Eastern Shadows, page 12
Jared still isn’t home.
Come now if you want to check the place out.
There was nothing left to see here.
Shane strode back to the entrance, shooting a glance at the guys crossing the street. They knelt at the foot of the shrine, seeking forgiveness for what they had just done.
If only it were that easy.
Shane jiggled the handle to the bungalow’s front door. He knew no one was inside. Had Nick been home, Shane figured he wouldn’t have minded the intrusion, knowing what he was there for.
The click of the catch hardly made a sound as Shane eased the door shut. The inside was a mess. The room was a festering pile of dirty clothing. The beds were unmade, and takeout wrappers covered the coffee table. Off to the right was a small kitchen. The sink held piles of dishes encrusted with days-old food. Shane wasn’t surprised that these guys lived like pigs.
He opened the cupboards, noticing that most of the stuff not already rotting in the sink was untouched. With the cheap street food fare, he guessed they mostly ate out.
Shane crept back into the main room, finding nothing of interest other than an ashtray resting on the end of the coffee table, with a cigarette butt smoldering inside.
Jared’s been here recently. Emmy must not have noticed him come back.
Shane approached Jared’s bed—a yellowing mat on the floor. He knew of guys who liked to sleep on the cool, hard tile, but the mat indicated that Jared only took this idea halfway.
Jared’s backpack was leaning against the wall. With most of its contents on the floor, all Shane found was some benign reading material and a portrait of a Japanese woman—probably his wife.
But where is he now?
Shane returned to the kitchen, fetching a bottle of Siamese vodka and a shot glass he had spotted earlier in a cupboard. Re-entering the main room, he pulled a chair from the wall, sliding it closer to the coffee table. He brushed some trash from its surface and slammed the vodka in its place.
He glanced at the fallen scraps, now scattered across the floor. A black business card lay among the heap. Shane picked it up, reading the silver letters printed above the suggestive silhouette of a reclining woman:
นีอน ฟาวน์เทน
NEON FOUNTAIN
Shane flipped it over. On the back, it read:
เพื่อความสุขส่วนตัว
FOR GOOD TIME
960 THANON NGAM YAEK, WATTHANA, BANGKOK 10110
Eyes narrowed, Shane poured a shot, draining the juice in one gulp before standing up. He peeked out the window, watching a lone bicyclist pedal down the street.
CHAPTER 13
The Blood-Soaked Bordello
Shane spun the black business card in his hand, wondering if he would find Jared at the Neon Fountain. Jared’s choice to flee could be a sign of his involvement. Or maybe it was nothing. It wasn’t like he had “guilty” tattooed across his forehead. But his departure was hasty enough that he’d left his backpack behind.
Shane waited at the gate in Lampang Regional for a flight back to Bangkok. It meant parting with more money than he wanted, but there wasn’t enough time for the train.
Checking his watch, Shane saw it was three o’clock in the afternoon. At this point, he couldn’t deny that Jared, like Ploy, had run away. No one had seen or heard from him since yesterday.
The question now was how deep this went. He needed to know if Jared knew anything else about Ploy, or if he was running off to Bangkok for another tryst. Shane’s paranoia over someone following him had died down since they’d found Tony, but if people really were on his six, who had sent them?
The final call for flight 060 to Don Mueang rang through the halls of the airport. Shane grabbed his bag and walked outside to the turboprop. The yellow beak painted on the plane’s nose loomed above him as he sidestepped the wing to board the plane. Shoving his way through the narrow aisle, he squeezed into his assigned seat. There were six or seven others on the flight.
He caught up on some much-needed rest during the thirty minutes in the air, listening to the hum of the propellers as the plane sliced through the clouds.
Hall was waiting outside in his truck when Shane arrived. They got back on the road within minutes of landing at the smaller airport. It would have taken longer if he’d flown into the newer and much busier Suvarnabhumi International.
Shane spent most of the drive updating Hall on everything in Lampang.
“You’re closing in on this, man,” Hall said. “I bet this guy Jared has more to tell us.”
“Know anything about this Neon Fountain place?” Shane asked.
“Heard of it. Never been there. It’s not my scene.” Hall shifted into fifth as they cruised up the on-ramp to the thang duan, Bangkok’s elevated expressway. “If half the things I hear are true, you’ll be glad I’m there.”
Hall reached over, hitting the glovebox several times until the latch gave way. Shane saw the handle of a mean-looking pistol jutting out—the type that didn’t look legal.
“K-54. Black Star,” Hall said. “Been in my family since ’Nam. My dad always told me he and his brothers took it from some troops who came over for holiday.”
Shane smirked. “How do you think they got it in the first place? Ripped it off some dead Viet Cong? From a soldier’s cold, dead grip to your warm one…”
“Not sure, but that sounds like a cool story. Maybe this thing won’t kill a water buffalo, but empty your piece into anything smaller and see what happens.”
The cords in Hall’s forearm bulged as he shut the compartment. Shane was glad he had some extra muscle coming with him.
“You don’t think we’ll need this kind of firepower, do you?” Shane asked.
“I like to be careful.”
Night fell as they fought their way out of traffic on the thang duan. The skyline basked in a glow of burnt sienna, lights gleaming like diamonds as darkness encroached upon the streets. The city was coming alive—the neon beast had awoken.
Hall eased his pickup off the highway as they turned on Asok Montri toward Thanon Ngam Yaek, the street listed on the card for the Neon Fountain, inching toward the place where they would pick up on Jared’s trail. Waves of energy coursed through Shane’s body as a haze of light bathed the inside of the cab. They were in the thick of it—the red-light district.
Modern skyscrapers hovered over the older buildings, making the entire block feel walled in and claustrophobic. Shops lined the streets, their fluorescent glow lighting the surroundings like midday. Shane looked at the hundreds of billboards hanging overhead. The biggest sign sported the district’s biggest boast:
growing, thriving, and transforming since 1967
The sign didn’t lie. This place was monstrous.
The sky was black when they pulled up to the Neon Fountain. The place’s namesake stood out front, dancing in the darkness from the LED lights. The shifting hues spewed like lava—a temptation to partake of the debauchery within.
Shane saw a Ford F350 parked nearby. Unlike every other car he had seen in Thailand, the steering wheel was on the left side.
“That’s Big Doug’s truck,” Hall said. “Farang. He used to travel around to preach religious mumbo jumbo about aliens in the Bible and different spiritual shit he could tell you. His truck was shipped from America.”
“Why’s he at a glammed-up bordello?”
Hall shrugged his shoulders. “The preacher thing didn’t work for him. He joined a rougher crowd after his visa ran out. Now he’s kind of a bouncer, but not, like, ‘official.’ No farang would be. Just some guy who comes to these types of places. Owners look at his size and don’t say no when he wants work. This place puts up with all his nonsense, maybe.”
Shane got a better look at the pistol as Hall slipped it into his waistband. A long, jagged scratch ran along the side of the barrel.
Hall stopped to make sure his shirt covered the gun. “Don’t think Big Doug’s an angel,” he said. “He’s a dangerous customer. Fits in with the club more than the choir. He’s as bad as everyone else in there. He hurt my buddies one time.”
Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they reached for the gilded handle of the Neon Fountain’s ten-foot double doors, not knowing what to expect on the other side. The inside was chaos. Smoke hung in the air, coiling around the pulsing neon colors. The stench of weed and tobacco was enough to knock a man senseless. It was otherworldly—as if they were in the middle of a lucid dream.
Techno and dubstep blared, causing the ground to shake. Shane couldn’t see far past the mist, but judging by the noise and the lingering scent of sweat mingling with drugs, the crowd was just short of getting out of control. The smoke cleared enough for him to see the chasers cavorting with the hookers, relishing the hollow compliments and flirtatious banter these women of the night doled out for pay.
A woman wearing fishnet stockings and not much else stopped them. “I help you, gentlemen?” she asked in barely passable English.
“Nah, we’re looking for someone,” Shane said, thinking it would be impossible to find Jared in this landscape.
The call girl insisted. “You want to get with ladyboy?” she asked, her Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as she tittered at their discomfort. “Girl with cock? I show you mine if you show me yours.”
“I’ll pass.” Shane stifled a grin as he moved past her, mentally checking a square on his Bangkok bingo card. Everyone had a role to play in this city.
Hall led the way to the bar to order drinks. He said, “If Jared’s here, we won’t spot him.”
“Ngom khem nai maha samut,” Shane said. A needle in the ocean.
Hall lit a cigarette. “We need answers, and I know where to start. Come on.”
Shane swung the barstool around to watch who his friend was moving toward. A farang no larger than a banyan tree stood across from the pole dancers, his back against the brick wall. No doubt this was Big Doug.
“Hey, Doug!” Hall yelled.
The oversized bouncer looked disgusted. “Is that Hall I see? It better not be.”
Hall moved closer.
Doug said, “Leave before I throw you out!”
Hall turned to Shane. “I forgot to tell you that he and I have history. I sort of embarrassed him at a different club. See, he beat some of my guys, so I beat him back—in front of other people. We’ll need to pass him if we want answers in this place.”
“Out!” Doug yelled. Hall gave an exaggerated nod as if he was going to comply.
Feeling satisfied, Big Doug turned back to watch the show. He almost didn’t notice the figure flying at him through the electric fog. His nose collapsed as Hall’s fist landed home. Snapping it back in place, Doug lifted his head to see who sucker-punched him.
Hall came at him like a striking cobra, hammering Doug’s ribs and pushing him against the wall. Doug came to his senses enough to put his arms out as a shield from the onslaught of blows. He kicked Hall back with one muscular leg, giving him some room to retaliate. He landed a few blows to Hall’s head, momentarily dazing him. The force was enough to make Shane wonder if his friend had been exaggerating his own prowess during their first encounter. This guy was massive, and one well-placed blow from a fist that size could end it.
No wonder Hall had to catch him off-guard, Shane thought.
The two giants circled the space, getting a feel for what the other was thinking. Hall lowered his shoulder, ramming it into Doug’s stomach and trapping him at the bar—a move the off-the-books bouncer wasn’t expecting. Hall used it to his advantage as he gripped Doug’s bald head and slammed his face onto the bar’s surface. Teeth flew on the ground. More than a few patrons looked their way, but the girls onstage kept dancing as if nothing was happening.
“My friend is looking for someone,” Hall said as he lifted Doug’s head, turning him toward Shane, who had crept behind the bar to stay out of their way.
Shane tilted his phone, showing Doug a recent picture of Jared that Emmy had sent him earlier that day.
“Know this guy?”
“Seen him around,” Doug said, blood pouring from a busted lip.
“Today? Is he here now?” Shane was tired of the back-and-forth.
“Talk.” Hall slammed Doug’s head again, pressing his broken nose into the table.
“Ask Noi,” he grunted. “She’s in the back.”
Hall let go. Big Doug crumpled like a rag doll. Knowing a guy like that wouldn’t stay down for long, they hurriedly pushed through the crowd of shocked onlookers toward the velvet drapes leading to the bedrooms behind the stage. Passing the gyrating dancers, it hit Shane just how out of his element he was—a pilgrim in an unholy land.
They followed the hallway around the corner to a narrow door, unlike those they had passed.
“This must be a break room or something.” Hall turned the knob. Two girls stood chatting next to some couches and a mini-fridge. They whipped their heads around at the sound of Shane and Hall barging in.
One of the ladies spoke up in Thai. “Who are you?”
“Which one of you is Noi?” Shane asked.
“I am,” said the shorter of the two as the light caught the gloss of her jade eyeshadow.
Shane turned to the other girl. “Go.” She hurried from the room. Hall slammed it shut behind her and stood against it, arms folded.
“I’m off the clock. Come back tomorrow,” Noi said.
“That’s not why we came.”
“Then what do you want?”
Shane held up the picture of Jared. “Tell me about this guy.”
“Jared? Is he in trouble?”
“He’s going to be if we don’t find him.”
“Promise me you won’t hurt him, and I’ll tell you.”
Shane smirked. “I bet I’m the only guy who can get him out of the mess he’s gotten himself in.”
Noi grabbed her purse off the couch, fumbling through it. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Damn,” she muttered in English as she searched the pockets of her silk robe.
“I’ve got you, Miss,” Hall said from the doorway. He tossed his lighter to Shane, who snatched it from the air one-handed, then moved to light her cigarette while she held it to her lips.
“You can hold on to that,” Hall said.
Noi took the lighter, tucking it in her pocket with an unsteady hand. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Jared’s around here somewhere. I’ve never seen him so upset.”
“He’s a customer of yours?” Shane asked.
“One of my best. Sweet guy. Likes to talk. He says I’m the only one he wants to be with.” She laughed as if Jared were a lost puppy she had picked up off the street. “I know he’s usually up north, but he comes down to see me every chance he gets.”
“Tell us about today. Has he been with you?” Shane asked.
“He’s super anxious lately, but today was the worst. Kept on saying ‘he knows.’” She pulled off a surprisingly effective impression of Jared as she switched to English for that last bit.
“Who was he referring to?”
“Maybe he meant you, bro,” Hall said.
Shane shook his head. “You don’t know who else ‘he’ might be?” he asked.
“No idea. I never pry. If clients want to overshare with me, that’s their choice.”
Shane thought of Ploy. “And you’re sure Jared said ‘he,’ not ‘she’?” He said the pronouns in English.
“One hundred percent. I listen to a lot of farangs and their problems. I know it’s hard to believe, but I understand English pretty well.”
“Oh, I believe it,” Shane said. “Can you go find him? I need to talk to him. He knows me.”
A voice boomed over Shane’s shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Shane whipped around. Hall had moved away from the open door. Jared stepped inside. The color of his face would make a bull charge.
“I’m not the one who’s got some explaining to do,” Shane said, ignoring the question.
“Get away from her!” Jared charged up to Shane, his hands balled into fists. Standing several inches taller, Shane was up for the challenge. Jared backed down, his threatening posture reverting to his usual timid slouch. “I…I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“Park your body,” Shane said, knowing he had to calm the guy down.
Jared plopped onto the leather couch. Shane sat in the other one, directly across from him. Jared quickly looked away.
“You wanna know what I know?” Shane asked.
“What?” Jared looked past Shane, still avoiding eye contact.
“Let’s start with the love motel and all the massage parlors and karaoke joints you visited up north.”
Jared turned pale. He knew the game was up. “You…you know about those, too?”
“How do you think I ended up tracking you to a place like this? I think the real question is: Does your wife know?”
“N…no.”
“Tell me about it.”
Hands shaking, Jared finally locked his gaze on Shane. “What is there to tell?” he asked. “Sounds like you already know everything.”
“Look,” Shane said, “I don’t give a shit what your secrets are. Your private life is none of my business: how you spend your time, where you go, who you knock boots with. And after giving that love motel a once-over, I’d rather not know much more than I already do. But I need to if I’m going to clear you of having anything to do with Ploy’s disappearance. Let’s hear the truth for once. Did she know what you were doing? Is that why she left?”
“She had nothing to do with all this. I…um…I swear!”
“Cut it out, Jared. Tell me. What else are you hiding?”
“It has nothing to do with Ploy.”
“Here’s how I see it,” Shane said. “You’ve never been away from your wife for this long. You’re lonely, maybe a little bored. She’s living the high life in Tokyo while you play soccer with little kids and hang out with old friends you hardly know anymore. So, you decide to buy some tail.”
