Thai Horse

started back to the bar.

‘Semper Fi, pal,’ Hatcher growled.

John stopped and turned back toward him.

‘How’s that?’

‘Semper Fi. You were a marine, you know what that’s all about. This guy and I were mates. Maybe he’s in trouble. Maybe he needs something. I want to make the offer, that’s all.’

‘So find him and make it.’

‘Yeah, right.’

Leatherneck John smiled pleasantly and returned to the bar, but Hatcher decided to try once more. He followed Leatherneck John back to the bar. Billy Death stared down the length of oak at him and said, ‘You here to buy or sell?’

‘Neither one. I’m a tourist,’ Hatcher whispered. Billy Death sneered at him, threw a handful of coins on the bar and left. Hatcher turned back to Leatherneck John and leaned toward him.

‘How about the girl?’ Hatcher asked. ‘Have you ever seen the girl?’

‘I told you, I got amnesia, cowboy,’ Leatherneck John said. ‘Hell, I don’t even remember my last name.’

Hatcher laid an American hundred-dollar bill on the bar.

‘That’s nice,’ Leatherneck John said. ‘I ain’t seen a yard in a long time. Mostly Hong Kong dollars hereabouts.’ He stared at the bill for a moment, picked it up and rang up the sale on the cash register. Turning back to Hatcher, he said, ‘I sell booze, food and silence. You want a little jolt, a little toot, a smoke, I can maybe help you out.’ He counted out ninety-five dollars, H. K., and laid it on the bar. ‘And that’s all I got to sell, cowboy.’

‘Mm goi,’ Hatcher said.

‘You’re welcome,’ John said, still smiling.

Hatcher gathered up the change and returned to the table.

‘I don’t like the way this is shaping up,’ Cohen said quietly. ‘You got your information. If there’s nothing else

‘I guess you’re right,’ said Hatcher. He held the chair for Daphne and they all stood up. The Dutchman laid his fat hand on the envelope and looked at Daphne with raised eyebrows.

‘It’s yours,’ Hatcher said.

‘Bedankt,’ the Dutchman said, stuffing the envelope in his inside jacket pocket. ‘Haff a safe trip back.’ He walked across the room to the man on the pool table and shook him.

‘Let’s go, Jawnee,’ he said.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ the black man with the ponytail answered sleepily. ‘Pick me up around back.

‘You come now,’ the Dutchman said gruffly and left.

‘That Tonton’s got me worried,’ said Cohen. ‘He was a little too interested in us.’

‘Curiosity,’ said Hatcher. ‘Hell, it isn’t—’

He stopped and looked out the window at the Dutchman, who had reached the Chris Craft and was getting ready to leave.

‘I just thought of something else,’ he said. ‘You all go to the snakeboat. I’ve got to ask the Dutchman one more question.’

‘Hurry it up. The sooner we’re out of here, the better,’ Cohen answered nervously.

The man with the ponytail sat up on the edge of the pool table, his legs dangling above the floor and watched Hatcher leave. He jumped to the floor and walked casually toward the door.

Outside, heat seeped down over the jungle like warm syrup. The Dutchman was checking his fuel supply. He looked up as Hatcher approached the boat.

‘Ja?’ he asked.

‘One more thing. This Taisung, the warden of the camp, you know what happened to him?’

‘He ran for it,’ the Dutchman answered without stopping his work.

‘Ja. I don’t tink he vas too vell thought of in Hanoi.’

‘Why?’

‘Drugs, booze. Dey vere all corrupt, y’know.’

‘How about the prisoners?’

‘I don’t know ‘bout dem,’ the Dutchman said with a shrug.

‘Where did Taisung run to?’

The Dutchman capped the fuel tanks and purged the fuel lines as he thought about the question. He stepped over the gunwale and stood close to Hatcher. As they spoke Hatcher became aware of movement downriver, at the bend in the elbow. It was a barge, moving slowly around the sharp curve in the narrow river.

‘Bangkok,’ he said.