Bangkok Burn by Simon Royle Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simon Royle
looked back at me.
“Are we in any danger?” She had a sort semi-accusing look on her face, as if to say thanks for dropping this shit on my doorstep. I figured the more she felt that way the faster the news would go out.
“No. Maybe. Probably not. Could you hurry. I left mine with Chai in the van.” You can always play the Griengchai card, as long as the other party feels it. She nodded her head. Mind made up.
“Okay, I'll just go get it.” She pointed up the stairs. “It's upstairs.” She started up the stairs, got about half way up and stopped, leaning over the banister. “By the way, Chai is he your driver or a friend? He's quite a...”
“Sally. Please.”
“Okay. Okay, I'm going. Make yourself comfortable, I'll er, okay, yeah...”
***
My nose was inches away from the valley of Sally's cleavage, she putting extensions into my hair. At least that's what she said she was doing. I hadn't said a word since sitting down and Sally was bursting to ask me a thousand questions. Time to start a rumor.
“Did you get these done in Korea?”
“No, Bangkok. Why? Do you like them?”
“Just curious. Sure. They look good.”
Sally stepped back, long gray hair extensions in her right hand. She tucked her chin in looking down and pushed her tits together.
“Do you think they should be bigger? I was thinking about have them upgraded. Go up a couple of sizes. What do you think?”
“I think they're fine as they are.”
“Would you like to see them?”
“No, it’s okay. I can tell from here. They're fine. Can you hurry this up a bit? I've got to get to Cambodia tomorrow.”
Sally pouted, flounced, grinned, all in one move and went back to putting extensions into my hair. She leaned forward giving me a close up of her cleavage.
“So do you know who, um, you know, tried to kill you?”
“Yes, that's why I'm going to Cambodia tomorrow. It's better if we don't talk about this Sally, and whatever you do, you must keep my visit here a secret. Okay. Promise me. Whatever you do, don't tell anyone.”
“Of course. Darling. I won't tell a soul.”
***
Sally's salon is in the back streets behind Arun Amarin Road. The Chao Phraya River runs by her back door. I stood on her dock waiting for a long-tail boat. Smelly, noisy, uncomfortable, but faster than rush hour traffic. The long-tail that responded to the green light on the dock was driven by a little skinny guy. He gave me a leery smirk when he asked me where to go. He'd obviously picked up Farangs from Sally’s before. The eye-patch had been the problem. Whatever the disguise, the eye-patch would draw attention. Thinking about the Bandidos had given me the idea. Now I looked like a skinny Hulk Hogan in denims. A long, droopy moustache tickled my nose. The black bandana headband, mirrored Ray Bans, skull-and-cross-bones eye-patch were Sally's work. I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t look like me.
The river is only about 200 meters wide at this point, but the landing at the Shangri La Hotel was about 5 kilometers downstream. As the long-tail driver swung into mid-stream, I spent the time trying to figure out how many people Sally would have called by now, and how many of those would call someone else. She'd start with the senior rumor mongers. The one's with the highest celebrity value and work her way down. Working on a 1+1 principle, with an allowance for degradation, it would take about another fifteen minutes to reach the landing and it had been ten since I left Sally's. I came up with a conservative estimate of ten million. It probably wouldn't be that high within 25 minutes but by morning, everyone I wanted to know would have got the rumor that I was still alive.
The long-tail taxi pulled alongside the landing at the Shangri La. I handed over 40 baht to the smirking driver and headed for street. The Shangri La is in a back street off Charoen Krung Road, which
“Are we in any danger?” She had a sort semi-accusing look on her face, as if to say thanks for dropping this shit on my doorstep. I figured the more she felt that way the faster the news would go out.
“No. Maybe. Probably not. Could you hurry. I left mine with Chai in the van.” You can always play the Griengchai card, as long as the other party feels it. She nodded her head. Mind made up.
“Okay, I'll just go get it.” She pointed up the stairs. “It's upstairs.” She started up the stairs, got about half way up and stopped, leaning over the banister. “By the way, Chai is he your driver or a friend? He's quite a...”
“Sally. Please.”
“Okay. Okay, I'm going. Make yourself comfortable, I'll er, okay, yeah...”
***
My nose was inches away from the valley of Sally's cleavage, she putting extensions into my hair. At least that's what she said she was doing. I hadn't said a word since sitting down and Sally was bursting to ask me a thousand questions. Time to start a rumor.
“Did you get these done in Korea?”
“No, Bangkok. Why? Do you like them?”
“Just curious. Sure. They look good.”
Sally stepped back, long gray hair extensions in her right hand. She tucked her chin in looking down and pushed her tits together.
“Do you think they should be bigger? I was thinking about have them upgraded. Go up a couple of sizes. What do you think?”
“I think they're fine as they are.”
“Would you like to see them?”
“No, it’s okay. I can tell from here. They're fine. Can you hurry this up a bit? I've got to get to Cambodia tomorrow.”
Sally pouted, flounced, grinned, all in one move and went back to putting extensions into my hair. She leaned forward giving me a close up of her cleavage.
“So do you know who, um, you know, tried to kill you?”
“Yes, that's why I'm going to Cambodia tomorrow. It's better if we don't talk about this Sally, and whatever you do, you must keep my visit here a secret. Okay. Promise me. Whatever you do, don't tell anyone.”
“Of course. Darling. I won't tell a soul.”
***
Sally's salon is in the back streets behind Arun Amarin Road. The Chao Phraya River runs by her back door. I stood on her dock waiting for a long-tail boat. Smelly, noisy, uncomfortable, but faster than rush hour traffic. The long-tail that responded to the green light on the dock was driven by a little skinny guy. He gave me a leery smirk when he asked me where to go. He'd obviously picked up Farangs from Sally’s before. The eye-patch had been the problem. Whatever the disguise, the eye-patch would draw attention. Thinking about the Bandidos had given me the idea. Now I looked like a skinny Hulk Hogan in denims. A long, droopy moustache tickled my nose. The black bandana headband, mirrored Ray Bans, skull-and-cross-bones eye-patch were Sally's work. I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t look like me.
The river is only about 200 meters wide at this point, but the landing at the Shangri La Hotel was about 5 kilometers downstream. As the long-tail driver swung into mid-stream, I spent the time trying to figure out how many people Sally would have called by now, and how many of those would call someone else. She'd start with the senior rumor mongers. The one's with the highest celebrity value and work her way down. Working on a 1+1 principle, with an allowance for degradation, it would take about another fifteen minutes to reach the landing and it had been ten since I left Sally's. I came up with a conservative estimate of ten million. It probably wouldn't be that high within 25 minutes but by morning, everyone I wanted to know would have got the rumor that I was still alive.
The long-tail taxi pulled alongside the landing at the Shangri La. I handed over 40 baht to the smirking driver and headed for street. The Shangri La is in a back street off Charoen Krung Road, which
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