Bangkok Haunts

me.
    “No,” I say, not sure how I feel. “Not at all. I guess he has a lot more money than me.”
    “Hm,” the FBI says thoughtfully, “kind of over the top, somehow, unless she wanted more than just money.”
    “Like what? Not marriage, surely.”
    “No,” Kimberley agrees, “not that.”
    I take a deep breath. “Last one,” I say.
    It is the same room, but the atmosphere is quite different. The man is clearly Oriental, and that is all we know about him for the first seven minutes. Damrong has adapted perfectly to her ruthless Asian master, absorbing his remorseless thrusts with helpless cries and groans. When he becomes too aggressive, she bites him hard on one hand: a warning shot or an invitation to still more combative sex? Certainly, without antique fragments of the courtly love tradition to cloud his judgment, this client is not so easy to maneuver. When she finally has his mug in the camera lens, Chanya and I exchange a glance, and I freeze the frame. There he is, face turned beautifully in full frontal ecstasy while she works his member. The sexual angle is suddenly quite irrelevant, however.
    “What?” the FBI wants to know.
    “I’ll need a still of that,” I say.
    Kimberley shrugs, plays with the software for a moment, downloads the still, and folds her arms. “Will someone tell me what’s so different about this guy? I mean, I can see he’s Asian with a lot of Chinese blood. Quite a dish, actually.”
    “It’s Khun Tanakan,” Chanya whispers, careful, even in the midst of her contempt, to use the respectful
Khun
in accordance with feudal law.
    “Who?”
    “He’s big in banking,” I explain with a gulp. “About as big as they get. We’re talking HiSo all the way to the top of the pyramid. Him and his buddies control the economy. All big deals go through them.”
    Chanya and I switch to Thai for a telling moment:
    Chanya:
What are you going to do? This could get you killed.
    Me:
I know that.
    Chanya:
You’ll have to tell Colonel Vikorn.
    Me, gloomily:
How safe d’you think that will be? You know what he’ll want to do.
    Chanya:
I’m pregnant, Sonchai. I don’t want to bring up our child all on my own.
    Me, passing a hand over my brow:
I’ll have to think about it. I’ll do whatever’s safest.
    Chanya:
Start by getting that laptop out of here. I’m scared, Sonchai, I really am.
    Me:
Okay.
    Now I’m hurriedly unplugging the laptop and sliding it into its case under the gaze of the FBI.
    “Wow,” Kimberley says when I’m finished and about to leave the house, all in less than five minutes. “When you guys spook, you really spook. How about letting me in on some background?”
    “In the cab,” I say.
    Now Kimberley and I are standing in the street, hailing a passing taxi. Chanya has remained in the house. “I’ll let you off at the Grand Britannia,” I tell the FBI.
    “Where are you going with that thing?”
    “The police station,” I grunt.
    In the back of the cab I explain, “Damrong had that stuff shot for blackmail purposes. There can be no other explanation.”
    “I agree. So what?”
    “If she had started putting on the screws, Tanakan will have his people looking all over the city.”
    “But you’re a cop. Doesn’t that count for anything over here?”
    I smile ironically. “Sure.”
    “So?”
    “So, Chanya’s right. The smart thing has to be to tell Vikorn. At least I’ll have him on my side that way.”
    “Why is that a difficult decision to make?”
    I turn to her. “What d’you think he’ll want to do with the video?”
    I think the FBI has mastered this little cultural conundrum by the time I let her out at her hotel. She pauses while the door is open and pops her head inside for a moment. “Kind of strange, don’t you think?”
    “What is?”
    “That two or three easy steps is all it needed to get you this far. You did no more than the obvious, right?”
    “Looked up Damrong’s name on the database, which led to Baker.”
    “Which led to the most dangerous scoop of your career. Strange. I don’t know about Bangkok, but policing is rarely that simple stateside.”
    On the way to the station, with the laptop next to me on the seat, I’m thinking,
Simple?
I fish out my cell phone to call Vikorn on his. He’s cavorting at one of his clubs not far from the station. When I tell him in coded language what I have sitting next to me, he says he’ll get dressed and be with me in thirty minutes. At the station I’m so nervous about