would not be easy for anyone to spot the craft.

Bumibol slung his bag over his shoulder and clambered up the concrete ladder to the boarded-up door above. Next to the door on the narrow ledge was a grimy window covered with
thin mesh. He removed a newly-purchased crowbar from his bag and levered the mesh away before smashing the window with the metal rod. The sound of the glass breaking sounded very loud and he held his breath a moment.

“What is going on?” It was Kèā’s voice from below. “Are you breaking in? I didn’t sign up for a burglary.”

“Shut up and climb up here,” Bumibol hissed looking down at the old man.

“I’m not climbing up there.”

“You can choose. Either you come up here or I come down there and beat your head in with this crowbar.”

Kèā muttered, “Very well, but I’m not helping you.” He began his
hesitant ascent.

Bumibol knocked out the rest of the glass from the window frame and scrambled through, cutting one of his knees on the broken fragments as he did so. He listened intently for a few seconds. Even if there were other people already in the building they would not necessarily have heard the noise of the shattering window. The room which
he was in had just one internal entrance door and that was closed. It was a storeroom of sorts, but this part of the structure was seldom used and only damaged furniture and redundant machinery lay around him. Everything was covered in dust.

Kèā put his head
into the now-empty frame.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Climb in.”

Bumibol p
laced the crowbar back into his bag and pulled out his other purchase of the day, a torch. The old man made his way through the window with difficulty, and as soon as he was inside the big Thai grabbed his arm.

“Come with me,” he said, “
and keep quiet. After I’ve done what I need to do I want you to take me back up the river.”

“I could wait for you in my boat,”
offered Kèā hopefully.

“I don’t think so.”

Bumibol opened the door a little and looked into the corridor. It was pitch black. He dragged the old man down the passage until he came to the store room where various gas bottles stood in a large cage. He locked Kèā inside with them and told him he would come back for him later.

“Unless you call out,” he added
, “in which case I’ll come back sooner and crack your stupid druggie skull.”

Only using his torch whe
re necessary, Bumibol made his way to the front of the building. The main doors were still locked. He was the first to arrive.

The reception was to the right side of the entrance. He went behind the desk and sat down on the floor. When
Virote and A-Wut arrived they would not be able to see him and he could listen to any conversation they might have with impunity.

He opened his bag again
, took out the Glock pistol and checked the first bullet was in the chamber. Seventeen rounds should be more than enough for anything he needed to do. If not, he had the other three magazines with him: enough for a small siege.

He checked his watch.
The time was approaching seven forty-five.

Now the waiting began.

*       *       *       *       *

Nathon Lamphongchat had managed to find a digital picture of Bumibol Chaldrakun and it was a paper copy of this image that David Braddock held in his hands while the car cut its way through the Bangkok traffic.

The photograph was a head and shoulders shot of a shaven-headed Thai morosely contemplating a bottle of
Chang
beer. He was clearly unaware someone was taking his picture. Apart from the similarity in body size, Braddock thought the man bore only a passing resemblance to his brother. They were each their own kind of ugly.

Small wonder that Jingjai didn’t recognize her minder
, Braddock thought.

He carefully folded the paper and tucked it away in his pocket. At least he knew the face of his adversary. That might prove to be a life-saving piece of information.

“Hey, Glass Face, how long before we get to the pier?” he said to his driver.

“
We’ll be there in a few minutes. And don’t call me ‘Glass Face’.”

“Sensitive, eh? Perhaps you’d prefer it if I call you ‘Shit Face’?”

“Fuck off.”

“So what’s your proper name?”

The Thai looked at him warily in the rear view mirror before replying.

“Yueannuwong.”

“I’ll never remember that. You’ll have to put up with ‘Glass Face’.”

It was busy underneath the elevated station of Saphan Taksin with people making their way on foot to and from the transit system, while others – probably ferry passengers killing time – were making use of the food stalls that inevitably materialized on every unused plot in the city. Harsh lighting, dark shadows, concrete, steam and people: a typical Bangkok tableau.

Braddock spotted Charoenkul and a larger man, presumably Buajan,
standing apart from the main throng and looking uncomfortable at being so close to the crush of humanity. They were both dressed in casual clothes and wearing jackets to conceal their revolvers. Each man clutched an overnight bag and both looked relieved when they saw Braddock waving to them.

While the two policemen put their bags in the boot of the car, Braddock switched to the front seat. Glass Face scowled at him and he smiled back.

“This is Buajan,” said Charoenkul as the car moved off. “Buajan – Braddock.”

“Ah, so you’re the bastard that gave
my employee Da such a hard time. Get a kick out of bullying women, do you?”

“Now then, Braddock, let’s keep this civilized,” responded the Chief. He looked at the myriad of cuts on the driver’s face, but decided not to comment.
Instead he asked, “So where are we going and what exactly is the plan? I presume it is ‘safe’ to tell me now?” he added.

“Downstream of Khlong Toei port the family owns a firework factory. Chaldrakun will be there at nine o’clock to meet two of Lamphongchat’s men whom he knows. Our man thinks the family is going to give him refuge and smuggle him out of the country. In fact, as soon as he shows up the two guys will pull guns on him and hand him over to you.”

“And where will we be while all this is going on?”

“We’ll be in the building opposite. A friend of Lamphongchat owns it.”

“That sounds very straightforward. And you have a car for me for afterwards?”

“Yes. Glass Face here will drive you wherever you want to go.”

“
Glass Face?
” queried Charoenkul.

“He had an argument with a light bulb,” explained Braddock while their driver pursed his lips and said nothing.

“How about the other matter? This evening’s
other
business?”

“That is also in hand. As soon as the package is in place, I will get a call. Then you do your stuff. I expect the call around midnight if things go to time.”

There was a mutter of satisfaction from the back seat.

“You know, Braddock,” said Papa Doc leaning forward, “
you never did properly explain to me the connection between yourself, Tathip and Chaldrakun. Perhaps now would be a good time for you to do so.”

“And then again, perhaps it wouldn’t,” replied the Englishman.

Glass Face parked the car
on the street that ran parallel to the road in which the factory was situated. They walked through a small alley and entered the back of a warehouse used as an animal feed store. Braddock and the two policemen followed their driver up a flight of stairs and into a room at the front of the building. Nathon Lamphongchat and four of his men sat in near-darkness, the only light seeping in through the windows being from a distant street-lamp.

Cursory formalities were exchanged.

“I am gratified to see you here in person, Mr. Lamphongchat,” said Charoenkul. “It shows a commitment to our joint endeavour.”

“If the Police Chief of Koh Samui is prepared to make th
is trip, it is the least I can do to ensure everything runs smoothly,” replied the other man. He indicated the view from the windows. “My factory is directly opposite. We can watch everything from here.”