The Bangkok Asset: A Royal Thai Detective Novel (6)
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Royal Thai Police Detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep is called to investigate a crime scene in Bangkok—which quickly reveals itself to be anything but typical. For one thing, the victim has been beheaded in a bizarre manner, and for another, a message was left in blood. Then Sonchai is summoned to a river in the middle of the night to observe a spectacle that violates everything he holds dear as a Thai, as a Buddhist, and as a human being. A trail of breadcrumbs has been carefully laid out for him, but by whom? Sonchai’s search for answers takes him deep into the Cambodian jungle, where he faces a conspiracy that may implicate the American CIA and the Chinese military—and discovers exactly how far a government will go to protect its worst secrets.
shove it in here, if that’s okay. BTW, is there something wrong with the high-tech brain that causes it to miss the obvious? I played the recording aloud into an old-fashioned tape recorder. The files on the thumb drive self-destructed, but I still have the conversation. It is quite interesting and goes like this: Goldman [out of breath, slightly hysterical]: I’m scared, Control, I have to admit it. I’m damn scared. Control [in a neutral tone]: What about, G8? The thing we talked about three
the West has. Quite invisible unless you know what to look for.” “Where do you want to go?” “Pat Pong—but I don’t dare with them on my tail.” “No problem,” I said and took out my cell phone to call Sergeant Ruamsantiah. “No problem,” the Sergeant said. “I’ll call Colonel Wanakan. He’ll have a couple of his boys check their passports when they leave the restaurant. Where are you?” “Heaven’s Gate Tower.” “I went there once. Hated it.” “The food?” “No. The height. It gave me vertigo.” —
Very generous, too—we only lasted thirty minutes and he gave me two thousand baht.” “Anything else about him you noticed?” “Just the way he was—kind of hard, but knew all about sex. Different. He wasn’t your usual wick-dipper, that’s for sure.” I didn’t think any more of it until the next day when it happened again. The reportage came from Superbar this time. And then from Blue Balls. It finally dawned on me that he was playing some kind of game, this mysterious old man who claimed to be
end. You were about eleven months old, growing fast. Obviously, only a year had passed, but that’s a long time in war and people change quickly when they see their loved ones shredded. He wrote to me, but I had stopped replying. A woman in the position I was in then is interested in hearing from the father of her child only if he has something practical to offer. Money would have been great, but even a reliable presence might have been helpful. I wasn’t interested in confessions of guilt and how
happiness of others. You are a vampire.” She snorts. “Love? You and Chanya are bored to death with each other. I brought you both fun, danger, knowledge. And I found out about your father’s buddy, da Silva.” “Yes. Why exactly did you do that? Because you knew how much pain lay down that road?” “I try to help you when I can—we’re friends, aren’t we?” She lets a few beats pass, gives a bright smile. I think, Feelings have no currency in this community. Then she says, “So, have we had the