Bangkok Noir

Inspector Zhang looked at her sternly, but she didn’t appear to have been joking, merely stating a fact.

“Two rows behind Miss Boontaisong in 16A is Lung Chin-po, the Singaporean businessman you spoke to,” she continued. “He says he is a friend of the Deputy Commissioner and that he will sue our department if we continue to hold him against his will.”

Inspector Zhang chuckled softly. “Well, I wish him every success with that,” he said.

“Those are the only two passengers sitting on the right-hand side,” said Sergeant Lee: “Mr. Lung and Miss Boontaisong.”

“Port,” said Captain Kumar. “That’s the port side. Right and left depend on which way you are facing, so on planes and boats we say port and starboard. As you face the front, port is on the left and starboard is on the right.” He smiled. “It prevents confusion.”

“And I am all in favour of preventing confusion,” said Inspector Zhang. “So, Sergeant Lee, who is sitting in the middle of the cabin?”

The Sergeant nodded at the man in sunglasses sitting in 11F. He was sitting with his arms folded, staring straight ahead at the bulkhead. “The man there is Mr. Lev Gottesman, from Israel. He is Mr. Srisai’s bodyguard. Was, I mean. He was Mr. Srisai’s bodyguard.”

“And why would Mr. Srisai require the services of a bodyguard?” asked Inspector Zhang.

“I didn’t ask,” said Sergeant Lee. “I’m sorry. Should I have?”

“I shall question Mr. Gottesman shortly,” said the Inspector. “Please continue.”

Sergeant Lee pursed her lips and looked at her notebook. “In the row behind Mr. Gottesman, in seat 14A, is Andrew Yates, a British stockbroker who works for a Thai firm. He was attending a meeting in Singapore.” Inspector Zhang looked over at a man in his early forties wearing a grey suit. His hair was dyed blond, and gel glistened under the cabin lights as he bent down over a BlackBerry, texting with both thumbs.

“Directly behind Mr. Yates are Mr. and Mrs. Woodhouse from Seattle in the United States. They are touring Southeast Asia. They were in Singapore for three days; they have a week in Thailand, and then they are due to fly to Vietnam and then on to China.”

She nodded at the final passenger, a Thai man sitting at the back of the cabin in seat 16H, adjacent to the aisle. “Mr. Nakprakone is a journalist who works for Thai Rath newspaper in Bangkok. He is a Thai.”

“I have heard of the paper,” said Inspector Zhang. “It is one of those sensationalist papers that publish pictures of accidents and murders on their front pages, I believe.”

“Mr. Nakprakone said that it sells more than a million copies every day.”

“Sensationalism sells; that is true,” said Inspector Zhang with a sigh. “I am personally happier with more dignified newspapers such as our own Straits Times. Did you ask Mr. Nakprakone why he was flying in the business-class section?”

“I didn’t. Should I have done?”

“It’s not a problem,” said Inspector Zhang. “So, I assume you asked everyone if they heard or saw anything suspicious during the flight.”

“No one did, sir.”

“And I assume that no one mentioned hearing a gunshot?”

“Definitely not. Besides, sir, it would be impossible for anyone to get a gun onto a plane. There are stringent security checks at Changi.”

The stewardess who had been talking to the pilot appeared at Inspector Zhang’s shoulder. “Inspector Zhang, would it be all right to serve drinks and snacks to the passengers?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said.

The stewardess smiled and walked to the galley.

“So, first things first,” said Inspector Zhang. “We need to know why our victim was murdered. More often than not, if you know why a murder took place, you will know who committed it.”

“So you want to talk to the bodyguard?”

Inspector Zhang shook his head. “I believe I will get more information from Mr. Nakprakone,” he said.

Sergeant Lee scratched her head as Inspector Zhang walked to the rear of the cabin and then cut across seats D and F to get to the Thai man sitting in seat 16H. “Mr. Nakprakone?” he said. The man nodded. Inspector Zhang gestured at the empty seat by the window. “Would you mind if I sat there while I ask you a few questions?”

“Go ahead,” said Mr. Nakprakone and moved his feet to allow the Inspector to squeeze by.

Inspector Zhang sat down, adjusting the creases of his trousers. “I assume you know that it is Mr. Srisai who has been murdered?”

Mr. Nakprakone nodded.

“I was wondering if you could tell me a little about Mr. Srisai.”

Mr. Nakprakone frowned. “Why would you think that I would know anything about him?”

“Because you’re a journalist, and because newspapers don’t usually fly their staff around in business class.” He smiled and shrugged. “I am in the same position. My boss told me that I had to fly economy. The Singapore Police Force is always trying to reduce costs, and I am sure that your newspaper is the same.”

Mr. Nakprakone grinned. “That is exactly right,” he said, speaking slowly, as if he were not entirely comfortable communicating in English.