Текст книги "The 38 Million Dollar Smile "

Автор книги: Richard Stevenson

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When General Yodying Supanant of the Royal Thai Police

declined to order all of the fourteenth floors in Bangkok

searched without payment in advance of the fifty-thousand-baht

fee he charged for this service – he called it a “gift” that would go toward a new wing for a Buddhist monastery in Ubon

Ratchathani – I rode with Pugh over to the ATM around the

corner from the Topmost with a Robinson’s Department Store

shopping bag Pugh had in his car. It took awhile for me to

repeatedly insert my MasterCard and extract a total of fifty

thousand baht from the machine, including time-outs to stand

aside politely and allow others who wished to use the ATM to

withdraw their more modest amounts.

Pugh sat nearby on a stool at an espresso stand and sipped

coffee from a tiny paper cup. Two young woman had set up

their own miniature Starbucks-like operation, about four feet by four feet, the electric coffeemaker powered by a cable that ran

up the side of a building and vanished into the fat spaghetti

maze of black wires strung just above the sidewalk along Rama

IV Road. I remembered Timmy’s story of one of the earliest

Peace Corps deaths. A volunteer was killed not by a wild animal

or an obscure tropical disease but by electrocution while playing poker with four Thais during a thunderstorm. I recalled this as a characteristically Thai way of dying prematurely, and now I

could add defenestration to any such list.

As Pugh sat watching me extract currency from a humming

and blinking machine on the side of a building, it occurred to

me that he might be wondering if he would be left in the lurch,

now that Ellen Griswold was about to sever my expense

account bounty. I assured Pugh that he would be paid, no

matter what. He said, “I only doubted that for a nanosecond.”

Detective Panu refused to participate in the delivery of the

“gift” to General Yodying – having made the initial setup calls, Panu then pointed out to me in a dignified tone that bribery

112 Richard Stevenson

was illegal in Thailand, and he had no intention of physically

handling the tainted bahts – so Pugh said he would make the

delivery. We swung by a police station on Sala Daeng Soi 1 and

Pugh pranced in with the shopping bag and out again in less

than a minute.

I said, “Will this guy follow through?”

“I believe so.”

“It’s a lot of money.”

“Is Yodying a crook? Without doubt. But for the moment

he is our crook, Khun Don. He’s what we’ve got.”

“Rufus, you’re so reassuring.”

We had used the scanner at the Internet café/seamstress

shop and e-mailed Timmy’s passport photo to the general.

Within a matter of hours, supposedly, a police sweep of all the

fourteenth floors in greater Bangkok would be undertaken.

Each cop would be armed with a picture of Timmy and a

description of Kawee down to the fuchsia toenails.

I said, “So, are there also six hundred judges issuing several

thousand search warrants for all those fourteenth-floor

apartments and offices?”

“No,” Pugh said. “You would have to pay extra for that. But

don’t sweat it.”

Pugh took a call from Jampen Noo, his field supervisor. She

told him the surveillance team was in place inside and outside

the Internet café in On Nut from which Griswold placed his

phone calls to Kawee. If Griswold showed up, they would

snatch him and hold him as unostentatiously as possible in a

van parked nearby until Pugh and I could get there.

Meanwhile, Pugh and I headed back over to Griswold’s

condo to look for the laptop computer Timmy said he and

Kawee had found in Griswold’s ground-floor storage bin. Mr.

Thomsatai greeted us with a deep and respectful wai and the

phoniest Thai smile I had ever witnessed. Why was this guy not

behind bars? That was going to have to wait, along with a

number of this case’s other nagging deferred matters.

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 113

We looked through the storage bin and found nothing there

of use. More art books. A couple of empty canvas travel bags

with Miami-Bangkok airline baggage tags still affixed. There was also what looked like a bike-riding helmet.

I asked Thomsatai, “Does Griswold have a bicycle?”

“Mr. Gary have bike. Good bike. Italian. But it is not here. I

think he took it to where he go.”

Pugh said, “I’ll tell my crew to watch for a possible arrival at the Internet café by bicycle.” He made a quick call and did so.

Up in the apartment, the rooms looked surprisingly

undisturbed, given that a forced abduction had taken place

there several hours earlier. Apparently Timmy and Kawee had

not put up a struggle. If the goons had guns – which they did,

according to both Thomsatai and the pistol-whipped security

guard – resistance would have made no sense. I didn’t know

about Kawee, but Timmy was nothing if not sensible.

To our amazement, a laptop computer lay on Griswold’s

desk. Presumably, this was the one Timmy and Kawee had

retrieved from the downstairs storage area. So, the kidnappers

seemed to want Griswold himself and not necessarily the kind

of information he stored in his computer. What did this mean?

Or, did the boneheads simply forget to bring the device along?

Pugh and I messed around with the MacBook Pro but

couldn’t come up with a password that would get the thing up

and running. We tried all the obvious stuff: Mango, and the earlier Thai boyfriends; plus Buddha; Dharma; Sangha; Griswold’s birth date; Toot Toot, Lou Horn’s art gallery; Algonquin; and a lot of other details from Griswold’s daily existence. We even tried

bicycle and cruising speed and past lives. Nothing worked.

Pugh said, “I know a guy who can get into this. I’ll call him.”

“How soon can he do it?”

“Soon.”

Pugh had the computer whiz on his speed dial and spoke to

him in rapid Thai.

114 Richard Stevenson

“How come the cops didn’t take the computer with them?”

I said. “This place isn’t even being treated as a crime scene.”

“Like I said, it’s a low-priority matter. A lady-boy and a

tourist.”

“Timmy warned me about this aspect of Thailand.”

Pugh said nothing, just indicated that I should take a seat

while he took care of something. I remained standing, though,

while he went over to Griswold’s shrine. A box of matches lay

nearby on a table, and Pugh used one to light several candles

and a couple of joss sticks in front of the shrine. He had one of the photos of Timmy that we had e-mailed to the police, and

Pugh leaned this picture against the shrine next to the candles

and the incense. He sat himself down on the straw mat in front

of the shrine, his legs crossed and back straight. He bowed his

head. The serene Buddha figure looked out at Pugh, its left

palm raised in the “do not be afraid” mudra.

I stood awkwardly for a few minutes, then walked over and

slid open the door to the terrace. The night heat slammed into

me, dulling my senses. I held on to the railing and looked down

at the parking lot and gardens far below. When I turned away

from this abyss, I noticed that a few leaves had fallen off the

orchid and azalea plants on the terrace, and I picked up the

leaves and dropped them into the crocks holding the flowers.

The watering can nearby was about half full, and I watered the

flowers and the bamboo plants.

When I reentered the apartment, Pugh was still seated

silently in front of the Buddha, the candles flickering and the

incense smoking up the room. I went over and sat down next to

Pugh, also in the lotus position. I felt a twinge of something in my back, so my position turned into something a little more

nasturtium-like. I sat there with Pugh for some minutes trying

to lose my fear, as Pugh apparently had done in the presence of

the Buddha. I envied Pugh and loved the way his connection to

a world far beyond the mundane gave him courage and clarity

of mind. Sitting there with him, I myself was much calmer now

than I had been earlier. But I was still scared to death.

§ § § § §

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 115

We waited for word of the police sweep of fourteenth floors

all over Bangkok in Pugh’s office on Surawong. At midnight,

the Sunday night traffic down below was still bumper-tobumper, though not so noisy as it might have been. I remembered how in the ’70s Bangkok streets were always

impossibly clogged and endlessly frustrating and how the Thais

nonetheless rarely honked their horns. To blare one’s horn

merely out of impatience was to demonstrate jai rawn, a hot temper – literally hot heart – and what every Thai aspired to

and valued above all was jai yen, a self-possessed inner being and a cool demeanor.

This was in contrast to the Vietnamese in Saigon who leaned

on their car and motorbike horns nonstop and seemed always

intent on trying to run one another off the road and smashing

to bits a few pedestrians while they were at it. Later, when I

thought back about Vietnamese driving styles – rude, cunning,

tenacious – it did not surprise me at all that these people had

won the war.

Pugh had had some rice and duck red curry with pineapple

sent up, so I ate that wondering if Timmy and Kawee were

eating as well. I supposed they were. Even the most sadistic

Thai kidnappers, I guessed, would value good food and not

think of depriving their captives of some flavorsome tom kha

gai before throwing them over the railing of an upper-floor

balcony.

Pugh’s third-floor office was not far from Patpong, home to

many of Bangkok’s famous pussy shows, and it was across Tha

Surawong from the entrance to Soi Pratuchai, a street of gay

bars and fuck shows. Pugh said that when Timmy was free, he

and I could drop by the Dream Boys Club and watch a show

that was nearly identical to the Ziegfeld Follies of 1928, except the cast was all male and the performances involved the use of

much more lubricant than was probably common in the

Ziegfeld era.

Just after midnight, Pugh checked with his contact in

General Yodying’s office and learned that the sweep had been

ongoing for over three hours but so far no trace of Timmy or

116 Richard Stevenson

Kawee had been found. Residential buildings had been checked

first; banging on the doors of residents after bedtime would not go over well and, Pugh said, might have cost me twice the fifty

thousand baht I and the taxpayers of Thailand were expending

on the operation. Fourteenth floors in hotels had also been

checked, to no avail. Now office buildings were being combed

with the help of the security services that watched over them.

I said to Pugh, “But what if some of these private security

guys are working with the kidnappers? They’ll alert the captors, or even cover up their locations. Then what?”

“It’s a risk we run,” Pugh said. “No dragnet is ever perfect.

Yodying is relying on the surprise element, but it’s not

foolproof. Another possible loophole is this: many Thais of the

upper social strata are likely to tell the cops doing the searching to sod off. There are many homes the police simply will not get

inside of. We have to assume, however, that Timmy and Kawee

are not being held captive in the apartments of Jack and Jackie, or of any real estate magnates or media tycoons.”

“Really? Why should we assume that? Do Thai rich people

have more delicate sensibilities than the American rich or the

Estonian rich? I’ll bet not.”

“More refined, no. But careful, yes. Many layers of

personnel separate Thai criminals in high places from Thai

criminals at the operational level. I think, perhaps, that this type of arrangement is not all that unusual in much of the USA, is it, Mr. Don? New Jersey may be a little cruder and more direct

than that. But even in Atlantic City the concept of plausible

deniability is probably not unknown.”

“Rufus, now you’re making me nervous. Maybe this whole

search is a waste of time. And a very expensive waste of time, at that. Jesus.”

Pugh was behind his desk surrounded by rack after rack of

computer discs. He had a couple of racks of music CDs, too,

much of it Thai pop, a bit of Schubert lieder, some American

C&W – Roy Orbison, Waylon Jennings, Patsy Cline. He said,

“We have to explore every avenue open to us, Mr. Don. Do we

not? We’re covering the Internet café that Griswold uses. And

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 117

tomorrow we can cover Kawee’s apartment and the whiskey

seller where Griswold’s cash delivery moto-man makes his

normal early-in-the-week drop-off for Kawee. Griswold’s

desktop may also yield up some answers, and we should hear

from Khun Thunska, my computer guy, soon after sunrise on

that particular front. There is also this to consider: the

kidnappers will undoubtedly contact you again to arrange for

the swap of Griswold for Timothy and Kawee. At that point,

you might be able to convince them that we have been unable

to locate Griswold but that we are busting our asses to do so,

and can we have a little more time? So while uncertainty

remains a constant, we know what we know. I do, of course,

understand why you are fearful, but I want to tell you, Mr. Don, that hope springs eternal in this particular human breast, and we are a long way from being totally fucked.”

At one a.m., we sent out for more curry. The restaurants

were closed by now, but a street stall over on Silom, under the

SkyTrain station, had some deep-fried water buffalo gums in a

hot sauce that one of Pugh’s crew thought we would enjoy.

While I ate, I tried Ellen Griswold again. She did not answer

her phone, but this time I left a message. I said, “I received your e-mail firing me. Thanks for giving me some leeway in my

return-to-Albany plans. That’s nice, because we haven’t seen the Emerald Buddha yet. Meanwhile, get this, Ellen: Timmy has

been kidnapped by some very bad people who are after your ex-

husband, and I need to talk with him immediately. Do you

understand what I am saying, Ellen? Please explain this to Gary

and tell him here’s how he can reach me. You got Timmy and

me into this, and now I am counting on you to help get us out

of it. Please call me right away and tell me what you are going to do to help.” I gave her my Thai mobile phone number.

I told Pugh what Bob Chicarelli had told me about the

Albany Griswolds’ sudden financial crisis.

“Interesting,” he said.

“It is.”

118 Richard Stevenson

“The Griswolds may have seen this coming and were afraid

Mr. Gary was going to lose his family boodle at the exact same

moment theirs was in jeopardy.”

“This occurred to me. Except, if that’s true, then why have

they called me off? They would want more than ever for Gary

and his thirty-eight mil to remain intact and possibly available to save the family name and fortune. Not that Gary would

necessarily be eager to be helpful. He and his brother were not

close at all, and there was some actual bad blood, according to

Gary’s Key West friends.”

“Griswold family ill will, or even strife, is yet another

element that perhaps we should pay some attention to,” Pugh

said.

I agreed that we should just as Pugh’s cell phone rang. He

listened and said a few things in Thai. Holding the phone

against his chest, Pugh said to me, “This is Captain Pirom,

representing General Yodying. Regrettably, the police have had

no success in ferreting out the captives. The search was not,

however, as thorough as the general would have preferred. He

is willing to do a second sweep in the morning of all the

fourteenth floors in Bangkok. But this will tie up many

resources, the captain says, so a second payment is being

requested. They want twenty-five thousand baht. I am meant to

tell you that because you are a repeat customer, that’s a fifty

percent discount.” Pugh looked forlorn. “What should I tell the

captain?” he said.

I leaned forward and peered into my fried water buffalo

gums. I heard a voice in my head saying, “Now do you believe me?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I woke up in need of a toothbrush, but it looked like a swig

of hot sauce was going to have to do. I had slept for four hours next to Pugh on the straw mat on his office floor. I had dreams

of falling, and I didn’t think the dreams were symbolic.

Two of Pugh’s staff – a muscular, elaborately tattooed

young man named Ek and a middle-aged woman named Aroon

who carried a bronze figurine of King Chulalongkorn in her

shoulder holster – had slept on the floor in an outer office,

and I greeted them as I went out to use the bathroom. Being

Thai, they smiled. The tiny lavatory had a toilet, a washbowl,

and a miniature shower in it. I tossed my sweaty clothes out the door and used all three appliances. I also borrowed somebody’s

toothbrush and honey-flavored Colgate, which wasn’t all that

bad.

Pugh had sent someone over to Starbucks on Silom for

coffee for all of us, and while Ek and Aroon took turns using

the shower, Pugh checked in with his surveillance teams. They

said there had been no sign of Griswold. A call to the cops

produced nothing new either. Pugh showered while I examined

the shrine in the corner of his office – gold leaf had been

freshly applied to the Buddha figure on the platform – and

watched the Monday morning traffic build up down below on

Surawong. Pugh came back looking neat and fresh, as if just

back from a month in the Swiss Alps. I had never seen a Thai

looking dirty or rumpled. The entire population of sixty million always appeared freshly ironed, and they were peculiarly

odorless despite the heat. The Thais had a lot of water and they used it.

After Pugh hung up with the police, I said, “You know,

maybe the kidnappers were smart enough to suspect we might

have every fourteenth floor in Bangkok searched, so they’re

holding Timmy and Kawee on the thirteenth floor somewhere.

If so, this is all a waste of time and our only hope is to find

120 Richard Stevenson

Griswold and make the trade. Or at least find him and find out

who these people are that he’s gotten so pissed off, and then go after them as fast as we can.”

“There are no thirteenth floors in Bangkok,” Pugh said.

“All right, then, fifteenth. At least they didn’t say ninth floor.

I suppose all tall buildings in Thailand have no thirteenth floors and instead have five ninth floors, increasing the amount of

good luck available to the population.”

Pugh laughed. “Mr. Don, you seem bemused by our being a

superstitious people.”

“I guess I am. But nothing more than bemused. It’s not

condescension, I don’t think.”

“I’d say it is exactly that, but never mind. As I recall,

buildings in New York City don’t have thirteenth floors either.”

“I am bemused by that also.”

“And additionally, I suppose, by knocking on wood and

avoiding black cats and keeping one’s fingers crossed and not

stepping on a crack so as to avoid breaking one’s dear mother’s

back.”

“All hokum. Tell me, Rufus. What happens to all those

thirteenth floors that are left out of the tall buildings in

Bangkok? Are the construction materials divided up among the

government building inspectors for resale and monthly

bonuses?”

He laughed. “No, we ship all the unlucky thirteenth floors to

our impoverished neighbors the Cambodians. This might help

explain their unfortunate history.”

“Another flaw in this whole operation,” I said, “is the

likelihood that the kidnappers have their own police sources

who have alerted them that a search of fourteenth floors is

under way and they have simply moved Timmy and Kawee to

any other high floor. Even if they didn’t anticipate a dragnet,

isn’t it likely that friends in high places would have alerted

them?”

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 121

“This is possible, though General Yodying is an honorable

man who would do his best to protect your investment. I know

he planned on deploying his forces and only informing them at

the very last moment what their mission was to be.”

Miss Aroon poked her head in and said that Khun Thunska,

Pugh’s computer specialist, was on his way over and would

arrive shortly.

“Why isn’t he phoning?” I asked. “Can we assume he didn’t

find anything useful on the laptop?”

“Perhaps he wants to show us something and explain it.”

Now my cell phone rang. Was it Timmy? Or was it the

kidnappers, with instructions for the swap we were in no

position to carry out? Pugh watched me open the phone.

“Hello?”

“Don, it’s Ellen Griswold. Can you hear me?”

“Perfectly. Thanks for getting back to me so fast, Ellen.”

“God, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that this has

all turned into such an incredible fiasco. Your boyfriend has

actually been kidnapped?”

I briefly described the events of the past twenty-four hours.

“They’re holding this young Thai man, Kawee, too. A friend of

Gary’s. So we need to talk to Gary fast. How can we do that?”

“Oh, bollocks, I wish I knew. Gary called me on Saturday night, and said he’d heard from somebody that you had been to

his apartment and were looking for him, and to please call off

the dogs – that would be you – because he was perfectly fine,

he said. He’s just meditating for a year to recover from a series of unlucky love affairs, and you were interfering with his

concentration. I have to say, I was not entirely convinced that

he wasn’t concocting a whole line of BS about meditating for

such a long time. I’ve heard of people going off to a cave,

literally or figuratively, and doing it for a month. But a whole year? Anyway, I felt I had to take him at his word that you would be making trouble for him somehow. I mean, he didn’t

sound at all frightened or upset. So that’s when I e-mailed you.

But now it looks like he really is in trouble, and God, now your 122 Richard Stevenson

Timothy is too. How perfectly awful! I am so, so sorry, Don.

So, what are you going to do?”

I didn’t think she was making this up as she went. It was silly

enough, but in its inane way it was too pat. I guessed she was

referring to notes she had made. I said, “So, Gary phoned you?

Where was he calling from?”

“He didn’t say. And I didn’t think to get a number. I was so

startled to hear his voice, and so relieved.”

“Did he say he would call again?”

“No, but it sounded as if he would eventually. He was

emphatic in telling me not to worry.”

“Who told him I was looking for him? Think about this. It’s

important.”

“Just a minute.” Now her voice was distant: “Amanda, no,

you may not ride into Albany with Josh. You are not to get into Josh’s car at all. Ever. Now, I said I would take you later. No, no. And don’t use that language with me!” To me: “Don, can I

call you back? This is all getting to be way too much!”

“No, Ellen, you cannot call me back. We have to talk now.

What we have here is a life-or-death situation. Do you hear

what I’m saying?”

“Yes, I hear you, Don.” Distant again. “No, no, I said no,

and no means no!” I heard a shriek in the background, as if

intruders had broken in and shot someone. “Oh, goddamn it.”

I said, “I have to ask you this again. I need very badly to

know this. Who told Gary I was looking for him? Did he tell

you this?”

“No, he didn’t. And I didn’t think to ask, not realizing at the

time it might become important. Oh God, she is impossible. Are you and Timothy raising children, Don?”

“No.”

“Listen, I do apologize. It’s not that I don’t understand that

what you’re going through is so much worse than anything I

have to deal with here on boring old Elm Court Drive. It’s just

that I think I’ve told you everything I know. And if Gary calls

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 123

again anytime soon, I’ll make it clear to him that he must

contact you immediately and impress on him just how urgent

the situation is.”

“You didn’t give him my cell phone number when he

called?”

“No, I didn’t have it yet, I don’t think.”

“That’s true. What I want to ask you to help me out with,

Ellen, is this. I wish to continue in your employ until I get

Timmy back at least. There are some expenses I’m running up

in connection with his being released.”

“What? Ransom? You’re paying ransom?”

“No, they don’t want money. They want Gary. Whoever the

kidnappers are, they have offered to release Timmy and Kawee

in exchange for our handing over Gary.”

“Oh, good God. Well, you wouldn’t do that, would you?”

“What I’m doing is, I’m working hard to get everybody’s ass

out of the fire intact. That is my intention. But I’m running up my accounts. For instance, we had to arrange for a search of a

number of buildings in Bangkok, and it cost money.”

“Well, just make sure you get receipts.”

“Sure.”

“And keep your costs down as low as you can. My cash flow

situation is rather wobbly at the moment.”

“Yeah, well, so is mine.”

“Aren’t the police involved? If someone is kidnapped, why

not rely on the police instead of hiring private security at an

extortionate rate?”

“In Thailand, it’s complicated in that regard. Anyway, once I

get hold of Gary” – I didn’t add and wring his neck – “perhaps he can be persuaded to pitch in and help cover expenses. After

all, it’s his disappearance, so-called, that got me into this

sulfurous quagmire in the first place.”

“God, now I feel terrible about getting you mixed up in one

of my family’s typical messes. Listen, just do whatever you can

124 Richard Stevenson

to get Timothy safely back with you. That’s the important thing.

And that poor Thai man too. Have the kidnappers threatened

them in any way?”

“Yes, they have. So I need your ex-husband’s help as soon

as possible. There’s a deadline, which is later tomorrow. Gary

will know who these people are, we can reasonably assume, and

perhaps know where to find them. So I do need to talk to him,

and fast.”

“Well, I have total confidence in you, Don. Bob Chicarelli

said you were a bit of a pain in the rear end sometimes but

totally committed to whatever you took on and totally

professional. You’ll know what to do, if anybody will. Good

luck, and do keep me posted. So, it sounds like you should have

everything more or less under control by later tomorrow?”

“I certainly hope so, Ellen.”

“I’ll wait for your report.”

I rang off and told Pugh what Ellen had told me.

“She’s a doozy of a client,” Pugh said. “How much did you

get up front?”

“Ten K. But the plane tickets were forty-four hundred. So

with the bribes to your police department, I’m already in the

hole over nineteen thousand dollars. Plus what I owe you.

Griswold’s thirty-eight mil had better be largely intact.

Southeast Asia is supposed to be such a bargain tourist

destination. What am I doing wrong, Rufus?”

Grinning, Pugh said, “You’ve had a run of bad luck, Mr.

Don, and you are defenseless in the face of it. Like most

farangs, you rely solely on your brainpower and your financial

assets, both of which are finite. I’m doing everything I can to

compensate for your limitations, however, and between the two

of us we’re going to pull the rabbit out of the hat. So, do not

despair, my friend, do not despair.”

I looked at Pugh and said, “Rufus, I have no idea what

you’re talking about.”

He guffawed. “You must be amazed that Thailand functions

at all.”

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 125

Miss Aroon came in leading another man into the office,

and Pugh got up to greet him, smiling and bowing and wai-ing.

Thunska Rujawongsanti, the computer consultant, was small

and round, and appeared to be somewhere between the ages of

fourteen and fifty-eight. He looked more Chinese than Thai. I

knew that there had been a certain amount of intermarriage

since the nineteenth century, when the Chinese began arriving

in Siam in great numbers to – as a Chinese-Thai journalist had

once explained it to me – teach the Thais how to count.

Khun Thunska had Griswold’s laptop with him and opened

it on Pugh’s desk.

“So, what was the password?” I asked.

Thunska shrugged. “I have no idea. We just dispensed with

that type of foolishness and spoke to this little honey of a Mac on a higher plane. It never knew what hit it.”

I gave Pugh an Is-this-guy-putting-me-on? look, and he said,

“No Thai juju was involved. Just some trade secrets and

perhaps some Johnny Walker for a Mac company representative

in Singapore.”

Thunska acted as if he hadn’t heard this. He was busy juicing

up the Mac. He quickly produced an image on the screen and

said, “I wanted you to lay eyes on this. I would have phoned it

in, but you have to see this to believe it.”

“Who is it?” I asked. “The foreigner appears to be Gary

Griswold. But who are the Thais? One does look familiar.”

Pugh said, “Oh, baby.”

The photo was of three men standing with drinks in their

hands on the balcony of an apartment. They were casually but

elegantly dressed, and they were relaxed and smiling. The digital image seemed to be of an unremarkable social occasion until

Pugh identified the two men standing with Griswold.

“The man on Griswold’s left is former Minister of Finance

Anant na Ayudhaya. He was removed from office in the coup

last year but is generally understood to control the ministry

under the current restored nominally democratic government.

The man on Griswold’s right is the one whose photo you have

126 Richard Stevenson

perhaps seen, Mr. Don. It is Khun Khunathip, the esteemed

fortune-teller who fatally went over a high railing just two days ago. Perhaps it was the very railing he is leaning against in this photo.”

“I believe, yes, that that is the unlucky railing,” Thunska

said. “You can make out the Westin Grande in the background,

suggesting that this photo was indeed taken in Khun

Khunathip’s apartment in Sukhumvit.”

I said, “This is big stuff, no? Shouldn’t the police be told

about this?”

Pugh and Thunska exchanged quick glances, and Pugh said

to me, “Mr. Don, you are half right.”