The Chiang Mai Chronicle: A Declan Power Mystery (19 page)

“You two seem to be getting along,” Declan stated his face itched with concern.

“I know things are desperate, but you seem to have seen a ghost,” Bee said.

Declan ordered another drink. “A Beer Laos with a Jack back.”

“The phone call; out with the bad news,” Phitak prodded.

“Something came up at the office. A certain Bartholomew Hartin, a columnist at my paper, has taken an odd turn.” He shrugged, “Perhaps I am overreacting and, in any case, there is nothing to be done now.” His drink order was delivered and he hastily washed the whiskey down his throat. “What have you been discussing?”

“We both need a place to stay for the night,” Bangkok Man began. “I’ve already booked myself into the Four Seasons. Bee is none too eager to spend the night alone so we figured it would be best if you camped out there.”

A thought came to Declan’s mind. Bee noticed the consternation on his face.

“Don’t worry Declan. I won’t bite.”

“No, no, it makes perfect sense. Would you mind if I interviewed you?”

“About what,” she replied suspiciously.

“Seeing as you’ll be relocating to China, well, I have this idea for a new page at my newspaper. It involves a little modeling actually.”

Phitak laughed. “Always at work is it Power?”

Declan felt a rush of adrenalin. His concern was replaced by a powerful surge of confidence. He couldn’t explain it; and perhaps it made no sense. But his ‘gut’ was rarely wrong. “I feel extremely optimistic about our chances tomorrow. And when I get out of this pile of crap, I want to have my girl under one arm and a juicy story wrapped in the other.”

Bee called for the bill and produced a credit card. “Then let’s get to it boys. We’ve all a lot to accomplish.” Her phone rang to life. “I’ll take this and meet you at the exit Declan.”

Pantrem and Power rose and walked towards the exit. “You saw what I saw?” Declan whispered.

Bangkok Man nodded with a slight smile. “Looks like you’re in for an interesting night Mr. Reporter.”

“And you? We’ll need to make a plan, a rendezvous, for tomorrow.”

“You’re on your own. Don’t worry. I’ve got your back. Still, you’ll proceed without me in any case.”

“That doesn’t sound too encouraging mate,” Declan replied thinking back to the afternoon’s ambush at Best Bar.

“I’ll be around. And, I think, you’ll be safe if you stick close to Bee. I need to blend in, away from you two, and see what I can find out.”

Declan nodded. “Don’t forget about my girl understand.”

Phitak took note of Power’s pleading expression. The prying bulldog of a reporter was a wisecracking annoying piece of work. But there was also an endearing side to Declan Power. He thought back to his Boss’s final order. Declan was on his hit list. Another slice of humanity drifted from his soul. He steeled himself to his task and flashed a smile while putting a reassuring hand on his target’s shoulder.

“She’s on the top of my list friend. Stay cool; you’ll be walking down that aisle as planned.”

Chapter 5

“What’s this all about Bart?” Morgan asked his voice saddled with unease.

“Peter, we have a situation that is quite grave. One could say it is of a national importance.”

Morgan listened and wondered whether Bart had hit the bottle again. But he spoke with clarity and an undeniable fervor accompanied his words. He was about to reply as Bart went to close the office window’s blinds and reopen the door.

Two large men entered the office. Each wore a uniform. The uniforms in some ways resembled a modern military officer’s garb yet there were elements that harkened back to a distant ceremonial past. It wasn’t the uniform that caused him dread. The two menacing sets of eyes which bore down on him left little doubt as to the nature of their business. He turned to Hartin.

“Bart, I don’t understand,” Morgan stammered. Why was he pleading to this man?

“Peter, we have a duty to carry out. As a foreigner living in this great land you have been given much. Now, it is your turn to reciprocate. But before I go into too much detail let me show you a photo that I have just received.”

Hartin handed Morgan his mobile. He did not try to disguise the smirk which pranced upon his craggy face.

Morgan took the phone into his hand. He saw the image of a lady and a little girl. The impact hit hard. They were his wife and daughter. Tied up, sporting looks of terror, his family was being held captive in what looked like a cave.

“There is an audio file Peter. Please press play.”

Morgan held Bartholomew Hartin’s gaze in a flash of hatred. “You drunken bastard. What the hell have you done?”

Hartin smiled in response. He snapped his fingers at one of the guards. The guard snapped to his duty, strode forward, and began to deliver blows down on Morgan’s head and shoulders. Morgan collapsed back without defense.

“Please, Peter, press play.” Hartin’s words seemed to act as an order. The guard abruptly stopped his punishing assault.

Bloodied and cowered, Peter Morgan did as directed. The audio was far worse than the physical beating. The phone loudly announced the anguished cries of his wife and daughter.

“Now, Peter, we’ve work to do. Please be a good lad, follow directions, and in a few days time, you’ll have your family back in one piece, or at least relatively so, and you’ll be back to running your newspaper if under a new regime.”

‘This is the way to live,’ Declan thought to himself. Bee’s penthouse hovered at the top of the Chiang Mai river skyline sporting a spectacular view with little luxury spared in its design. This was the life he hungered for, a slice of luxury to be enjoyed with Oum. 

“Quite the view,” Bee purred in her husky voice. She handed Declan a glass of wine and casually leaned against the balcony’s railing.

“I should say,” Declan answered as he gazed at the moon’s shining reflection which danced upon the Ping River’s swift current.

“The height gets me a bit dizzy though. And, I might add, the wine is not helping.”

“Then it is working,” Declan said with a laugh.

“Hmm, I must say, you are expert at getting a girl to take her clothes off. But, still, you’ll need to convince me a bit more.”

Declan shrugged his shoulders. “Really, it is simple. You may or may not know of my monthly centerfold. These girls come from the bars, from the go-go halls, and the premise is to shine a spotlight on one of Chiang Mai’s premier tourist attractions. It’s good for the girls and it works well for the lads. But, these are working girls. I have this idea to also have a page which features the girl next door type.”

Bee unhooked the shoulder strap to her summer dress. It fell to the floor. She stepped away from the fallen fabric and stood facing him clad in sheer white lingerie. Victoria Secret summer line 2013 Declan instantly recognized. He now knew where Nikki got her fashion sense from. “Ok, you’re getting closer. So, you’d like to have proper ladies bare all. ‘Good for the lads’ as you say. But what do the ladies get out of it?”

He took his time looking her over from head to toe. She was spectacular. “As should always be the case, the ladies should benefit most of all. Chiang Mai is littered with ladies both beautiful and educated. Yet they are often tied to dead-end jobs. In many respects they are similar to the girls in the beer bars in that they’re looking for a man. And, in some cases, a little bit of extra money via the freelance trade.”

Bee nodded and casually shed her bra. She refilled both wine glasses. Declan allowed his eyes to follow her breasts as they bounced alluringly into place. “But, I don’t seem to fit the bill of the ‘girl next door’ do I Declan. Oh, I’m educated. And many a man has called me beautiful. But, in fact, I’m not waiting for a man and I certainly don’t need the money.”

Declan’s gaze remained on Bee’s perfectly formed melons.

“They are real I can assure you. Would you like to touch them?”

“May I?” Declan accepted Bee’s smile as an invitation. “Oh sure, fresh, these are straight from God’s garden. They are perfect,” he said as he indulged in a good squeeze. He returned his attention above Bee’s neck. “I disagree Bee. In a sense, you have the perfect motivation to be the ultimate ‘girl next door.’”

“That being?”

“Revenge. You despise your domineering uncle. You hate what he stands for. How do you think he would like a centerfold spread of the Lan Na Princess!”

A sparkle came to Bee’s eyes. Her panties found the floor. She came up to Declan and whispered in his ear: “You hit the magic spot Mr. Reporter. Snap away.”

The mood in the Four Season’s nightclub was festive. Convention season was upon Chiang Mai and the men from IBM were competing with the Barclay’s Bank contingent for domination of the dance floor. For the ladies, this was big game season. Dressed elegantly, with just the right amount of squeeze and tease, a lady could win a lifetime of leisure by bagging the right trophy.

Phitak Pantrem was not that trophy. Despite his youthful good looks and trim athletic physique he did not carry the proper resume for this clientele. He was Thai. So it was with surprise that he heard a call from down the bar. “Buy me a drink,” A sultry Thai voice commanded. Phitak turned in the direction of the request.

He laid eyes on a stunning display of voluptuous beauty. An eyebrow was raised. “Certainly you should be going after bigger fish.”

“My boyfriend and I just broke up. He was a big fish. What about that drink?”

There was an intensity in which her gaze held his. It was tempered only by the playful grin that danced on her full lips. Phitak wrested his eyes away and leisurely took in the rest of her exquisite body. She was squeezed into a small tight fitting evening dress doing little to contain her obvious gifts. She also glittered. Obviously her ex-boyfriend spared no expense as diamonds, jewels, and gold all rivaled for attention.

He didn’t often mix business with pleasure. But it was not often that a dish such as this was served so unexpectedly. “What’s your pleasure Miss?”

“You can call me Annie. I’ll have a Cosmopolitan, a dance, and an evening of fun.”

“Bartender,” Bangkok Man hailed.

A tear came to his eye. Opportunity was knocking loudly at the door but to see the flames of revolution so clearly cast could not be a cause for mirth. His country was being torn asunder. Even if this moment portended to be a boon for him and his family, he still felt uneasy about the prospect.

The two men who peered at him from across his desk did little to unburden his soul. A speech had been brought before him. It was to be delivered at tomorrow’s ceremony. He set his eyes to the document again and tried to digest the enormity of the words it contained.

“There is no ambiguity here gentleman. This is a declaration of independence,” Thanat said his voice not trying to hide his trepidation.

“We always knew it could come to this,” said Petch Wattanatip head of the People’s Democratic Republic of Lan Na.

“But this! A city being torn asunder when all the protestors had to do was bide their time. Everybody knows the judiciary would have ousted the Prime Minister. The judges are in the pockets of the Bangkok Elite. The generals too and surely the tanks would have been rolling soon.” He let his eyes lay hard on Wattanatip. “Yes, I have supported your efforts. An independent kingdom however goes beyond the bounds of our discussions. We have talked of autonomy not of outright independence.”

“You are our only way forward,” Wattanatip pleaded.

“And you,” Jaisaen said tilting his head to the elegantly dressed foreigner who had recently insinuated himself into the situation, “Your group is willing to support an independent Lan Na state?”

“Please, call me Stephen,” the man replied coolly. “Our group supports stability in the region. If a reconfigured Thailand in the south and a revived Lan Na Kingdom in the north facilitates that outcome then the commission is in full support.”

“I know of your group, the Naresuan Commission, my father was once a member.”

“Then, sir, you know regional stability is our only concern.”

“And you’ll go to deadly lengths to achieve said aim.” He was tempted to go on but waved the topic away.

Thanat clutched the paper which had been written and prepared for him. He held it aloft. “I must present this declaration. It is I who will don the bulls-eye. So, I ask you both: Can I expect the full support of the people you represent in this truly revolutionary matter?”

Peter Morgan had essentially been placed under house arrest. His paper was being used as the propaganda arm of a newly reconstituted Lan Na government. This truly was a coup. And he and his family were on the wrong side of it. A thought came to his mind. Which side was Declan Power on?

He watched with forlorn amusement as Bartholomew Hartin tried to assemble the morning edition. He let out a derisive laugh.

“Not as easy as it looks Bart.”

From across the room Hartin cast him a glare. “If I were you Peter I would worry about your family and let me tend to the business at hand. Your cooperation is their life boat dear friend.”