The GoldenCity

The car traveled a few blocks, eased into an intersection and jerked to a stop. They were surrounded by pickup trucks, motorcycles, and tuk-tuks, the garishly painted auto-rickshaws that carried people around the city. A traffic officer in a white uniform stood on a box and waved his hands, but everyone cheerfully ignored him. Street peddlers threaded between the stalled cars, tapping on the windows. They were selling coconut slices and lottery tickets, neon green condoms and a rooster in a bamboo cage that squawked and flapped its wings as if he knew he was about to be plucked.

After much horn-beeping, the car cut around a stalled truck and glided past a food stand dotted with flies. A prostitute wearing a pink mini-dress pressed her palms together and made a wai gesture to two Buddhist monks. An old woman reached into a plastic bucket and pulled out a live squid. The smell of car exhaust and fried food pushed into the car and Boone couldn’t escape the noise. When the tuk-tuks raced past, it sounded like an army of lawn mowers roaring in a concrete canyon.

***

For the last six years Boone had been allowed to hire his own employees without oversight from the executive board. It was his job to protect the Brethren and destroy their enemies. Both Kennard Nash and Mrs. Brewster preferred not to know the specific aspects of Boone’s activities.

Everything had changed since Michael’s speech to the Brethren. The Special Projects Group was organizing events in several different countries, but Boone didn’t know the details. He had been sent to Thailand to find an American named Martin Doyle who was serving time in a prison near Bangkok. Boone had no problem with that particular responsibility. What bothered him was the phone call he received from Michael Corrigan.

“The Special Projects Group has given me the file on Mr. Doyle,” Michael said. “He’s a difficult individual, but he’s suited for a particular job.”

“I understand.”

“Hire him. Put him on a plane back to America. And…”

There was a hissing noise on the phone and Boone lost contact with London.

“Hello? Mr. Corrigan? I didn’t hear you.”

“Make an impression, Mr. Boone. Make sure he’s completely under our control.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“It’s not my job to figure out every little problem.”

***

It took an hour to reach Klong Dan Prison, a large area surrounded by guard towers and a brick wall. Boone told the driver to wait in the parking lot and walked into a three-story administrative building with lattice balconies on the upper floors. He mentioned Captain Tansiri’s name to a guard and was immediately ushered into a waiting room crowded with women and children waiting to see the prisoners. The room smelled of sweat and soiled diapers. Babies screamed as old ladies ate from plastic containers filled with shredded papaya and bean sprouts.

When prisoners appeared on a television screen near a door in the waiting room, everyone shouted to each other and rushed inside. For a few seconds, Boone stood alone in the middle of the room and contemplated a pair of discarded chopsticks.

“Mr. Boone?”

He faced a Thai prison guard wearing a tan uniform that was too large for his skinny body. The guard took a cigarette out of his mouth and grinned, displaying an array of teeth that looked like chunks of yellowed ivory.

“You must be Captain Tansiri.”

“Yes, sir. We just received a call from the minister’s office. They said you might drop by for a visit.”

“I’m here to see Martin Doyle.”

Tansiri looked surprised. “Are you from the embassy?”

“I work for the Department of Homeland Security.” Boone reached into his left shirt pocket and took out a fake ID card. “We have reason to believe that Mr. Doyle has information about terrorist activity.”

“I think someone was misinformed. There is nothing political about Mr. Doyle. He is just a very bad person. Don’t you know why he’s here?”

The Special Operations Group had only sent Doyle’s name and location. Boone assumed that American was being held on a drug charge. “Perhaps you could give me the details.”

“We think he kidnapped and killed several children in the Khian Sa District.”

Boone was so surprised he couldn’t hide his reaction. “He killed children?”

“Well, technically, there was no evidence, but children would disappear when he was near a village. The police watched him for several months and were not successful. Mr. Doyle was far too clever.”

“So why is he in prison?”

“They arrested him on a passport charge and the judge gave him the maximum sentence.” Captain Tansiri looked satisfied. “This is Thailand. We solve our problems with foreigners.”

“That’s a good policy, Captain. But it’s probably best if I talk Mr. Doyle and get some information about what happened.”

“Of course, sir. Please follow me.”