The Hunt for Shambhala

5

Selena Moore woke to the sound of Captain Decker cursing under his breath as he rummaged through an untidy bundle of papers on his lap. She pulled herself up straight and noted with dismay that he was holding the yoke steady with his knees. She rolled her eyes as she turned her head to glance out the window on her side of the cockpit. The cloud was everywhere now, and she struggled to see anything until a few seconds later she caught a glimpse of some dull, green rice paddies slipping past the Avalon. They had descended and were very low.

More cursing and muttering from Decker brought her head swinging back around to face him. “Just what the hell is the problem?”

He stopped and looked up at her. “You say something?”

She sighed. “I asked what the matter is.”

“Huh?”

She took a deep breath and tried to center herself. This was like dealing with a petulant child. “Why are you talking to yourself like a madman?”

“Oh… can’t find the approach plate for Suvarnabhumi.”

“I see, and perhaps now you can tell me in English?”

The former US Marine pilot continued his search. “Approach plate — instrument approach procedure chart… it’s a printed chart of all the different approaches that pilots need if they’re going fly an instrument approach.”

Clouds ripped past the window as the aircraft flew into the edge of a tropical storm and began heaving up and down in the turbulence.

“And an instrument approach is…?”

Decker turned to face her sharply and narrowed his eyes. “If you looked outside you might have noticed we have about a hundred meters visibility. How do you think we get a plane down in weather like this — magic?”

“You’re so very rude, aren’t you?”

“And you’re asking stupid questions.”

“I take it from your frustration that your filing system has failed you and you cannot find the appropriate chart?”

“You’re sharper than you look.”

“Thanks to your excellent explanation of what these approach plates are, I can see how important they are. Are you sure you’re not using any of them to bung up the leaking toilet at the rear of this aircraft?”

“Very sure.”

“Aren’t you supposed to keep things like that safe?”

“I do keep them safe, only you might remember we were in kind of a rush to get this thing in the air… and someone kicked over my flight case.”

“Ah…”

“Yeah — ah… and I need the chart for the DME.”

“And what is… oh, never mind.”

Decker ignored her and when he had everything he wanted he turned to her. “Go wake Skippy up. We’re landing.”

“Fine.” She got up out of the seat and then leaned toward his ear. “Unless you want a phenomenal arse-kicking, please don’t let him hear you call him that.”

Decker gave her a crooked grin and tightened his safety harness.

When they were all in the cockpit and strapped in, the American gently pulled back on the overhead throttles and reduced power to the two radial engines. The roar of the turboprops lowered to a quieter spluttering sound as they slowed to idle and he carefully turned the aircraft to line up with the runway. Landing on land was much easier than bringing the plane home on water, and he took a few seconds to glance out across the endless smoggy sprawl of Bangkok stretching out either side of them as far as the eye could see.

Closer now and his concentration was focussed exclusively on the runway and his instruments. Seconds later the tires were screeching on the runway and they were down in a very muggy, very wet Bangkok.

Steering the plane on the water required pushing one of the throttles up to the ceiling and reversing the desired engine, but on land he used the rudders like any other aircraft. Moments later they left the runway and ATC were directing him to a parking area on the south side of the airport.

As usual, the handful of guns Decker kept on board took several minutes of form-filling and had to be checked into customs, but then they were free, and he could smell the twenty-five big ones getting closer as they stepped out of the airport.

Outside the Englishwoman scanned the crowd for someone.

“There he is,” she said and waved above her head for a moment.

A man in a tropical shirt half-unbuttoned and with a straw hat perched on his head at a rakish angle returned the greeting with a casual two-finger salute and sauntered over to them.

“Charlie!” Selena said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Hey, when Lena Moore needs a taxi who better to call?”

She laughed and turned to Decker. “This is my old friend Charlie.”

Charlie leaned forward and extended his hand. One brief shake later he said, “Charlie Valentine.”

“I’m Decker… Friends call me Mitch.”

“Mr Decker here very kindly flew us all the way from Hong Kong.”

“Very kindly,” Riley said, “and it only cost us twenty-five thousand dollars, too.”

Charlie Valentine led them to a black Toyota Aurion and after he had paid for parking they were racing west along the motorway toward the city.

Selena glanced at her watch and for a few seconds she thought they were going to reach their destination quicker than they had planned, but then they hit the Sirat Expressway and the quieter sprawl of the eastern districts gradually turned into the rising tower blocks and hotels of Ratchathewi.

The traffic got heavier to match it and Charlie cranked up the aircon to keep everyone cool while he weaved the Aurion south through Thrung Phaya Thai and then west along the Lan Luang Road. This was the Bangkok Selena had seen on the TVs and in the magazines — beautiful buildings with ornate balconies, separated from the busy street by tacamahac and bullet wood trees.

“I love these buildings,” she said. “They look colonial, which is odd because…”

“Because Thailand was never colonized,” Decker said. “Just about the only country in the entire region that escaped colonization, in fact.”

“You’re forgetting Bhutan,” Selena said.

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let me thank you for pointing out my omission.”

“Omissions,” Selena said. “You also forgot Nepal.”

“Whatever,” Decker mumbled, and turned away to look out his window.

They pulled up at some lights beside a restaurant and Selena unwound the window. The car was suddenly filled with a strong smell. “Oh my,” she said. “Has someone opened a drain?”

“That’s Pad Sa Tor,” Decker said casually.

“What’s that?” Selena asked. “The drains company?”

Decker sighed. “No, it’s not a drains company,” he said patiently. “It’s stir-fried stink beans, and it’s coming from that restaurant right beside you. The Thais love it.”

“But it smells like…”

“Where’s this damned nightclub?” Riley said.

“Coming up,” Charlie said, pushing down on the throttle as the lights turned green. “It’s just west of the Wat Saket.”

“The what?” Selena said.

“The Golden Mount,” he replied, and tapped on his window. “That thing.” She followed his pointing finger to an enormous building rising up from carefully manicured parklands. Its golden rooftop pagoda flashed bright golden in the subtropical sun.

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s a Buddhist temple,” Charlie said. “Goes back to the Ayutthaya period. Kunchai’s nightclub is just beyond it — and there’s a restaurant-bar place opposite we can hang out and case the joint from too.”

“Let’s hope he’s got what we’re looking for,” Riley said, tipping his head back on the rest and closing his eyes. “And can we find it fast? I could murder a cold beer and some chillout time.”

Charlie took another look at the address Selena had given him at the airport and pulled up moments later on a busy street lined with cafés and bars. Thai flags flapped in the hot breeze and a young couple zoomed past on mopeds, shouting at each other as they drove down the road.

“This is your place,” Charlie said, switching off the engine and cranking his seat back for some extra leg room. “Just over there.” He pointed out a three storey neo-colonial building on the other side of the street a hundred yards away. Opposite it was a small bar. This was the Phra Nakhon district of Bangkok, in between the famous Wat Pho Buddhist temple complex and the Chao Phraya River. A handful of Westerners sipping beer here would draw no interest from anyone. “And we have this if things get out of hand.”

Charlie opened the glove box to reveal an old Colt revolver.

“Woah!” Selena said.

“Just in case,” said Charlie. “Kunchai will be armed.”

“In that case I think it’s time for that quiet beer,” Riley said. “We can study the place for a while before going in.”

“This shouldn’t take too long,” Riley said, sipping a beer. They’d been in the bar for an hour now, posing as tourists and watching quietly from behind the cover of their sunglasses as they kept an eye on Kunchai’s place over the road. “What d’ya recon, Charlie?”

“I think we need to tread carefully around a man like Kunchai, and remember he’s working for someone else.”

An old friend of Selena and her father, Charlie Valentine was a former soldier with the Royal Military Police and knew more than a few tricks when it came to tracking people down. He’d also worked as a conman after leaving the army and falling on hard times. All of this plus the five years he’d spent living in Bangkok meant he was the best man for the job.

“When do we go in?” Decker said.

“Kunchai’s having a business dinner in there tonight,” Charlie said. “So when they’ve wrapped up, I guess.”

“We’ll need to know the layout of the place before we go in,” Riley said while staring at the menu. “But in the meantime we eat and make merry!”

“Sounds good,” Selena said. “But I don’t want to lose that journal again, whatever happens.” She lifted a menu and began reading. She had never been to the district before and was fascinated by the way wealth and poverty rubbed shoulders wherever she looked. Men with no shoes sold fruit from broken crates under rotting parasols on the side of a road where luxury foreign cars cruised silently past. “This is an amazing place,” she said.

Charlie sniffed and leaned back in his chair. “Most Westerners are happy to come here and spend their money, but what a lot of them don’t realize is how corrupt the place is. Not that long ago a load of Thai police got busted for trafficking heroin. Shit happens.”

“You can say that again,” Riley said.

Decker was less amazed, having spent so much time in the Thai capital on his many jobs shuttling cargo back and forth from other Asian cities. To say he knew the ropes was an understatement, and so he settled back in his chair and enjoyed his beer, keeping one eye on the busy nightclub on the other side of the street. His mind drifted to the twenty-five big ones the Englishwoman had promised him. “So you think this Mr Kunchai guy is working for someone else?” Decker said.

“It’s just Kunchai,” Charlie said. “Not Mr Kunchai. He’s got a Madonna thing going on.”

“Madonna thing?”

“With the name — everyone around these parts knows who Kunchai is… but that’s where the similarity ends, unless she’s started kneecapping people at her concerts. But yeah — Kunchai is a serious villain, but I doubt he’s on the market for an ancient journal. He’s more your middleman level of scumbag.”

“So what’s the plan?” Selena asked.

“I’ll check the place out in a minute,” Riley said. “Just get the general layout and ask some questions and then I’ll be back.”

As dusk slowly fell over Bangkok, they moved inside and ordered drinks. Riley wandered back to their table with another tray full of cold beers. “Eight hundred baht for a cocktail? Geez — that’s a bit steep for a place like this. The Moon Bar maybe but this place had a dead dog outside.”

“I didn’t see that?” Selena said. “Where?”

“Well, on reflection it was probably sleeping, but the point stands.”

He downed his drink and checking the darkness outside one last time, he turned to them and smiled. “All right — wish me luck.”

They watched the Australian wipe his mouth and belch loudly before jogging across the street and paying to get inside the nightclub.

“How long will he be?” Decker asked, looking at his watch.

“A pro would be in and out in five minutes,” Charlie said, frowning. “But by the look of some of the women lining up to get into that club, I’d give Riley an hour.”

“An hour? What the hell are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Eat!” Selena said.

They walked over to the restaurant section of the building and were met by a sombre-looking man dressed in black.

“A table for three?” he asked.

“Yes please,” Selena said.

Decker smiled. “We’re on honeymoon.”

The waiter gave the three of them a funny look and turned his back to get a menu. Selena nudged the American in the ribs and scowled at him. “Honeymoon? What the hell?”

“There are three of us, Decker,” Charlie said with a grin. “Just what sort of marriages are you familiar with?”

Decker shrugged. “It just flew into my head.”

“Well it can bloody well flight right out again. Why not just say we’re friends and…”

The waiter turned back to them and was now smiling and handing them some menus. “Perhaps you three newlyweds would like to sit outside?”

“I think my wife would prefer somewhere with air-conditioning,” Decker said, smirking at Selena once again. “She gets very short-tempered in the heat.”

“Ah, of course.”

“Can’t believe I’m in a thrupple,” Charlie said.

Selena rolled her eyes but said nothing. She picked up the menu and Decker followed her lead and started to look at the food. A moment later he looked up.

“I’ll take the scallops in prik pao sauce,” he said, glancing up from the menu to Selena and back again. “And maybe the shrimp pad see weo. What about you, darling?” he said with a wink.

She gave him another look and buried her face in the menu.

The food arrived fast, and Selena watched the American pilot as he attacked the pile of rice in front of him. It reminded her of the time she saw a crocodile eating a chicken on the National Geographic channel.

“I’m getting worried about Riley,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“I thought you said an hour?” Decker said. “It’s only been twenty-five minutes yet. Plus there’s no sense letting this great food go to waste.”

“Riley will be fine, Lena,” Charlie said.

“Well you two can stay here, but I’m going to check if he’s all right.”

She got up from the table and threw her napkin down on her plate.

Decker looked up at her. “Where are you going?”

“Like I said, I’m going to check if Riley’s all right.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to run out on me before paying me my twenty-five grand?”

“I’m insulted by the mere suggestion!” She started to move away from the table but Decker grabbed her by the arm. “Wait — here he comes!”

Riley jogged back over to them with a broad smile on his face.

“Well?” Selena said.

“Shit — I love scallops!” he said, looking at Decker’s plate. “Is that prik pao sauce too?”

“It is.”

“Bastard.”

“Riley!”

“What?”

“What did you learn?”

“Never pick a fight with a man in a bra.”

“Be serious you silly sod.”

“Sorry — Kunchai’s hosting his meeting upstairs in a conference room opposite his office on the top floor. They’re scheduled to leave in the next hour and then our man’s all alone. You can see the conference room from the side of the building. One of the waitresses there says he keeps any valuables in his private apartment… so time for a chat with our host, I reckon.”

“Any way in besides going past the goons on the front door?” Decker asked.

“Sure, but it involves climbing on a truck parked around the side.”

“I’m up for that,” Charlie said.

“Count me in,” Selena said. “I want my journal back!”

They all turned to look at the American. He sighed and tossed his napkin down. “Sure. I’m in — but only this one time.”

“And we’ll need the gun,” Riley said to Charlie. “I saw a shoulder holster on one of the goons in there guarding a downstairs office.”

“All right, I’ll get it for you, Charlie said.

“And then can we get my journal back?” Selena said.

“Right now,” Lena,” Riley said with a smile. “Right now.”