‘What, you think Jon Junior wanted to have me killed?’
Somsak blew a perfect smoke ring. ‘I wondered if perhaps someone you had spoken to…’
‘It’s possible,’ I said.
‘Do you want to give me a list?’
I nodded. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I can do that.’
Somsak grinned. ‘I probably won’t need it, I’m pretty sure that the hitman is going to talk. They usually do.’
CHAPTER 42
Somsak phoned me the following evening, just as I was just sitting down to eat with Noy. She’d cooked prawns with ginger, chicken wrapped in banana leaves and a red duck curry that was one of my favourite dishes, so I had half a mind to let the answering machine pick it up.
Noy nodded at me to take the call as she put a bowl of boiled rice onto the table. ‘They’ll only keep calling,’ she said. ‘And I want you to myself tonight, to celebrate the bandage coming off.’ I’d been to the Bumrungrad in the afternoon and the doctor had taken off the dressing and said that all was well and that from now on the wound would just heal naturally. I had stopped taking painkillers and the headache had gone, so Noy had bought a very good bottle of champagne and was insisting on an early night, which I figured was the least I could do under the circumstances.
I took the phone out on to the terrace. ‘You’ll never guess who wanted you dead,’ said Somsak.
‘I bet I do.’
‘I bet you don’t.’
‘This is a silly game, Somsak,’ I said.
‘I know, but you’ll never guess, not in a million years. The hitman is singing like a canary.’
‘So tell me.’
‘And spoil my fun?’
I sighed. ‘The Pope.’
‘Why would the Pope want you dead?’
‘He wouldn’t. Unless he’d heard that I was pro-Choice.’
‘Pro-Choice? What does that mean?’
‘Nothing, Somsak. I was joking about the Pope.’
‘A serious guess, then,’ said Somsak. ‘Who do you think paid for the hitman?’
I sighed again. ‘You said I wouldn’t be able to guess.’
‘Try.’
I sighed. ‘It was Petrov Shevtsov,’ I said.
The Russian. He wanted me dead because I’d uncovered his money-laundering scheme.
‘No.’
That surprised me. But then again maybe if Petrov had wanted me dead he’d probably have shot me himself. He seemed the type.
‘Who was it then?’
‘Guess again.’
‘Somsak, please…’
Somsak chuckled. I don’t think I’d given him so much pleasure since he took ten thousand baht off me with a straight flush that I hadn’t seen coming.
‘One more guess.’
‘Santhanavit.’
Tukkata’s father. I’d told Somsak that maybe he’d wanted me dead because he didn’t want me chasing after his daughter. It was a bit drastic but Thais often over-reacted where family were concerned.
‘No. Not him. But you’re getting warmer.’
‘Warmer? You mean Mrs Santhanavit?’
‘No, not the wife.’
‘Tell me, Somsak, or I’ll pay someone to shoot you.’
‘It was Big Red,’ he said.
He didn’t say ‘Big Red’ exactly. He said it in Thai. Daeng Yai. But it didn’t matter what the language was, I was still none the wiser.
Big Red?
Who the hell was Big Red?
‘He runs a magazine company. Glossy trade magazines.’
I shrugged. I wasn’t a big reader of glossy trade magazines. Noy was but I doubt that Big Red was going around putting out contracts on men just because their wives were buying his products.
‘He has a big BMW,’ said Somsak. ‘A Seven series.’
‘A red one?’ I said hopefully. I didn’t know anyone who drove a BMW, big or small.
‘A black one. With tinted windows.’
Realisation dawned.
I’d seen Kai getting into a big black BMW with tinted windows. And there had been a big man sitting in the back. A big man in a suit.
‘Now you know who I’m talking about?’ asked Somsak.
‘He picked up one of the girls at Tukkata’s school,’ I said. ‘She was underage. I didn’t get a good look at him.’
I rubbed the back of my neck. This still wasn’t making sense.
‘I didn’t even speak to him. Why the hell would he want me killed?’
‘You spoke to the girl. He probably thought that you were asking about him.’
‘That’s a bit of an over-reaction, don’t you think?’
‘You don’t know Big Red.’
‘Put me out of my misery, Somsak,’ I said. ‘Why does he want me dead?’
‘He’s married to the daughter of a very senior army general,’ said Somsak. ‘In fact, Big Red’s company had been bankrolled by his wife since day one. But Mrs Big Red isn’t the most attractive of women, putting it mildly. So he’s obviously been looking elsewhere for rest and relaxation as the Americans put it.’
‘He was sleeping with Kai?’
‘I don’t think there was much sleeping going on. And I don’t think he was confining his activities to the one girl. Our enquiries suggest that Big Red was paying half a dozen schoolgirls for sex. Kai seems to be his favourite. In fact, he’d promised to set her up as a mia noi when she reached eighteen.’
Mia noi.
Minor wife.
Permanent mistress with benefits, like a house and a car.
‘How old is Big Red?’ I asked.
‘Fifty-seven.’
Forty-two years older than Kai. The Thais have a saying for it. Old cows prefer to eat young grass.
I could see why he might want to get rid of anyone who threatened to disrupt his cosy little arrangement. I doubt that the general’s daughter would react well to the news that her husband had set up a girl forty years his junior as a full-time mistress. He had probably seen me give my number to Kai. Once he had my number it would have been easy to track me down.
‘So what happens now?’ I asked.
‘We put together a case against Big Red. The shooter is already talking and we have a statement from the girl.’
‘I hope they throw away the key.’
‘I think he’ll be more worried about what his wife will do to him.’
