Bangkok Haunts

went down on his knees and begged me. When I said yes, he made me the most important person in his life. Now we have
gatdanyu.
”
    “What?”
    “Never mind. I’ll explain when you’ve got a week to spare.”
    “I want to know. If you didn’t lend him the money, there’s no way he could go through with it, right? There’s no one else in the world going to put up that kind of dough for him.”
    I sigh. “Kimberley, if I didn’t lend him the dough for a first-class operation, he’d go downmarket. Can you imagine what that means in Bangkok?”
    “Sonchai, I just don’t understand you. That’s one of the most beautiful male specimens I’ve ever seen.” I have a disgusting feeling that the tough hide of the FBI is being corrupted by the worm of do-goodery. “You’re such a compassionate man. How can you do this? He’ll never be happy.”
    “Hang on.” With all the optimism in the world, it is difficult to believe I am going to survive the oncoming cement truck. Well, I did. “Without a dick? I don’t know about that—you seem to manage. The male member doesn’t bestow any privileges anymore. A lot of us owners wonder if it’s not more nuisance than it’s worth.”
    “Stop trying to be funny. This is serious. We’re talking about a young person’s future here.”
    Irritated because I have to get off the bike before my destination in order to carry on talking, I say, “Wait a moment. I’m going to tell you something.” I have the driver stop at a cooked-food stall so I can grab a 7UP and sit down to drink it. “It’s like this.” Handing a reality sandwich to the FBI is not going to be easy, but there seems to be no alternative. “When Lek was five years old, he had an accident. He was jumping onto the hind legs of a buffalo to spring onto the animal’s back the way they do in the country, when the animal jerked his legs and sent him flying. He was lucky not to land on the horns and be gored to death, but when he hit the earth, he split his head open on a rock. They had no medical facilities, nothing at all. They assumed he was going to die. He looked dead already. Are you listening?”
    “Yes.”
    “So they called the shaman, who built a charcoal fire near the kid’s head and blew smoke over the boy to assist the shaman’s seeing. The parents were called. The shaman told them their son was as good as dead. There was one hope and one hope only: they had to offer their child to a spirit who would fill his body and bring him back to life. But after that the child would belong to the spirit, not to the parents.”
    “Huh?”
    “There was only one downside. The spirit was female. Strictly speaking, Lek is not entirely human—he’s a female spirit who inhabits a male body.”
    I take a sip of the 7UP and wait for her response, which doesn’t come. I don’t think she has hung up, though, because after a while the line starts bleeping until I close my phone. When, a few minutes later, it gives the double-bleep that indicates a message has been received, I open it again with great curiosity. The message is not from the FBI, however.
    Did you know that since the NATO invasion of Afghanistan poppy production in that country has increased more than 500%? Cost of raw sap has halved. My contacts can take the stuff as far as Laos. It would be up to us from there. What do you say? Yammy.
    In the reply window I tap out two letters,
no,
and zing it off.

18
    I sit upstairs in Starbucks on a sofa with a good view of the street, waiting for Nok. I am only vaguely aware of other patrons; I’m pretty much glued to the window. I know what she thinks our meeting is all about, and I’m feeling guilty to be deceiving her, but at the moment she might be the only real lead I have. I’m also feeling disloyal to Vikorn, who would obviously prefer that I don’t investigate the Damrong video too carefully. Amazing how easy it is to divide one’s own mind. There’s a fanatic in me who will not rest until I’ve got to the bottom of that snuff movie; he lives in the same house as the other guy, who would be happy to go along with Vikorn’s game plan and live happily ever after with his pregnant wife. The fanatic is winning.
    Now I see her and know exactly what she expects by the way she is dressed. In tight jeans and T-shirt, she could not be further from the eighteenth-century
mamasan
of last night. She has assumed that because I’ve chosen the Nana area, with its profusion of cheap short-time