“So, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. What have you got for me?” he demanded in a tone that assumed failure and wanted Carl to know that he was expecting nothing but excuses. He was sweating profusely and his pasty white skin was quickly turning bright red in the sun. This was good news for hotel security. Carl wondered if they realized it.
Carl heard a beep from his phone telling him that a message had been received. He took his phone out and held it under the table away from the glare of the sun. He took his reading glasses from his pocket and perched them on the end of his nose. The message was from the hotel’s head of security. It said, ‘please call me when you get a chance.’
“Please excuse me for a moment. I need to answer this,” Carl told his client.
He typed in a reply that said, ‘I know what you want. Don’t know him well enough to criticize his taste in women. My guess is sunburn will get you the result you are hoping for.’
Carl put the phone away and carefully placed a blown-up picture sourced from Somchai Poochokdee’s Thai ID record on the table. Then beside it he put documents regarding structure and ownership of Las Vegas Real Estate. He turned the documents around so they faced the client. Then he added some digital printouts of pictures of the target’s office, home and car.
“The name he is using is Somchai Poochokdee. He took on this name when he became a Thai citizen in 1997. He got his Thai citizenship much faster than I have ever seen done by anybody before. He owns and operates a company called Las Vegas Real Estate. The office was on Phetchburi Road but was moved to Silom Road several years ago. I have a surveillance team mobilized and on him since yesterday. He lives in a large house in the suburbs of North Bangkok and is married with a teenage daughter. His wife is still a bit of a mystery but the team say she looks well educated and from a good family. They put her age at early forties. I am waiting on her family history. His travel records show frequent visits to Macau where he plays poker and my information is that he has been doing this for over a decade. He travels on a Thai passport.”
The client lifted the picture to within a few inches of his face and creased up the skin around his fat eyes to squint the picture into focus. He placed the sweat-drenched paper back on the table and became temporarily speechless. When he did attempt to speak it was mumbled and incoherent. He took a deep breath and said, “It’s him. That’s my brother. How did you do it?”
“I have my methods,” Carl answered trying to sound humble. Well, maybe he didn’t try that hard.
“What now?” the client asked.
Carl appeared to think for a while. In reality his pitch had been planned in the car on the drive over. For reasons he didn’t understand at the time, he had chosen not to mention that he was doing a background check in the USA.
“Surveillance to understand how he functions, telephone records to see who he talks to, general information sourcing to try to link him to the victims. I’m networking into the police investigation of the student murders. I cannot begin to tell you how dangerous it is to be seen to be interested in such an active high profile murder case. I’m trusting you will maintain secrecy until I have completed the investigation,” Carl told him in his professional voice.
“Good. Of course, I understand. To be totally honest I am too excited to think and will happily follow your advice. I’ll wait to hear from you again.”
Victor, the fat man, was dismissing him. It was a quick end to the meeting, which was very unusual under the circumstances, even with the danger of sunburn looming. Carl was usually able to anticipate how his clients would react to information and would structure his strategy accordingly. This was not something he had planned for.
“One more thing,” Carl said not getting up from the table. “Next time he goes to Macau I want to fly there and sit down at the game. I want to sit across from him without him knowing who I am. I want to look into his eyes and see what’s in there.”
“What will you need?”
“An additional ten thousand dollars should cover it.”
“It’ll be sent in the next half hour,” he said as he signalled the waiter for his bill.
Carl found the whole meeting curious, very curious indeed. The client’s agreement to his request came too easily for Carl’s liking. Alarm bells were going off in his head but he ignored them. He was going to Macau to play in a big poker game with a suspected serial killer. It sounded like too much fun for him to worry about a little thing like alarm bells in his head. The first lesson in surviving on the streets is how important it is to trust your instincts.
Carl said goodbye to the client and his semi-detached companion, got up from the table and walked past the poolside restaurant on his way to the swimming pool exit and the lifts. He winked at the security man as he walked past. The man smiled in embarrassment and reported Carl’s departure on his radio.
He took the lift to the basement where there was an unmarked door that took him into the head of security’s office. Jack Burke was at his desk in the windowless room studying the cryptic crossword in that morning’s Bangkok Post.
“Morning Jack,” Carl said as he took a seat.
Jack Burke looked up from his newspaper and smiled. “You’ve got strange friends Carl. It’s one of the things we like about you. Never a dull moment when Carl is around, we tell each other at morning meetings. The only thing is Carl, why the fuck do they all have to stay at our hotel?”
Jack had taken the queen’s shilling in his youth and served honourably for three decades. After retirement he had taken a long holiday in Thailand, where his straight back and military bearing had landed him the position as head of hotel security. Carl approved of him in spite of his habit of wearing short-sleeved white shirts and his regimental tie.
“You can’t put this one on me,” Carl told him, “he was already a guest here when I met him.”
“Client?”
“Possibly, I think he’s feeling me out. God knows I could do with one at the moment.”
Jack looked up from his crossword. “Been playing with a cold deck again, have you?”
“Something like that. Can you ask your boys to keep an eye on who visits him at the hotel? It would be useful to know if any lawyers or other PIs are sniffing around.”
“Sure Carl. They never mind doing you a favour.”
“Please let them know that I always appreciate it,” Carl said as he got up to leave.
“No problem,” Jack said as he got back to wrestling the crossword. “This one’s got me stymied; a meal fit for a prince or a rover? It’s two words.”
“We should get together at Paddy Murphy’s for a pint one night when the football’s on.”
“Look forward to it. You’re buying,” Jack told him without looking up from his paper.
“Dog food,” Carl told him as he went out the door.
The Porsche went quickly and noisily through the car park’s twists and turns. Its rumbling deep bass engine set off car alarms as it went past them. The red monster shot down the hotel ramp and into Bangkok gridlock. Carl patiently drove through the heavy traffic to his destination on the river, ducking in and out of lanes with great skill as Bangkok drivers are expected to do.
He arrived at River City shopping centre over an hour later. His car didn’t like daytime Bangkok traffic and its air-cooled engine suffered from the midday heat and lack of speed. The monster’s roar had become a whine and like a horse ridden too hard it needed a few hours of stabling.
River City was the antique market specializing in expensive furniture and Buddha amulets. It was located on the Bangkok side of the Chaophya River and catered to tourists and wealthy locals. Carl parked the tired Porsche on the third floor and entered through a door marked Fire Exit. He walked past the shops with their high-priced antiques to a Thai seafood restaurant with a view across the water to the Thonburi side. The other side of the river had always been the less expensive half of the city, as it did not cater to many foreigners.