so?”
“I just have a better understanding now of the way the human mind can both retreat into itself when that’s the only way it can stay safe, and at the same time how any one mind is only a temporary partial manifestation of something far larger and longer lasting.”
“Oh. Well, good. Except, that doesn’t sound Buddhist. It sounds Jungian.”
“You and your Western insistence on labels. God.”
“Are you putting me on?”
“Yes, a little. But, really, Kawee did help me with the whole idea of acceptance. Acceptance of how temporary any one human life is, and how the transitory nature of life should be nothing to fear. There’s actually something quite beautiful about it. All that gorgeous fluidity.”
Pugh was in the front seat with Nitrate, who was driving, and when Timmy said this, Pugh reached over to the steering wheel and hit the horn three times.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The compound where we took refuge in Hua Hin — which, Pugh explained, was spelled Hua Hin but pronounced Wah-HEEN — was a few miles south of the town center near Monkey Mountain. This was a high hill overlooking the Gulf of Thailand where monkeys frolicked on the grounds of an old temple. Pugh suggested that Timmy and I have a look while we were in the vicinity. But he said not to get too close to the greedy and always- quarreling monkeys, a few of whom were deceased former officials from the Thaksin Shinawatra administration.
Timmy said, “Do you really believe that’s true?”
“Of course,” Pugh said. “This is known.”
The compound, a quarter mile off the main road and a few hundred yards from the beach, was owned by an anti-Samak, anti-Thaksin businessman friend of Pugh’s who owned about fifty 7-Eleven franchises and a Hua Hin hotel that catered to German tour groups and, Pugh said, served the greasiest schnitzel south of Bangkok.
Pugh’s friend, Sila Chusuk, was vacationing with his family in Switzerland and we had the run of his two commodious guesthouses. These were rambling, tile-roofed stucco structures with big louvered windows that were sealed shut now for the hot season and with central air-conditioning keeping everything crisp. There was a pool in the palm-fringed flower gardens at the back of the walled compound, with fuchsia blossoms floating in it the color of Kawee’s toenails.
We had stopped in town to buy some light clothes for Timmy and Kawee — Pugh said we would not be calling on Jack and Jackie, so beachwear would do — and some toiletries, and of course, food. The Thais had missed their lunch, so a stop was made out on the main road to pick up soup and rice.
As soon as we arrived at the compound, Pugh and his crew served up the take-out savories and went at them. Nobody had 188 Richard Stevenson a lot to say. They were all just happy to be alive and enjoying another good meal. The same was true of Timmy, Kawee and me — and presumably Griswold, although he had precious few words to offer any of us.
Upstairs, Timmy and I shared a room, Pugh was next door, then Kawee and Nitrate, then Griswold, Egg and Ek. Griswold bore constant watching, Pugh and I agreed. While Timmy took a long shower, I noted on my cell phone that Bob Chicarelli had called from Albany during the rescue while I had left my phone in the van. It was just past four in the afternoon in Thailand, predawn in the eastern United States. I returned the call, but Chicarelli didn’t answer and I guessed he was asleep. I left a message, saying we had rescued Timmy and Kawee from the kidnappers, that Griswold was with us, and we were in hiding until some loose ends got tied up. I didn’t mention that the loose ends included a Thai police general who was intent on blowing all our brains out. For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate to myself, I hesitated before asking Chicarelli to notify Ellen and Bill Griswold that their family member Gary was now safe and sound. But they had to be told — originally I had been hired to find him, after all — so I told Chicarelli to inform the Griswolds we had Gary with us but that there were still plenty of nettlesome unanswered questions as to his past activities and future intentions.
After Timmy’s shower and then mine, we heard a commotion outside our room and went out to find Griswold throwing a hissy fit at Pugh.
“Although I don’t object to your men watching over me to see that I don’t bolt,” Griswold was saying, “you have to understand that I am not going to run off. What I do object to is their listening in on all of my telephone conversations and — good grief! really! — taking notes on whom I speak with and what I say. You are not doing yourself or me any favors by butting in this way, Rufus, and I am telling you that it is a great big pain in the neck.”
Pugh said, “Khun Gary. Do you have secrets from us? We are your friends.”
“It’s not a question of secrets, Rufus. There are no great secrets on my part. It is a matter of simple privacy. I must be in touch with business associates to complete the Sayadaw U project, and some of this involves sensitive information and delicate negotiations involving people who would not be at all pleased to be eavesdropped on.”
“I’m sorry you consider our watchfulness intrusive. We are all in this together, after all. When I say that, I don’t mean the part about your worthy project. I mean the part about keeping you from being hurled from a high place, as well as the part about keeping your head from being made to explode. We do need to be all on the same page in that regard, Khun Gary. So I hope you will indulge us in this small way and let us keep track of your activities in a manner consistent with personal security professional standards.”
“Rufus, you’re quite the bullshit artist. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
“Let me think.”
I said, “Griswold, I, for one, don’t trust you at all. You have a track record of flying off the rails and causing all kinds of ridiculous trouble, and you are definitely going to be monitored.
So get used to it.”
“I’m a little unclear,” Griswold said, “exactly what your current role is here, Strachey. As I recall, didn’t my sister-in-law shit-can you? I think you told me that yourself. Hence, your extortionate request for fifty thousand dollars to underwrite what looks to me increasingly like a mere seaside vacation.”
Now Timmy spoke up. “Well, it certainly has not been any kind of sun ’n’ sand holiday for me, Gary. Or haven’t you noticed that?”
“Well, I am sorry about your being kidnapped. Really, I am.
It must have been a horrible ordeal. But the fact is, Timothy, you did not need to come to Thailand in the first place, and I can’t imagine what you thought you were getting yourself into.
Surely you must have done enough research to know of the violently inclined criminal elements in Thailand and about the 190 Richard Stevenson corrupt police forces. Or didn’t your friend Donald inform you about any of that?”
Timmy snorted with what could have been amusement.
“What’s so funny, Timothy? And you know, you both are now free to leave Thailand at any time. Khun Rufus could drive you over to the ferry terminal and put you on a boat for Sihanoukville in Cambodia, and you could travel on to Phnom Penh and be on your way out of Southeast Asia by this time tomorrow. There’s really nothing holding you here as far as any of the Griswolds are concerned. Am I right?”
Pugh said, “We’ve got your fifty K, Khun Gary. You hired us to protect you until April twenty-seventh. Remember?”
Griswold bristled, but before he could tell us all to take the fifty thousand dollars and shove it, I said, “Griswold, were you in Cambodia about two and a half weeks ago?”
“Yes, I was. Why?”
“What were you doing there?”
“Why do you ask? How would you even know that?”
“Elise Flanagan saw you.”
“That was Elise Flanagan. Oh God! I thought I saw her and she spotted me. At the Aranya Prathet border post. What the hell was Elise doing entering Cambodia? She can barely find her way from Key West to
