Hungry Ghosts (33 page)

Bumibol knew they would be covering the exits and as soon as he went outside they would shoot him down.

The big Thai’s brain pounded with a single thought:
I am going to die
.

*       *       *       *       *

Braddock quickly made his way back to the first floor of the warehouse where Nathon, Charoenkul and Buajan were watching the show. The windows were kept shut so as not to give away their position to the man in the burning building but Buajan was ready to fling open his window and fire if Bumibol appeared through the factory’s main door. All three men held revolvers and Braddock reflected that if the situation were different they might well be pointing them at each other.

The fire was consuming the factory rapidly.
Fireworks went off as the petrol-fuelled flames licked through the building. Rockets came screaming out of fractured windows and there was a crash as one of the internal wooden floors gave way. Some of the explosions were very loud and shook the warehouse opposite. Shrill screeching tracers counterpointed the low booms. Thick clouds of smoke swirled upwards into the night air.

Charoenkul turned to Braddock. “It appears the Chaldrakun brothers’ fate
s are intimately linked to fireworks,” he said, “although this display is rather more spectacular than the feeble firecrackers at Preechap’s demise.”

Suddenly Nathon called out, “Look up there!
It’s Bumibol!”

A vision of horror was unfolding on the flat roof of the firework factory
. Before the eyes of the onlookers, a human torch lurched and flapped frantically, trying vainly to extinguish the flames consuming his body. Even above the noise of the explosions his high-pitched screams of terror and pain could be heard clearly.

Buajan pushed open the window and aimed his M1911 pistol towards the roof. “This is for Tathip,” he said.

But before he could squeeze the trigger, the burning figure spun around. Almost in slow motion his legs struck the low wall and, still aflame, he tumbled over the parapet, falling like a comet to the street four stories below. The human torch lay broken on the concrete, the limbs at impossible angles, as fire continued to flicker over the body.

The four men in the warehouse stood silent for a while
. Buajan pointed his weapon at the figure ready to shoot at the first sign of movement. But there was none: Chaldrakun was not going to get up again.

The men seemed unsure what to do next as, for the first time
, they became conscious that other eyes were viewing the spectacle. Nathon’s men had been unable to keep back the large number of curious bystanders. Explosions continued to come from the burning factory.

Charoenkul
cleared his throat and said, “I think, gentlemen, you should leave Buajan and me to deal with this and with the authorities when they arrive. Our police uniforms are in our overnight bags and we will change into them now. Uniforms always inspire confidence in times of stress and disaster, or so I find.

“Mr
. Lamphongchat, it has been a pleasure working with you. And Braddock,” he added as the Englishman headed towards the stairs, “you won’t forget to call me later on the other matter, will you? Our tasks for the evening are still only half-completed.”

“I certainly won’t, Chief,” he replied.

34

The Persistence of the Heart

“Can you open your case for me, please?” the official said to Nang.

Nang looked up quickly at the man and smiled. “Of course,” she replied.

Had she heard those words three days before she would not have been so
nonchalant. But the Heathrow Immigration Officer presented no danger and no threat to her peace of mind. She took the metal key from her purse and released the bar on the small padlock.

On the drive back to the Midlands Edward remained quiet and absorbed as he had been ever since the meeting of the two families. Once he had vented about his son killing a police officer, all talk thereafter had consisted of inconsequential things and minor plans.

The day after the events at the firework factory and the planting of the case at the police headquarters had seen a family outing of sorts. At Nang’s suggestion, the two of them had accompanied David and Wayan on a visit to the
Grand Palace. Nang had straightaway taken a liking to her stepson’s housekeeper and had thought a leisurely trip to one of the capital’s attractions might bring the woman out of herself. David’s ‘Balinese Princess’ had felt self-conscious and a little overwhelmed at the idea of playing the alien role of tourist. However, Edward had been at his most charming throughout and in fact spent most of the walk around the grounds chatting to her and pointing out some of the features of the buildings and reliquary they encountered.

This gave Nang the opportunity to talk to David and to try in her subtle way to pump him for information
on his relationship with the woman. That he was very fond of her was beyond doubt. His concern for her welfare was obvious as was his guilt for what had happened to her. But he was tight-lipped about his plans and the precise nature of his feelings, and after a while Nang decided to move the conversation to more mundane matters.

Father and son remained polite but remote towards one another until the end of their stay and their parting was formal. No further discussion of family
history took place and contrary to his earlier comments, David showed no inclination to ask any more probing questions.

As the Mercedes sped past the Milton Keynes service area, Edward cleared his throat and said in a quiet voice, “You do know I was terrified about what might happen to you the other night.”

Nang said nothing but waited for him to continue.

“Although I might have looked calm, I spent the whole evening knotted up inside until I received the ‘Mission Accomplished’ message. I didn’t say anything because, well, it was something important you wanted to do for your family. However, it made me think about things.”

“What things?” his wife asked gently.

“Oh, about how different life would have been for you if we’d stayed in South East Asia and I’d not taken you away from your family and your culture. You’ve spent forty years with me in cold, rainy England, with never a murmur of complaint. You have always stood by me and supported me, even when I was being a stubborn mule.”

“We had no choice but to live here, Edward,” she responded. “You are an Englishman, and this is your home. I knew what I was taking on when I married you.”

“Did you, though?”

“Yes, I did. And I have no regrets about anything.
” She squeezed his leg. “How could I have? I love you, you silly old man.”

“I know,” he said, “
although I still have no idea why.”

“Well, I’m not about to feed your ego by telling you how wonderful you are, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. Now
shut up and keep your eyes on the road. I’d like to get home in one piece.”

“Absolutely, my little fighting kite,” said Edward Braddock with a smile.

*       *       *       *       *

“Have you heard from my
Dad lately, Auntie A?” asked Katie.

“As a matter of fact he called me a couple of days ago with some good advice for one of my authors who is currently in Vietnam investigating Indo-Chinese gangster
s. It seems your father might be mixing with some rather undesirable types, Katie,” replied Anna. “Do you want a coffee? I’m dying to try out my new coffee machine.”

“Go on, then. I’ll have a cappuccino.” She paused to stroke the cat that was sitting regarding her
with disdain from the tabletop. “Anyway, I’m inclined to think dad romanticizes some of his detective assignments. It’s not as if he’s dealing with drug barons and South East Asian warlords, is it?”

Anna laughed. “Probably not.”

“Anyway Auntie A, I wanted to ask if you would join Alexander and me for dinner on Friday night. It’s about time you met him.”

“
So it
is
getting that serious, is it?” teased Anna.

“Never mind about that,” Katie responded. “Will you come?”

“I’m afraid I can’t on Friday, Katie. I have a theatre date.”

“With a man?”

“Oh, it’s not like that. It’s only Henry from my office.”

“Is he nice?”

“Yes, he’s nice. But that’s the problem. I think I prefer rogues.”

“Like I said before, it’s a pity my
Dad’s not in England.”

Isn’t it just?
thought Anna.

“Anyway,” Katie
continued, “I’m cooking up a plan for how we get Dad back here permanently, and I might need your help.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Are you in?”

“I’m in,” replied Anna without hesitation.

*       *       *       *       *

Wayan Lastri was glad to be back on Samui.

David’s family and friends had been kind to her in Bangkok, but she felt uncomfortable mixing with people so socially superior to her.

She had thought it would be difficult going back to the house after the events of
that night
, but the violence had all happened so fast her memory of it was more like a dream. Jingjai suggested this was her mind’s way of protecting her and she should take it as a good omen.

However, something in Wayan had
altered. She was sadder, more withdrawn and she lacked the energy of former days. Even semi-loud noises made her jump. Sleep often eluded her and she made a point of never going out after dark.

Her employer viewed these changes as
deeply disturbing. To give them both more confidence about nighttime safety he insisted she move into the upstairs bedroom next to his. If she had had less trust in David Braddock than she did, she might have seen this as an alarming development. But Wayan was confident in him and judged he had her best interests at heart. He had never behaved inappropriately towards her and even in her fragile, post-traumatic state she was certain of his concern for her physical and mental health.

For her part, her feelings towards him remained as confused as ever. Da told her that while semi-del
irious in the hospital Wayan had professed love for David, but the Balinese laughed this off as the rambling of a woman with a head injury.

“Don’t worry,” Da had said. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything to
Khun
David. I wouldn’t want to give him ideas. He has quite enough of those already.”

On their first day back on the island,
David had driven Wayan to Sinclair’s house to pay their respects. The little boy was to be looked after by Sinclair’s in-laws and would move to Bangkok. It seemed a legal battle was brewing with regard to the ownership of Sinclair’s assets and businesses: his ex-wife had already staked a claim. In this, Wayan had no interest. She was just sorry the gentle, awkward man who had made her smile was gone.

It is karma
, she told herself.
I deserve this. I don’t deserve Mr. David. And one day he will realise it.

*       *       *       *       *

Deng Charoenkul fought the urge to drum his fingers on the desk as Buajan related the story of a stabbing at a petrol station. The police had been summoned when a man was seen behaving erratically and threatening the pump attendants. One of the constables who attended the scene had been knifed in the arm by the man, who turned out to be a well-known drug addict. He was now in the cells and the officer was at the hospital. The wound was apparently not serious.

Papa Doc could hardly have cared less. His mind was on other things.
Specifically, his thoughts were of Bangkok.

He had handled the aftermath of the factory fire well, if he said so himself, taking command of the situation
masterfully. His role in “removing a dangerous and psychotic killer from the streets of the capital” had even made
the Bangkok Post
. Such was his gift for self-publicity and his skillful use of networks.

On the Katchai matter, his sources of information were proving less reliable than he had hoped.

As arranged, Braddock had informed the Chief as soon as the incriminating attaché case was in place; and in turn Charoenkul had passed on the pre-scripted message to his contacts. Just like at the factory, the blue touch paper had been lit and the man with the match had retired to a safe distance to watch the fireworks.

That was four days ago.

Since then he knew that Katchai had stopped reporting for duty, but had heard nothing else. Not a whisper. From the Royal Thai Police Headquarters there was complete radio silence.

Had he overplayed his hand?

He had sought to route information in such a way that he would get the credit for avoiding a public scandal but suffer none of the opprobrium of betraying a colleague. However, this was easier said than done.

He would be seen either as
a hero or as a back-stabber. All the cards had been dealt. Now all he could do was await the judgment of his superiors.

The Chief became aware that Buajan had finished talking and was looking at him awaiting a response.

“Well,” said Papa Doc waving his hand vaguely, “it sounds as though you have everything under control. Use your discretion from here. Is there anything else we need to talk about?”

“I have had two rather unusual requests from Officer Ho,” Buajan stated, scratching the back of his neck. “First he would like to be considered for a permanent transfer to Koh Samui. He says we have more interesting
forensic cases here than the ones he has been working on in the capital.”

The Chief shook his head. “A decision on that will have to wait for the moment. And the second request?”

“He would like to take some special leave to attend a morticians’ convention in the United States.”

“I don’t know of anyone more obsessed with death than that man,” sighed Deng Charoenkul.

*       *       *       *       *

I am becoming obsessed with death
, thought Kat Charoenkul.

It was a few hours after her husband’s impatient discussion with Buajan and Kat was
driving down a narrow side road that led to a small, secluded strip of sand west of Mae Nam known as Ban Tai beach. At the end of the road was a car park of sorts and there was only one car in it: David Braddock’s battered jeep. The beach itself was deserted and dark. The sky was completely covered in cloud and rain was threatening.

Kat parked her car next to the other
vehicle and killed the engine. She yanked open the passenger door of the jeep and climbed in.

“You’re on time,”
said Braddock with a wry smile. “I’m impressed.”

“So you should be,” she replied archly.

“
And
you look good enough to eat.”

“Funny you should say that. Let’s climb in the back. I’m on a schedule this evening.”

“Whoa. The Kat Charoenkul I know doesn’t have sex in the back of a car. Are you some alien that’s stolen her body?”

“
Now listen to me, David,” she said, grabbing his hair and pulling it back hard, “I haven’t had a decent orgasm since we were together in Bangkok. So get your pants off and make this lady happy, otherwise I swear I will bite something off. You have no idea how fucking frustrated I am.”

She
ran her teeth over his neck, grazing the skin.

“Oh, and by the way,
Hello
,” she purred. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” said the Englishman.

On her drive home Kat replayed in her mind the conversation she had planned
to have with her husband.

Tonight she would tell him about her cancer.

Since his trip to Bangkok and the killing of the fugitive Chaldrakun, her husband had been behaving erratically. Kat was not sure why. She thought perhaps something else had gone on in the capital, but if it had he was not forthcoming about it.

She had arrived at the view only recently that she needed to share the burden of her illness with someone other than her friend
Sumalee in Bangkok and Braddock – neither of whom could offer her regular support. Besides, her husband had a right to know and at some stage he would find out anyway.