Thai Horse

Hatcher grinned a quick, passing grin as he stared the Dutchman down. ‘Just looking for an old friend,’ he growled.

‘I see you met John,’ the Dutchman said, making conversation.

‘We exchanged amenities.’

‘Ja, sure. Veil, let’s sit and talk, den, I got to move on.’ He motioned to a table and they sat down. Hatcher stared hard at him, sizing up the heavyset trader. His swollen eyes were bloodshot and his mouth curled in what seemed like a perpetual sneer.

The Dutchman leaned over the table and said in a whisper to Hatcher. ‘Look, I know who you are, okay? No problem. I ain’t interested in your beef vit Sam-Sam.’

‘What do you know about my beef with Sam-Sam?’ Hatcher croaked casually.

‘Veil, you know how talk goes.’

‘No,’ Hatcher said, still staring at the trader, ‘how does it go?’

The Dutchman looked at Daphne with a question: Why was the Yankee being difficult? She looked away. It was Hatcher’s game and she decided to stay out of it.

‘I ain’t looking for trouble,’ the Dutchman said. ‘I come because Miss Daphne ask me to, okay? I know all about you, Ying bing. I just vant to keep it clean, see? Don’t do me no goot, they know I’m talkin’ to you.’

Ying bing. Shadow warrior. Nobody had ever called him that to his face before. Hatcher let it pass.

‘Just curious,’ Hatcher said. ‘I hear there’s a misunderstanding between us.’

The Dutchman raised his eyebrows and laughed.

‘Misunderstanding? Ja, dat’s goot. Some misunderstanding. He says you owe him fifty thousand dollars. And proper interest.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Hatcher whispered, shaking his head and chuckling, ‘A roll of the dice to Sam-Sam.’

‘I don’t tink it’s da money, although it is a consideration, I’m sure,’ the Dutchman said. ‘He says you disgraced him.’

‘What the hell,’ said Hatcher, ‘hijackers got the guns. Cost me a penny or two, too.’

‘Dat’s not da vay he says it happened,’ said the Dutchman, taking a sip of beer and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

‘You can hear anything you want to hear,’ Hatcher whispered, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand.

The Dutchman looked furtively around the empty bar and said, ‘Sam-Sam says you vere Company.’

Hatcher chuckled and leaned back, feigning shock. He shook his head. ‘Come on.’

‘He says you set him up. Dat you used his money, bought da guns, and sold dem to the Chem guerrillas and da Chems used dem against the people he vas going to sell dem to.’

‘I’m not that devious,’ Hatcher said casually, at which Daphne, Cohen and the Dutchman all stared at the floor rather than disagree. The Dutchman fitted a cigarette into an ivory holder and lit it with a gold lighter. He leaned back, blowing irregular smoke rings toward the ceiling, watching them dissipate.

Leatherneck John brought the drinks to the table.

‘Anything else you need, just yell,’ he said and drifted back to the bar.

‘What else does Sam-Sam say?’ Hatcher asked.

‘He says you sleep vit da Devil,’ the Dutchman said. ‘He says you haff an instinct for da throat and are not betrayed by conscience. He says you lie vittout moving a muscle and kill vittout a taste for blood. And he says you could negotiate vit God and get da best share.’

‘He knows you well,’ Cohen said with a grin.

‘Sounds like he’s describing himself,’ Hatcher said.

The Dutchman laughed too, and raised his beer in a half-hearted salute.

‘So — vat is it?’ the Dutchman asked.

‘I’m trying to find out if the Vietcong had a floating prison camp called Huie-kui in northeast Laos. They may have called it the spirit camp. This would be late 1971, early ‘72.’

The Dutchman looked at Daphne and then back at Hatcher.

Daphne took out an envelope and laid it on the corner of the table. She kept her hand over it. ‘Five hundred dollars Hong Kong, as agreed — if the information is reliable,’ she said.

It was the first time Hatcher had heard about paying the Dutchman, but he did not intercede. He would settle up with Daphne later. This was not the time to discuss it.

‘Dey had several camps over dere,’ said the Dutchman.

‘This would be on the other side of the mountains, near Muang.’

‘Muang, ja,’ the Dutchman said with a nod. ‘Across country, utter side of da Annimitique.’

‘That would be it,’ said Hatcher, his eyes glowing. His pulse picked up a few beats. ‘Did they move it around?’