Bangkok Noir

He rubbed his hair vigorously with the towel and then sat on the couch. He angrily put his socks and shoes on. “We didn’t get enough.”

“Forty thousand baht apiece to scare a kid out of the business? Seems pretty fair to me.”

Yeah, forty thousand baht will pay off a few gambling debts. But how much did the kid’s uncle pay Wichai to hire us? What’s Wichai’s take? You know who that kid is? Who his uncle is? I mean—”

“I don’t care about Wichai’s take. But…”

The slim man noticed the hesitation. “What?”

“I don’t like it.”

“What?”

“I’m good at what I do. I don’t like this kind of thing. The money’s not clean.”

“Money’s dirty to you unless you took somebody out for it?”

“It doesn’t feel right. It feels phony. ”

“What’s phony about it?”

“I acted out what I am. I only pretended to do what I do. And took money for it. So what am I? A whore? I feel like a goddamn actor.”

“You? An actor! That’s a good one. Yeah, well, if it makes you unhappy, you can always give me your share. ’Cause the only thing don’t feel right to me is havin’ no money. How I get it is never the question.”

The big man remained in his thoughtful mood. “I wish somebody had done that for me when I was his age.”

“Done what?”

“Kept me out of the business.”

The slim man stared at him, shook his head and then continued checking himself in the mirror for any remaining traces of ketchup. “You! Man, you are in some mood today. That kid musta spooked you. I couldn’t believe his bullshit about the Kaeochart hit. I thought you might take him out just for trying to take the credit.”

“Kaeochart was a clean hit.”

The slim man interrupted combing his hair to stare at the big man, finished combing it and then walked to the door and opened it. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting the hell out of here.” He exited into the hallway and left the door open.

The big man listened to the sound of the slim man’s receding footsteps. He glanced again at the painting and then pushed his large frame up and out of the chair. He picked up his gun case, walked to the door and paused in the doorway to look back into the room. He spoke aloud but to no one. “I just wish somebody had done that for me.”

He exited the room and closed the door behind him.

Dean Barrett

Dean Barrett is the author of several novels set in Asia Memoirs of a Bangkok Warrior; Hangman’s Point (Hong Kong); Kingdom of Make-Believe (Thailand); Skytrain to Murder (Thailand); Identity Theft (Thailand and Florida), Mistress of the East (1862 China).

His recent books are Murder at the Horny Toad Bar & other Outrageous Tales of Thailand and The Go Go Dancer Who Stole My Viagra and Other Poetic Tragedies of Thailand. Dragon Slayer is a book with three novellas on Chinese themes. His latest, Permanent Damage, is a sequel to Skytrain to Murder, a detective novel set in Thailand starring Scott Sterling.

Barrett’s plays have been performed in nine countries and his musical, Fragrant Harbour, set in 1857 Hong Kong, was selected by the National Alliance for Musical Theater to be staged on 42nd Street.

The Sword

Vasit Dejkunjorn

From the glass window Yuddha could see the blue BMW Series 5, parked in the roofed parking lot in front of his office. Yuddha was aware of his colleagues’ concealed suspicion. But he ignored it. After all, he was not the only police superintendent—full colonel—who owned an expensive European-made car. Another superintendent, his classmate from the Police Officer Academy, had bought a Mercedes. Yet another colonel owned a Lexus, Japanese-made but equally priced. To own and drive an expensive car is a dream of every police officer. Yuddha guessed that the other cars had been obtained by means not much different from his.

It had begun soon after his graduation from the Academy. He had been assigned to a police station in Bangkok. His responsibility was to interrogate suspects brought in by arresting officers and to submit interrogation reports to the superintendent, with recommendations that the suspects be charged or else released for insufficient evidence.

Yuddha learned quickly that his recommendation might change the suspect’s fate. With a few clicks of his notebook mouse, the suspect might be freed—or start his rough journey to the penitentiary. He learned too that every suspect was willing to pay for his freedom. Yuddha was no longer surprised when approached by some of his superiors who suggested, often with straight faces, that he fact-twist for the benefit of the superiors’ relatives or friends. At first he felt awkward and ashamed, but finally he gave in and jumped on the bandwagon.