Fiction

By Bob Hill

A longtime professional writer, Australian Bob Hill once produced TV shows in Sydney, but in 1993 moved to a village in northern Thailand. The following comes from his novel, The Vengeance of Wang Lee Tsung.

YUTHANA’S face adopted a knowing smile. But before he could speak, Lop’s fury fought through clenched teeth.

“If I survive and return to Bangkok, then live in fear!” His words chilled the air. “You’ve made an agreement. Maybe I can’t rival your organisation. But I have no dispute with your army of scum. I have only three people to find. If my daughter’s harmed, it’ll please me to kill you.”

Throwing his arms wide, Yuthana beamed. “Khun Lop,” he purred. “I wouldn’t do business any other way. Trust me! You do your job, and I’ll do mine. I understand your anger, but please save it for things you can change.” His face flashed with inspiration and he leaned across his desk, turning confidential. “Tell you what – I’ll take your little girl out of the bar myself. Can she cook?”

Lop’s face stayed set like concrete. He didn’t respond.

“What am I saying?” Yuthana resumed. “Of course, she can cook! She comes from Lamphun! She’ll live at my house and cook for my family! That means she’ll stop pleasuring farangs (foreigners) tonight!”

Yuthana’s eyes flashed towards Choon, who sat in rigid discomfort beside Lop. “Bring her here, now” he snapped.

Choon snapped into action. “Right away.” He trotted out of the office.

“You see?” Mock compassion dripped from Yuthana’s voice. “I’ll look after her until you return. Isn’t that fair?”

“You didn’t listen,” Lop hissed. “If she’s harmed in any way, I’ll kill you.”

Yuthana maintained his counterfeit compassion. “I know,” he nodded.

They leaned across the desk.

“What you don’t know is that I’ve killed people in more difficult circumstances,” Lop warned. “You may regret this pact. I’ll stoop to do your bidding and stand proudly again only after getting satisfaction. Take my word.”

Yuthana’s smile faded. He eased back in his chair. “Go then.” He waved dismissively. “Do my bidding.”

He glanced to his impassive lieutenants. “Kasem, take care of Khun Lop until Suthep joins you.”

Rising, Lop moved to the door. Yuthana watched him leave, speaking to his back. “Good fortune, Khun Lop. I’ve never regretted a pact with a desperate man, and I make them all the time. We await your return.”

As the door closed, Yuthana turned to Suthep. “Have someone follow that bastard onto the plane. Make sure he leaves. Then I want to know everything about him. Everything, okay?”

Standing to attention, Suthep nodded.

“There’s something about that dirt farmer,” Yuthana mused, shaking his head. “He’s not the usual shit we get from the army.”

Turning, he raised a warning finger to Suthep. “Be careful with this one. It’s your idea, and that’s how I’ll remember it.” Relaxing, he lowered the finger. “Tell me about the hit.”

“He’s a big man named Turner,” Suthep said. “Many companies, much money, among the richest in Australia. No business here, but companies in Australia, the U.S., England and Hong Kong. It’ll happen soon. Lop leaves tomorrow, preferably without seeing his daughter first. Now, please excuse me, Hua-nah. I need to make more arrangements.”

Yuthana grunted, reaching for his drink. Hastily, Suthep delivered a respectful whai and left the office.

In the corridor outside, Lop stood, brooding and tense. Within reach, Kasem waited, eyeing every move. Striding between them, Suthep curled a finger, gesturing for them to follow.

Down the corridor, he opened a door and entered an office full of dark, messy gloom. Much smaller than Yuthana’s lair, it lacked the icy air-conditioning. Like all Yuthana’s “administrators”, Suthep had moved in but not yet organised.

Awkward on the cluttered floor, Suthep switched on a lamp above the desk. Files lay open, papers askew. Newspapers and books, piled or boxed, surrounded the desk and filled murky corners. Filing cabinets hunched by the walls.

When Suthep pointed at a sturdy chair in front of the desk, Lop sat. In the wash of lamplight, his face looked stony and defiant. Kasem lingered near the door.

As Suthep searched among papers, his jowled face turned intense, businesslike. Finding an envelope, he placed it before Lop. “Here’s your passport. It uses your real name. You haven’t time to learn a false identity. Luckily, our contacts in the Ministry didn’t demand a separate payment for it. You have a visitor’s visa, valid for 21 days in Australia.”

He glanced at Lop. “Have you got a police record?”

Almost imperceptibly, Lop shook his head.

Suthep looked dubious, but lacked time and energy to argue. He handed over another envelope. “The ticket -- you fly to Sydney at 8:30 tomorrow night, stopping in Singapore. It’s Thai International, in case you’re worried about talking English. Then you’ll handle Customs and cope on your own.”

Fixing Lop in an unwavering stare, he slowly opened a top drawer, fishing out a cigarette and a lighter. “Listen carefully. You’re an ordinary visitor, a man of modest means and without much English, going to visit a sister in Sydney. You’ll carry nothing to interest Customs. If you’re searched, smile and co-operate. They’ll look for drugs and find none. Your ‘sister’ will meet you at the airport. Wear a brown skivvy and black trousers. We’ll buy them for you tomorrow. Your sister, who is Vietnamese but speaks English, will have a small child in a pushchair. Go with them.”

Sullenly, Lop stared at the envelopes. Reaching slowly, he took them.

Suthep blew smoke into the shaft of lamplight. “You’ll take big risks. Understand the rules of this game, or you’ll fail. You may be killed.”

Lop looked up, and their eyes met.

“You’re part of a contract,” Suthep said. “You’re an instrument, not a person. Forget your thoughts. Dismiss feelings. Remember, you have a single function that must be fulfilled. Surrounding issues don’t concern you. Don’t take sides or try to investigate anyone. You aren’t there to make love or friends. Hit the target and leave, as quickly and quietly as possible. You’ll live by your instincts. I gather from the performance today that they’re fairly sharp, no?”

Lop stared, his eyes ablaze.

“Take heed,” Suthep quietly continued. “Consider every step you take. Assess each word you hear. Never be dissuaded. You lack choices or room for doubts. Accomplish the kill. Then return. Understand?”

Wisps of smoke emerged from Suthep’s nose and mouth as he spoke. “If you fail, I can’t save your daughter. But I promise she’ll be safe until then.”

Silence lingered.

“Kasem!” Suthep jolted the lieutenant out of the shadows. “Take Khun Lop to his hotel and stay with him. Tomorrow, we do his final shopping.”

“I want to see my daughter,” Lop blurted. “She should be here soon.”

“No,” Suthep responded coldly. “Choon needs a few hours to gather her things, see how the bar’s doing and get back. You sleep. Tomorrow’s an important day.”

Grimacing in contempt, Lop stood, turned and stalked out of the dark office. Kasem followed a step behind.

ARCHIVES