Emerald Buddha

Chapter 41

Reggie wiped a thin coating of beige dust from the window of the café where he’d arranged to meet his newest best friend, and squinted as he peered inside. There were three women sitting at a circular wooden table, and that was it. Reggie straightened and checked his watch. The man was ten minutes late. Annoying, but not necessarily indicative of anything, he told himself, other than that flakey characters tended to fit certain stereotypes.

He’d made it to the border town, whose two-lane bridge spanned the Mae Sai River that delineated Thailand from Myanmar, and had spent most of the prior evening spreading money around and letting it be known that he was a willing buyer for information on a white woman who’d gone missing in the jungle. Of course, he’d been offered a plethora of Thai or Burmese girls, and been assured that they were vastly superior to anything a farang could muster in the way of sexual skill, but once it became obvious that he was only interested in the lost woman, his audience in the squalid watering holes moved on.

At close to midnight he’d hit pay dirt when a slight man named Tam had offered that there might be such a woman. Tam had the disposition of a chronic yaba abuser, most of his teeth rotted away, his eyes darting constantly like a frightened rat, his frame whippet-thin with lean muscles that resembled knotted rope beneath his rawhide skin. A chain-smoker as well, he sidled up as Reggie was preparing to leave the bar, and held up an empty bottle of the local cheap beer.

“You buy me ’nother, we talk-talk, yeah?” Tam said in halting English.

“What do we have to talk about?” Reggie asked, trying not to recoil from the sour tang of dried sweat and tobacco that seeped from Tam’s clothes.

“You look for someone. I know lotsa people.”

“Yeah? So what?”

“You buy beer, we make talk.”

Reggie signaled the bartender by pointing to Tam’s bottle and held up two fingers. The only redeeming quality of the dive was that the beer was ice cold, although it had to be drunk quickly or it warmed in minutes.

The drinks arrived, and Reggie eyed the sweating bottles without comment. Tam lifted the nearest to his lips and gulped half the contents in a couple of swallows. He burped loudly and lit a cigarette, and Reggie reluctantly took a sip of his own beer while he waited to hear what Tam had to say.

“Up there, one man run everything. If girl there, he know,” Tam began.

Reggie nodded. “Okay. What’s his name?”

“He have many name. But General Lee now.”

“General, huh? Is he Myanmar military? Or Shan Army?”

Tam laughed, and Reggie’s eyes watered from the stench of rot that emanated from the man’s mouth. “He general of own army.”

“I see. Do they have a name?”

“They Red Moon. Bigtime now. Serious.”

Reggie digested the information before continuing. “And what makes you think he’d know anything about the girl?”

“His business know everything.”

Reggie stared at Tam. He was dog tired and in no mood for a protracted courtship. Tam seemed to sense he was losing Reggie and picked up his pace.

“I talk-talk to Lee people. They know something, you pay.”

Reggie shook his head. “You introduce me. I don’t pay unless I meet them.”

“You no trust me?” Tam asked, aping indignation, and then brayed another laugh and finished his beer. “Okay. I talk-talk. Bring man. You pay then, right?”

“How much?”

“I want tousand dollar.”

It was Reggie’s turn to laugh. “And I want to live forever.”

Tam’s gaze combed the bar, and he rubbed a callused hand over his dry lips. “You pay… hunred dollar.”

Reggie nodded slowly. “I pay when I meet someone who can help me. Find me someone, and I’ll give you a hundred dollars.”

“You give some now,” Tam tried, his tone emphatic.

Reggie shook his head again. “I pay when you deliver, not before.” Reggie fixed him with a deadpan stare. “So get busy. Chop-chop.”

“How I reach you?”

Reggie drew one of several dozen cards he’d filched from his hotel and handed it to Tam. “Ask for Rick. If I’m not there, leave a message. I’ll call you back.”

“You no bullshit, right? You pay?”

“Tam, there’s nothing I’d rather do than give you a hundred bucks. But you have to perform. Got it?”

“I call tomorrow. You wait, yes?”

“Better hurry up before somebody else earns the money.”

“One more?” Tam asked, pushing his beer toward the bartender with a raised eyebrow.

“Nope.”

Tam patted his chest. “I Tam.”

“Good luck, Itam.”

Tam shook his head vigorously. “No. Tam. Jus’ Tam.”

The hotel told Reggie that he had a message when he emerged from his room the next morning, and handed him a slip with a local cell number on it and ‘Tam’ scrawled in barely decipherable script. Reggie phoned the barfly and they agreed to a meeting at noon at the café.

Five more minutes crawled by. Reggie was preparing to leave when Tam rounded the corner with another local in tow. Reggie took in the newcomer at a glance — expensive clothes, shoes, and sunglasses; well-groomed; and as friendly-looking as a barracuda.

Maybe Tam had delivered after all.

Tam neared and gave a slight bow. His companion inclined his head, Reggie did the same, and the man said something in Laotian. Tam coughed and nodded.

“We go in,” he translated.

Reggie nodded and followed the pair inside. They ordered drinks, and Tam’s associate waited until they were served before speaking. He went on for a full minute, and when he was finished, Tam took over.

“This Jun. He say maybe general have girl. How much you pay for her?”

Reggie absorbed the news. Christine was alive. Or might be, if the slickster wasn’t lying. “I would pay a fair price. But I would need proof she’s alive, and that she’s unharmed.”

More translation, and the gang member spat out a few sentences. Tam blanched and was obviously considering how to phrase things when Reggie leaned forward.

“Just tell me what he said,” Reggie said, his voice low.

Tam swallowed hard. “He say girl alive, worth half-million dollar. You no like, they sell her twenty dollar a time.”

Reggie kept his expression neutral. “Prove it.”

Tam told the man, who smiled. He spoke so rapidly even Tam looked like he had a problem keeping up, and then sat back, watching Reggie.

“He say can video on phone. How you prove you got price?”

“Tell him to get the film, and I’ll worry about the money.”

Five minutes later their discussion was over, and Reggie had given the gangster the number of the burner cell phone he’d acquired that morning. Reggie waited until the pair left, and then called his control officer to report his progress. His control told him to keep his phone on and he’d ring him when he had further orders.

Reggie debated another cup of tea but decided against it. Maybe a few more hours of sleep instead.

After the grueling jungle ride and the eight beers last night, he’d more than earned it.