The Fear Artist

“Right. Okay. Dawdle a little. Hang back. Look both ways. Stop for a minute or two.”

“I’m very popular when I stop.”

“Dazzle them. Burn off some of that energy. I have to hang up.”

His call-waiting signal beeps again. “Vladimir,” he says. “You’re being a bad boy.”

“Always,” Vladimir says. “But why you telling me now?”

“What’s-his-name-I mean, Janos.”

“Oho,” Vladimir says. “You are looking, yes? Where?”

“Why is he here?”

“He is not trusting me. You are not trusting me, he is not trusting me. Good thing Vladimir is not sensitive.”

“I asked why he’s-”

“You owe him money. He is not wanting to have to kill me to get it.”

“Money for what?”

“Ah-ah. We talking when we see each other.”

“Okay. Keep walking. In about three blocks, there’s a hotel, the Alpine Suites. Go through the lobby and into the bar. I’ll be in a booth at the back. Bring Janos.”

“You buy me drink?”

Rafferty says, “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” and turns off the phone.

On the way in, he stops at reception and asks for three standard letter-size envelopes. He takes them into the men’s room, claims a stall, and closes the door, then does some quick sorting with the hundreds and twenties Ming Li brought from America.

The bar is empty. At this hour most of the businessmen who stay here are out experiencing the more vivid aspects of Bangkok life. He calls Ming Li and says, “I’m in a hotel up ahead of you, the Alpine Suites. They’ll be going into it, if they haven’t already. Just walk past it, twenty or thirty yards. The guy Vladimir is towing is going to come out in a few minutes. Make sure he goes all the way away, and then come in and go through the lobby into the bar.”

Ming Li says, “I’m not old enough to-”

Rafferty hangs up and waves across the room to Vladimir and Janos, who is two steps behind. Vladimir crosses the room as though it’s a minefield, eyes everywhere, and slides into the booth. When Janos starts to follow, Rafferty holds up an envelope and says, “Take this and go away.”

Janos crinkles his generic forehead and says, “Why should I-” and then hefts the envelope and changes the subject. “How much?”

“One thousand, U.S.”

“Ha,” Janos says. He pops the flap on the envelope and looks inside. “This one, this Vladimir, he is so cheap. You I can work for.”

“And you probably will, but right now go away. All the way out of the hotel and then into a cab and somewhere else. I have someone watching, and I’ll know.”

“You learn fast,” Janos says. To Vladimir he says, “Bye-bye, cheapskate.”

Watching Janos go, Vladimir sags back against the booth and says, “Five hundred. I tell him you can only pay five hundred. You Americans, you throw money ewerywhere. And still nobody love you.”

“What did he find out?”

“Oh, no, no. Do not reduce me to laughter. First I am seeing some money. Already you owe me.”

“Well, gee,” Poke says, taking out another envelope. “I don’t know. Now that you’ve told me I’m overpaying-”

“Him,” Vladimir says, both eyes on the envelope. “You pay him too much. Me, I am contractor. Always you pay contractor good.” He lifts the cleft chin in the direction of the envelope. “How much?”

“Two thousand.” He puts it on the table. “For everything you told me last time, and for getting things moving.”

Vladimir shrugs and reaches for it. “Good.” He uses his fingertips to square the envelope precisely with the table’s edge and folds his hands over it.

“Not going to count it?”

“I trust you.” He surveys the room lazily, and Rafferty figures he’s memorizing everything in it. “I count it later. One more small information for you. Murphy has first name. Heskell.”

“Heskell?”

“No,” Vladimer says. “Heskell.”

“Oh,” Rafferty says. “Haskell.”

“I tell you two times, Heskell.” His eyes lock on something and follow it. He reaches up and smooths his hair. “This is pretty girl,” he says, and Rafferty looks up to see Ming Li.

“Get you guys something?” Ming Li asks. “You must be Vladimir.”

Vladimir says to Rafferty, “She is yours?”

“How Old World,” Ming Li says. She looks down at Poke. “Scoot over, whoever you are.”

“I’m Poke,” Poke says as Ming Li sits. “Vladimir knows my name. Vladimir, this isn’t Minnie Lee. Minnie, this isn’t really Vladimir.”

Vladimir says, “Poke is not a name.”

“If you’d told my father that thirty-seven years ago, I’d have been spared a life of shame.”

“Poke is better than Philip,” Ming Li says. She looks at the envelope. “Is that what I think it is?”

Vladimir puts a protective hand on the envelope and says, “Depends what you think-”

“Money,” she says. “You going to earn it?”

Vladimir straightens up an inch or so and looks down his considerable nose at her. “Is already earned.”

The two of them examine each other in a way that makes Poke feel he’s in the next room.

Into the silence he says, “I wonder how you get a drink in here.”

Vladimir says, “You have wery interesting eyes.”

Ming Li says, “You’ve got a nice kind of aging-Borat thing going yourself.”

“Was a time,” Vladimir says mournfully, “you would have chased Vladimir through the woods.”

“And caught him, too,” Ming Li says.

“Would either of you like a-”

“But your eyes,” Vladimir says, sliding the envelope back and forth with his fingertips. “Yes, pretty, wery pretty, but interesting.”

“I’m just your basic hybrid.”

“Glad you guys are getting along,” Poke says.

Vladimir says to Poke, “She is baby spy, yes?”

“I’m his bankroll,” Ming Li says.

“Yes? And you are knowing him how?”

“I’ve heard about him my entire life.” She laces her fingers together and clasps her hands over her heart. “This is a dream come true.”

Vladimir’s lower lip comes out half an inch, apparently propelled by doubt. “You are young,” he says. “You will have better dream later.”

“Hey,” Rafferty says. “My life is in danger.”

“You guys talk for a minute.” Ming Li gets up. “What do you want?”

Rafferty asks for a Singha. Vladimir says, “Wodka. The bottle, please,” and watches her cross the room.

“A million dollar, she would be worth to me,” Vladimir says. “Two million. Already I have a hundred ideas.”

“Not for sale.”

“With fifty like her, look like her, smart like her, I could have won war in Wietnam.”

“You did.”

“No. Wietnam won. We lose ewerything. We lose whole world. We were killed by American telewision.” He