Hungry Ghosts (7 page)

Suffice to say Jingjai knows nothing of this. What is more, she is not going to learn anything about it from me. Hard to know what it would do to her if she discovered that she was the unwitting catalyst for four deaths. Far better that she not know. Sometimes ignorance really can be bliss.

I offered the girl with the diamond tooth a temporary job at
the Agency to cover for Da as soon as it became obvious that using Da’s backwoods cousin as a replacement was hopeless. Jingjai was free as she had just lost her own job when the Ocean Pearl bar closed. The current arrangement is good for her since she has her evenings free to do more music gigs at Charlie Rorabaugh’s place and in other watering holes. The arrangement is good for me because she speaks excellent English and knows how to deal with Western clients. Given Da’s general low opinion of yours truly in matters of morals, her initial unsurprising assumption was that I’d hired Jingjai because of her looks and fit bod. She now realizes that’s not the reason. Well, not the main one anyway.

Jingjai brings me a cup of coffee into the West Office. The East Office still smells of diapers, so is out of action. Da has reluctantly gone home with the infant phenomenon, although not before leaving a couple of disposable nappies in Jingjai’s desk ‘for later’.

“Mr. Vlad should be here for his appointment in a few minutes, David,” she tells me.

Jingjai’s habit of calling me ‘David’ drove Da nuts to start with (“A bit too familiar, if you want my opinion,
Khun David”) and she had a moan to my housekeeper Wayan about it – the two of them being members of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. But as they’ve both got to know Jingjai better, coupled with the fact that I’m not using her fit bod for sexual gratification, they’ve let the matter drop.

I set aside
the Sudoku book and check my watch.

“OK.”

She is smiling and shaking her head slightly.

“What’s tickling you, Jingjai?”

“I was just thinking about you and Da. Really, you’re like a married couple the way you bicker.”

“That, my dear, would be my worst nightmare. And probably hers too.”

“Do you want anything else?”

She is close enough that I can smell her perfume. But I’m thinking
avuncular
. I have imposed on myself this strict policy of not sleeping with staff members, and thus far I am adhering to it. Whatever Mother Earth might think I can behave myself when I choose to.

“No thanks. Show Vlad straight in as soon as he arrives, would you?”

“Of course, David.”

“Oh, and by the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m very happy with your work. You’re doing a good job here.”

“I knew you were happy with my work,” she replies.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“Because you’re the first boss I’ve had that hasn’t asked me to sleep with him. Da said I should be careful of you, but I told her you were just a big softie really.”

“Yup. That’s me. Big softie.”

The huge Russian fills the doorway. Jingjai looks like a little Thai doll beside him.

“Mr. Vlad to see you, David,” she says looking slightly apprehensive that one of those big hands is going to make a grab for her bottom.

“Vlad, how are you?” I ask rising to greet him.

“Hey, Braddock.” His pronunciation makes my name sound like
Bra Dock
. Maybe he has a point.

My right hand is swallowed up by his tattooed pitcher’s mitt.

“Would you like a drink?”

“You have alcohol
?”

“It’s fine, Jingjai. I’ll take it from here.”

Vlad ogles her departing figure without subtlety.

“Beautiful girl,” he announces. “She any good?”

“She’s good at her job, if that’s what you mean. If that’s not what you mean, I have no idea. Sit down, Vlad. I think that chair might just about take your weight.”

He laughs rather loudly showing his gold teeth. “Always joking, Braddock. That’s why I like you so much. English people always jok
ing.”

I am glad I am not within
backslapping range. The chair creaks beneath his muscled bulk, but just about holds together.

I take two whisky glasses and a bottle of Bells from a drawer.

“No vodka?”

“No fridge. No cold.”

Christ
. I’m already talking in Russian-English, and he’s only been here a minute.

He shrugs. “Whisky is OK.”

While I splash some whisky into the glasses Vlad looks around my spartan office. He is dressed smartly today. I’ve only seen him in sports gear before, usually when he’s on his way to kick the living ordure out of some unfortunate at Samui’s Muay Thai Stadium. He’s what passes for a sports celebrity here on the island:
Vlad the Impaler
.

Don’t even go there.

He observes, “You don’t have much furniture.”

“I had it all taken out when I
heard you were coming.”

This produces another roar of laughter.

We raise our glasses.

“To your good health.”

“
Budem zdorovy
.”

We drain our glasses in one go, shot-style, and I pour us each a refill.

“So, my friend,” I begin, “you’re here at last. You’ve been saying for weeks you were coming to see me in my professional capacity. And you’ve finally arrived. Perhaps now you can tell me why you wanted to see me. I’m assuming it’s not to do with girls. That would be too easy.”

“Not girls, no.”

“So … what? You’ve been very mysterious about this ‘business’ of yours that you might want me to help you with.”

“I think you are right man for our job, Braddock. You drink with me, but you don’t get drunk. You listen. You are smart. I think I can trust you.”

“I’m listening.”

“
You also speak good Thai.”

“Still listening.”

He flexes his over-developed shoulders.

“I am in Samui because I work for important businessman in Russia. He has house here and I take care for him. He wants to do much business in Thailand. He has company in Bangkok, also casino in Phuket.”

He pronounces this last word like
Puke It
. Appropriate. I don’t like Phuket.

I wait for him to go on, but he doesn’t. He just sits there looking at me
as if I’m a mind-reader or something. Perhaps the effort of stringing together four English sentences has caused his brain to freeze like the screen on an overloaded laptop.

“So there’s some problem with his house here on Samui? Sounds like you need a property lawyer, not me.”

“His house is OK. No, there is business deal in Samui with local partner. My boss needs somebody he can trust to be translator. His partner is Thai. We all have meeting here soon.”

“But I don’t speak Russian.”

“Is OK. My boss speaks very good English. Even better than me. English is language of business.”

“Why don’t you just hire a professional translator?”

He shakes his head vehemently.

“Very confidential deal, Braddock.”

“You mean it’s a very dodgy deal, Vlad.”

“I do not understand ‘dodgy’.”

“I mean it’s not legal.”

He frowns at me and looks like I’ve hurt his feelings. He leans forward and lowers his voice.

“I need this business to happen, Braddock. Is good for
me
. My boss does many deals here in Thailand, but so far no deals in Samui. I want to show him I can help make deal happen in Samui. Or else all I do is look after house. I need to show my boss I can do many things for him then maybe I become big man in his company.”

He pauses again and looks depressed.

“I am good Muay Thai fighter, but is not enough for me. I require to be big businessman. Now I am just small fried.”

“You mean small
fry
.”

He looks at me like some sad Saint Bernard
in need of its owner’s reassurance.

“Tell me about it. I’m not promising anything until I know what I’m getting myself into. Don’t worry. Whatever you say doesn’t leave this room whether I take the job or not.”

He looks relieved and starts rummaging in his pockets. He produces a folded and crumpled sheet of paper and holds it out to me.

“I think my English maybe not good enough to explain,” he says.

I take the paper and unfold it.

The English is somewhat demotic, but just about readable. It describes briefly a scheme for expanding Samui’s port facility at Na Thon, envisioning the
building of a substantial new jetty.

“So your boss’ company has a local partner for this construction project?”

Vlad nods.

“And you’re having some kind of meeting about it at which you want me to act as a translator, is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t sound too illegal so far. Although I can understand why you wouldn’t want word of this getting out.”

I tap my pencil on the desk while I mull it over. The Russian waits for me to pronounce.

“What’s the purpose of the meeting? If there are going to be legal discussions or negotiations over documents I doubt my Thai is sufficiently technical. I can speak Thai well enough, but can hardly read it at all.”

“No legal talk and no documents. Is more of a social meeting for big bosses to meet each other. No details of project. “

“I see. So guys lower down your company
have been doing all the negotiations, and now your boss wants to fly in to say hello to the big Thai boss at this end? Shake his hand, look him in the eye and get a feeling for whether he can trust him? Is that it?”

“Yes, you understand.”

“But your guys must have been working with translators during the negotiations. Why not use one of them?”

“Our Thai partner was very strong that he wanted you at meeting to do it.”

This sounds a bit ominous.

“Really?” I respond casually. “And exactly who is this Thai partner?”

Vlad holds up a hand to indicate for me to wait while he rummages in his pockets again. He produces a small slip of paper on which are written the words
THONGCHAI RATTANAKORN
.

“You know him?” Vlad asks sensing my surprise.

“I know him slightly,” I answer carefully. “He’s a very prominent businessman here. He’s also reputed to be the biggest gangster on the island. I hope you know what you’re doing, Vlad.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Of course.”

“Have you met him?”

“No.”

I tell Vlad I need a day to think it over. After further stressing to me the importance of the deal to him, he leaves half in hope and half in anxiety.

As soon as he’s gone I call Rattanakorn on his cell
phone.

He picks up
straight away.

“Ah, Mr
. Braddock,” he intones in English in his relaxed, power-laden voice. “I wondered how long it would be before you called me.”

“Mr
. Rattanakorn,” I reply, endeavouring to sound unruffled. “I gather you have asked for me personally to translate at a meeting with some Russian businessman.”

“Indeed,” he replies. He pauses a moment to issue commands to someone, and his voice becomes muffled.

“Is this a bad time to talk?”

“Not at all,” he says in
a level, reassuring tone. “I was just instructing one of my henchmen here exactly how I wanted him to torture a gentleman I’m holding in my cellar. I’m free now.”

He pauses
again, then laughs.

“Your silence betrays your continuing suspicion about my alleged gangster activities, Mr
. Braddock.”

This man
renders me nervous. His self-control and deceptive languor make him one of the scariest people I’ve ever met. I’ve only previously had one interaction with Rattanakorn over a delicate matter of the heart, and at that meeting he’d promised (or threatened, depending on your viewpoint) that he might have some work for me. Perhaps this is it.

“You have a question for me, perhaps?”

“I do. I’m puzzled as to why you feel you need an interpreter, since you speak English perfectly well. As well as I do, in fact. I assume your prospective Russian partner is unaware of this.”

“You assume correctly.”

“So my role here will be what, exactly? To provide some kind of
misdirection
?”

“On the contrary. I think
your presence will serve to keep us all honest. Moreover, I count on your invaluable discretion.”

“Ah, yes, my discretion.”

“I presume when our large Russian friend informed you of the arrangements, you didn’t tell him I spoke English?”