done a single thing to fight crime, while doing a great deal to contribute to it.”
My words really should have had him in a rage, but instead the grin just got bigger. “That’s not entirely true. I have done one very important thing to fight crime, something that has cost me dearly over the years.” He paused for effect, then continued, “And now it’s payback time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You. I’ve put up with you and all your sniveling, bleeding-heart conscience, your holier-than-thou posture that gets up everyone’s nose and has had half the payroll moaning to me about you on almost a weekly basis for the past ten years. I’m not just talking about your monk manque attitude, I’m talking about the number of man- hours you’ve wasted on forensic trivia when you could have been earning your keep. I’m talking about more than a decade of mollycoddling at considerable expense, taking into account how much money you would have made if I had listened to other voices. But I didn’t, did I? You’re still here, aren’t you? I knew I’d find a use for you in the end, though even I never thought it would take a whole decade.”
I was flushed, now; raging blood and a thumping heart replaced gray with near crimson. Suddenly the words were out: “Fuck you. I resign. Right here and now. You’ll have it in writing as soon as I get back to my desk.”
I was stunned that I still had not penetrated his impossible complacency. He was even shaking his head while smiling tolerantly. “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t.”
“Why can’t I?”
“Because this is your big moment as well as mine. I’m giving you the highest-profile criminal campaign in the country, and your goody-two-shoes Buddhist conscience will drive you till you drop. All I ask in return for bestowing upon you such glory, such cosmic opportunity to mend and improve your karma to the point where, if you’re obliged to reincarnate at all, it will be as a prince or captain of industry or even, Buddha help us, a holy and revered abbot of a great monastery-all you have to do is tell the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That your soon-to-be-world-famous crusade to put an end to the nefarious practice of illegal trafficking in body parts, which is so vilely exploiting the poor and the helpless, et cetera, is driven by me. You don’t even have to confine yourself to Thailand-the Philippines is a world center for organ trading. You can even extend beyond Southeast Asia-in Moldova human kidneys are the staple of the economy. They grow them for cropping the way we grow rice. You’re going to be our first World Cop. It’ll put us on the law enforcement map like never before-we’ll get to be more self-righteous than Western Europe and the States put together. We’ll be the Mr. Squeaky Clean of organ sales.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re going to plaster it all over the media, aren’t you? I mean, the international media? You cunning bastard. The surest way to get the respect of the Thai people is to get the respect of the rest of the world first, especially the Western world. You’re going to give exclusive interviews to CNN and the BBC, which will run endlessly on Thai TV. Damn it, you can’t lose.” I was scratching my jaw furiously. “And you get to nail Zinna into the bargain. It’s two birds with one stone.”
“Right.”
I slumped. “And it’s true, I can’t refuse.”
“See, you agree with me on every point.”
“It’s also an easy way to get myself killed.”
“There is a risk factor, I agree. But how long do you think you would live if you resigned from the force?”
Stress now had me all curled up in my chair-if I were alone, I would have been in a reality-denying fetal position on a bed somewhere. Of course, he had anticipated this moment, just as he had stage-managed the whole interview. Now in one seamless action, he took out his wallet, extracted something small and black from it, sat on his chair, leaned back, and chucked the credit-card-sized black object across the desk. It landed in front of me. I refused to pick it up or even look closely at it. “What is it?”
Now he showed the first sign of irritation. “What does it look like?”
“A credit card.”
“What a genius detective you are.”
“A black one?”
“If you pick the bloody thing up, all will be revealed.”
Correction: if I picked it up, it would be a symbolic act of defeat. Well, he’d already defeated me, so I picked it up. “Amex? They make black ones? Is it for people with poor repayment records?”
He smirked. “You jerk. If you had one atom of street sense you would know you could buy a jumbo jet with it.”
I turned it over a couple of times and shrugged. “So congratulations, I already know you’re filthy rich. What’s it got to do with the price of human testicles?”
“Look again, mooncalf.”
I looked again and gasped. “It has my name on it.”
“You’ve no idea how I had to lie to get them to put you on the account. They checked you out-they told me things about you that were truly shocking, but I battled on. It’s a supplementary card. Just don’t tell any of my wives-they’ve been on at me to get them one ever since they found out what it is.”
“You mean-”
“Of course, I put a limit on it-a very generous one, actually.”
“How much?”
“Not telling you. Let’s say, if you find out, it will be because you’ve gotten uncharacteristically extravagant-or because the case has taken one of those turns that only money can control.”
All I could do for the moment was to stare, as if the sinister black piece of plastic had arrived from a distant planet. “But why do I need it? If the case requires cash, I can just come and ask you for it.”
He sighed. “You’ve missed the main clue, Detective.”
“Okay, I’m just a dumb monk manque-what clue?”
“In the old days you would have got it in an instant. I deliberately let it drop early on in this interview. I’m very disappointed. And don’t say ‘fuck you’ again-you only get to play that card once in a lifetime.”
Now I shrugged and made myself look even dumber than he was making me out to be. I let my jaw hang and gave him a slack-eyed stare.
“The United Arab Emirates,” my Colonel said with heavy patience. “That’s where you’re going. Start with corneas, and work your way down till you get to testicles. I want the list of contacts as it develops.”
“The UAE? I can’t just land in the middle of the Arabian Desert and start selling corneas.”
“I know. I already told you I looked into the trade a few years back. I have contacts who will be interested in taking on a Thai apprentice organ hunter.”
I scratched my head. “What are the names of the contacts?”
“D’you know the Chinese for ‘Old Hundred Names’? Never mind. Just say ‘the Vultures,’ and everyone in the business will know who you’re talking about.”
“Where are they based?”
“Everywhere. The ladies speak a thousand languages, own a thousand faces. I think you’ll have a lot of fun with this case. Don’t worry if you have to do things that threaten your marriage. I’ll corroborate it’s all in the line of duty.”
3
My first thought after leaving his office with shoulders slumped was to rush home to my partner, Chanya, a former whore who’d worked in my mother’s bar, the Old Man’s Club, where we fell in love. We’re not legally married but went through a Buddhist ceremony, which is what counts in the country area where Chanya hails from. A few years ago our only child, a son, died in a traffic accident, and the event changed my darling forever. She grew serious, studied sociology from a distance-learning institute, followed up with a master’s in the same subject, and now works day and night on her Ph. D. thesis, which, naturally, is all about prostitution in Thailand, with a special emphasis on Bangkok. Let me be specific: she conducted almost the whole of her research in Soi Cowboy, where my mother’s bar is situated. All was going well until the university in its wisdom replaced one of her Thai
