Dying to Live

Chapter 20 - Ben to the Rescue

When I reached the street, I was delighted to see James and his cab. I didn't trust the man but he was the only friend I had at that moment. I'd worried about his trustworthiness when we agreed to meet his drug buddy, I was even more worried now, given the contents of the briefcase.

As I fretted about all the bad things which could happen, I had an unusually good idea for me. I took a photo of the cab with my phone camera and captured the number plate with another click. Then I opened the passenger door.

"Smile, please," I said in a cheesy impersonation of a wedding photographer.

James looked round and I took a picture. His startled look wasn't quite the smile I was looking for but it would serve the purpose.

"What the hell you do?"

"Just a little insurance," I said, pressing a few buttons on my iPhone. "There we go."

"What the hell you do?" James repeated, although this time his voice had gone up at least an octave. Another octave and only dogs would have heard him.

"I've just sent those photos to my friend in the UK. If anything happens to me, I've told him to give the pictures to the authorities. As I said, it's just a little bit of insurance."

The explanation seemed to calm James. I hoped that meant he hadn't anything bad planned for me. Maybe he really was just going to take me to someone who'd buy the drugs.

I thought about abandoning the meeting, after all I had more than enough cash in the briefcase to keep me going for the next few months. But hey, I could add thousands of dollars to my bankroll with the Ya and the passport, so it was worth the risk. I always was a greedy sod and anyway, there was a certain thrill hanging in the air. Deep down it seemed I liked this sort of thing.

"Okay," I said. "Let's hit the road and meet your friend. There's a good bonus for you if this goes well."

If I'd thought the trip from Pattaya had been a hairy-Mary experience then, as Al Jolston would have told me, 'you ain't seen nothing yet, pal'. Maybe Al wouldn't have added the 'pal' but the sentiment held true. James took off like a bat out of hell and that flying start turned out to be the calmest bit of the journey. We sliced through the throng of traffic, near misses all over the place.

WHAM. One bicycle taxi wasn't so lucky, it suffered whatever the opposite of a near miss is, and right up the backside. We clipped him good, spilling him and his passengers out into a messy heap on the road. Did we stop, did we fuck? If anything, James accelerated a bit more, no point in wasting time on a pointless argument with an irate overturned cyclist and his even more irate passengers.

We raced and weaved through the crowded streets. Car horns blared and pedestrians screamed abuse; abuse sounds the same regardless of language. Nothing slowed us; not the twists and turns, not traffic, not cyclists, not old ladies crossing the road, not children playing. Nothing. Until the siren screeched up behind us. I could see the blue lights reflecting off the inside of the cab. I swung round and glimpsed the approaching police car. Blues and twos take on a new menace when they're careering up behind you.

"Fuck," said James in English as he jammed on the brakes.

"Fuck," I said in English, wondering if those bastards at the train station had taken my money and then called the cops. Was there a reward for turning in criminals? Had the CCTV guys scored a double whammy?

A shiver raced down my spine as cool drips of sweat trickled down my neck. Forty degrees and I was shivering. Here I was with twenty thousand US Dollars in a briefcase, a stolen document case and a stash of drugs tucked down the back of the seat. Deep shit didn't get much deeper than this.

A cop was at James' window. The two men ranted at each other in Thai. Occasionally James would point over his shoulder and the cop would peer at me for a few seconds. Was James shopping me? The third time the cop took an interest in me he asked for my passport.

"What?" I said. "What's going on?"

"Passport," repeated the cop with menace in his tone.

I dug out my passport and handed it over. In my peripheral vision I spotted his partner, positioned just behind me. I glanced round a little and saw his hand poised over his gun. Keep your panic under control, I told myself. His weapon was still holstered. If he was preparing to shoot, he'd be aiming at me by now, wouldn't he? The guy with my passport sauntered back to the police car, presumably to check me out on the radio. Would he hear about my earlier problem in Pattaya? How good were Thai records? How well did the various regional police forces communicate with each other? I leaned forward and whispered to James.

"What's happening?"

"Stopped me for speeding but they see European in car. Want to know who you are and where I taking you."

"And what did you tell them?"

"Say I taking you on short tour of city and then back to hotel."

"You don't know what hotel I'm staying at," I said.

"That why he want your passport. He not believe I forget name of hotel."

Think, think, think. I racked my brain for ideas. Panic was clouding the process as random thoughts scattered any rational ideas. Confusion dominated. I couldn't think straight. Then it came to me like a bolt out of the blue. It was bleeding obvious, so I stated the bleeding obvious.

"They'd take a bribe, wouldn't they?" I whispered to James.

"Probably."

"Ask him how much it would cost to overlook the speeding and let us go on our way. Tell him I've to meet my girlfriend and she'll be mad if I'm late."

James leaned out the window and had a quick conversation with the cop. After a short exchange, he turned and went back to the police car to talk to his partner. I watched out the back window as the two men debated. The first cop climbed out of the car, my passport in his hand, and approached James.

"Three hundred US Dollars," he said. Another dodgy deal done in dollars was on the cards.

James turned to me.

"Three hundred US Dollars."

I wasn't going to agree too quickly. I already learnt that lesson. I hummed and hawed a bit before hoking three Bens out of my wallet. I was getting through my ill-gotten gains rightly.

I passed the notes to James who passed them to the cop. He counted them and tucked them in his shirt pocket.

"Each," he said to James.

"Each," James said to me.

"Of course," I whispered. "It's always each."

I counted out three more hundred-dollar bills and handed them over. The cop seemed satisfied now. He shook hands with James. Had he just palmed a note to my 'friend'? I couldn't be sure, so I said nothing. A casual salute terminated the deal.

"Have nice day," he said before swivelling on his heel and heading back to his car, ready to scout out his next victim.

I could see James' eyes in the rear-view mirror. He was watching the cop walk away.

"Let's go," I said, "before they change their minds."

James turned the ignition. The car didn't start. Oh for fuck's sake, come on. He tried again and this time the engine fired up. Not funny, James, not funny at all. He slammed the car into first gear and we lurched out into the traffic.

"Keep it slow, James, if we get stopped again, I won't be able to pay your fare."

That seemed to do the trick. We cruised through the streets now, no more manic swerving and rallying.

"I think we should head straight for Patpong," I said. "I've had more than enough excitement for one day."

"No can do," said James. "We have arrangement to meet my friend. You not break arrangement or else big trouble."

Big trouble, was he fucking kidding me? I really didn't see how my day could get much worse.