ELEVEN
RAIN WAS splashing off the window panes and the wind howled like an angry child: it was a cold, wet morning in England. Doris was in the bedroom and had just finished on the phone, when Nigel drifted in from the bathroom.
"Who was that?" he asked, drying his hair.
"Lou. Stan was hit by a Tic Tac."
"A what?"
"I'm sure she said Tic Tac."
"The mint?"
"She said it's some sort of a motorbike with a carriage attached. Stan was hit by one of them while crossing the street. He'll be in hospital for a while."
Nigel stood shaking his head. "Idiot."
“So what now?" Doris asked.
"What do you mean? I have to go."
"You can't go. You're not well enough. You will have to send another partner!"
"I should have gone in the first place."
"But it's so hot and humid over there."
"Then I'll walk slowly, drink lots of water and avoid bloody Tic Tacs."
She stormed off down to the kitchen while he followed, strolled into the living room, picked up the Thai phrase book, then entered the study.
The aroma of fine Italian leather lingered in the air and every photo frame, organizer and business necessity lay neatly in its place. A luxurious black leather chair stood behind a grand desk and shelves were loaded with legal books. A Picasso graced the main wall and a framed Michael Walker hung proudly alongside.
Using his thumb print and a siX digit PIN, he opened his safe, withdrew his passport, credit cards and a jiffy bag stuffed with fifties.
Doris followed him back up the stairs.
"What do you know about Thai law?”
"I'll find a guy out there."
"This is insane. You're not strong enough."
"I've never been in better shape."
This was a blatant lie. He used to play squash every Tuesday, go fencing on Fridays and spend Sundays at the golf club. Nowadays, he would take it easy with a little gardening on a fine day.
"I don't think you're thinking straight."
"Do you want to help me pack or are you just going to stand there whinging?"
She could feel she was losing this battle. Her eyes filled with frustration and fury.
"I think you're a stupid, selfish old man!"
He lunged forward, took her by the throat and pinned her up against the wall.
"Perhaps, but this is my decision, not yours."
"You're hurting me," she wheezed, the colour of her cheeks fading from her face.
He released his grip. She fell to her knees. Gasping for air, she picked herself up, stumbled out of the bedroom and struggled down the stairs.
"I'm sorry." Nigel screamed. He stood at the top of the stairs waiting for a response. She didn't reply. He turned back to the bedroom, threw some clothes into a Burberry bag then picked out a suit.
Back in the study and dressed, he flicked through an app. on his iPhone and checked for the neXt flight to Bangkok. Then flicking onto Amazon, he searched for a book and downloaded the latest John Daysh, 'Cut Out the Middle Man,' for the flight. He turned to his bookshelf, slipped out 'A Course in Miracles' and packed it. He left his bag by the front door and strolled back to the kitchen to find his wife. He leaned over to kiss her, but she turned away.
"I'm sorry for hurting you. It must be these new meds. I really don't know what came over me." Her top lip raised, yet she didn't say a word. "I guess we'll talk later then," he frowned.
He stepped over to the counter, poured himself a half cup of coffee and after a few sips, he was ready to leave. He picked up his things at the door, stepped outside to the garage and glancing up at the grey sky, he opted for the Jag.
En-route to the airport, he pulled over to the side of the road and called his daughter-in-law on the hands-free, "Hi Lou."
"Hi Nigel. How are you?"
"I'm fine. How are you holding up?"
"As well as can be expected."
"I'm heading to the airport now."
"Thank you."
"Tell me everything Mike told you."
"Alright, where do I begin?"
"From the beginning. I need every detail."
Nigel listened and took notes on a pad attached to the dash. Once the call ended, he checked the rear- view, pulled out and pushed the pedal to the metal. He inserted a Sinatra CD into the player, nudged up the volume, broke the speed limit and tapped on the wheel as Ol' blue eyes flew him to the moon.
Nigel's flight landed early. He struggled through immigration, picked up his luggage and headed over to the nearest Bureau-de-Change. After exchanging a stash of cash with a sexy cashier with dyed hair, he avoided the taxi touts and headed for the exit.
"What the hell," he cursed at the humidity. He dived into a green and yellow Toyota, wiped the sweat from his brow then noticed a middle-aged, wrinkle-faced man glancing back at him.
"Hot?" he laughed.
Nigel nodded, unfolded a piece of paper and handed it over. 'Wrinkle-face' held it up to eye level, nodded, handed it back, switched on the meter and drove away. Nigel sat up, opened his journal and peered out of the window.
It seemed the whole population of Bangkok was on its way to work. People were crammed into open buses and hanging on the outsides, young girls in short skirts and tight shirts were riding side-saddle on motorcycles driven by men in bright orange vests and battered trucks emitting thick, black, toxic substances into the atmosphere were driven as if their drivers were drunk. Nigel thought the traffic in London was bad - welcome to Bangkok.
After a while, they finally arrived at a run-down apartment building. It was crumbling on the outside and the neighbourhood looked rough.
Nigel turned to his driver. "Can you wait? Can I leave my bag?"
"Okay," the Thai nodded.
"What's your name?" "My name Pang."
"Thank you, Pang. I'm Nigel. I won't be long. You can leave the meter on if you like."
Nigel climbed out of the car with his Thai phrase book in hand. He stepped over to the entrance, rang the main buzzer - nothing. He pressed again and waited. He glanced back at Pang who was out of the car and leaning on the boot. He was a short, skinny man with a kind, trusting face, wore tight, shabby clothes and his shoes were literally on their last legs.
Nigel was about to press again when the door swung open and a lady in tight, striped leggings appeared. She was holding a steaming bowl of soup and eating something spicy.
"Can you speak English?"
She stood there with a blank expression. He repeated his words slowly - she didn't reply. Sweat was beginning to ooze from his body.
"What you want to know?" Pang asked. He had stepped over from the car.
"I need to see the studio rented by my grandson. Can you tell her that in Thai?"
Pang nodded. A long conversation ensued. Finally Pang turned back to Nigel.
"Your son with Police, not come back yet."
"Yes, I know. I want to see the apartment."
Pang turned to the lady; another conversation began and ended with her putting down her bowl.
"Can you join us?" Nigel asked Pang.
Pang nodded, locked the car and followed Nigel and the lady inside. She led them through a dim hallway and up a wooden staircase. There was a smell of vomit in the air. Nigel, feeling the heat, turned back to Pang. "No air-conditioning in here?"
"Not have, but in room may have."
After climbing the staircase, Nigel and Pang were led into Michael's studio. Nigel caught his breath, flicked on the air-con and took a look around. It was a fair-sized studio with a low ceiling but could have used a little more light.
There were sketches of several girls pinned to the walls. Nigel stood back and admired them. Then spotting a sketch on an easel he took out his mobile and photographed it. "Excuse me, Pang."
Pang stepped over and stood at his side.
"Can you find any other drawings of this girl?"
Pang studied the sketch, checked the others and returned a few minutes later with another two. He held them up for Nigel to photograph them.
"You want to work for me?"
"How much you pay?"
"How's five thousand a day?"
"What you want I do?"
"Drive me around and translate a bit."
"…Can."
"Good, then let's go."
They left the studio. Nigel thanked the landlady with a thousand on the way out. She was shocked.
Pang rushed ahead down the stairs, opened the back door of the car and then helped Nigel climb into the back. He got into the front and waited.
Nigel fumbled around in his trouser pocket, pulled out another piece of paper and handed it over. Pang's smile turned upside down as he read it.
"You know the place?"
Pang nodded then drove away like a chauffeur.