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Nong Khai is arguably the pearl of Isaan; the north east corner of Thailand that’s main economic product is its daughters who travel every year to the bars and brothels of Bangkok and Pattaya. The rainfall is lower and the crops produced usually of poorer quality to those from the rest of Thailand.

Nong Khai, however, is the border crossing town to Laos and hugs the Mekong for several kilometres. It once impressed a Newsweek magazine team to the extent that they included it in a list of one of the top ten places in the world to retire. Based on a number of criteria, cost of living, climate, health care etc they forgot to include distance from the grandchildren. Max genuinely liked Nong Khai, preferring it to Udon Thani, Khon Kien and Korat, the other popular settling places for Farangs in Isaan. As foreigners took up with bargirls they were usually persuaded to set up home in that particular girl’s town of origin, and most times this worked out well. The horror stories that did the rounds, in Max’s opinion, usually involved guys who weren’t capable of sustaining a relationship anywhere else in the world. Sure there were a few mugs but most men spent a year or two in the fleshpots before deciding on a girl, then only after a lengthy courtship. He freely admitted that he was no one to talk having fallen into a few relationships on a single nights acquaintance, usually combining love with a desire to leave town after having outworn his welcome. A lot of his business investments had gone off the tracks; he had avoided bars, realising that combining alcohol and business was no good for him. A genuine liking for women didn’t help either, a brief foray into bar management in the Philippines hadn’t lasted long after seriously damaging a customer who brought back a young girl decorated with cigarette burns. Once again, there had been no formal challenge, the guy sneering at Max one moment while complaining that she had refused to indulge in anal sex, then bleeding profusely while trying to work out which were his teeth on the floor and which was broken beer bottle.  His venture into the jewellery field worked well for a while, but cheap products from China cut into his lines and he lacked the capital and the knowledge to compete in the more expensive side of the market. Land speculation in Thailand had also been moderately successful but the properties he still owned were in the name of a Thai woman who suspected that Max may disappear permanently from the scene once he had cashed up.

Paying the driver handsomely when he alighted at the Tesco shopping mall he went in for several minutes, then left by another entrance, calling a waiting tuktuk and heading for the river. Booking into one of the hotels there he walked down to the market that ran along the river front.

Restaurants were built out over the Mekong and he chose one that offered live freshwater shrimp, directing that they be served in a tom yam soup with rice. Once more he gazed out across the darkened river knowing that one of the lights east of the bridge on the other side was Da’s home and wondering if she was there.
The goom (shrimp) were superb and he ordered side dishes of fried chicken wings and leafy steamed green vegetables.  Pleased with the meal he wandered the market for a while, buying a gold plated jewellers loupe that he didn’t need and as an after thought a good quality flick knife. Knowing the shop owner from previous visits he accepted the offered ten percent discount realising the price was fair and the guy would refuse to allow bargaining for his merchandise.

His next stop was a bar in the main street run by a Dane who Max knew from his time in Vientiane; he was a regular customer of the Lao ‘princess’ and his bar was a popular meeting point for expats in the area. Max was expecting to see expats there but the sight of Harry sitting at the bar took him back considerably.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how did you know where I was?” demanded Max, “I got Da’s phone number when we were here in ’04 and rang her from Bangkok,” said Harry, “I’ve been hanging about Bangkok waiting for you to turn up for a week now, that fucking Finn you did the switch with told the police you were heading overland to Europe through China so I worked out you would probably go East, then South, but decided to check with Da who said you had been in Vientiane; so I took pot luck and flew to Udon Thani and headed for the river on the chance you were here.”

The short fat man was sweating heavily in the heat but declined a beer, accepting another Sprite and ice.

“My lawyer said I was going down big time so I decided to do a runner, years of work down the chute over a few drug dealers knocking each other off, they ought to give me a fucking medal.” Max swallowed heavily on the Heineken draught. One thing he did not need was a passenger who didn’t know any more of Asia than the bars of Pattaya and Angeles City.

Harry dropped his voice to the typical prison yard whisper, hissing from the side of his mouth; “stash the E,” he said, “I’ve got major problems with some of my cash I’ve sent up here, Charlie Gilmour has been handling it in the Philippines and has started mumbling about investments going wrong. Max, you always said he was an ex-copper cunt that couldn’t be trusted and it looks as though you were right; I need a back up to get what’s left off of him and you’re the only one that I can trust.”

“Why didn’t you get Rex?” said Max, “He’d sort Charlie in a second,” remembering an episode in the past where Gilmour had borrowed money from Rex, only returning it when one of his sons had rung him early one morning, crying in pain and humiliation and pleading with his father to repay the debt. Harry had negotiated a truce between the men, needing both on his side, but Max had never trusted Charlie since. He had left the police force under the apprehension that he could make millions as an importing entrepreneur but even his good deals had gone wrong through an ongoing problem caused by continually spending more than he earned. Based in the Philippines he had acquired a taste for younger and younger girls, barely skirting the legal limit, and paying them to lay in bed with him while he boasted of his business exploits. Max had no doubts that any money placed in his hands would disappear with promises of later repayment; but Harry being an old ex-con was prepared to take the risk just to have an ex-copper at his beck and call. Fucking egos he thought in disgust.

“Rex is in South America and won’t answer my calls” reported a despondent Harry, confirming Max’s theory that he was the second choice. He had no doubt that Rex had better things to do with his time and he hated the Philippines after losing a thousand dollars in a card game to a couple of jeepney drivers in his younger days. It was a standard scam, they knew a dealer at the casino who would let a respectable tourist win but first they had to show him the finer points of the game, did he have any money they could practise with? Even the real smart guys like Rex couldn’t get their dough out quick enough. Max sometimes wondered if greed was the major stimulus in life. Personally he would rather be in the short-time room of a Fields Avenue bar banging a twenty year old go-go dancer.

“Harry, I’ve got to go down to Malaysia, the Thais will pick my passport in seconds, I can stamp it myself at the borders and it will be accepted by the next country but I can’t fly on it. I’ve got to get this E into Indonesia within a few days or Duangvichit will tip off his Malaysian mates, if he hasn’t already, and I’ll be fucked big time. It would be just his style to get me hung over there; but he wants the dope as well.”

Harry held up a plump hand, “All we have to do is get to Pattaya,” he said, “Louie is waiting there with a yacht and we’ll be out of the country in a blink of an eye.”

Fucking Louie the Legbreaker, former Adriatic charter boat skipper and Balkan war criminal, Max thought. With his luck the UN war crimes tribunal would arrest them along with the assistance of the Thai police on the high seas. For years it had amazed him how guys like Harry amassed a fortune, they went like a bull at a gate with no thought for the consequences and when the dust settled they came up smelling of roses. He decided that after years of “favours” for Harry and serious work for dinners and a few drinks he would make sure that this time his efforts would be properly compensated.

Harry liked people to be in debt to him, basically insecure he doubted the sincerity of most of his friends and used money to keep them in his web. Once Max had owed him twenty grand and had never been more thankful the day he paid it back, seeing Harry’s attitude change towards him from  patronising to disinterested.  Now Harry needed him, and escape from Thailand by sea had it’s attractions, he had sailed competitively in his youth and where his size, age and lack of practise would limit his use as a deck hand  he could still take the helm and navigate competently while the others did the real work. Knowing Harry, Max doubted that he had worried about employing a cook so he could make himself useful there too.

Max decided that the best way to Pattaya was to hire a car and drive down, taking a Thai driver with them to bring it back. That would also eliminate the need for the close scrutiny or deposits of passports. They would attract attention on the bus and he feared the airports would be watched by Duangvichit’s men. The Danish bar owner was summoned and a practically new Toyota was rented using Harry’s money and Max set about thinking what he would do with the dope.

He let Harry rabbit on about his bad luck and the ingratitude of people like Charlie and Rex while he reviewed the changed circumstances. If the E was lost Harry would never cover Max’s share, merely promising that he would be “looked after” at a future date, he would be broke again and running a building job for peanuts when Harry built his new house wherever he decided to settle. No, the shit was coming along too, it could go to the Philippines where he could keep his eye on it and he would take his chances there. He knew the country well and given a reasonable start could lose himself on one of half a dozen islands.

Harry had the menu and was ordering up big, glowering when Max said he had already eaten and choosing a selection of pies and pastries, the speciality of the bar. Max got the barmaids attention and pointed at the lone bottle of Haig Dimple, if Harry was paying he may as well make the most of it. He cast a professional eye over the young, and not so young, ladies sitting in the back corner, they too could improve the level of the present company. Too late he sensed a movement behind him, turning to meet a frantic embrace and an overjoyed shriek. It was Phin, of the dead husband, and she wanted Max as a replacement it seemed. Deciding the best thing to do was to act as if he was pleased to see her Max ordered a beer for her and patted her behind consolingly while she told him that they had been destined for each other from the first day he arrived in Vientiane. “Fucking Da steal you from me” she cried drunkenly - sure, she had made a move but backed off hurriedly when she saw his interest in Da. Small and demure Da was lethal in a girl fight, Max had seen her take out a six foot lady-boy in Udon one night, giving him a Muay Thai kick to the groin then finishing the job with one of her six inch platforms used as a bludgeon as he lay howling on the footpath. “I love you so much,” she informed Max and the whole bar, the Dane started to move over threateningly but Max waved him a way, he would switch her to Thai whisky and hopefully she would pass out soon. He introduced her to a mortified Harry who squirmed with embarrassment and looked at the ceiling. Phin undid Max’s belt and groped him happily, oblivious to any onlookers.

Max had always wondered about her relationship with the dead Charlie, he had only come to Vientiane once a year to see Paul and have a haircut. He had paid a year’s rent on a room over a shop, laid up with Phin for a week and gone back to Phnom Penh. Paul had confided in Max that she gave the best blow job in town after a few drinks but Max wasn’t in the mood to find out.

Phin had been attractive once, but booze had wrecked her features and thickened her body. She obviously had money she had bought Max drinks in the past when Da was out of town but he had ducked away before any more intimacy was suggested. He order a Mekong Whisky for her to drink with the beer and turned to Harry who was looking at him with a mixture of disgust and amused disbelief.

“Do you want her bawling and waking up the whole fucking town?” said Max; “a couple of drinks will see her right then we can get an early night and get away in the morning.”

Famous last words he thought as dawn and a crashing hangover woke him and saw Phin snoring happily along side. He vaguely remembered the frantic gobbling technique she had used in an attempt to arouse him before passing out seconds before he had. Pleasantly surprised at the presence of a third party in the bed, an impressive erection, he prodded Phin with it until she awoke and immediately took it into her hand. Many a good tune played on an old violin he thought as he headed for the shower afterwards with a bottle of water from the fridge. Phin selected a large Singha, obviously her breakfast of choice, and asked when they were heading off to Pattaya. Choking on his water Max informed her that the trip was strictly business and he would be back in a few days. Realising that they would have to be on their way before she was drunk enough to protest he rang the reception desk was relieved to find the Thai driver was waiting and rang around for Harry to find him on his second plate of bacon and eggs in the dining room.

They headed South, waved off by a subdued Phin.

 

© Julian. All rights reserved by the author.