Vince woke again with a headache, but that was the least of his hurting. Nok had gone. A policeman, with a fat face on a thin body, was sitting in her chair. He reminded Vince of a Halloween pumpkin on a stick. The pumpkin unwrapped a sweet paper; it looked like a glacier mint inside.

Vince grunted.

The pumpkin popped the sweet into his cavern, and regarded him. He chewed vigorously as he spoke. “My name Lieutenant Prik Dum, District 4. What happen?”

Vince tried to prop himself up, but it was too much effort. “I got shot.”

“Who shoot you?”

“No idea.”

The pumpkin wiped a calloused hand across his face. “You not see?”

Not a desk jockey, thought Vince. Probably streetwise, and cynical. Crime was rife in Bangkok. However, this pumpkin radiated a more philosophical outlook than most. Vince shook his head. “Not see.” Liar, but this was personal.

The Lieutenant shrugged, as if he was used to it. “Come back. First talk to 7-Eleven girl.”

Vince tried to shrug back, but failed. “Okay you come back, still not see.”

The next time Vince awoke, Nok was back. She was looking at his name tab saying “Rennie”. The chair looked comfortable enough. Maybe he ought to get two chairs in, but then again, there was only enough room for one chair anyway. Sod this bleeding headache, he thought, but he managed to sit up to look at Nok; they had brought an extra pillow in. Nok looked very sexy that day with her long black hair and Chinese eyes. She was wearing a skimpy black top that showed off her perky tits, that he wanted to feel, and red cut off pants that clung to her tight ass, that he also wanted to feel.

She realised he was awake, and turned to talk to him. “Nok change to new Nok. 7-Eleven good heart, manager give money no tell police.”

Vince wasn’t too sure about this zany Thai transformation, but he went along with it. It was Thailand. “You look very pretty, Nok.”

Nok smiled at him. “Thank you, Raynee. Not pretty, many lady pretty more.”

Vince smiled back. “I like you, not other ladies,” he said, wishing they were in his hotel room and not the hospital. “You like me?”

“Like Raynee.” Nok nodded yes, and laughed. “Police ask many question, but I not know, not tell. I scare.”

Vince had his own reasons. “Same same.” He wondered what Nok wanted, so he went along with it.

“You find black man. Man no good?”

Vince clenched his teeth. “Yes, I find man. Maybe take his money, maybe break his legs and dump him in a slum for the dogs to chew over his balls.”

“Okay, I wait you.” And then she went.

Anything can happen in Thailand, thought Vince as he reflected. Women flitting in and out of his life. And now Nok. At thirty five years of age, maybe his life-style was to blame...

…He was brought up in a Scottish orphanage until he was old enough to join the army. Specialising in explosives, he saw active service in Lebanon, Afghanistan and Belfast before resigning with honourable discharge (bedding his Commanding Officer’s wife that was kept quiet) and a meagre gratuity payment. And most recent, he had been travelling throughout Asia as a part-time security consultant. For the last few years he had built up a network of contacts on route, reaching Bangkok via Abu Dhabi two days ago on a 3 month business visa…

Well that about summed up Vince Rennie. The only interesting bit was the CO’s wife who was a great fuck, and the CO who was a little fuck.

***

Elroy crept down to the hotel lobby. He looked around, but no-one was taking any interest in him. He sidled up to the news stand next to the chiller, and bought that day’s Bangkok Post, together with a few cans of Chang from a tired-looking receptionist. She managed to find a half-hearted smile. He rushed back upstairs to read it. At the bottom of the front page was a small section reporting the robbery.

At 12.30 a.m. yesterday, the Soi 55 Sukhumvit Road 7-Eleven shop was brutally robbed by two unknown assailants. Over 20,000 Baht was stolen and one staff was killed and a customer was taken to hospital with serious injuries. Police are questioning the witnesses. This is the third all night shop robbery in the last few weeks and police think it could be the same bandits.

Shit, 20,000 baht, the staff are the bandits. Both witnesses can nail us, assuming the friggin’ Ice Cream don’t die, he thought. He showed Innocent. Innocent wasn’t much interested in reading, he was watching TV. He turned around to Elroy, saw the beer cans that looked nicely chilled and asked for one.

Elroy felt like finishing him off there and then, but they went back aways. They grew up in a black ghetto, both into hustling for peanuts at the pool tables. As they became older and more street-wise they moved onto bigger things.

The gas-station was the first heist. Replica 45’s, but it worked. The haul raised plenty, and they were finished with stacking cheese for a living. With plenty of $100 bills, they picked up a couple of random chicks from the Thai 69 club in town who wanted money first and black meat second. Innocent was in the best mood of his life, and he let Elroy have first fuck of the prettier younger one on the soft cream leather seats in the back of a hi-jacked SLK.

After a few more profitable gas station heists, this time with real shooters that they were not afraid to use, they felt the heat getting too close. Taking the Thai girls subjective advice, they got next day passports issued from a Miami expeditor service, and took off to Bangkok for replacement guns – and more Thai pussy.

Several days passed. Elroy finally brought Innocent around to his way of thinking. Appealing to Innocent’s better nature with a few more beers – “The only way we get out of here, and get our hands on those Magnums is to eliminate those friggin’ witnesses.”

Innocent shrugged. “I ain’t picky, Dawg. You find the ‘motherfuckers’, I’ll shoot them.”

Elroy ignored him. “We gotta find a friggin’ local, maybe a bro who can speak the lingo. Let’s go and play pool.” His upbringing had been educationally sound. Pool halls attracted hustlers, informers, undesirables, and groupies.

And sometimes killers.

The briefing had been unhurried. ‘We need you in Thailand, but take some R&R there first. When you’ve sampled the delights somewhat, contact Colonel Chooshoop. He’s a big player in the Thai Police looking for a free-lance mercenary cum security consultant to do their dirty work. They call it the Chinese project. It’s a hard ball initiative. You would fit the bill perfectly, make sure you do. He’ll probably pass you down the line for the operational details. But be careful. Thailand is a wonderland. Anything can happen.’

Bangkok by day was hot and humid. He had done the tourist bit; walking slowly along the Chao Phraya riverside early evening in the cooler air watching water-taxis ferrying commuters and heavily laden rice barges chugging upstream, set against a backdrop of glittering temples and luxury, five-star hotels. Later, the sex industry. Sukhumvit, Nana plaza area: a haven for pot-bellied tourists full of girlie bars, massage parlours, lady-boy shows and everything in between.

Yesterday when he needed to stock up with provisions in his apartment, he had grumbled to the two girls behind the 7-Eleven counter. “Call this a convenience store? Why not stack the beer on the high shelves where I can reach them easy.”

One girl, who was pretty and slim with perky breasts, and the other, who was larger and not pretty, just stared at him and giggled. But then the pretty one smiled. Giving him the ‘I’m interested’ coy look. She sure looked out of place in the 7-Eleven. “Tell manager, Farang not happy, ok?”

Vince had smiled back. Interesting. Maybe he would go there sometime.

That was yesterday.

Nothing had bloody well changed since then. No manager about, and the same two girls were behind the check-out chatting; not busy switching beer bottles around the cooler shelves. He still had to bend down by the cooler to select his beer bottles.

Clearly 7-Eleven didn’t worry too much about customer care. Perhaps he should go down the street and see if the Mini Mart was still open at midnight.

Then he heard the first shot...

***

Elroy Biera stretched his lanky frame and gazed around their Grand Palace twin bed hotel room, number 557 inked in black on the door with a not so grand bathroom, but it had air con that worked ok.

It had all seemed so easy. Hit the 7-Eleven to raise enough cash to replace their cheap Bangkok pistols, and to upgrade to a pair of 44 Magnums or whatever. And then to bigger things.

He felt uneasy in this strange environment. Bangkok was full of friggin’ Asians, all speaking some weird language. To them, money was king. Money got you honey, like beautiful long-legged women. No choice really. 7-Elevens were real easy pickings, and they needed the friggin’ cash. That was top priority right now. He wanted to get it over with. He kicked the big bear loafing in the chair watching cartoons on cable TV. “Dawg, listen up.”

Innocent Ramnaps stirred and moved his foot to one side. “What the fuck you doing?”

Elroy hauled himself out of his armchair and gestured to Innocent to shift his ass into cruise.

“Time to move on out.”

They caught a cab some ways from the Grand Palace Hotel and had the driver drop them off two blocks from the 7-Eleven around midnight. The street traders had gone. There were only a few night birds and a blind beggar with white cane and bowl sitting on the pavement by the Bangkok Bank ATM machine. As they arrived, Elroy took a quick glance through the entrance door. No one was waiting to be served. Two girls waited at the check-out. One yawning, the other with her cell phone attached to her ear, talking.

“Okay let’s friggin’ do it.”

***

…The commotion was up by the front door. Vince peered up quickly, but carefully. He saw two black guys. One was a lanky, athletic type stretched over the counter, and stuffing a bag full of notes. The other was holding a pistol in his huge hairy paw. Could have been a .38.

He moved into a crouch to see better. The large girl was lying in a pool of blood. The pretty one was stumbling back and she fell in a dead faint, her cell phone bouncing across the floor.

He leapt up clutching his basket of Chang beer bottles. “What the…?” Bad move. Should have known better.

The athlete snatched up the bag and high-tailed it, while the ape turned with a look of surprise and fired again, as he ran out the door. Vince desperately flung himself into a dive as a couple of bullets smashed into his beer bottles and richoted back into his body. The last thing he thought about before slumping to the floor and losing consciousness was, ‘Anything can happen’.

***

Innocent, lounging around in a white T-shirt and jogging pants, was in a good mood. “It was real cool Dawg. We did what had to be done. You see me drop that white ‘motherfucker’?” He lolled in his favourite chair, watching a TV doctor carrying out a liver transplant.

Elroy wasn’t so happy.

Although they had got clear away without causing a commotion outside, the haul had been 6,050 baht, around US$70, which hardly bought a friggin’ Songkran water pistol let alone a 44 Magnum.

He picked up his Chang beer that had 6% alcohol content written on the side of the green can with a picture of an elephant on it, and took a gulp. “How the hell I know some smartass was there? Anyways he won’t be doing much drinking or much else now you filled him full of lead.”

That pain in the ass Innocent acting like he was a black Rambo or something, not finishing the job. Now they gotta keep off the streets until the heat cooled down. By the friggin’ time it was quiet again, all the money would be gone on hotel bills. Elroy grimaced, “We gotta check the smartass is dead and maybe we need to take out the girl also. They’re the only ones who could friggin’ testify.”

Innocent took a gulp of his beer and motioned for more. “No problem Dawg. Be cool.”

Elroy wasn’t cool. “Dawg, the 7-Eleven is history. It’s what comes next. Hitting the Siam Commercial Bank.”

Innocent picked something green out of his nostril and flicked it across. “Yeah, so what?”

Elroy swatted the slime ball away in exasperation. “We don’t just go in and shoot everyone. We gotta act real cool.”

Innocent glared. “Like I said, I can blow these ‘motherfuckers’ out real easy, so what’s the problem?”

Elroy kept his cool: “Well for one thing. There could be a bunch of people working and customers. While you’re blowing brains out all over the place, one of them that you don’t shoot will press this big alarm button before I get the friggin’ money, and all hell will break loose. No Dawg, we gotta think smart.”

“Smart? What the fuck you mean?”

Elroy, thinking out loud now that Innocent had put him on the spot, “We hit it just before closing time. They’ll be otherwise occupied in cleaning up, so I go up to the counter and tell one of them to open the cash drawer and put the notes in the bag.” It was flowing nicely. “I give the bag over and let them see the .38 pointing at them. I say act real cool, nothing stupid and we all go home safe -that’s it. Easy.” He punched the air. “They give me the friggin’ money and we get out fast.”

Innocent wasn’t having any “So you’re acting Mr. Real Cool. What I do, pick my fucking nose or something?”

One friggin’ thing he was good at, but Elroy wasn’t going there. “You cover me. Make people lie on the floor away from any alarm buttons. Wave your gun around a bit - show we’re friggin’ serious.”

“Better I shoot the ‘motherfuckers - that’ show them I’m serious.”

Elroy, looking hard at Innocent and thinking maybe he lost it somewhere said, “Think on it Dawg. You want to end up looking out of bars the rest of your life?”

Innocent scowled. “Fuck it.”

***

The dream was real. ‘Anything can happen.’ Vince shuddered and opened his eyes. He focused on the pretty assistant from the 7-Eleven sitting alongside his bed, in a small private room that had a picture of King Rama IX on the wall. He smiled, and went to sit up to look at her better, but he couldn’t move because of four tubes and two drips attached to his body and arms. The pain in his stomach was enough to keep him lying there quiet.

“You lucky man,” she said. Very, very strong, save Nok, black man no good.” Her eyes clouded over. “Ghost Lin, she come see me, unhappy. I scare.”

Vince was happy that Nok was alive, strange how the pretty ones always survived, but unhappy that some black bastard had shot him. Also, looking at the drips, the hospital treatment was not going to be cheap.

That made it personal for them both.

Tigger, a ginger, black, and white cat, has adopted me. I feed her. She follows me around. I feed her. Fish, rice and fish biscuits. This cat could eat for Thailand.

Yesterday, at dinner time, I went to pick up her dish. It’s a hard plastic throwaway from a fast food restaurant that was used as a paint dish and recycled. Suitable for a stray cat. Not on the floor of the back balcony. I peeped over the seat.

No dish.

I grumbled, replaced my slippers with my plastic flip-flops and went in search. Down the balcony steps, around the patio and criss crossed the wild garden.

No dish.

Ou went to search. Said the wind must have blown it somewhere. Couldn’t find it. By this time Tigger was growling and about to tear my leg off, so I replaced her lost dish with a plastic box-type container. Fed her.

This morning, I went in search again. Could have won an orienteering prize, but still no dish. So I sat down and had a think – eliminated the impossible, and settled on this theory. Sometimes Tigger leaves a few grains of rice in the dish. Birds come – very aggressive these ones, as big as magpies and similar behaviour.

I think one bird stole the dish.

What do you think?

‘Do you like cats?’ I asked, sliding my empty teacup to one-side.

Soo and I were sitting on a bench outside Coco Loco restaurant at lunchtime on the same day the police hauled Jimmy Mack off to jail. Drug smuggling was one thing, but his recorded confession to two murders, courtesy of Freddy’s equipment I had borrowed, was a rap even Jimmy couldn’t beat.

An initial awkwardness lingered, but I needed to know how Soo felt about me; whether it was for real or not. She grinned and punched my arm. ‘Is that a proposal?’

My face felt warm, and I spluttered. ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

She pouted. ‘You not like me!’

If you only knew.

‘It’s just...’

Soo’s fingers found mine. ‘You’re so sweet.’

‘You’re laughing at me.’

‘No.’

Our eyes met. Hers were twinkling in the sunlight. I saw no treachery, no deceit; only desire.

I stood up. So did she. She squeezed my hand.

Tight.

She melted into me. ‘Oh, Mitch,’ she murmured. ‘You don’t know how much...’

My finger sealed her lips. ‘Come back with me,’ I said...

THE END

P.S. David Connor’s ashes? Tigger’s litter tray.

He would kill us both. No doubts. I eased the van out of the ferry and onto the exit road leading to Khanom. Behind me, I could see the Fortuner’s lights. Soo was safe for now, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Up ahead was a road block manned by police; my plan, I’d worked through with Freddy.

They would stop my van and arrest Jimmy.

Perfect.

Happy ending.

One policeman looked at us; frowned. I felt a sense of elation — here was the moment when Jimmy would realise he’d been stuffed.

Jimmy nodded at him; the gun pressing into my side. C’mon, c’mon, I whispered under my breath.

The policeman stood back, saluted, and waved us through.

What the fu..?

What had gone wrong? It hit me.

Jimmy Mack was untouchable...

I drove past the roadblock on auto-pilot. Here was a man I once thought of as a best friend. ‘What changed?’ I asked him on the road to the caves.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I’ve always hated your guts. Envied that you were the smart one, that you always pulled the best women like Soo, and how you smirked when I got caught.’

‘I got caught, as well,’ I reminded him. ‘Shoplifting.’

‘He snorted. ‘After you walked off with a caution, I spent six months doing bird in some poxy jail. Buggered by foul inmates, it changed my life and hardened me. And then you inherited a fucking great castle. No Mitch, you had it all, but now it’s my turn to mock you. I’m the man, and you’re a nobody.’

A nobody.

We were approaching a forest area — mainly rubber tree plantations whose leafy tops blanked out the night sky — when he told me to take a side road. The road soon became a track, full of gravelly pot-holes and pools of stagnant water that cast eerie shadows in the headlights. Broken signs limped on the ends of drunken concrete poles. We climbed several kilometres towards a forested mountain area. The track petered out into a derelict lay-by and Jimmy told me to kill the engine. A sign pointed upwards.

The caves.

But not a night for tourist visits.

When Soo had parked behind us, Jimmy waved his gun at me. ‘Let’s go.’

I suppose I could have made a run for it, but I wasn’t about to abandon her. I climbed down from the cab, stretched, and took a look around. The moon shone through a cloud and I could make out a long line of iron steps that led up to the cave’s entrance. A slow climb to paradise.

I coughed, thought of Riley. ‘One final request,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘A cigarette.’

He gave me a sideways look. ‘I didn’t think you smoked.’

I pierced him with a glare. ‘There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, friend.’

He shrugged, pointed the gun at me. ‘Go ahead.’

I swallowed, hoping that Riley had left a pack. ‘They’re in the back of the van.’

‘Don’t try any funny business.’

He kept a safe distance while I took the keys from the ignition, went to the back of my van, and opened the doors.

‘Hold it,’ he said. ‘Move to one side.’

He had a quick look inside, and nodded. ‘Up you go.’ And then he smirked and banged on the Fortuner’s window. ‘Soo can join you. A fitting finale.’

I hadn’t a clue what was going through his mind — maybe he was going to kill her and then get me to carry her up to the caves — but he made us sit with our backs up against the cab wall while he perched near the doors. There were six cigarettes in the Marlboro Red pack — I thanked Buddha — and once we had settled into a grey smoke haze, Jimmy started to brag once more.

‘Cambodian girls are best. They’ll do anything ... and I mean anything to get here. He laughed. ‘Know what I mean? When I’ve had my fill, I sell them on ... easy money.’

‘Not all of them, friend. What about the girl you killed at Connor’s shop?’

‘One of his slags. No-one messes with me ... not Connor, or Lassa, or anyone.’

Soo’s body started to tremble, and she began to cry. ‘Jimmy ... please tell me it’s not true.’

He laughed. ‘It’s true alright, sweetheart. And the same thing’s going to happen to you.’

Her body arched and she jumped up, screaming. Jimmy couldn’t see my hand when I touched the firecrackers, couldn’t see my cigarette lighting the fuses, couldn’t see when the crackers fizzed and banged towards him.

But the blasts made him jump and he stumbled off the van. I leaped after him and crash-landed onto his shoulders. He bellowed with rage, spitting and cursing while I grappled for the gun. We rolled in the dirt, panting and heaving. Our eyes met; his red with rage and hate. 

I couldn’t hold him back; he twisted my arm until the gun was pressed against my chin. A look of triumph on his face, but Soo jumped on him. His neck snapped back, and the gun jerked free. 

I rolled across his body, picked it up, and cracked it across his skull.

 Twice.

Once for Soo and once for me.

Payback time.

The sticky label on the plastic casket said Jimmy Mack. I looked at Kun Chai. He pocketed the money I gave him and bowed.

‘You good man, Kun Mitch.’

I sighed. I had made up my mind. If things didn’t work out; on the ferry crossing back to Donsak that evening, I would toss the casket overboard.

Why? Because I wanted no come back.

Inside the ferry, I parked my van. I figured it would be targeted — a tip-off — and Freddy’s surveillance gear confirmed my suspicions. The bug I had placed on the Fortuner heralded its arrival, but there was no hurry; what would happen would happen.

I settled down near the back of the half-empty TV lounge with the casket at my feet and a Buddhist book I had picked up at a shop in Nathorn — Mindful Meditation — and relaxed...

‘...Hello Mitch.’

A woman’s voice that invaded every pore. Instant reminder that had me choking back my emotions. I looked up, and Soo sat down beside me.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, while touching my arm softly. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

I flinched, although I was breaking up inside. I met her gaze, saw the treachery within. I wanted to scream out my pain. ‘You used me,’ I spat. ‘You fucked my body, fucked my mind, fucked with my feelings, and it meant fuck all to you.’

I could have said more. How that one night of shared passion invaded my soul, made me believe I could fall in love again — but it was all an illusion; a shattered dream.

Tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘It wasn’t like that, Mitch. I was trying to protect you.’

How I ached to believe her. Even though I despised her for what she’d done, I still wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. My fingers reached out to hold her hand, but I froze at the voice behind me.

‘That’s enough.’

I didn’t need to turn; I knew the voice so well, but I wanted to look him in the eye. He was as cocky-looking as ever. ‘What happened to David Connor, Jimmy?’

He pointed to the casket at my feet. ‘Connor fucked with my girlie business, stole my bird, and he paid the penalty.’

‘You had him eliminated?’

Jimmy laughed. ‘No way. It was personal. I got him drunk and drowned him, and then did what he did to me. I stole his identity.’

‘And Martha?’

‘Treacherous bitch. Made me lose face. I took her on a one-way ticket to paradise. Threw her overboard seven miles from land and told her to swim back.’

I shook my head. ‘And how does Soo fit into all this?’

‘You ask a lot of questions, my friend.’

I glanced around the lounge. No-one was near us, and we were talking quietly. ‘I need to know.’

Jimmy shrugged as if it was no consequence. ‘I paid Soo to follow Martha ... we have an arrangement. I owe her that. She keeps quiet and I keep her agency and family afloat. Mostly it’s sex, but if she shits on me she’ll end up swimming offshore.’

Mostly it’s sex!

I looked at Soo. Fresh tears on her face. ‘Mitch ... I’m ...’

Jimmy grinned. ‘Seems like she has a soft spot for you, friend. That’s why you’re still alive. Lassa and his slimy faggot are pussies.’

So it had come to the crunch. I heard the boat’s horn as we approached Donsak — a mournful sound. ‘But you’re not?’

He smiled and pointed to the bulge in his jacket. ‘You know too much, friend. We’re going to take a little trip to one of the caves at Khanom. Hardly ever visited. There you can make peace with Buddha.’

I started to rise. ‘I can just walk away.’

He grinned like the devil incarnate. ‘Do that and Soo takes your place.’

I stared at him. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Try me.’ He had the gun out and was pointing it at her.

Jimmy had my number and he knew it. Maybe he had threatened Soo, maybe not, but he understood what I felt about her.

I slumped back on my seat.

Ever been between a rock and a hard place?

According to Riley, I was getting a slice of the action because I was a nobody. The surprise factor that would flush out Lassa.

I hadn’t believed a word of it.

I figured I was being set up. I was the fall guy, the patsy that took the first hit before Riley and Bill hijacked the cargo.

Then I would be considered collateral. An accident?

This time I was sure it was for real. Riley chain-smoked half a pack whilst whistling “Dixie” between deep drags after he had returned with a pistol. Likewise, with him out of the way for a few hours, I had plenty of time to finalise arrangements.

And plenty of time to think about Soo.

I felt like a condemned inmate anticipating the lethal injection. No reprieve, no escaping my fate.

Could I just walk away? Not really. Not now. What had Riley said? “You’re like a dog with a bone ... won’t let go.” I would bury it right up Lassa’s ass, or Toad’s — if either had abducted Soo.

The day passed slowly. Lunch blurred with dinner — a few glasses of beer with plenty of ice — while the countdown continued. Night was humid; little ventilation inside the van, a mere whisper of sea breeze outside, and I worked my mind up into action mode. Sweat trickled down my spine as I counted off the hours. Riley seemed restless; he’d devoured two packs of Marlboro Red out on the parking lot while I watched him walk back and forth, mobile phone clamped to his right ear. He gesticulated a lot; maybe a last-minute hitch — I wasn’t sure.

It was 4:20 am when we arrived and parked off-road near Bo Phut pier — unobtrusive to a few early-starters, but close enough to keep the pier under surveillance.

‘Game on,’ I whispered into my phone while I was attending to a nature call. I zipped-up, turned the mic back-on, and made my way back to the van. Riley looked at me accusingly, or so I thought, but he didn’t comment. Maybe he had it all figured out; like he said, I was a nobody.

Tick...

Maybe he was right.

...Tock.

Maybe I had it all wrong.

Tick tock...Tick tock...Tick... the coughing chug of a boat engine followed by the arrival of a Fortuner with blacked-out windows — it parked by the end of the pier. I looked at Riley; he nodded.

I wiped a clammy hand across my brow, gripped my gun, and waited until the boat had tied up and three young girls were escorted to the Toyota before making my move.

I recognised Toad. It was enough.

Even as I jogged up to the car I felt I was acting out a movie scene — hero takes on incalculable odds, captures the baddies, and rescues the maidens in distress. I bent down beside the car and took a deep breath.

If it went pear-shaped, Tigger would be looking for a new home.

It did.

Me jumping up, waving a gun, and shouting at Toad as he bundled the girls into the back triggered off an immediate reaction. Shots rang out; then a burning in my shoulder that spun me around, and I was down. Then eruptions from my van. Diversionary tactics I had discussed with Riley. Rockets sizzled overhead, then burst into golden showers. Chaos while I tried to crawl away from the battlefield. Blood seeped through my shirt and I felt light-headed while gasping for breath. I saw several police surrounding the car and my minivan. The girls were shrieking with fright and trying to escape.

Two people were fleeing the scene. My eyes were glazing over. One man and one woman — she could have been Soo — but I couldn’t ID her.

The man turned, and I caught a fleeting glimpse before I blacked out.

Holy Buddha!

***

Colonel Freddy Praeuw apologised. I had regained consciousness, and was sitting up in my hospital bed with my upper body bandaged and a drip attached to my wrist. ‘We caught most of them, but two escaped. One we think is David Connor, the other could be his female accomplice. We’re searching for them now.’

I closed my eyes before they misted over. I didn’t listen to the words of praise for my part in the bust, I didn’t listen to whether Bill and Riley were good guys working for the US government or just double-crossers — all my hopes and dreams had been shattered.

I didn’t care anymore. All I wanted to do was to discharge myself from hospital and return to my simple life in Khanom. I had been lucky; a flesh wound, but no permanent damage, but it took a week before the doctor gave me the okay. By that time the police had lost interest in continuing the search for the missing pair — from what I could make out from Freddy, money had passed hands to corrupt officers higher up the pecking order than him. That was enough.

And for me.

I had one more task to complete before I called it a day. I called in at the police station to pick up my minivan, gave Freddy a bag of fresh cakes, and asked him for one more favour — a long shot, just in case.

He nodded; shook my hand. ‘You good man, Kun Mitch. Take care your life.’

Would Tigger still be waiting for me?

Something didn’t feel right.

No edge, no nervous tension. Riley wasn’t pumped-up; wasn’t going through packs of Marlboro before engaging the enemy. Call it a gut-feel, but I figured the consignment was a dummy-run. Maybe to check me out; who knew what deep game Bill was playing?

Was it a game?

Dawn came slowly. The van parked close to Big Buddha pier; my neck muscles aching as I tried to peer through the morning mist, hoping to make out a boat gliding towards us. I’d been kitted out; a hidden microphone — all I had to do was confront them.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing.’

Riley grunted. ‘It’ll be here, soon.’

I winced. ‘I need to take a leak.’

Riley shook his head. ‘Make it quick, brother.’

I swung open my door and hopped around to the back and over to some bushes behind the parking lot. Took a deep breath, switched off the mike, and made the call. One pre-arranged word.

Abort.

I re-engaged the mike. Felt dampness seeping through my shirt; wiped a clammy hand across my brow, and then I heard it.

Chugging. A boat loomed out of the mist.

I rushed back to the van and climbed inside. ‘It’s coming.’

Riley patted me on the shoulder, put on his headphones. ‘Take it easy, brother.’

What if I was off beam?

A Nissan 4X4, with blacked-out windows arrived and parked at the end of the pier. No Lassa, no Toad, but a similar-looking driver jumped out. I waited undercover while the boat docked and a couple of other white-faced guys started to unload crates before making a move.

I walked to the car. Tried to sound officious. ‘This is a police raid. Open up the crates.’ Even as I said it, it sounded dumb. What the hell was I playing at?

‘You taking the piss?’ said one, cracking his fingers. ‘Fuck off before I beat the shit outta you.’

I forced a casual grin. Confidence seeping from every pore. ‘I wouldn’t do that. I’ve got back-up.’

‘So have I,’ said the driver. ‘Tell him, Prik.’

A car door opened. I gaped open-mouthed at a thin Thai man with short-cropped black hair — he was wearing a regular police uniform and holding a gun. He pointed it at me.

‘Who are you?’

I wished I had brought a bag of cakes. I smiled.

He didn’t.

Where’s the US cavalry?

I started to edge back. Palms raised high. ‘Must have made a mistake.’

A cell phone rang. The police officer’s. He alternated between glaring at me, nodding his head, and making the odd grunt. Then he holstered his gun and told me to back-off. He watched me all the way to my van.

Riley seemed apologetic. He snapped shut his cell phone and started the van. ‘Bill said not to get involved unless it’s Lassa. We don’t want to blow it. Not now we’re so close.’

I gritted my teeth. ‘That cop could have shot me. Is that what you call “blowing it”?’

‘Sorry, brother. I really am.’ He pulled out onto the road and slowly drove back along the ring road towards Fisherman’s Village. ‘We’ll stop for a break and I’ll explain...’

‘...We got the gen on two consignments, said Riley. ‘Today’s load was amphetamines, most likely. Fringe players. One corrupt cop seeking a rake-off. Not worth the bust.’

We were sitting in the back of a small eatery, picking at a few slices of pale toast and strawberry jam. Lipton’s tea for me, black coffee for Riley. Neither of us had much appetite; I guessed both of us had been hit hard by the dead girl. My pumped-up balloon had been punctured, while Riley seemed preoccupied.

“Sorry, brother. I really am”. Why?

I sipped my tea. It was cold.

‘Tomorrow’s the big one. Bo Phut pier.’

Made sense. Same northern coastline, a bit further West than Big Buddha — but quieter.

‘And I suppose I’m going to meet and greet them?’

‘You got it, brother.’ Riley had perked up.

‘No,’ I said. One thing I had learnt from that day’s encounter with the police officer.

He gave me a look. ‘No?’

‘Not without being armed. Preferably a hand-gun.’

He frowned. ‘Hand gun?’

For a moment I wondered if his brain had been in gear. Simple request. And I wasn’t new to firearms. Back at my house in Khanom, I’d practised shooting Geckos off the brick walls — house lizards that shat everywhere — with plastic pellets.

Pellets?

‘Damn it, I need an edge. I don’t want some fucker to pull a gun on me.’ I waved my arms around, because he still looked puzzled. ‘Riley, it’s just for effect. Diversion tactics.’

‘Not a loaded gun, then?’

I nodded. ‘Blanks.’

‘It’s dangerous, but...’ He shrugged. ‘Your call, I guess.’

‘My call.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll figure something out.’

That’s what I was worried about...

Fight or flight?

Foolhardy that I was, Riley wasn’t. He pulled me behind a pile of dust sheets where we crouched, flashlight switched-off, craning our necks to peer into the gloom.

Three men silhouetted in a chink of moonlight by the open door. Crates being hauled into the store.

‘No lights,’ said Toad. He was creeping towards us holding a torch.

I cringed as a beam of light passed over our heads; it swung back towards the chair. A strangulated shout.

‘What the fuck...?’ Toad seemed rooted to the spot as his torch beam played over the dead body. ‘Oh, jeez...’ He put a hand to his mouth and stifled a gag, then backed off. He turned and yelled at the others. ‘Dump those fucking crates by the door and get the fuck out.’

Sounds of a padlock being fitted. Footsteps receding. Then silence.

“We’re not murderers.” But someone was. Not Toad, by his reaction, and maybe not Lassa. It nagged at me.

David Connor?

Riley nudged me, ‘We gotta go, brother.’

I held up my hand and shone the flashlight into his face. ‘Soo could be in here. I need to check, first. You take a recce at those crates. See what Santa’s brought us.’

It didn’t take me long to realise Soo hadn’t been held hostage there. A couple of rooms, mainly bare; more dust sheets, a few odds and sods, and an empty wooden wardrobe with a cracked mirror inside that spooked me when I shone the flashlight at it.

And the chair with the bucket.

Had the dead girl been a message? Don’t fuck with me. Don’t fuck with my business.

Sick.

I backtracked to Riley. He had prised open one of the crates. I shone my flashlight inside.

Fireworks?

‘Cover,’ said Riley. ‘Lassa being charitable. Puts on a big show, peddles drugs to a ready audience. Easy money.’ He made a point of looking at his watch; sweat was glistening on his forehead. ‘Need to get outta here, pronto, cowboy.’

We set to work on the door with our spanners. Not the most appropriate tool; the padlock was new, but fortunately the hinges were rotten. As soon as the door started to give way, we shoulder-charged it and burst through in a shower of splinters.

Fireworks...

I put a hand on his arm. ‘Hold on.’

He frowned. Seemed resigned. ‘Now what?’

‘Gimme a moment.’ I turned and went back inside; wrenched the top off the levered crate and picked out a cluster of firecrackers and rockets. Outside, we manoeuvred the door back in place — it wouldn’t fool anyone, but I wasn’t planning on returning — and we hightailed it out of there.

With added insurance.

***

‘She’s running low on fuel,’ said Riley, pulling into a petrol station complex. This time he was driving, while I took deep breaths to calm my nerves. I sat up and glanced out of the window. Subdued lights from an all-night Black Canyon beckoned. I gave him some money and told him to park outside when he’d refilled.

It was 03:00.

A couple of hours to kill before heading off to my rendezvous at Big Buddha pier — Showdown at dawn. Inside the coffee shop several night revellers were winding down; drooping on trendy wooden seats and smelling of stale alcohol and fresh coffee fumes. I ordered a mug of black espresso from the counter attendant; a bleary-eyed man wearing coffee-stained whites.

Classy.

But the coffee tasted good. Large gulps to clear the rancid tang of bile. While I waited for Riley, I called Soo; number still unobtainable. When two men entered — neither who looked like Toad or Lassa, and who paid me no attention whatsoever — I decided to return to the van. Outside, I frowned. My stomach lurched.

Where was it?

Sigh of relief. Parked by the 7-Eleven shop. I walked over and frowned. No sign of Riley.

Riley wasn’t in the 7-Eleven.

Riley was slumped on a bench outside the toilets, clutching his stomach.

He gave me a wan grin. ‘It’ll pass, brother.’

I dragged him into Grand Canyon and made him drink black coffee. Plenty of it. I just hoped he’d be up for it later when the shit hit the fan. I left him nursing his refill while I stepped outside — said I was going for a comfort break.

He didn’t react.

Out of sight, the call connected and I whispered a quick rundown, trying to quell my unease. I hoped I’d covered all the angles.

I was up and running. Now, I had to carry it through.