“You never know, we might get a client.”
She pouted. “Whenever you say that no one come.”
And sure enough no one did. But at close to five my phone rang. “Vijay, now what are you up to?” It was my police captain friend, Mana. “At the moment, drumming my fingers on the desk to help Doi concentrate.”
“Don’t joke about, I’m serious. Who you annoy?”
“No one as far as I know.”
“Your work was supposed to be helping farangs with gem scams. You’re not supposed to trouble big people.”
“I didn’t think I was.”
“Someone phone my boss and make him nervous. Now he wants to know all about you. I’m supposed to check you have a work permit. You have one, right?”
“Not a totally up-to-date one.”
A heavy sigh came down the line. “Please tell me you at least have a visa.”
“Yup, that bit’s okay. But look, the only case I’ve got is finding a farang who’s gone missing. He’s no one special. Just some unemployed guy from London.”
“Who wants to find him?”
“A Thai woman.”
“The girlfriend?”
“No, it’s not like that. Just... someone who thinks he needs finding.”
“Vijay, look, I’m going to tell my boss everything’s okay. You’re lucky you live in my precinct, you know that? Remember, this is Thailand. You don’t make trouble for people at the top.”
I told Mana I wouldn’t, which was easier said than done considering I didn’t even know who this person was. All I did know was that I’d only given out two business cards, and it was for damn sure Colin Krasinsky did not have a hotline to the rich and famous. Which meant the man and woman who’d visited Mr. Wen had come back, and he’d told them about me. Or possibly, they’d told him to get in touch if anyone came asking. Either way, it had only taken a few hours for Mana’s boss, a chief inspector, to be at someone’s beck and call. The secret life of Anthony The Calculator was getting stranger and stranger.
The next morning I made it to Pantip Plaza before ten o’clock and hung around outside the tinted glass doors, waiting for them to open. When I got inside I found Malinee already there setting up her computer. Again she was in a serious business outfit — navy blue trouser suit — topped off by her dippy pink specs. I wondered if that particular look was supposed to say something about her, and if so, what.
She saw me and smiled. I decided to play the farang-in-trouble card, which among ordinary working people succeeds surprisingly often. It’s a part of Thai national pride and a part of Thai kindness to want that foreigners come here, enjoy themselves, then go home and speak well of the country. So I told her how Anthony was still missing and how people in England were worried. Perhaps if I could speak to Mr. Heinrich, that might help. I knew she wasn’t supposed to give away addresses, but this was an emergency. And he was Mr. Anthony’s friend, had paid for his registration, remember?
Eventually she agreed and searched it out. No backpacker hangouts for Heinrich, he was in the Amari Watergate, a short walk from Pantip. Very convenient and very expensive.
At the Amari reception desk I asked for Mr. Baushman’s room and phoned up. When I told him it was about Anthony, Heinrich said he’d come down immediately. I sank into a deep lobby armchair and enjoyed my surroundings — polished marble floor, high, chandeliered ceiling, bus-boys and waiters padding through the calm, air-conditioned hush. When Heinrich arrived he was in Bermuda shorts and a bright yellow silk shirt of Indonesian design.
I waved him over and introduced myself. Taking a seat opposite, he said, “This is strange. To my knowledge Anthony has never been in Thailand before. Who is this woman who takes an interest in him?”
“Just someone he met, someone who thinks he’s in trouble. What do you think?”
He sighed. “With Anthony, how can we know? But it is a pity.”
“And a waste of money, I’d have thought. Colin said you were going to help him with the plane ticket?”
“I paid half, two hundred and thirty-seven euros.”
“And what about the competition? Is there an entry fee?”
“I paid with my credit card. But if you have taken my address from the organizers, then perhaps you already know this fact.” I opened my hands and grinned. “Anthony did not have a card. In some ways he is not wholly of the modern world. But he promised to return something to me.”
“You believe him?”
Heinrich shrugged. “I do not care. I help him as a friend, and I help him for the realization of potential. He has the ability to be a great calculator, another Nakamura. But he must learn to compete.”
“Colin was saying something like that.”
Heinrich fingered his shirt. “This was not purchased from calculations. Neither my hotel room. I am a motivator, I liberate human potential. And you know, I am good at this. I have held seminars for Siemens, Mercedes, Beh-Meh-Veh. All these people I can motivate, but I cannot motivate Anthony.” He sat back. “What do we conclude from this?”
“Perhaps it’s because those people were competitors, like yourself, Heinrich.”
He nodded unhappily, and then said, “I want to know, who is this woman who wishes to help him?”
Walking back to Pantip past the mats on the pavement (plastic toys, children’s clothes, mobile-phone cases) and the food carts (fried chicken, gelatin sweets, freshly squeezed orange juice), I was starting to wonder about Atiya myself. After I finished with Heinrich I’d phoned her at work. She agreed to pay for a couple more days searching, which was pretty decent, all things considered. But I doubted she’d go much longer without some concrete results.
Inside the mall an audience had gathered. On the whiteboard it said quarterfinal. The stage was still empty, but off to one side a pear-shaped Chinese man was pacing like a boxer, his chunky fists clenching and unclenching. The emcee was there, again in high heels and another tight black body suit. I had a feeling that, for this particular audience, she was as much of a draw as the competition itself.
As soon as she saw me, Malinee waved me over. “You just miss Mr. Anntony’s friend.” She came out from behind her desk and walked me down past the stage. “He went... there.” She pointed to a guy in light blue jeans, sneakers, and a dark blue cotton shirt. As he turned, I saw a pair of aviator sunglasses hooked onto the front pocket. The Least Geek Geek competition had a winner. “Thanks, I’ll go and have a word. Just right now. Thanks.” I waited till she’d gone back to her desk, then followed him up the escalator to the second floor. He ignored the food court and took a brief, incurious stroll past the shops. When someone offered him a packet of porn CDs he grinned and patted the man’s shoulder, as though to say, you don’t think I can’t get the real thing? At the end of the corridor of shops he went out to the car park. I followed and watched him click his key fob to pulse the headlights of a black Toyota Fortuner. I scribbled the license plate on my palm and went back inside to phone Mana.
“Vijay, this had better not be the same case.”