so I didn’t press the point.
“Anyway, forget that,” Dollar said. “I’ve got something I need to talk to you about.”
“Maybe we should move this outside, Dollar.”
The man’s voice came from behind me, and when I turned I saw John Hanratty slouched down in a seat in the front row right next to the entrance to the lecture hall. I hadn’t noticed John come in and I wondered what he was doing there. John wasn’t a lawyer, not as far as I knew anyway, although he worked for Dollar’s law firm in some capacity. I had never been absolutely certain what John actually did for Dollar’s firm, but I gathered he functioned as a sort of greeter for out-of-town clients when they came to Bangkok, something most of them were happy enough to do whenever they could come up with an excuse that their wives would buy. Clients were always flying in for what were euphemistically called conferences, only to spend most of their time on a stool next to John at one of the city’s justly famed go-go bars.
Everyone I knew called John by his nickname: Just John. The source of that nickname was a local legend. Whenever someone who knew only John’s first name asked for his last, so the story went, John would invariably reply, “It’s just John.” Popular rumor had it that Just John was retired from the CIA. That, of course, interpreted his gesture concerning his name as a penchant for secrecy rather than just an indication of friendliness. I thought the story far too colorful to be true, but I really didn’t know Just John all that well so I had never asked him about it.
“I didn’t know you were coming this morning, John.”
“Shit,” he grinned as he pushed himself out of his seat, “neither did I until a couple of hours ago.”
Just John was a big man and all of his features seemed slightly over-scale: big hands, wide forehead, barrel chest, prominent nose. He must have been in his sixties, but he was tanned and fit-looking despite a beer gut that rode his middle like a kangaroo’s pouch. His gray hair was long enough at the back to curl down inside the collar of the neat, button-down white shirt he wore tucked into sharply creased, dark gray trousers.
“Come on, Jack.” Dollar placed a hand against my back and nudged me gently toward the door. “Let’s take a walk.”
The three of us left the building and turned north across the campus. Just John said nothing at all, but Dollar and I made small talk as we strolled unhurriedly in the general direction of a massive, lumpy pile of masonry that looked like a bomb shelter built on the surface rather than underground. In actual fact it was an eight-story, windowless shopping center with a doubtful reputation where a lot of Chula students hung out between classes, eyeing each other over the vendors’ stalls heaped with knockoff clothing, cloned cell phones, and pirated DVDs.
Eventually I got bored with waiting for someone to tell me what this conversation was supposed to be about.
“What’s on your mind, Dollar?” I asked.
“As I recall, Jack, we referred Howard the Roach to you last year. That’s right, isn’t it?”
I nodded. Howard Kojinski liked to pose as a big-time financier, but he was actually one of those guys who seldom made it past the fringe of anything that mattered. He had earned his colorful moniker, so I understood, because of the way he operated on those rare occasions when he accidentally stumbled into something that involved real money.
“You organized a company for him in Hong Kong, didn’t you?” Dollar kept walking, his hands folded behind him. “Then you used it to set up an LA property deal he had going with a some Chinese hustlers.”
I nodded again and waited for Dollar to get to the point.
“Just John’s looking into what Howard’s been up to lately. What have you heard from the little asshole?”
“Nothing.”
Then I thought about Dollar’s question and realized how odd it was.
“Why would you think I’d heard anything from Howard?”
“Well, Jack,” Dollar gave me a tentative look, “you know more about manipulating corporate structures than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re the man when it comes to all that shit. If Howard had a problem with some of his funny-money stuff, I thought he might have called you.”
“And does he have a problem?”
“Sure he does, Jack. Howard always has a problem.”
“What is it this time?”
Howard claimed to have business interests all around the world, but all I knew for certain was that he had done a few minor real estate deals here and there and that he owned a California company named In The Pink Inc. The company had been a nearly defunct distributor of pornographic videos when Howard bought it, but even after he unloaded the porno inventory on some Iranian students, Howard loved the name of the company so much he never changed it.
The only other thing of any value that In The Pink Inc. owned was a small tract of land in Hollywood that was just east of the old Warner Brothers studio lot. There was nothing on the site but a run-down building occupied by something that billed itself as a karaoke club and Howard wanted to redevelop the property with a small strip mall. Another strip mall was just what LA really needed, of course, so he had somehow convinced three young Hong Kong Chinese disco entrepreneurs to put up the money. That had been the reason for setting up the development company in Hong Kong, or so I had been told. Regardless, before I even managed to get the titles to the land straightened out and the property transferred into the new company, Howard’s backers lost interest in the deal and he told me to forget the whole thing.
“Don’t tell me Howard’s strip mall deal is alive again?” I asked.
Dollar didn’t answer me right away. I got the feeling that he was still trying to read my reaction to Howard’s name.
“No, it’s not about all that,” Dollar finally said, but that was all he did say.
We had reached the edge of the campus and Dollar abruptly turned east and headed for Phayathai Road, a busy north-south thoroughfare that bisected Chula. I still couldn’t see where this was going, but I trailed along anyway, waiting Dollar out. Just John had dropped a few paces behind us, apparently losing interest in the conversation. I could easily see how that might be.
“Jack, I need to understand exactly how much you know about this mess Howard’s got himself in.”
“I just told you. I don’t know anything about Howard or any mess he’s in. I haven’t heard from him since last year.”
I couldn’t imagine why Dollar was suddenly so interested in Howard. I certainly wasn’t.
Then all of a sudden it occurred to me what all this might be about, and I stopped walking so abruptly that Just John stumbled into me from behind.
Dollar’s law firm hired me to consult with their clients on specialized corporate matters fairly frequently. I even had a small office of my own there and I thought Dollar knew me pretty well by now. I didn’t want any clients, and even if I did, I’d certainly be able to get them without stealing them from him. If that was what Dollar was implying now that he thought I was doing, I didn’t like it one little bit.
“Are you suggesting that I’m trying to hijack one of your clients, Dollar?”
“No,” Dollar quickly shook his head. “Nothing like that.”
I looked at him carefully. I wasn’t sure I believed him. It seemed to me that was exactly what he
“Then you’d better explain to me what you’re talking about,” I said.
Dollar shifted his eyes off mine. He glanced at Just John and then sighed heavily.
“Why don’t we just forget all this for now, Jack? If you haven’t talked to Howard recently, you haven’t. Just let me know if he calls. Will you do that for me?”
“What’s going on here, guys?” I looked back and forth between Dollar and Just John. “Why don’t you just lay it out for me?”
Dollar said nothing. It was Just John who answered me.
“Howard’s gone and done something stupid, Jack. We need to straighten it out.” John lifted his arms from his sides, palms up. “That’s all. We just want to be sure nobody gets hurt when we do.”
