Behind the Night Bazaar (23 page)

‘Doesn’t sound like anything my Nona used to make,’ Mark grinned.

She placed their order in Thai and lit a cigarette. ‘Tell me about Cambodia,’ she said.

Mark raised his eyebrows. The question was out of the blue, but he knew it was bound to come up sooner or later. Simone wasn’t to know that talking about Cambodia was picking at a wound that never healed. ‘What about Cambodia?’

‘All I know is you were there. Why did you go?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘We’ve got all night.’ She smiled.

‘OK then.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Cambodia was supposed to showcase the AFP’s potential under the new legislation,’ he said. ‘With the UN peacekeepers gone, the country was becoming a new hub of paedophilia in the region, and I figure the Australian government felt guilty, since they’d backed the peace plan to begin with. I was sent to investigate some cases to do with street kids.

‘See, Cambodia attracts a particular kind of paedophile. Not the situational offenders you see at the Kitten Club— the place’s too dangerous for a cheap holiday destination. In Cambodia you get what we call preferential offenders. These guys are wealthy, well-connected and highly organised. And they’re into boys rather than girls.’

She frowned. ‘Go on.’

‘Well, to keep it short, my work resulted in an extradition order for an Australian businessman on child sex charges. It should’ve been cut and dried, but the Cambodian authorities insisted on trying him under local law, even though they didn’t have any bloody laws covering child sex offences. They had to charge him with rape of a minor. And they couldn’t prove whether the victim was fifteen or sixteen at the time of the assault—half the Cambodian people can’t tell how old they are. Sullivan said the kid told him he was sixteen—the age of consent—and they dropped the charges. It was a fuckin’ farce.’

‘Sullivan?’ Simone said. ‘You worked on the Sullivan case? That was huge! The Thai papers were full of the story.’

‘Yeah?’ He was pleased she’d heard of it. ‘Shame about the outcome though.’

‘Actually, I remember public opinion was pretty divided. A lot of people thought Sullivan was the victim of an anti-gay witch-hunt.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Simone!’

He didn’t mean to shout, and seeing the look on her face, mumbled an apology.

‘No, go on,’ she said, ‘I’m interested in your opinion.’

He took another breath. ‘To be honest, that bleeding heart attitude pisses me off. The vast majority of cases we prosecute involve girls abused by family members. I mean, some of the shit I had to deal with in Brisbane…No one accuses us of being anti-family there. But as soon as the charges involve young boys, we’re accused of being anti-gay.’

‘Maybe it’s the definition of “young” that creates problems,’ Simone said. ‘If the kid told Sullivan he was sixteen, then isn’t he legally entitled to have sex? It seems to me that people feel differently about heterosexual and homosexual sex, even when it’s consenting.’

‘Look, I really don’t want to argue with you about this,’ Mark said, trying to control his temper. ‘As far as the AFP’s concerned, homosexuality’s not the crime. We’re out to get paedophiles, regardless of who they are.’

‘But the media—’

‘Stuff the media,’ he said, struggling to keep his voice down. ‘That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about cops—and what we do. We’re not the ones with a double-standard.’

Simone stared at the table.

‘Look,’ he said more gently, ‘maybe the media is anti-gay. Maybe it’s easy to get the wrong impression from what makes it into the news. But Simone, that’s not what motivates me to do my job. I don’t give a shit whether an offender’s straight, gay or whatever. If they’re fucking children, it’s a crime.’

Simone nodded, still staring at the table. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘Sorry. It’s just that, you know, some of my closest friends are gay. My best friend…’ Mark heard a tremor in her voice.

‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Besides, judging from what you’ve told me about your friend, I reckon he’d agree with me.’

‘He might,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Then again, Didier took a pretty sophisticated view…’

She stared out over the river as if she’d forgotten Mark was there, and he knew she was thinking about her Canadian mate. It pissed Mark off that the guy had such a hold over her. So Didier had a sophisticated viewpoint—and his own wasn’t?

The tension was broken by the arrival of their meal. Mark had encouraged Simone to order so he could try her favourite Thai dishes, and the food enabled him to steer the conversation back onto safer ground.

‘This is
yam pladook foo
—catfish salad,’ she said, pointing to a plate on which Mark was hard pressed to detect any fish. ‘The fish is mashed up and deep fried,’ she added, as if reading his mind. ‘It’s fantastic with the green mango sauce. This one’s called jungle curry—watch out for the whole spices as it packs a punch. And this—’ she indicated another plate ‘—is cold Chinese crystal slide pork roll.’

‘Spring rolls?’

‘Looks like it.’

Mark laughed, relieved to lighten the mood.

Half an hour later, they pushed their empty plates aside. ‘That was fantastic,’ he said.

Simone murmured in agreement, rummaging through her bag. ‘Before I forget, I’ve got something for you,’ she said, handing him a piece of paper. ‘I took the liberty of drafting a press release. It covers the stuff I told you—about Didier’s death, I mean. I thought you might be able to use it—save you doing it yourself.’

Mark scanned it, unsure whether he was flattered by her active interest in his work, or pissed off by her presumption.

‘Sure, whatever,’ he said, putting it in his pocket. ‘Thanks.’

‘And I want to come with you tomorrow night. Not when you arrest Kelly, of course,’ she added quickly, ‘but for the pay-off. I’ve been thinking about it. I could be outside getting photos of the cops as they arrive, while you’re inside, picking up from where I leave off. You’ve got a camera that records the date and time of the photo?’

He nodded.

‘Well, think of how good it would look if we had a sequence showing their arrival
and
the pay-off.’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’

‘Please,’ Simone said. ‘It’d mean a lot to me.’

‘I can’t do it,’ he said. ‘It goes against procedure and I won’t jeopardise the operation.’

‘And why would my involvement jeopardise the operation?’ She sounded more hurt than angry. ‘I’ve done all the right things by you. I’ve given you names, my surveillance photos. I thought my skills were an asset to your operation.’

‘Of course,’ he said, shifting in his seat. ‘But—’

‘Surely the AFP enlists the services of freelance private investigators from time to time?’ she continued. ‘Can’t you see it like that?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘I promise I’ll be careful,’ Simone said. ‘Please, Mark. I want to work with you on this—to support you.’

Mark hesitated, knowing he should refuse. But this was precisely the personal engagement he’d wanted from her.

‘You’ll be in the same place as last time?’ he said.

She nodded.

‘And you’ll leave as soon as the cops go inside?’

‘Assuming it’s safe,’ she said.

‘I mean it, Simone. You’ve gotta get out of there as soon as possible.’

She held up her hands. ‘Whatever you say.’

‘OK then,’ Mark sighed.

Simone got up from her seat, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘I thought kissing in public wasn’t the done thing,’ he said, squirming out of her hold.

Simone chuckled and walked off in the direction of the ladies’ room.

Mark’s gaze followed her. He wanted to win the case against Kelly and the cops, but he also wanted Simone. Was it too much to aim for both?

Not since he was a child had Komet slept so peacefully, lying like spoons with his brothers on a sleeping mat beneath the mosquito net. Maybe he’d dreamt of those times. On waking, he half expected to hear the roosters noisily ushering in the dawn and the chickens fussing, impatient to be released from the rattan basket where they were kept at night.

Instead he heard a radio, children’s voices in neighbouring yards, the hum of traffic, the cries of food hawkers. He got out of bed not to a glowing dawn, but to the fading light of dusk.

Komet warmed and ate the whole pot of rice porridge Arunee had left for him, before getting ready for his shift. He took more care than usual with his uniform, polishing his belt buckle, smoothing down the epaulets on his shirt, and adjusting the red braid over his left shoulder so it was perfectly straight. He shined his shoes as a finishing touch, and oiled and combed his hair before placing his cap firmly on his head. As he told Jayne, he’d joined the Chiang Mai police force as a means of getting out of Nakhon Phanom. But that evening, for the first time, he wore his uniform with pride.

It didn’t trouble him when, on arriving at the bureau, he bumped into Officer Tanin and found him even more skittish than usual. Tanin gave him a convoluted story about seeing him with a farang woman at a hotel the previous evening and the lieutenant colonel being angry about it. Pornsak was looking for him, too. Komet simply smiled in reply, leaving Tanin staring after him, open-mouthed, as he went to sign in for the evening.

Nor did it worry him when a grim-faced secretary at the front desk said he was to report to the lieutenant colonel. The woman looked nervous on his behalf but, again, Komet smiled and made his way to Ratratarn’s office. He had a strange sense that everything was going according to plan. Not a plan of his own making, but a plan nonetheless.

Komet could tell from Ratratarn’s face that the lieutenant colonel was onto him. He wasn’t sure if Ratratarn knew about his meeting with Jayne Keeney, but he knew he’d been taken for a ride. His body was tense with fury, his upper lip in a half-formed sneer. And in his narrowed eyes, Komet could detect a trace of grudging respect.

‘Good to see you again, Officer Komet,’ Ratratarn said in response to his perfunctory salute.

Komet recognised the tone. The lieutenant colonel wielded courtesy and charm as weapons so that the blow, when it came, hit harder.

‘No, don’t close the door,’ Ratratarn said. ‘There’s been a new development in our investigation into Khun Sanga’s murder. A witness wants to meet by the Talat Tohn Payorm. I want you to come with me.’ He took his cap from the desk and gestured for them to leave.

‘Sir,’ Komet hesitated, ‘I understand from Officer Tanin that there may have been some confusion earlier as to my whereabouts. I was surprised to hear this, Sir, as I was at home, sleeping as usual, for the better part of the day.’

Ratratarn seemed taken aback, though whether it was because of what he’d said or the fact he’d volunteered any information at all, Komet couldn’t tell. ‘We’ll discuss that later,’ the lieutenant colonel said.

In the station carpark, Komet headed for the squad car. But Ratratarn stopped him before he could open the passenger door.

‘No, not that one,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to spook the witness. We’ll take the other.’

Komet nodded and walked to the unmarked vehicle reserved for surveillance work.

They drove in silence, west of the old citadel walls, past the Maharaj Hospital and Wat Suandok, before reaching the Ton Payorm Market. It was deserted at this time of night, save for the rats—Komet saw their eyes reflected in the headlights. North of the crossroad was Chiang Mai University, the campus also quiet as the students were out on their long holidays.

Komet slowed the car, but Ratratarn gestured for him to continue.

‘We’re meeting on the other side of the bridge,’ he said. ‘Turn left and find somewhere to park.’

Komet kept his face blank but his heart skipped a beat. South of the university, on the opposite side of the canal to the market, was an open zoo that students used as an observation centre. Surrounded by a high mesh fence, it was even darker than the campus. There was barely enough room to park between the boundary of the zoo and the retaining wall of the canal. Unable to open his own door, Komet slid across the passenger seat to get out after Ratratarn.

Komet paused, taking a deep breath to allow his sense of calm to return, before edging around to the front of the car. The flame of a match briefly illuminated Ratratarn’s face. The man drew back on his cigarette. Komet’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

‘What else did Officer Tanin tell you?’ Ratratarn said suddenly.

Komet had to think for a moment. ‘Only that you’ve been appraised of my work, Sir, my interviews with the farang women.’

‘Son of a—’ Ratratarn tossed his glowing cigarette in the canal. ‘Damn it, Komet! What the hell are you playing at?’

‘Just doing my job, Sir. Trying to locate the farang woman, Jayne Keeney, as ordered. Sir.’

‘Do I detect insolence in your tone of voice, Officer?’ Ratratarn circled him like an animal stalking its prey.

‘No, Sir,’ Komet said. Insolence was too strong a word for it. What he felt towards the lieutenant colonel was indifference.

‘I knew it!’ Ratratarn slapped his thigh. ‘You’ve been working in secret to try and impress me, haven’t you Komet? Even left me with a list of dead-end leads so there was no chance anyone else might steal your thunder, right? Well, Officer, let me tell you…’

The lieutenant colonel continued to circle, prattling on about protocol and lines of authority. But Komet was only dimly aware of what he said.

The words of the Fourth Buddhist Precept came to him in his father’s voice.
You shall not lie
.

But surely, Komet thought, by keeping silent, one can avoid lying altogether.

You must ask yourself what is the truth, my son
, he heard his father say.
If you fail to correct false assumptions,
then have you not lied without uttering a single word?

Ratratarn stopped pacing, waiting for Komet to respond to a question he hadn’t heard.

‘I’m sorry, Sir, you’re mistaken,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t looking for the farang woman to impress you. I was trying to find her to tell her the truth and—’