JET II - Betrayal (JET #2) (11 page)

“She is.”

Chapter 11

Raffle’s was bursting with diners lapping up the faux-British atmosphere. Black-and-white photographs of David Niven in cinematic triumph adorned flock-papered walls that brayed a shade gaudier than the hues of the green and pleasant land it strove to emulate. An insufferably arrogant hostess showed Jet to a table, in keeping with the behavior Thais believed would be authentically representative of the UK. Jet didn’t have the heart to break it to the girl that the food there was generally regarded as horrible. Let her have her moment.

A young man with neatly-trimmed hair and a deep tan stood as she approached, then waited until she took a seat before joining her. She looked around, confirming that nobody was within earshot.

“So you’re Rob.”

“Nice to meet you,” Rob said, affecting an obviously fake smile.

“Sure it is. What have you been told about me and why I’m here?”

“Just what you would expect.”

“Then you should know I don’t work with a partner.”

“It was mentioned.”

“Yet here you are.”

“Don’t hold back. It’s okay to let me know how you really feel.”

A waiter approached and asked what she wanted to drink. She ordered a bottle of mineral water and returned her gaze to Rob. He was a good-looking young man, fit, with a deceptively ordinary face – she wouldn’t have given him a second glance in a crowd. Brown hair, brown eyes, no scars or distinguishing features. Put a pair of glasses on him or a mustache and he would be a completely different person.

“It’s no secret that I’m against this whole idea. But I don’t have much say in it, apparently, so here we are,” she observed.

“That being the case, what’s for dinner?”

They considered the menu, and when the waiter returned with her drink, they ordered.

“We can’t just sit here and not talk,” Rob said, taking a sip of his beverage.

“Sure we can. Everyone will think we’re married.”

“Hmm. So, what’s the first move?”

“You tell me why I should ever see you again once I leave this restaurant.”

“Well, let’s see: I speak Thai, know Bangkok well but am not known in the circles you’ll want to travel, can hold my own in any situation…and because you have instructions to work with me.”

“Rob. Let me make this as clear as I can. I have no instructions. I have a man with a melted face asking me to consider using you as an asset for a short time while I’m in Bangkok. So, sweetie? It’s not the way you think it is.”

The entrées arrived after a tense back and forth. They ate in silence, Rob sulking and looking almost as unhappy as Jet did. When the bill came, he paid, then Jet stood up abruptly.

“Thanks. Come on. Let’s take a walk, and I’ll fill you in on where I’m at.”

“Yes, master.”

“I think that would be ‘mistress’.”

They exited the restaurant and strolled side by side, and she brought him up to speed on her thoughts. Once she’d finished, he nodded.

“I agree with the thinking that I can help on this. If we pose as a couple looking to swing, we’ll have an easier time in the clubs. In the meanwhile, we can put feelers out to all the informants and spread some money around through Edgar. When we get a lead, we can start hanging out at whichever one of his places Lap Pu is at, and then play it by ear. Unless you have a better idea,” he said.

“I’m not sure how else we’re going to find him. It’s not like we can just blunder in and start asking where we can find a slavery kingpin who knows a white devil somewhere in the northern jungle.”

“Then it’s decided. I’ll be your boyfriend, and hopefully, Edgar will have something for us soon. Once he does, we can play it by ear and see what else surfaces.”

She still didn’t like it, but as she’d listened to herself telling Rob about her strategy, it had sounded increasingly tenuous. Perhaps he could prove helpful after all.

“How do I reach you when I have more info?” he asked.

She fished the cell phone from her pocket and gave him the number.

“Now take me to Nana and show me around. I want to get a feel of the place.”

The streets were teeming with drunken tourists as they neared the infamous Nana Plaza – three stories of establishments catering to the sex trade. They passed several girls, who looked barely thirteen, in short skirts and six-inch heels, teetering around as they chattered at passing prospects. “Hey, sexy man. Hey, big man. What you looking for? Come on, sexy man.”

A ten-year-old boy, an emaciated street urchin, smiled shyly at them as they passed. She watched out of the corner of her eye as an older Caucasian man slowed and stopped to chat with him, then they walked off together in the opposite direction.

“Hey, big man. Want a ladyboy tonight? Who knows how to love you up right?” a young street hustler murmured to them as he leaned in to Rob. “Check it out. Crying game.
Kathoey.
Ladyboy?” He gestured at four stunning young women who, apparently, were transgender. One of the beauties blew him a kiss as the others tittered.

“Looks like you’ve found some fans.”

“There’s something for everyone here. But I don’t swing that way.”

“Are they all men?”

“Depends. Some have had the ultimate operation, some haven’t. But they all started off as men.”

“What’s the attraction?”

“You got me. I guess sexuality can be complicated. I’d have thought if you wanted a guy, you’d just go with a guy, but obviously not. They’re actually viewed as a third sex by many of the locals.”

“Is there anything off limits here?”

“Not really. Welcome to Thailand.”

They approached Nana, and the crowd got thicker; sidewalk peddlers touted knockoff purses and pirated DVDs as brown uniformed police filtered through the throng as a deterrent to violence or theft. Australian accents echoed off the bar fronts as groups of rowdy partygoers bellowed drunkenly at each other, to the mingled invitations to come in and have a drink from the hundreds of bar girls dressed as provocatively as possible in the interests of luring customers.

“The joints look pretty shabby,” Jet observed. Perhaps at one time decades ago it had been a hotspot, but Nana had an air of decay about it – of an aging debutante long since past her prime, but still clinging to her partying ways.

“They are. Same with Soi Cowboy – one of the other big sex districts. Both Nana and Cowboy have seen better days, and now with the economic downturn, many of the bars are losing money.”

“Wow. So even the whoremongers are feeling the pinch?”

“I’m sensing a distinct lack of sympathy.”

Bar after bar with young Asian women beckoning to anyone walking by to sample their wares blinked with neon desperation in the perspiring night. Jet and Rob moved past the currency exchange and took the escalator to the first floor, where the motifs catered to every possible depravity – bondage and S&M, ladyboys, schoolgirl playpals, and straight go-go bars.

“The real kink is on the top floor,” Rob explained, “and at the private clubs in the area. Ping pong shows. That’s what our man Lap Pu specializes in, along with prostitution.”

They cruised the plaza and the surrounding streets, where everything imaginable was for sale.

“I had an acquaintance tell me that if I wanted a knock-off Chinese-manufactured Benz that looked like the real thing right down to the last detail, he could get me one. There are literally no limits here.”

She looked around at the hookers of all shapes and sizes. “How much worse could it get than this?”

“Much. You’ll see once we start hitting his clubs. They have shows in the front and whorehouses in the back. But it doesn’t stop there. Even though the official stance is that child prostitution is vigorously prosecuted, it’s well known that it goes on every day, and Lap Pu is one of the big names in the business.”

After another half hour wandering the streets, fending off propositions every few feet, she was done. “I think I’ve seen about enough for one night.” A man had just leaned towards them and made a distinctive popping sound with his mouth and inquired in English if they were interested in ping pong. Jet thought she would never be able to hear the words again without imagining his leering face, discolored teeth and wisps of black mustache framing his popping mouth.

“All right. You’re lucky it’s a Tuesday. If this was a weekend, it would be three times more crowded.”

“What about disease? AIDS has to be rampant.”

“It’s on the increase. For about a decade, condoms were mandatory for sex workers, but that’s become more relaxed as the economy has tightened. Some of the girls will do anything for a few more baht, and they wind up paying the ultimate price. Same for the boys. It’s an ugly situation all around.”

“How much does a sex worker make?”

“I think the going rate is anywhere from two thousand baht to five thousand baht. Depends on where you get them. In dollars, that’s anywhere from fifty dollars to couple of hundred, again, depending on where you pick them up and how long you stay with them. A lot of the tourists come here and want a girlfriend experience, a situation where she’ll stay with them for however long they want, twenty-four hours a day, and lay by the pool, go to dinner, the whole works. That costs more.”

“So maybe they can take home thirty to forty thousand dollars a year?”

“Again, depends. I’m not an expert at this, but what I’ve heard is that it’s a big piece of the Thai economy. Imagine if your options were making five or six hundred dollars a month as a bilingual schoolteacher, for instance. Starting to see where the financial driver is here?”

She was tired from the multitude of experiences and psychically drained by the exposure to so much corruption. Bangkok was a black hole, a dwarf star for energy. At the moment, it was hard to imagine that anything good existed in the world.

Jet said goodnight, and Rob promised to get in touch as soon as he knew something. They parted ways on the sidewalk in front of the Nana hotel, a multitude of older male tourists laughing loudly as they exited, on their way to the sex mall for a night of abandon.

Her hotel was only a two-minute walk, and she’d never been so happy in her life to be back in a small room with working air-conditioning and a sturdy lock so she could hose off the accumulated filth that seemed to have coated her entire being – and wake up to a new day that wasn’t steeped in toxicity.

Chapter 12

Rob’s voice sounded excited on the cell phone the following afternoon. “We’ve got a lead.”

“What is it?”

“Lap Pu sighting late last night at his largest club. An informant slipped us the tip. Apparently, he’s got some meetings tomorrow night.”

“That’s great news. Whose informant?”

“Friend of one of the bouncers. Works club security on the evening shift. Saw the great man himself at midnight with an entourage. Overheard him agreeing to get together tonight and meet tomorrow. So we have two nights, at least.”

“How long since his last trip north?”

“It should be time for another one within the next week. He disappears for a week at a time. Nobody knows what he’s doing.”

“What do you suggest for tonight?”

“We meet up for dinner at nine, eat, then go to the club and throw some money around. I noticed you didn’t drink last night. Do you have a problem with alcohol? Because it would help if you could throw a few back in the bar.”

“No problem. I just don’t like it very much.”

“Have any preferences for dinner?”

“Anyplace but British cuisine.”

“I’ll call you later.”

Rob hung up, and she returned to her table, where a slew of photographs of the man known as Lap Pu were spread out on the table, courtesy of Edgar.

The dossier on Lap Pu proffered a paucity of real insight. Fifty-something years old, a Bangkok native, started out life with a couple of his family’s markets, gravitated to the sex trade in the late Seventies. Opened a bar in Soi Cowboy, then another in Phatong, and from there moved up the food chain until he was a major player in the business. Lived a lavish lifestyle, with homes all over the country, including several resorts on Phuket. Friendly with every administration, he had never been arrested and was considered a stand-up fellow. Except for the rumors that he was one of the top sex slavers in Bangkok and had an elaborate network of smugglers moving females from Myanmar and Laos to Thailand, many underage. But like so much in Thailand, rumored truths were not an impediment to his prosperity, and he had kept his nose clean – or at least as clean as someone in the sex trade in Thailand could.

His main enterprises were brothels catering to specialized tastes, the kinkier the better. Ping pong shows, ladyboys, every sort of domination and submission, groups…if you could imagine it, chances are that Pu offered it in one of his establishments.

The last team that had disappeared had followed Pu into the jungles at the northernmost edge of Thailand. But that was Jet’s only hope of finding their target. Other than Pu, the CIA had nothing, and even with him they hadn’t gotten far.

She opened the safe, extracted the Beretta and stripped it, studying the various components to verify it was in good shape. It looked almost brand new. The silencer was new, showing no evidence of having ever been used. The magazine held fifteen 9mm rounds, with enough stopping power to handle most urban situations, provided that she didn’t require accuracy over fifty yards. The silencer would drop that some, but then again, she wouldn’t be shooting apples off anyone’s heads.

The problem was that it was unwieldy and problematic to conceal with the silencer, so discretion would have to take a back seat to practicality. She retrieved the butterfly knife and expertly flipped it open, confirming that the blade was razor sharp. Pacing the room, she flicked it open, closed, open, closed in a reassuring motion as she thought through the permutations of scenarios.

Rob seemed as competent as anyone she’d met with the American intelligence service, but she was still uncomfortable going into the field with a partner. If he did anything stupid or unpredictable, it could be disastrous. She would need to keep a close eye on him – her daughter’s ultimate future depended upon this mission going successfully, and she couldn’t afford any slips.