Death in the Kingdom (2 page)

So, you ask, why the hell was I sitting in a car with a man who might have me killed at any moment and a sadistic ape who wanted me dead so badly I could almost smell it? And what the fuck did I do to get on Tuk Tuk Song's wrong side? I guess a little history might be in order here.

Tuk Tuk Song, a Chinese Thai, had made his name back in the late 1960s in Bangkok. Those were the days of the Vietnam era and R&R excesses. The days when literally hundreds of thousands of young men from the US military machine escaped Nam for a few short days to enjoy the delights of the ladies in the Land of Smiles.

Already a well-established gang lord, Tuk Tuk could see that there were plentiful suppliers of young ladies and countless bars on offer to the dollar-rich Americans. However, what he soon defined was that visitors to his city needed transportation, and plenty of it. In a matter of months Tuk Tuk Song moved into all things on wheels in a big way, hence his nickname. At that time the Thai Mafia was not the force that it is now, and Tuk Tuk formed the biggest criminal organisation in the land. So from about the time the world was starting to learn about Thailand outside of the nauseating film
The King and I
, just about everything you rode with wheels on it in Bangkok and most of the resort towns meant you were riding with Tuk Tuk Song.

The story of Daniel Swann and Tuk Tuk Song began in the early 1990s in Bangkok. I was doing unmentionable things for Betty Windsor's mob. Then, as now, the Queen's shilling was in my pocket. I am still a soldier in the dirty war, the war that takes place in the shadows, hidden from the world at large. It is a war that is seen by the public only in those occasional strobe flashes of violence and mayhem that make the headlines when some of the protagonists are caught exposed just for a moment, before they plunge back into the shadowlands.

In the 1990s I was attached to the British Embassy with the words F
OREIGN
A
FFAIRS AND
A
SIAN
T
RADE
C
ONSULTANT
on my business card. I didn't know shit about any trade, other than dope or arms, and I didn't spend much time in Bangkok either. I was mainly up north in what was known to the world as the Golden Triangle. The Thai, Cambodian, Laotian and Burmese borders didn't really exist for me, or for the people I worked for. Bangkok, however, was a home base between trade missions.

It was during one of my decompression spells in the City of Smiles that I had the fortune, good or otherwise, to meet Tuk Tuk Song. It happened quite by accident, as these things sometimes do in the real world. I saved his life back then but that's a story for another day. Right now I needed to persuade Tuk Tuk not to kill his old friend, the man who had killed his son.

2

We approached the crest of the ridge that cuts Patong off from the rest of Phuket. The driver slowed without any signal from Tuk Tuk or Choy. In some sort of deference to the sheer volume of traffic on the road, Tuk Tuk's driver pulled us over to the left verge just opposite a shrine on the crest. It was a noisy place to be due to the local drivers who would toot at the shrine on their way past. The toot was a sort of thank you to the powers that be, or maybe they were just asking the buddha to ensure they had brakes for the trip down.

The driver moved us back to the centre line as the following traffic eased off. There was a break in the oncoming flow pushing up from Phuket Town and without prompting, the man at the wheel hit the gas pedal hard. We roared across the highway and nudged our way onto a small road I'd never noticed before, despite a dozen trips over the hill.

The hairs on the back of my neck were working overtime. Shit, I didn't have a weapon on me, apart from the stiletto taped to the inside of my left calf. The knife wasn't much, but it was all I had. That and a plan of sorts to convince Tuk Tuk not to kill me. I figured I could do it but it would be a close thing.

We drove a couple of hundred yards along a narrow dirt track. Rubber trees crowded in on us, shutting out the grey storm-laden skies. No one was talking. Choy was sitting sideways in his seat, watching me. Tuk Tuk was also watching me, contemplatively, slightly puzzled, obviously wondering why in the hell I had come back. Especially given how hurried my departure from Thailand had been.

We entered a clearing, a small, coarsely-grassed flat area the size of a tennis court on the eastern side of the hill just below the crest of the ridge. The trees dropped away below the edge of the plateau, forming what would have been a spectacular view under any normal circumstances.

There was one totally incongruous touch about where we were, and it bordered on the surreal. An open-sided green pergola sat in the centre of the clearing. Under the canopy was a small, white, plastic picnic table. A pair of matching chairs faced each other on either side of the table. The table setting included a bottle of Glenfiddich and two glasses, which were resting open end down on a white napkin. Even if Tuk Tuk was going to kill me, it appeared we would share a glass of whisky first.

The Merc stopped and Choy got out. He moved very smoothly for a big man. The butt of a cannon showed under his left arm. Was it the same Desert Eagle I had shot him with more than half a decade ago?

Choy opened my door and stepped back just far enough to ensure he had time and room to accommodate any aggressive moves I might make. ‘Open,' he mumbled, confirming that, with half of the roof of his mouth gone, he no longer spoke with the smooth eloquence he had once enjoyed. I didn't feel guilty.

I climbed out of the car, slipped off my jacket and pirouetted for him, lifting my T-shirt as I did so. There was no room for a gun. I pulled up the trouser cuffs of my Levis so he could see that the tops of my boots didn't contain any hardware and I wasn't wearing an ankle holster. I didn't pull my left cuff up high enough to let him see the flat knife taped to the inside of my calf. Choy motioned for the laptop. I reached back into the car to retrieve the Toshiba and handed it to him. Choy opened it, grunted and handed it back to me. Computers didn't seem to figure largely in his lifestyle. He motioned towards the table and chairs, and I moved in that direction while Choy went to assist Tuk Tuk from the car. The driver sat motionless behind the wheel.

Tuk Tuk moved slowly with the aid of an ebony walking stick with a gold and ivory grip. Knowing the old devil, I was prepared to bet that the stick housed the blade of a sword or even a gun. He had never missed a trick in his long life.

I laid the laptop on the table and removed a packet of Marlboros from my jacket as I waited for Tuk Tuk and Choy. I lit up using the BIC disposable I'd picked up in a 7-Eleven on my way to Geezers. I left the cigarette pack and the lighter beside the computer. I'd given up smoking three years before but Tuk Tuk wasn't to know. However, I knew that of all the cigarettes on the planet, Tuk Tuk Song hated Marlboros. It had been something of a joke between us. I fought to keep myself from coughing and made a show of enjoying my fag and the view.

Tuk Tuk chose a seat and lowered himself into it. Choy moved to stand to one side of the table. When I sat he would be on my right which meant if I went for him, my striking hand would have to be my left. He knew full well that I was right-handed.

‘Sit, Daniel,' Tuk Tuk said softly as he removed a cigarette from the flat gold case Choy extended to him, ‘and tell me why you are here and why I shouldn't kill you.'

As I sat I picked up my fifteen-baht lighter and flicked it into life, leaning across the table to offer Tuk Tuk a light. He accepted, leaving Choy standing with a diamond-encrusted gold Ronson worth a couple of thousand pounds sitting uselessly in his huge hand. The big man straightened and dropped the Ronson into a side pocket in his jacket, his ruined face expressionless. He continued to stand like a miniature man-mountain with his arms folded, waiting.

‘Firstly,' I said, my eyes meeting those of the man who had once almost been a friend, ‘Arune attempted to kill me because I found out he was planning a coup against you. He was going to have your car wired to two kilos of Semtex.' My voice was flat and hard. I'd never had a chance to tell Tuk Tuk
why
it had happened. He knew
how
! Now I needed him to believe me. ‘Old friend,' I said softly, ‘Arune wanted you dead. He wanted to take over. He tried to kill me and I had no choice but to kill him. Then you sent Choy after me before we had had a chance to talk. The rest you know.'

There was a near silence. I could hear birds, the hum of distant traffic and the wind in the trees, but that was as close to silence as it would get. Tuk Tuk Song blinked once, then twice and then a third time. He leaned back in his seat. His eyes had lost that hard coal-black edge. Suddenly, he looked like an old man, a frail old man. He knew the words I had spoken were the truth. We had that much trust still between us.

Despite his dark glasses I knew Choy's eyes were on Tuk Tuk, and there was a look of concern on his face that even the damage I had inflicted could not hide. He had been Tuk Tuk's right-hand man for most of his own sixty years. Tuk Tuk was his father in all but birthright. There was no doubt that he still wanted me dead, but there was something else there. He and I had also almost been friends in the days gone by.

‘Why didn't you tell me?' Tuk Tuk asked in a whisper.

‘I didn't have time,' I replied. ‘I was involved with the Cambodians on a matter for my people. It was purely by accident that I found out about Arune's plans.'

I paused for a moment to draw smoke into my lungs. What the hell! I prefered to die of lung cancer than Choy's bullet in my brain, and the nicotine hit was making my head buzz.

‘Arune bought the Semtex from Savang over in Savannakhet. It was part of a tagged shipment we were monitoring. We'd tracked it in from Europe. We busted Savang and found that a big chunk of the pie was missing. With a little persuasion, he told me Arune had bought it. We handed Savang over to his people. That was one hell of a big mistake. He made some sort of deal and was free in ten minutes and on the phone to Arune.' Tuk Tuk was leaning forward slightly in his chair. I had his total attention it seemed. ‘Arune and his goons were waiting for me when I went back over the border,' I continued. ‘Incidentally, I'd assumed that Arune had bought the plastic for you.'

I accepted the tumbler of whisky that Choy handed to me. Tuk Tuk's hand shook as he raised his glass to his lips. I could see in his eyes that he knew I was speaking the truth. ‘Go on please, Daniel,' he said as I took a sip of my drink. It tasted better than any other I'd ever remembered.

‘Arune took me to a warehouse on the bank of a river up at Lopburi. Somewhere along the line he had had the bright idea of implicating my people and me in your death to take suspicion off him. He was showing off, Tuk Tuk, showing how bright he was.' Tuk Tuk nodded. He'd known his son that well at least. ‘He told me everything. They were going to wait until you went to Sakura's for the weekend and plant the explosive under the seat of your Lincoln when Choy brought it back to the city.'

Sakura was Tuk Tuk's Japanese mistress. At weekends Tuk Tuk used to stay in the palace he had built for her down the Gulf at Phetchaburi. Usually Choy would drive him down there in the Lincoln and leave him while he returned to Bangkok. He would then go down on the Sunday or Monday, pick up Tuk Tuk and return with him to the city.

Arune had apartments in the city but he lived at Tuk Tuk's magnificent Bang Khen mansion most of the time, and had plenty of opportunities to do the deed. Choy personally favoured big black Jeep Cherokees as his choice of vehicle. So when Choy was away visiting one of his many girlfriends, Arune's plan was to plant the explosive and a remote detonator in the massive Lincoln. ‘Arune planned to have some of his guys go down to Phetchaburi, wait for you and Choy to leave Sakura's place and bingo, all over.' I illustrated the latter by flicking the remains of my cigarette away. ‘Meanwhile he planned to be very much in public view, going about the city creating the perfect alibi.'

‘Two kilos?' whispered Tuk Tuk in sheer disbelief. ‘You said two kilos of plastic, Daniel?'

‘Yes,' I replied. ‘Ten kilos and all of it under your seat.'

‘Oh,' Choy spluttered. All three of us knew what that amount of Semtex could do to any automobile, but ten kilos inside an armoured vehicle was totally over the top. Firstly, it would vapourise everything inside the car then, because the blast was being contained beyond critical mass by the armour, it would turn the car into a second bomb, a huge bomb that would devastate anything and everything within a hundred yards in all directions. Talk about overkill! Half or even a quarter of a kilo would have done the job fine.

‘Did he hate me so much?' Tuk Tuk whispered almost to himself. And then his voice hardened. ‘The stupid, stupid boy!' He swallowed the remaining whisky and held out his glass for more. Choy moved to do his bidding. ‘Go on, Daniel.'

‘His plan was to kill me, then make sure enough of me was left close enough to the blast area to get an identification. He was even contemplating shooting me and putting me in the trunk of the limo.' I shook my head. Arune wasn't the sharpest tool in the workshop. I would have been vaporised just like Tuk Tuk and Choy. There would have been nothing left to identify. Of all of Tuk Tuk's eleven sons and eight daughters, Arune had been the oldest, the heir, and that had been a problem. Unfortunately he had also been very stupid and very violent. A most dangerous combination!

‘Arune got careless,' I said. ‘I got free and took a gun off one of his guys. We had a shoot-out and I killed Arune and one of his men but the other got away. I guess he called you with some fairy story and when I arrived back in the city, you had Choy waiting. You know the rest.'

‘Stupid greedy boy,' Tuk Tuk said shaking his head. ‘I'm sorry, Daniel. The fault was mine for breeding such an imbecile.'