we were out of earshot of Griswold and the others.
Pugh said to me, “Griswold knows his numerology. A big man — the head of the investors who got screwed and are after Griswold — is going to take a fall on April twenty-seventh. But Griswold, I believe, gave something away. The esteemed seer Surapol Sutharat will lead a birthday blessing ceremony on that date on the plaza in front of the Central World Mall that will be open to the public and will be attended by many thousands of merit-makers. It will be one of the major socioreligious occasions in Bangkok to mark the beginning of Songkran, the Buddhist new year. The television newsies and the Bangkok papers have been burbling over with reports on this upcoming solemn event. And the star birthday girl, Paveena Hanwilai, is the wife of a considerable personage in Bangkok, a man whose name will ring a major bell with you, Khun Don.”
Pugh had stopped walking and was looking at me now, and I asked him, “Who’s that?”
“Paveena Hanwilai is the wife of Police General Yodying.
She’s a Bangkok A-list celeb from an aristocratic family — distantly related to Jack and Jackie, as she likes to remind folks
— who gets her name and her picture in the papers regularly.
She’s often seen in the company of soothsayer Surapol at merit-making rituals at temples and upscale shopping centers around Bangkok. Of course, there could be another wife of a Bangkok pooh-bah with a sixtieth birthday on April twenty-seventh. I’ll ask Khun Thunska to hack into city records and do a quick search for other April twenty-seventh sixtieth birthdays. But present circumstances do strongly suggest to me that Paveena is our gal and General Yodying is our boy. I believe I assured you earlier that General Yodying was our crook, not someone else’s.
You have my sincerest apologies for that miscalculation.”
I thought about this and said, “So, can I get my twenty-four thousand dollars back?”
“Retrieving your money is the least of our worries,” Pugh said. “Yodying is no doubt in touch with the kidnappers, perhaps even directing them. It’s good that we did not involve the police in the rescue effort we have planned.”
“You mean the rescue effort that might result in Timmy or Kawee getting thrown off a building as a warning to us to back off?”
“Yes, that very rescue effort. But we now have enough information to deal with that particular thorny aspect of this complex situation. Knowledge is power, after all.”
“I love your bromides, Rufus. I find them soothing. Back in New Jersey, I may someday endow a bromide center at Monmouth State and name it after you.”
“Thank you, Khun Don. You are a kind man.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Griswold phoned somebody he refused to identify to us and tried to make a deal. First he offered 20 percent of the new project, then 30, then 40, then 50. He told whoever was on the other end of the line that that was as high as he could go. He had told us before placing the call that offering 90 percent would have been fine with him — after all, he’d be in the clear with these people as of April 27 — but that doing so would arouse suspicions about his sincerity. Also, he was unwilling to describe to the kidnappers the exact nature of the new can’t-gowrong project, and that probably did not inspire confidence.
Griswold hung up after a few minutes looking pale and exhausted. “I’m sorry. They said no deal. They want me. I suppose they think they can torture me and make me pay them back the money they lost, and then they’ll kill me as a lesson to others not to fuck with them.”
I said, “Why not just give them the money? Three lives are at risk here. How much did they lose?”
“Forty-three million US. I haven’t got that much. And what I do have I will need for the Sayadaw U project. And also to right a wrong that has festered for far too many years.”
He sat there beside Pugh’s desk in his shiny biking outfit, reeking of stale sweat, and suddenly I wanted to pick him up and toss him out a window myself. Here was a man who had employed six month’s worth of meditation to empty his mind of impurities and locate the peaceful core within, and yet he was going around wreaking bloody havoc wherever he turned. His wheel of life was like some kind of rampaging buzz saw.
Surprising both Pugh and myself, I said, “Griswold, you really have to consider giving yourself up to these people.
Maybe your present life just isn’t going to work out for you.
Plainly, your heart is generally in the right place, and if I understand the rules of reincarnation correctly, you’ve earned a pretty good karmic report card overall. You’ve donated to lots 164 Richard Stevenson of good causes over the years — Amnesty International and so forth, and I’ll bet the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Fund.
And your Buddhist study center and theme park, even if it never gets built, will surely earn you about a zillion points for good intentions. Your next life is bound to be both noble and cushy. So maybe the right thing for you to do is to just call it quits for this particular incarnation and let Kawee live out his current putrid existence as he sees fit, and the same goes for Timothy Callahan. Just give yourself up and let the karmic chips fall where they may. What do you think?”
Griswold sat glowering at me — he really would have to speak to his ex-wife about the hired help — but Pugh looked bemused.
Pugh said, “Khun Don, there is a certain Buddhist common sense to what you say. But I am thinking that it really need not come to that.”
“So what do you have in mind, Rufus?”
“We can talk some more about that. Meanwhile, let’s get Khun Gary spruced up a bit and into some fresh duds. Egg has some clothes in the outer office that should fit you, Khun Gary.
There’s a shower, and if you like we can call in a masseur and send out for a sack of grasshoppers in fish sauce for you to nibble on. Be assured you shall have whatever your heart desires, short of absconding. Egg will be following you wherever you go and he will not hesitate to crack a few ribs to sustain your cooperation. You are an extremely valuable property for us, so there’s no chance we can allow you to slip away. For now, Egg, please remove Khun Gary’s handcuffs.”
Griswold’s look softened, and he said, “This has turned into quite a mess, I know. I do apologize for that. It’s not at all what I had in mind.”
“Apology accepted,” Pugh said. “Think nothing of it. Oh, there is one thing you can do to express your regrets in a more tangible way, and your doing so will be appreciated all around.
Your former wife has discharged Investigator Strachey and will shortly cease paying his fees and underwriting his expenses. He has already spent many thousands of dollars trying to save you from a particularly unattractive form of dying fairly young.
Acting as Khun Don’s subcontractor, I also have incurred expenses. If you could kindly cough up about fifty K, this would go a long way toward easing any remaining bad feelings in this room. We know you’re worth about thirty-eight mil, so fifty thousand would be no skin off your back. How about it?
Good form is always appreciated in Thailand, as I’m sure you know. Economic justice is farther down on our list of social graces, but we here in this room like it, and we happen to own your sorry ass.”
All serene again, Griswold said, “I can help you out, yes.”
He was back in Lady Bountiful mode.
“It would not be a charitable contribution, Khun Gary. It would be a fee for a service rendered. That service being: preventing three people, one of whom would be you, from meeting the same sad fate as Khun Khunathip and your old friend Geoff Pringle. Though please do understand. While we are professionals at bailing out the hapless, we can only do what we can do. Your coughing up the fifty K in the next half hour, if you please, does not guarantee success. We will, however, do our darnedest.”
“The next half hour?”
“There are banks nearby. Or if you have a cash stash — which surely you must — you can direct us to it.”
