‘And how many have still to be identified?’
Somsak looked pained. ‘A lot,’ he said.
‘Is there are a problem?’
‘The bodies are in a mess,’ he said. ‘The ones with ID are done but if the fire’s destroyed ID and clothing then we just have work through missing person lists plus dental records and once we’ve done that the Central Institute of Forensic Science will start DNA testing.’
‘What about the foreigners? How do you about getting dental records for them?’
Somsak looked even more pained. ‘It’s not my field, Khun Bob. I wish that it was. I’ve been told that’s the way to proceed.’
Hierarchy was everything in Thailand. Bosses were never to be criticised, even when they were wrong.
‘I have to be going,’ said Jintana. She gave me another wai and walked away, swinging her briefcase.
‘Do you know who she is?’ asked Somsak.
‘The Public Prosecutor, you said.’
‘Ah, she’s much more than that,’ said Somsak. ‘She’s from a big family. Her father is an MP in Chiang Mai. Went to school with one of the owners of the Kube.’
‘That’s one hell a coincidence.’
‘My father always used to say that there are no coincidences in life, only opportunity,’ said Somsak.
‘Your father was a wise man,’ I said. We both watched her walk through the gap in the corrugated iron and onto the pavement. ‘So do you think you’ll punish anyone for this? For the deaths?’
‘Someone will have to be punished,’ said Somsak. ‘A lot of kids died here. A lot of hi-so kids. The phones have been ringing off the hook.’
‘What about the owners?’
‘It’s complicated,’ said Somsak. He jerked a thumb at the ruined building. ‘And after this it’s going to get even more complicated, I’m sure. The real owners invested in the place about five years ago, but they did it through an offshore company and used figurehead directors in Thailand.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘But not unusual,’ said Somsak. ‘Places like this sometimes get busted for drugs or underage drinking and the great and the good don’t like to see their names in Thai Rath.’
Thai Rath is one of the bestselling tabloid newspapers and the paper gives a whole new meaning to the word sensationalism.
‘And Khun Jintana’s father is friends with one of the figureheads or one of the great and good?’ I asked.
‘The latter,’ said Somsak. ‘But that’s the word on the street, you understand. No one knows for sure who the investors are.’
‘So I’m guessing one of the figureheads will be offered up as a sacrificial lamb.’
‘That would be a good guess, Khun Bob. Unfortunately two of the figureheads are now in Singapore. The other is somewhere in Isarn.’
Isarn, the north-east of the country, the poorest part of Thailand and the area least amenable to assisting the Bangkok police with their enquiries.
‘Do you think the investors can be held accountable?’
‘I would think not. They were just money men. But the figureheads were in the club every night. The club was making money hand over fist.’
‘It was an accident, right?’
Somsak grimaced as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘It was an accident waiting to happen,’ he said. ‘There was no insurance, the fire exits were locked, there were more than a thousand people in the building at the time of the fire when it was licensed for seven hundred. There hadn’t been a fire inspection for three years and there were twice as many cars in the carpark as there should have been. One reason that so many died is that the fire brigade couldn’t get close to the building.
‘Who was in charge, on the night?’
‘The sons of one of the owners were there but they were entertaining in the VIP area upstairs,’ said Somsak. ‘They both died.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘One of the owners was downstairs when the fire broke out. He was one of the first out. Straight into a taxi without looking back. He’s the one in Isarn.’
‘He didn’t try to help?’
‘He fled the scene, that’s what we were told.’
‘What sort of person would do that?’
Somsak shrugged. ‘The sort of person who thinks he’ll be punished for his actions. His instinct for self- preservation took precedence over helping those who were trapped.’
‘And the fire exits were locked, you said?’
Somsak nodded. ‘That’s why so many died. There was only one way in and out and when the fire broke out there was a stampede and the exit was blocked. Everyone on the upper floor died, except for half a dozen who managed to break a window at the back. They jumped and are all in hospital, smashed up but they will probably live.’ He pointed at the left of the shell. ‘There was another VIP area in the basement,’ he said. ‘Everyone died down there. There was only a narrow stairway and when the power went it was pitch dark.’
I shuddered. It wouldn’t have been a pleasant way to die. But then again, few deaths are pleasant.
‘Why are you interested, Khun Bob?’ he asked.
‘I’m looking for a missing American boy,’ I said. ‘His parents are worried that he might have been in the club.’
‘I hope that’s not the case,’ he said.
‘You and me both,’ I said.
‘There were many foreigners in the building,’ he said.
‘Do we know how many of the dead are farang?’
‘The bodies were too badly burned,’ he said quietly. ‘In the aftermath of an inferno, we all look the same, Thai and farang.’
The two of us stood their nodding in the sunlight, the smell of death all around us. I tried not to imagine what it must have been like in the dark, lungs filling with smoke, everyone screaming and fighting to escape, the strong trampling over the weak, people choking and falling and dying. The lucky ones would have been overcome by the smoke, the unlucky ones would have been conscious as they burned alive.
I wanted to go home and hold my wife and tell her that I loved her and that if she ever went to a nightclub she should never venture far from the emergency exits.
‘If the sons were in the VIP area, who was minding the place downstairs?’ I asked Somsak.
‘The man who fled,’ he said, lighting a cigarette. ‘And a manager. A farang. From Australia.’
‘Where is he?’
Somsak blew smoke up at the sky. ‘Bumrungrad Hospital. Soi 3.’
‘That’s a coincidence.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’ve got an appointment there tomorrow morning.’
Somsak frowned. ‘Are you sick?’
‘It’s my yearly check-up,’ I said. ‘Nothing to worry about. What about the manager? Is he okay?’
Somsak smiled. ‘He’s in hospital, Khun Bob. People generally don’t go there unless there is a problem.’
It was hard to tell whether he was joking or just taking me literally. Then he grinned.
‘Very funny, Somsak,’ I said. ‘I meant is he seriously hurt?’
‘Third degree burns,’ said Somsak. ‘He will live but he won’t be winning any beauty pageants.’
‘Do you think he’s up to receiving visitors?’
‘You want to talk to him?’
‘I want to see if he remembers seeing the American boy, that’s all.’
Somsak nodded slowly. ‘You can try. His name is Ronnie. Ronnie Marsh.’
