actually there are very thin plates of galvanized steel hidden under the silk. And when you bring them together . . .” He folded the fan, then brought it smashing down onto the desk. The wood shattered. “. . . it becomes a useful weapon. I call it . . .”
“. . . the fan club?” Alex suggested.
Smithers laughed. “You’re getting used to my little ways,” he said. “Anyway, I’ve had all sorts of ideas since I came to Bangkok.” He rifled around the surface of the desk and finally found a packet with a dozen sticks of incense. “Everyone burns incense out here,” he explained.
“It comes in jasmine and musk and it’s rather lovely—but my incense has no smell at all.”
“So what’s the point?”
“After thirty seconds it will cause a whole room full of people to throw up. It’s quite the most disgusting gadget I’ve ever invented, and I have to say we had no fun at all testing it. But it’s still quite useful, I think.” He unfolded a sheaf of drawings. “I’m also working on one of these local taxis. They call them
“What’s this?” Alex asked. He had reached out and picked up a small bronze Buddha sitting in the lotus po-A r m e d a n d D a n g e r o u s
sition. With its round stomach and bald head, it reminded him a little of Smithers.
“Oh—do be careful with that!” Smithers exclaimed.
“That’s my Buddha hand grenade. Twist the head twice and throw it and anyone within ten yards can say their prayers.”
He took it back and placed it carefully in a drawer.
“Mrs. Jones said you’re taking on the snakeheads,” he continued, and suddenly he was serious. “You be careful, Alex. I know you’ve done tremendously well in the past, but these people are seriously nasty.”
“I know.” Alex thought back to his first meeting with Anan Sukit and the fight in the riverside arena. He didn’t need to be told.
“There are all sorts of things I’d love to equip you with,” Smithers said. “But as I understand it, you’re working undercover as an Afghan refugee. Which means that you won’t be carrying very much. Is that right?” Alex nodded. He was disappointed. Smithers had once given him a Game Boy jammed with special devices, and he would have felt more confident having something like that with him now.
Smithers reached forward and opened an old cigar box. The first thing he took out was a watch, a cheap fairground thing on a plastic strap. He handed it to Alex.
Alex looked at the time. According to the watch, it was six thirty. He shook it. “The watch doesn’t work,” he said.
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“We have to think about the psychology,” Smithers explained. “A poor Afghan refugee wouldn’t own many possessions, but he would be very proud of the few he did have . . . even a broken watch. But this watch will work when it matters. There’s a powerful transmitter and a battery inside. If you get in trouble, set the hands to eleven o’clock and it will send out a signal that will repeat every ten minutes for twenty-four hours. We’ll be able to pick you up anywhere on the globe.”
Smithers rummaged around in the box again and took out three coins. Alex recognized them. They were Thai currency—one baht, five baht, and ten baht, worth about fifty cents between them. “I don’t think anyone would worry about a few local coins,” he said, “but these are rather fun. They’re actually miniature explosives. Let me show you how you detonate them.”
He produced a half-empty packet of chewing gum. At least, that was what it looked like. But then he turned it around in his pudgy fingers and slid open a secret panel.
There were three tiny switches on the other side, marked with the figures 1, 5, and 10. “This is how it works,” he explained. “The coins are magnetic. You have to stick them to a metal surface to activate them. That’ll stop you from accidentally blowing them up in your pocket. Then you flick the appropriate switch . . . just make sure you get the right value. The coins will blow open a lock or even smash a hole in a wall. Think of them as miniature land mines. And do try not to spend them!”
“Thanks, Mr. Smithers.”
“And finally, I’ve got something that might come in very useful if you find yourself off the beaten track.” Smithers pulled open a drawer in the desk and took out an old belt with a heavy silver buckle. “You can slip it into your jeans. There’s a particularly sharp knife hidden inside the buckle. It’s actually made out of toughened plastic, and it’s rather cunningly designed so it won’t show up on x-ray machines if you go through an airport.
And if you slice open the belt, you’ll find matches, medicine, water-purifying tablets, and knockout pills that are guaranteed to work on eleven different varieties of snake.
I developed it for use in the jungle, and although you’re not heading that way, you never know.” He handed it across. “It’s a shame, really. I’d love to give you the pants that go with it. The legs are highly flammable.”
“Exploding jeans?” Alex asked.
“Flares,” Smithers replied. He reached out and shook Alex’s hand. “Good luck, my boy. And one last word of advice.” He leaned forward as if afraid of being overheard. “I wouldn’t trust these Australians if I were you. I mean, they’re not a bad lot. But they are a bit rough, if you know what I mean. They don’t play by the rules. Just keep your wits about you.” He tapped the side of his nose.
“And call for help the moment you need us. That Ben Daniels is a good guy. He won’t let you down.” Alex gathered up his few weapons and left the room.
As he left, he heard Smithers humming behind him. The
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