didn’t realize she’d got interested in Sal because of her job at the land registry.
“At that point it all went Oriental, if you see what I mean. They had a lot of private conversations I wasn’t party to, and the next thing I know, Sal’s taking the estrogen, growing breasts, and getting ready for the operation. When I asked him where the dough was coming from, he wouldn’t tell me. ‘Something Asian. Better you don’t know’ was what he said. Well, I wasn’t born yesterday. I could see Lilly wasn’t the kind to give anything away free, so Sal must have been doing something for it. And of course, you’re cops, you don’t need me to tell you how dodgy land transactions can be over here. And Sal working in the land registry in Phuket-I’m not giving the game away, am I? I’m not betraying anyone? I mean, this is stuff you would work out in three minutes, right?”
He gives Lek a particularly warm smile. I guess there are men who just naturally have a soft spot for the third sex.
“Did this Lilly say where the liver came from?”
Freddie looks uncomfortable. “Not in so many words.”
“But?”
“Well, since she was Hong Kong Chinese and spoke Mandarin fluently, and since the operation took place in China-you know what they do with the bodies of executed prisoners… I didn’t see what else it could be. I mean, the timing was all guaranteed months in advance, it wasn’t like a last-minute traffic accident, it was all a lot more relaxed and sedate than that.” He frowns. “I don’t have anything to reproach myself for-the poor bugger was going to croak anyway, right? It wasn’t as if they were killing him just for me. And if it hadn’t been me got the liver, it would have been someone else, right? Not necessarily more deserving than me, either. I’m not the only bloke in the world fucked up his liver with booze and mainlining, am I?”
“Where in China did they take you?”
Freddie frowns again. “I already said I don’t know. There was a lot of talk about Shanghai, so it could have been there.”
“ ‘Could have been there’? What does that mean?”
Freddie opens his hands. “I just don’t know. See, once you’ve paid up the first slice of the money, they go to work on you, get you ready for the operation.”
“Who does?”
“Actually, it was Lilly herself. She also sedated me before the flight. That way they could wheel me off the private plane into the operating theater-so I suppose it was near an airport. It was all done in the just-in-time- delivery style. Could have been any airport. I was totally out a couple of minutes after we got on the plane. I didn’t know anything until I woke up in Phuket with a new liver.”
Lek and I exchange a glance. I enunciate the words slowly: “You-woke-up-in-Phuket?”
Freddie doesn’t understand the heavy emphasis, shakes his head, and shrugs. “That was part of the deal. After the operation they had me recuperate at some fantastic mansion on a hill there.” He scratches an itch on his neck. “Actually, the mansion wasn’t too far from where Sal works, so I wondered if there was a connection.”
“But the operation itself took place in China, maybe Shanghai?”
“That’s what they told me. That’s what I paid for. It must have been China ’cause that’s where they executed the prisoner whose liver I’m using.”
A pause. “Where is Sally-O now?”
He stares as if the question is without meaning. “At work, of course.”
I let my attention wander until it comes to rest on the oil painting. “Who’s that a portrait of?” I ask.
Freddie turns to follow my gaze. “You don’t recognize her? That’s Sal in her ancient Chinese costume. She’s dressed as a court eunuch in the late Ming dynasty.”
“Right. Why?”
Freddie allows himself a shrug. “She’s katoey, love. They’re all a bit that way.”
17
I tell Lek I don’t want him to come with me to Phuket. He’s already had a minor standoff with the clerk, and anyway two cops together look official and intimidating. I’m sitting at my desk in the open-plan office, thinking of a way to placate Lek, who has decided to sulk, and trying to decide whether to just show up at the airport or book the ticket using the Internet, which could easily take longer than simply taking a cab to the airport, when my cell phone rings.
“Hi, brother, how are things?” a male voice says in English with a Chinese accent.
“Inspector Chan?”
“The same. So, how’re things?”
“Up and down. How about you?”
“I’m on vacation-holiday, as the Brits say.”
I pause to stare at my cell phone. “Really? Where?”
“Oh, about a mile down the road from where you are now, assuming you’re at the station.”
“You’re in Thailand?”
“You’ve been taking intelligence-enhancing medication?”
“But I mean, why?”
“To see a couple of people, you being one of them.”
“You’ll have to wait.”
“Why?”
“I’m a busy third-world policeman. I have to cope with an existential reality that would have you messing your diaper, Spoiled Brat Hong Kong Cop.”
“Hey-”
“I’m back in two days.”
“Where are you going?”
“Not telling you.”
The clerk’s weekday pad in Phuket is in a back street on the third floor of an apartment building, but he’s not in. I knock quite a few times and make all the usual checks for signs of life, but the place has a deserted feel. Of course he could be out on the town, but I doubt it. I remember those dark, unsocial eyes, the quick temper before he remembered he was a public servant-and the whole feel about him of a young man who might have had himself mutilated by mistake. It’s a cop’s hunch that sends me to the Phuket Yacht Club. I arrive at twilight with the last of the sun sinking like a plutonium rod in an asphalt sea. The bartender knows who I’m talking about.
“He comes quite often to spend the night on his sponsor’s boat,” the barman tells me.
“He takes care of it?”
“No, there’s a full-time boat boy does that. He just comes and stays the night. If he’s not working the next day, he sits on it staring out to sea. He doesn’t like company.” The barman coughs. “He likes to dress up when he’s alone.”
I have the barman point the boat out to me. It’s hard to see clearly in the dusk, although the cabin lights are on.
“It’s a forty-foot twin-screw motor cruiser made in Taiwan. The farang used to have something really special, a two-masted schooner about seventy feet long. All teak and oak, a vintage sailboat that won some kind of competition in the thirties. Beautiful it was. Broke the old man’s heart when he had to sell it for some reason. Broke the katoey ’s heart too. Actually, he wasn’t a katoey at that stage-just a sad young man who thought he was a woman but wasn’t sure.”
I stare at the dark and silent bay for a moment. I was expecting the boat to be tied up to a berth on a jetty. I didn’t expect it to be on a permanent anchorage. “How can I get out there?”
“You can pay one of the boat boys to take you out on a skiff with an outboard-or you can get someone to row you out.” I suppose the last suggestion is somewhat exotic from the way he looks at me. Surely only a cop who wanted to retain the element of surprise, or an assassin, would go for the manual option.
“Can you find someone to row me out? It’s such a beautiful evening, I don’t want to pollute it with noise.”
