“I get the point. The world has come a long way since then, right?” She leans back, sinking down into the seat like a kid.
“Muay Thai really came into its own in the seventies when martial arts black belts from Japan, Taiwan and Hong Kong challenged our boys. The cream of karate, kung fu, judo and all the others came over for a grand tournament.” I pause for effect.
“Okay, I’m hooked. What happened? I guess the other guys lost, or you wouldn’t have that look on your face.”
“None of the other guys lasted a full minute in the ring with a Thai boxer. They just weren’t used to being kicked in the face. Our boys get kicked in the face from the age of six, when they first start to train. The other guys looked more like dancing masters than fighters.”
“Let me guess the moral. Don’t mess with a Thai, right?”
“It’s a mistake to make us mad.”
We fall into silence for a full five minutes. My mood starts to revert.
“Want to talk about it?” Jones asks without looking at me. “In the States we always say it’s good to talk about things that are weighing on your mind. I’ll be straight with you, Sonchai, you really freaked out Tod Rosen with your little comment when you first met him. He would feel a lot better if you and I got to know each other.”
“I did? Did I make some social faux pas?”
“You said you were going to snuff out whoever was responsible for the death of your partner. That didn’t matter so much when it looked like a local gangland murder. Now that the hallowed name of Sylvester Warren has come up, Tod’s nervous.”
“Do American cells have windows?”
“You don’t give a shit, do you? I’ve never yet met a man I couldn’t figure out. But you…” She shakes her head.
“I think Rosen is nervous about many things. Why is he here? Bangkok isn’t exactly a good career move for a man like him. He screwed up, didn’t he?”
“His third marriage failed and he developed a drinking problem. He’s a good man, very fair, and people like to work for him.”
“And Nape?”
“Nape? Jack Nape is one of those Western men who arrive in Bangkok one day and by the next have vowed never to leave. I guess you could call him a refugee from feminism. He married a local woman, and the minute the Bureau recalls him Stateside is the minute he resigns. He’ll probably get a job with some American law firm with an office here. He’s very bright, knows a lot about your country. They say his Thai isn’t bad.”
I do not explain that Rosen was a doctor last time around, who suffered an appalling nervous breakdown which he is still trying to deal with. Nape was a woman, a housewife who poisoned her husband. Jones was a man, a gangster and womanizer of enormous appetite. He was the one Nape poisoned, which is why they have come across each other again this time around, with much of the previous hostility.
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Why have you changed your image? I thought you were committed to American pie?”
A hostile look from Jones. “You want to know? I got tired of being invisible in this damn town. Girls have egos, that’s the main message of the twenty-first century, so better get used to it.”
“You weren’t turning any heads?”
A smoldering pause. “I don’t entirely blame the Western men over here. I met Nape’s wife last night. She’s stunning and walks like her parents paid a million dollars for comportment classes. But then, most of the women here move like that, don’t they? Even the ones with no education at all.”
“Have the haircut and the T-shirt helped?”
“Nope. Can we talk about you now?”
“I’m a career inadequate. Ask my Colonel. In ten years I’ve made no useful contribution to the force.”
“You feel guilty about not taking bribes?”
“You must understand, the Royal Thai Police Force has always been way ahead of its time. It’s run like a modern industry, every cop is a profit center.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about that. I guess a cop enjoys immunity from prosecution for just about everything, right?”
I have to think about that one. “Cops giving evidence against cops in open court would not be good for the esprit de corps. Transgressions are dealt with internally.”
“Oh yeah? What happens to the bad apples, they’re barred from taking bribes for a week?”
“Something like that, unless they’re really bad.” I’ve piqued her interest. She smells blood and a damn good story for the guys back home.
“C’mon, let me have it, what medieval punishment for the ones who really piss off the colonels?”
“Mandatory suicide,” I mutter. “We are a gentlemanly service and extreme transgressors are expected to act like men, after due process.”
“A kangaroo court?”
An image flashes before my mind. I’m not the type who is normally invited to these secret proceedings. It has only happened to me once: a somber mood in a large bare room full of chairs, cops of all ranks selected from every district in Krung Thep, a very scared sergeant sitting in the defendant’s chair, a small table in front of him with a service revolver and a glass of water. I want to change the subject. “It’s not all bad. Take a young farang who’s caught with some ganja. He pays five thousand baht to the cop who caught him, which is a reasonable sum. He gets off with a lesson and a fright. If he were prosecuted and sent to jail in Bang Kwan, his life would certainly be ruined. He would risk all kinds of diseases, probably incur a serious drug addiction. Our system is humane and compassionate. It is also cost effective. The cop receives a bonus without any extra burden on the taxpayer. Police salaries have been at starvation level forever.”
Jones cannot decide if I’m serious or not. “Well, that’s a long way from the American viewpoint. It’s a given that our laws are applied evenly to every citizen-the alternative is total sleaze.”
“In that case, why aren’t we investigating Sylvester Warren?”
Her head snaps away and she is looking out the window. “Cute, aren’t you?”
A long silence. Finally, she slowly turns her head back toward me. “Actually, that’s exactly what we’re doing. Only don’t tell anyone.”
32
We are sliding past the American embassy on Wireless Road in moderate traffic, heading toward Lumpini. Jones and I both spare a glance at the thick white walls. It was the King’s birthday a few days ago, and one of the gates to the embassy carries a banner which reads LONG LIVE THE KING. It’s the kind of touch we appreciate from Uncle Sam.
Jones shifts her gaze away from the embassy. “Every time anyone dusts off the file on Warren, Warren himself gets to hear about it. Pressure and heat. Memos and e-mails demanding to know why resources are being wasted on a case consisting of innuendo and gossip. Once a station chief was shifted sideways. But we have our cops of integrity, just like you. A small team is secretly dedicated to the Warren case. That’s why I’m here. Rosen doesn’t know, neither does Nape. They think I screwed up somewhere and got myself a punishment posting. That’s fine. That’s what I want them to think. So don’t you open your mouth. I’m telling you because you’re going to help me. I’ve spent a chunk of my career on this and it’s going to get me promotion. I know all about Warren and his jade.”
“Tell me.”
“Does the name Barbara Hutton mean anything to you? How about Woolworth? Her daddy built the tallest skyscraper in Manhattan until Chrysler went higher. The Sassoons? They were very big in Shanghai before the Chinese revolution. The list is almost endless and includes Madame Chiang Kai-shek, Edda Ciano, who was Benito Mussolini’s daughter, Edwina Mountbatten, the mother of the Queen of England, all the way up to Henry Pu Yi. You’ve heard of him?” I shake my head. “Better known as the last Emperor of China.” A reverent pause. “What do all these people have in common? They were major players in global finance before anyone called it that. They were the swinging thirties, the roaring forties. And they started a new fashion in gems. Before them only the Chinese and a few Western specialists really appreciated jade. After them, if you didn’t have at least a few pieces of ‘the stone of heaven’ to flash at dinner parties, you didn’t get invited to the dinner parties. Of course, they’re all dead now, or too old to care about jade, but jade was their passion, it was a common theme. You can’t look into their private lives without it leaping out at you. And they all have heirs, who are pretty damned old themselves.