Behind the Night Bazaar (10 page)

‘Look, to be frank, I’m not interested in your opinions. I’ve been doing this research for two weeks without any problems. Just translate the question.’

With a shrug, Jayne turned, catching an amused look on Nalissa’s face. ‘Khun Nalissa,’ she said in Thai, ‘Khun Moira would like to know how you came to be forced into your current line of work.’

‘
Dichan khao jai
,’ Nalissa said. ‘I understand a little English. You’re right. I wasn’t forced to do this kind of work. It was my choice. But Souk said the farang—’ she tilted her head in Moira’s direction ‘—doesn’t want to hear that. So we make up stories to please her.’

She smiled sweetly and Jayne fought the urge to laugh. ‘So what do you want me to say?’ she whispered in Thai.

‘Oh, make up some sad story,’ Nalissa said. ‘That’s what Souk did for the other girls. Tell her my father was an opium addict or something.’ She sipped a bottle of lemonade through a straw, fluttering glittery eyelids.

Jayne turned to Moira. ‘Nalissa says her father was an opium addict,’ she said deadpan.

Moira, brows knitted, wrote it down in her notebook. ‘Hmm, yes, go on.’

‘What do I say next?’ Jayne asked in Thai.

‘
Arai godai
,’ Nalissa said. ‘Make it up—tell her I was sold to pay for my father’s addiction.’

‘The family was very poor,’ Jayne said in English. ‘Nalissa was the eldest child and the most beautiful of the daughters.’

‘
Dee mark
,’ Nalissa said. ‘I like that. You know, I came here on my own to find work. I studied up to middle school, but there was no senior school in our area. When I got to Chiang Mai, I could earn one hundred baht for working twelve hours a day in a garment factory—and those places are so hot—or I could make the same money just by sitting down in an air-con bar like this and drinking with a customer. That’s for ten minutes! And if I want to make more money, that’s up to me. It wasn’t a hard decision.’

‘Nalissa says her father sold all he could to support his opium addiction,’ Jayne said, ‘until the family had nothing left but their small plot of land and the house on it. At this point, Nalissa’s mother, frightened they would lose their home, invited a man to come, a person known to arrange work for young women in the provincial capital.’

‘I knew it!’ Moira said, scribbling furiously. ‘There’s going to be a whole section in my paper about internalised patriarchy and the complicity of mothers in young women’s oppression…Please, ask her to continue.’

‘She wants you to continue,’ Jayne said in Thai. ‘What should I say next?’

‘You’re doing fine so far,’ Nalissa said. ‘I mean, this is easy money for me. She pays a thousand baht just to sit around talking!’

‘Nalissa’s not sure her mother knew she’d be sold to a brothel owner,’ Jayne said to Moira. ‘Such men tell parents they’ll find jobs for their daughters as maids or waitresses. The man gave Nalissa’s mother a thousand baht and took her away. It wasn’t until she arrived in Chiang Mai that Nalissa understood her real fate.’

Moira raised her head, a concerned look on her face. ‘Please, Jayne, tell Nalissa I know this must be painful, but it would be helpful if she could provide as much detail as possible.’

Jayne turned back to Nalissa. ‘She’s asking for details now. And I suppose you’re going to tell me to keep making it up.’

‘
Nae norn
,’ Nalissa said. ‘I’m enjoying the story myself. By the way, do you think this farang knows what her name means? You know,
moi ra
.’

With certain tones,
moi
sounded like the Thai word for ‘pubic hair’ and
ra
as ‘mouldy’. Jayne bit her lip and glanced sideways at the academic whose head was buried in her notes.

‘Anyway, Jayne, what do you do?’ Nalissa said. ‘Do you work here in Chiang Mai? How come you speak Thai so well?’

‘Nalissa says the middleman expected her to repay the money he’d given her mother,’ Jayne said. ‘In effect, she became a slave to the brothel owner. He kept everything she earned to pay off her debt.’

‘Ask her how many customers she serviced in a day,’ Moira said.

‘I live in Bangkok,’ Jayne returned to the conversation with Nalissa. ‘I came here to visit a farang friend—the one killed by the police three days ago. Maybe you’ve heard about it? They say he murdered his boyfriend, but I don’t believe it.’

‘Oh, yes!’ Nalissa said. ‘It was in the papers. I saw the boy, Khun Sanga, the night he was killed.’

‘What?’

‘Yes, it was around one o’clock.’

That was close to the time of Nou’s death. Jayne wanted to press Nalissa for details, but feared blowing their cover.

‘Nalissa cannot say how many men she was forced to service in a day,’ she said quickly. ‘To be honest, Moira, I think the memories are too painful.’

‘Oh?’ The academic couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘Well, ask her to tell me as much as she can.’

‘Can we meet again?’ Jayne asked Nalissa. ‘I’d really like to talk with you.’

‘Sure. How about tomorrow morning? Somphet Cafe near the Tha Pae Gate, around ten? In the meantime, could you bring this story to a close?’ She glanced around the room. ‘I really should get going.’

‘Nalissa paid off her debt last year,’ Jayne said. ‘But she’s a ruined woman and can no longer go back to her village. That’s why she works here. She still sends money to her mother, but she’s too ashamed to return home.’

‘Of course.’ Looking up from her notes, Moira assumed her concerned expression again. ‘Please, tell her I understand.’

Jayne turned back to the Thai woman. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, OK?’

‘Sure. Thanks for your help with the story.’

‘Nalissa would like to thank you for the opportunity to tell her story,’ Jayne said to Moira, nodding at her tote bag. ‘She needs to go now…’ ‘Right.’ Moira handed Jayne an envelope. ‘Please thank her again.’

‘The mouldy pubic hair says thanks,’ Jayne said, ‘And I’ll see you in the morning.’

Nalissa took the envelope, pressed it between her hands and bowed in a wai—a gesture Moira emulated, unaware of any intended irony. As the Thai woman walked towards the bar, Jayne turned back to Moira.

‘Maybe we could have that briefing now.’

The academic, absorbed in her notes, looked up frowning.

‘You were going to tell me about the work you and Didier are doing.’ The music got louder as Jayne spoke.

‘What about Didier?’ Moira was forced to shout.

Jayne leaned closer. ‘Perhaps we should go somewhere quiet?’

In response, Moira stood up and moved towards the door.

‘What about the bill?’ Jayne called after her, but she was out of earshot.

Annoyed, she checked the drinks invoice and slipped some money beneath the table marker. She saw Nalissa sidle up to a blond man at the bar and grab his crotch in greeting. Jayne wondered what the academic would make of that.

‘I haven’t got long,’ Moira said as Jayne joined her. ‘I still have to finish writing up these notes before I pack.’

Jayne smiled through clenched teeth. ‘Perhaps we could talk on the way back to your hotel.’

‘Fine.’ Moira raised her hand and flagged down a tuk-tuk. ‘We—go—hotel—Chiang—Mai—Plaza?’ she said to the driver in a loud voice.

The elderly man nodded.

Moira’s bag between them made for a tight fit on the bench seat. Jayne ignored the clasp digging into her hip and cut to the chase. ‘So the proposed collaboration, what’s it about?’

‘We’re hoping to use my research findings as the basis for a much larger study on the sex industry in northern Thailand,’ Moira said. ‘We’ve proposed a joint project between the University of Melbourne and Chiang Mai University.’

She re-positioned herself as if making a formal presentation. ‘Didier and his assistants will map out patterns in the procurement and trafficking of women into the sex industry, both within Thailand and from neighbouring countries, as a starting-point for identifying how culturally specific notions of gender, age and ethnicity make women vulnerable to sexual exploitation. The team in Australia will be responsible for survey design and data analysis.’

The jargon left Jayne cold but she pricked up her ears at the mention of trafficking. Chiang Mai was a centre for human trafficking as well as drugs, and it was assumed both police and border patrol were complicit in the trade.

‘Sounds interesting,’ she said. ‘You mentioned some difference of opinion between you and Didier over the project?’

‘Yes, well…’ Moira cleared her throat. ‘He’s suggested we include child prostitution in the study. But as I told him, it’s beyond the scope of the research. Paedophilia is a political minefield in Australia at the moment, what with the new laws coming in and everything.’

Jayne remembered reading that the Australian government recently introduced legislation to enable child sex offenders to be prosecuted under Australian law for crimes committed overseas.

‘Besides,’ Moira added, ‘it wouldn’t look good to have someone like Didier involved in a study like that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, he’s a single man in his thirties who’s lived in Thailand for fifteen years. And…well…it just wouldn’t look good. I mean, he
is
gay.’

Jayne turned away so Moira couldn’t see the look on her face. The tuk-tuk pulled up at the entrance to the hotel and she got out.

‘How much should I give him?’ Moira called after her.

‘Oh, two hundred baht should be enough.’

The driver looked at her with raised eyebrows—the figure was four times the regular price; Jayne smiled and allowed the academic to pay.

‘I think it’s a good sign that Didier asked you to see me for a briefing,’ Moira said as they ascended the stairs. ‘It makes me think he’s come back on board.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be pleased we’ve had the chance to talk,’ Jayne said. ‘Before I go, though, Didier said something about a background paper he’d prepared. He didn’t have time to give it to me. Do you have a copy?’

It was a long shot, but it hit the mark.

‘There
is
something…’ Moira took a folder from her bag and leafed through it. ‘Not so much a background paper as notes. But…oh, it’s a bit dated. It still mentions children and—’

‘That’s OK,’ Jayne said quickly. ‘It’d be good to have something to start with. And I’ll take our discussion into account.’

‘Well, in that case, I suppose it’s all right.’

It was all Jayne could do to resist snatching the document from Moira’s hand. If nothing else, it had escaped the clutches of the Chiang Mai police. She offered to make a photocopy and leave the original at the reception desk.

While the copying was done, Jayne wandered around the lobby, typical of the excesses of Thai interior design. A huge, bronze temple bell dominated the main entrance, while larger-than-life statues of warriors guarded the stairs and elevator doors. The cavernous ceiling was augmented with recesses, each housing enormous, multi-tiered light-fittings like sprays of inverted parasols. The staff wore Lan Na period costumes, evoking Chiang Mai’s golden age as the kingdom of One Million Rice Fields: the men in tailored jackets and sarongs swept up between their knees; the women in matching silk jackets and long skirts, elaborate hairpieces tinkling like wind-chimes when they moved. Distracted by the back of one woman’s head, it took Jayne a moment to notice the receptionist gesturing at her.

‘It’s the blue colour,’ she said, shaking her head.

Jayne looked at the documents. Not even this grand hotel could resist turning down the settings on the photocopier to make the toner last longer. As a result, notes in biro on the front page of the original hadn’t come out in the duplicate. She glanced at the woman and pushed the copy back across the desk.

‘Older sister,’ she said in her most polite Thai, ‘please make sure Khun Moira gets this.’

‘
Mai pen rai
,’ the woman replied with the hint of a smile.

B
efore another night’s guard duty at the farang’s house, Komet fortified himself with a visit to the mor phii. The shaman, much revered for his ability to appease ghosts, gave him an amulet of herbs in a pouch of snakeskin, which Komet tucked beneath his dark-brown shirt. At the station, to his dismay, he was again summoned to Ratratarn’s office. And this time there was no mistaking the Lieutenant Colonel’s displeasure.

‘The deputy sergeant on the surveillance team that relieved you this morning says he found the back door unlocked. What do you have to say about that?’

‘But Sir,’ he said, thinking aloud, ‘I checked all the doors and windows. One window in the bathroom didn’t shut properly. But everything else was locked.’

‘So you have no idea how the back door came to be unlocked this morning?’

‘No, Sir.’

‘Well,’ Ratratarn clapped his hands, ‘it must have been the phii come to haunt his old house, right?’

Komet blushed, aware of the amulet scratching against his skin. ‘Sir, I’m not sure—’

‘Oh, spare me these idiots from the
ban nok
!’ he banged his fist on the desk.

Komet flushed again and bowed his head so low his chin touched his chest.

The lieutenant colonel sat forward in his chair. ‘There must be a rational explanation,’ he said. ‘Think, Officer Komet. Think back and tell me everything that happened last night.’

‘Sir, I arrived at the farang’s house as ordered at 22.00. The surveillance team left and I entered the property. That’s when I checked the windows and doors. After that, I maintained a watch on the street from the front balcony.’

‘Did anyone approach the house?’

‘No, Sir. Though there were a few passersby, no one came near the place, except—’

‘Except what?’

‘Well, there were a couple of young guys—this was around 2am. They got into a fight in the street. I broke it up then returned to my post.’

Ratratarn narrowed his eyes. ‘Did you get the names of these young guys?’

‘No, Sir. They were just two guys arguing over a girl. I threatened to arrest them if they didn’t stop fighting, and when did, I let them go.’

‘You let them go,’ Ratratarn repeated. ‘And would you recognise these men again?’

‘Ah, I’m not sure, Sir. It was quite dark, not long before the storm. One of them wore a baseball cap…’ He hesitated. ‘Oh, I remember! Their names were Bom and Deh.’