Behind the Night Bazaar (26 page)

‘You’re bluffing,’ he growled.

‘I don’t want to be a hero,’ she cried. ‘Not like Didier and Komet. I’m not that courageous. So I created my own life insurance policy.’

Ratratarn knew she was telling the truth, but still wasn’t willing to believe she posed any real threat.

‘Let’s say something does happen to you,’ he said, ‘and the story goes to press. What makes you think the Chiang Mai police can’t handle it with an official denial?’

‘I’ve got witnesses admitting they were forced into signing statements.’

‘Their word against ours.’

‘I can place Khun Sanga with Kelly around the time he was killed.’

‘Circumstantial,’ Ratratarn said.

‘And, of course, I have Officer Komet’s sworn statement disclosing all the facts of the case as fraudulent.’

Ratratarn hesitated, but only for a moment. ‘Komet was corrupt. His statement is a fabrication.’

Jayne bit her lip. ‘Well, I’d hazard a guess my report would at least prompt the Canadian Embassy to re-open its investigation into the death of Khun Didier.’

‘I can take care of those cocksuckers!’

Ratratarn saw her swallow again and compose herself.

‘Then it would seem I was mistaken,’ she said with a forced nonchalance. ‘I-I thought I had sufficient grounds to make a deal. But I can see now, Sir, I’m no threat to you whatsoever.’

He snorted.

‘In which case,’ she said, ‘I assume that makes me free to go.’

Ratratarn frowned. By that logic, she had him cornered. But perhaps that was the solution: to appear so indifferent—so completely unthreatened by her—that he let her go. He restored his pistol to its holster.

‘It seems you’ve wasted your time, Jayne Keeney,’ he said, resuming his seat.

‘Yes.’ The colour slowly returned to her cheeks. She picked up her bag but stayed seated, bag perched on her lap.

‘There’s one other thing, Sir. You’d know yourself the Thai government recently introduced new anti-prostitution laws with harsh penalties for those dealing in children. I’m curious why you don’t move in and arrest Kelly. I mean, a high-profile raid at a time like this—it would do wonders for the image of the Chiang Mai police.’

‘Why should I give a shit about those sons of bitches in Bangkok?’ he snorted.

‘No reason, Sir,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s just, well, I’ve been trying to figure out why a sovereign government would allow foreign law enforcement agents to conduct an operation within its territory at the expense of its own police force.’

Ratratarn narrowed his eyes. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I’ve been trying to imagine the reverse-case scenario,’ she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘To imagine the Australian government allowing Thai agents to override the jurisdiction of local police in a rural area of my own country. But I can’t see it happening. The local police wouldn’t stand for it. They’d argue—quite rightly—that they were perfectly capable of managing matters. I also suspect they’d go out of their way to expose such arrogance for what it is by mounting their own, far superior operation.’

Ratratarn stared at her, his mind ticking over with the implications of what she was saying. If the Australians had plans to move against Kelly without involving the Chiang Mai police—he and his men would look like idiots. The press would have a field day, and the powers that be in Bangkok would use it as yet another excuse to undermine the local authorities.

‘I can tell you everything you need to know,’ she added quietly.

‘And why would you do that?’

She met his gaze squarely, all pretence of politeness gone. ‘Let’s talk again about that deal, shall we?’

Mark readjusted the pens in his pocket until he was confident the hidden camera would stay in place, checking the effect in the mirror. It was amazing, the technology these days. The camera was the size of a cigarette packet, the lens designed to look like an ordinary shirt button. He could operate it by remote control without taking his hand out of his trouser pocket.

‘The name’s Bond,’ he said to his reflection. ‘James Bond.’

He smoothed down his hair and straightened his shoulders. Then he laughed, mussed up his hair, extinguished the light and returned to the main room. He unlocked his guncase, ready to clean and load his weapon, when the phone rang.

‘Did you get my message this morning?’ Simone said, her voice shaky.

‘Yeah. Are you OK?’

‘Ah, yeah, I felt a bit sick earlier…must have been something I ate. But I’m fine now.’

‘Are you sure? I mean, maybe you shouldn’t come tonight—’

Mark hesitated, conscious of sounding too eager. He felt more uneasy than ever about letting Simone be part of this.

‘I’ll be there,’ she said firmly.

‘I could lose my job over this.’

There was a moment’s silence.

‘I’d never let that happen, my love.’

In spite of his misgivings, Mark flushed with pleasure. It was the first time she’d spoken to him with such tenderness.

‘OK, OK,’ he sighed. ‘We’ll stick with Plan A.’

She seemed satisfied, though something in her voice still didn’t sound right. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he said.

‘Absolutely!’ she said with sudden vehemence. ‘We’ll make our way there separately. What time are you planning to go inside the club?’

‘I need to get there before the cops. That means going in around eleven forty-five.’

‘So, will you meet me in the surveillance booth just before eleven-thirty?’

‘I wasn’t planning to—’

‘Please, Mark. You’ve made it clear that I have to get out of there as soon as the cops are in the club. But I’d really like to see you before…before it all happens.’

He thought about it for a moment. ‘Look, I’ll do my best to drop by the booth at half past eleven. Otherwise I’ll call you from Bangkok. The embassy’s organised a six o’clock charter flight for me to bring Kelly in. After that, we could…that is, I was hoping we could meet up again in Bangkok.’

‘Of course,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll just cross my fingers that I’ll be seeing you sooner rather than later.’

Despite the affection in her voice, Mark frowned as he hung up the phone. Simone sounded anxious, almost frightened. Even the first time they’d met, when he’d sprung her on surveillance, she hadn’t been afraid. Startled perhaps, but not frightened.

Mark resumed cleaning his gun, and prayed he wasn’t making the biggest mistake of his career. He resolved to meet her in the booth before he went inside the club—to reassure himself as much as her that everything was going to be all right.

J
ayne placed her camera on the shelf in the abandoned police booth, checked the view and adjusted the focus. She had to stay busy, keep her emotions at bay. She reached for her bottle and drank a mouthful of water. She’d come this far—she wasn’t going to panic now.

She poured some of the bottled water into her hand and doused her face. She recalled her meeting with Ratratarn and imagined she could still feel the spot where he’d pressed his gun. She splashed more water on her face and before she could stop, the bottle was empty and the front of her blouse soaked through. She stared at the empty plastic container in her hand, before flinging it into a corner of the booth.

‘Get a grip, Keeney!’ she said aloud.

She pulled at the front of her blouse. The dampness could probably pass as sweat. Then again, it was only just after eleven. With any luck her shirt would be dry by the time Mark arrived.

At the thought of Mark, Jayne groaned. She was used to being on the other side of the equation, the wronged party, not the one that did wrong. While she’d only exposed his operation as a last resort to bring Ratratarn around, she had betrayed Mark’s trust. And he’d never forgive her if he found out.

Jayne told herself that cutting a deal with Ratratarn was the only way any justice would be done. And if that meant sacrificing their relationship, then it was a small price to pay. But she knew she was kidding herself. She’d never even trusted Mark enough to tell him her real name.

She wiped her face with her damp blouse and checked her watch again. The following half-hour was critical. She had to get Mark into the booth and keep him there until Ratratarn and his men made their move—a margin of fifteen minutes at most. In her negotiations with Ratratarn, it was the least controversial point.

‘
Nae jai
, Khun Jayne,’ the lieutenant colonel had said with his reptilian smile. ‘I agree. It would be best if the Australian police agent wasn’t inside the premises when it is raided. It might cause a conflict—’ he paused for effect ‘—a conflict of interests, I mean. And no one wants any added complications.’

Mark glanced at the deserted street, before ducking into the booth where Simone was waiting, crouched by her camera.

‘Hey!’ he said in a low voice. ‘How are you—?’

Before he knew what was happening, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down towards her. Caught off-balance, he fell onto his knees, his mouth colliding with hers as she tried to kiss him.

‘Jesus, Simone!’ he hissed, pulling back and squatting on his haunches. ‘You’ve got a bloody lousy sense of timing.’

‘Sorry, Officer,’ she said with a grin.

She reached out a hand but Mark ignored it, swivelling out of reach to brush the dirt from his pants. ‘Honestly,’ he muttered, ‘what the hell were you thinking?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I’m nervous. It feels as if… as if there’s something strange going on tonight.’

‘What?’ He raised his head sharply. ‘What do you mean? Have you seen anything?’

‘Not exactly.’ She looked through the lens of her camera. ‘It’s more of a gut feeling…’ She turned back to him. ‘I don’t know, maybe it’s this weather. If the storm doesn’t break soon, I’m going to suffocate in this humidity.’

‘Yeah, well, we could sit and chat for hours about the weather,’ he said impatiently, ‘but we’ve got work to do.’

He started to rise to his feet, but Simone held up her hand.

‘What is it?’ he whispered.

‘Hang on…’ She looked through the camera again.

‘I can’t see anything,’ he said, peering through a gap in the slats.

‘I thought I heard something, but…no, it’s OK. What were you saying?’

Mark shook his head. ‘I don’t remember. Look, I have to get going. Are you all set?’

‘Yeah.’ She placed her hand over the camera. ‘Where’s your equipment?’

He patted his shirt pocket. ‘The lens is in the button.’

‘You’re kidding?’ she grinned. ‘That’s amazing, you must feel like James Bond.’

Mark managed a smile.

‘It didn’t get dislodged, did it?’ she added. ‘I mean, when I knocked you…’

She waved vaguely and Mark found himself growing impatient again. Frowning, he squatted with his back to the wall to check the camera was still in place, becoming aware of the sound of vehicles in the street.

‘What time is it?’

He looked up. Though she directed the question at him, Simone’s attention was fixed on her camera.

‘Eleven-forty,’ he said, glancing at his watch again.

‘Why?’

He saw her swallow, her face pale. ‘I think they’re early,’ she whispered.

‘Son of a bitch!’

Mark pivoted, peering through a gap in the woodwork to see two police cars pull up outside the Kitten Club.

‘Shit!’ He leapt up. ‘I’ve gotta get in there before they—’

With a strength that took him by surprise, Simone grabbed him by the wrist and jerked him back down again.

‘I don’t think they’re here for the pay-off,’ she hissed.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Look at them, Mark. There’s a whole squadron arriving!’

Police vehicles were flooding into the street in force, motorcycles and several vans in addition to the two squad cars, blocking off either side of the Kitten Club. There must have been around forty uniformed cops. Mark watched as they took up positions, some around the back of the building, others forming a barricade between the entrance and the street.

‘I don’t believe it!’ he groaned. ‘They’re going to raid the place.’

As he spoke, a man he recognised as the ringleader of the protection racket, Lieutenant Colonel Ratratarn, got out of one of the squad cars. Beside him was one of the other guys Simone had identified—the sergeant, Pornsak—his gun already drawn. Under Ratratarn’s orders, a group of about ten officers armed with rifles fell into line behind them.

Still crouched on the ground, Mark slowly drew his own weapon from the holster above his ankle.

‘Put that thing away!’

The fury in Simone’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

‘But,’ he said, ‘I’ve gotta go and—’

‘And do what?’ she hissed. ‘Look at the firepower out there. You go out waving a pistol in the air and—’

She stopped abruptly as two police officers scuttled across the road and crouched down within metres of where they were hiding, their rifles pointed at the club’s entrance. Another two flanked the front door. Simone was right: the situation was potentially explosive.

‘But I’ve gotta do something,’ Mark whispered.

His voice was drowned out by a cracking sound as Pornsak kicked in the door of the club. With Ratratarn at the helm, the troops surged forward and entered the place. A burst of music came from inside the club, before screaming and shattering glass drowned it out.

Seconds later, a panic-stricken group of patrons poured outside, only to be pounced on by the cops waiting for them. Most customers were middle-aged farangs — Australians, Germans, Dutch, Americans judging from their accents—though there was also a clutch of embarrassed- looking Japanese, one of whom dropped to his knees and had to be lifted into a waiting van by two police officers. A fit-looking man with white-blond hair made the mistake of resisting the officer who approached him, before the thrust of a rifle butt in the stomach brought him to heel. A punter who tried to escape by tumbling headfirst out of a side window found a gun barrel in his face.

As the men were seized, they were steered over to the police vans and bundled inside. Several were crying. Others frantically pulled their shirts over their heads to hide their faces. One American loudly protested his innocence and demanded to speak to his lawyer.