Black Tiger (38 page)

Prachin grumbled. ‘Don’t leave the thing there, stupid! Go and chuck it in a khlong!’

He scuttled back into the club. Archin shrugged off the suggestion and lumbered toward the street. He had almost reached it when he heard the sound of running footsteps and froze, growling.

Raven pushed past the doorman, hurried through the front door, and broke into a run as he rounded the corner into the back alley. It was darker there, and in his haste he did not see Waddle until he tripped over him. The impact brought him to his knees on the filthy concrete. He recognised Waddle at once. His body was warm, but he did not appear to be breathing. Raven found his own hands were already covered with blood, sticky and tepid. He felt around under Waddle’s collar for any sign of a pulse. He shouted the man’s name into his face, his urgency increasing as Waddle failed to respond. He did not hear Archin return.

Archin had been trained not to cut without orders. He did not need his blade for this simple clean-up operation. His left hand hooked under Raven’s jaw and lifted his head into the path of his right fist, which descended, bulky as a jackfruit. The blow almost snapped Raven’s neck.

Archin did not wait to find out whether it had or not. He let Raven’s limp body drop on top of the other foreigner and left the scene at a shambling run.

Siegfried stopped dancing abruptly, slipped modestly through his applauding audience, and followed Prachin into what passed for a toilet at the Smart Cat Key Club. He kicked the cubicle door shut and bolted it behind them.

‘Where is he? What have you done with him?’

Prachin rolled his eyes and coughed nervously. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Siegfried raised his walking stick horizontally like a bar and pressed it up under Prachin’s chin and across his windpipe, jamming the boy’s head roughly against the wooden partition. Prachin gasped for air and tried to kick out, but Siegfried was too quick for him. He kept the pressure on.

‘Enough? Lift your hand when it is enough!’ Siegfried hissed, tightening his grip. Prachin raised a feeble hand. He had tears in his eyes. Siegfried removed the stick and the boy sank to a squatting position well away from the noxious hole in the floor, and as far as he could get from Siegfried. He rubbed his throat delicately. An ugly red mark was spreading.

‘Damn you, Siegfried!’

‘Where is the foreigner, you sow sucker?’ He lifted his cane warningly and the boy raised his hands to protect himself.

‘In the alley, Siegfried—he went to pee in the alley!’

Siegfried moved fast. What he saw in the alley caused him to leave the establishment without waiting. He hailed a taxi on the main street and removed himself from the neighbourhood as fast as the old Datsun could go. He strolled casually onto the terrace of the Erawan Hotel, sat at a poolside table, and asked for a telephone to be brought to him. He phoned van Hooten’s secure line, spoke briefly, and then ordered tea. His hands were shaking as he lit his joint, and he saw to his annoyance that he had broken one of his long, polished fingernails. He leaned back against the chaise longue and watched the late-night revellers splashing in the blue-tinted pool.

The Erawan Hotel never slept. The night was fragrant with the scent of flowers, and the aroma of Siegfried’s first-quality grass blended agreeably with the soft air.

Chee Laan Lee

It had been two days since Salikaa’s wedding. Thinking of Salikaa, and Toom, and then of Raven, I went to bed enervated and oddly depressed. I tried to read but the ideograms swam in front of my eyes. Then I tried to sleep, but I was restless and wakeful. Toward dawn I fell into a troubled slumber. It was from this uneasy sleep that Ah Lee roused me, knocking gently as she always did, trying not to startle me awake before my spirit had time to return to my body.

‘American, he telephone you.’ The hour was mercilessly early, the caller unexpected, but Ah Lee’s wise old monkey face betrayed no emotion.

I took the call. ‘Chee Laan Lee.’

‘My apologies for ringing you at such an hour, ma’am,’ General van Hooten said earnestly. ‘Fact is, there’s been a little trouble. Dr Raven…’

‘What has happened? Is he hurt?’ I only wondered much later why the American was contacting me instead of helping Raven himself. ‘He’s not dead, is he?’ I whispered, horrified to imagine what I would do if he replied in the affirmative.

‘No, no, no, Dr Raven’s going to be just fine, ma’am. He just fell afoul of some thugs. They were after his wallet, probably. The truth is, this is kind of delicate, but the fact is, it might be best if a local friend were to collect Dr Raven before the police arrive on the scene. Matters tend to get a mite complicated once there’s official involvement. Simple is best in my experience, ma’am.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s in an alleyway at the back of an establishment called the Smart Cat Key Club. Chinatown.’

‘I can find it,’ I said. Then another thought struck me. ‘Why are you ringing me? Why didn’t Raven ring himself?’

‘Well, my information is that he’s not really in a condition to do that at the present time, ma’am. You see, he’s still unconscious.’

Van Hooten rang off, leaving me staring at the wall, momentarily dazed. Then I leapt to my feet and ran. I dressed quickly and in a few minutes I was driving grandmother’s Mercedes toward the gates. The old gatekeeper stared at me in amazement, and I wished I could have taken him and the garden boy along to help—but I couldn’t afford to, for I knew they would report everything to
Tsu mu
before the day was out.

Even at this hour the traffic was building up, but at last I swung the big car up over the broken kerb and into the narrow lane at the back of the Key Club. A small group of men was standing around looking at Raven, who lay motionless in the dust amid the garbage. I fought down my fear, turned off the engine, and rolled down the window. I spoke loudly but calmly, without looking at anyone in particular.

‘Whoever has his wallet, please give it here. And his watch, too.’

I could sense them staring. They stood in shocked silence. I rapped my fingers on the side of the car and held a large denomination note out for all to see.

‘Now, please!’ I said sharply. I did not let my voice tremble.

They stared, sullen and unmoving. Then someone said: ‘It is the First Granddaughter of the Honourable Old Lady!’

‘Lee, the Lee family,’ I heard the murmurs, and now they stirred, and suddenly Raven’s wallet and watch were passed through the crowd by willing hands until the nearest man handed them to me.

I took them, locked them in the glove compartment, and stepped out of the car. Now I looked around at the faces and smiled. ‘Thank you all,’ I said in Taechew, giving a Chinese gesture of greeting. ‘Thank you all, good people, for taking care of the foreigner’s possessions for him while he was ill, for saving his valuables from others less honest than yourselves.’ I thanked all the gods that whoever had mugged Raven had had the grace to do it in Chinatown.

I handed the note to a dignified old man with an honest face. ‘Uncle, see these good people are compensated for their trouble,’ I said. ‘Now, complete your good deeds! Help me lift this foreigner into the car!’

There was quite a lot of blood on his face and his clothes, and his thick, dark hair was matted with it. I went close and stood looking at him. I did not allow myself to touch him, and he did not open his eyes. I don’t think he knew I was there. Some men began to lift him, and I heard him swear and groan, and then he said in a surprisingly strong, irritated voice, ‘For God’s sake, let me sleep!’ and I felt less anxious. I opened the back door and three men lifted him carefully in and laid him on the seat, half sitting, half lying flat. I propped an embroidered cushion under his head and he opened one eye and tried to smile. My heart leapt. I thanked my helpers. Some of them ran to the end of the
soi
to see me out as I gingerly backed the car into the crowded street.

When I arrived at Dr Pien’s clinic, half-naked street urchins gathered around the car immediately. ‘You,’ I said to the most alert, ‘you’re in charge. You can sit on the bonnet and take care of this car, and if you do it well, I’ll give you twenty baht when I come back!’

Dr Pien left her work at once and came bustling down to the car with me. She inspected Raven, who was unconscious once more. She pulled down his eyelids and tested his pulse and listened to his breathing. Then she straightened up. ‘He’ll live,’ she declared brusquely. ‘Just a little tap on the head. Take him to the
farangs
’ nursing home—Laila Drinkwater will fuss over him like a wet hen if you take him to her. More discreet, the nursing home. You’ll need a doctor’s signature. This’ll do.’ She scribbled on one of her prescription pads and tucked it into my hand. She looked at me oddly. ‘You’re a good girl. Even if you haven’t inherited your grandmother’s looks, at least you’ve got some of her brains!’

Bangkok Nursing Home is like a luxurious health spa. Each room has a private bath and a balcony overlooking gardens where squirrels play in the rain trees and huge butterflies flit through the hibiscus bushes. It caters to foreigners suffering from hepatitis and malaria, amoebic dysentery and heat exhaustion, and every so often a patient comes to die of rabies. They looked at Dr Pien’s note and called a
farang
doctor, who told me to wait while they made some phone calls. In the meantime, orderlies carried Raven into an examination room.

The matron was a large English lady. Her starched and pillowy bosom gave her a strangely authoritative manner. I knew at once Dr Pien was right. Raven would be better understood among foreigners, his own kind.

‘Now, my dear, we’ve got your details and you’ve spoken to the doctor, so there’s nothing more you can do here for the present. I should run off home now, get some rest. Pop in and see your friend tomorrow if you like—just ring first to make sure he’s well enough for visitors.’

‘What are the visiting hours?’ I asked.

‘Oh, nothing like that here! People come any time!’ She chortled cosily. ‘That’s why our patients leave here exhausted. Like a ruddy social club at times, this!’

Pim accompanied me, for the sake of propriety. The matron herself escorted us, which surprised me, until I saw the way she looked at Raven and I realised he had already established himself as a favoured patient. He was sitting in a cane chair on his veranda, in a dressing gown, looking pale but rather handsome, with an impressive bandage around his head.

‘Here’s your good Samaritan, Doctor,’ the matron announced loudly, addressing him as if he were a medical doctor, and rather hard of hearing. I felt sure she bullied the doctors of the nursing home as well as the patients, and later found out I was right. But her nurses adored her. ‘This young lady picked you up in the street and brought you to us!’ she said.

‘Chee Laan!’ Raven exclaimed, staring at me with wide eyes. ‘How did you find me? How did you know?’

‘Tell you later,’ I said. I sat on one of the chairs with its sun-faded cushion, and Pim took the other. The matron walked around Raven, studying him.

‘Hm. Lost a lot of blood, you did. Pity. Could have used some of that. Got a patient in right now needing your type. Had to put an emergency call out over the radio. B Rhesus negative. Did have a girl in earlier offering B Neg, squeezed half a pint out of her in the end—but nothing like enough. Have another crack at her later.’ She peered at Raven. ‘Look a bit peaky still. Fancy a cup of tea? Oh, I brought you a paper, too.’ She folded it and jabbed at it with her finger, thrusting it before Raven. ‘Think yourself lucky, young man! This is the sort of thing that happens! Could have been you! Well, now, don’t go tiring him out, you girls.’ She left the room on that note of remonstrance.

Raven read the article and passed it over so we could read it too.

Unknown Foreigner Slain

A foreign visitor was found dead this morning in Soi Samarn, Petchaburi. He had been stabbed. Police believe the tragedy occurred after hours. The ill-fated visitor may have been unaware of the new closing times enforced on clubs and bars by the forces of law and order in an initiative to minimise illicit activity and crimes of violence. The unfortunate man was clearly the victim of thugs or terrorists. No wallet or personal papers were found. All attempts at identification have failed. This will remain yet another unsolved mystery of the Bangkok night.

‘That’s crazy,’ Raven said. ‘It was a man called Waddle. Any number of people could identify him. Siegfried could. Van Hooten could. Even I! To say nothing of the U.S. Embassy; they must have records. Why do they say he can’t be identified?’

‘Because it is not convenient,’ I said. It seemed to me so obvious. ‘But you were in Chinatown, Raven. You were nowhere near Petchaburi. Why does the paper say this dead man was in Petchaburi?’

‘Different dead man?’ Pim suggested.

‘That’s possible,’ Raven reflected. ‘If so, it’s quite a coincidence. I’m amazed that you found me, Chee Laan.’

‘Van Hooten phoned me,’ I said. ‘He told me where you were, and that you were hurt.’ Raven stared at me. ‘I am puzzled why he didn’t send someone to help you, or go himself, instead of ringing me. He hardly knows me. How does he even know we are friends?’

‘I think General van Hooten knows a great deal,’ Raven said slowly. ‘And you’re right. I’m sure it is not convenient for Waddle’s identity to be broadcast.’

‘They don’t call for witnesses,’ Pim said, rereading the article.

‘What are you going to do? Are you going to offer to identify this dead man?’ I wanted to know.

‘No. Not for the present, anyway.’

‘I think that’s sensible.’

And
, I thought,
in this country, they cremate bodies quickly
.

‘The earth rises higher,’ I said, with an air of finality. Then I remembered. ‘There was no body in that alley when I picked you up. So where was it?’

‘Someone must have got to that other man. If it was the Thai police, why did they leave you there?’ Pim looked thoughtful.