Gaijin Cowgirl (19): News of a strange land

"Muddy, you're drunk."

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The policemen were very close as Jiraporn led the others through the crowd toward Surawong. Through the crowd they spotted Simon, then Baker, then the tide of revelers hid them until all that remained was a glimpse of a dark alleyway, as if they had never been there. Suki cried out his name.

“Please, hurry,” Jira urged.

“Maxwell.” Val spotting the crusty agent shadowing them on the other side of the hawker stalls. “He’s got something in his hand!”

“Is he going to shoot us?” Suki blurted.

“He just might,” Muddy said.

“Wait,” Jiraporn said, “I know a way.” She ducked through an opening in the stalls.

“Keep going,” Val said, following the reporter. She ignored the blast of water from a giggling teenager’s toy shotgun.

Suki tried to follow but Muddy took her arm. “We’re getting out of here.”

“I want Simon!”

Val lost Jiraporn in the crowd. Seconds later, she spotted the reporter, oddly stationary by the entrance of a girlie bar. Maxwell was standing right behind her, a possessive hand gripping her shoulder.

Jiraporn didn’t seem fazed. She shouted something in Thai, at the touts outside the bar. Val slowly advanced, shouldering her way through the throng.

“I’d hate to hurt a lady,” Maxwell said.

Val snatched the pump-action water gun out of the startled boy’s hands and unloaded it in Maxwell’s face.

He sputtered, then found himself surrounded by a quartet of laughing girls barely wearing bikinis. A pair of policemen approached from the other direction. Maxwell’s hands were fast: the gun was hidden beneath his Hawaiian shirt, but by then his arms and shoulders were in the women’s clutches. He tried to resist but Jira egged them on, and the women pulled him into the bar.

“Good move,” Val said.

“You too.”

They pushed their way through the night market. Suki and Muddy waited by the main road, but she broke from Muddy’s restraining grasp and ran past them. Simon was bloody and his shirt was tattered, but he lifted her out of her run and carried her back as she kissed him all over.

* * *

Val woke to the sounds of human grunts. Her hand brushed against a plastic blind, letting in slashes of bright light. After a moment of confusion, she remembered she was in a small room she had shared with Suki. It came back: the panicked drive to the hotel, retrieving the map from the night concierge’s safe, and Jiraporn taking them southwest across the dark Chao Phraya into an anonymous, ramshackle cityscape.

They had collapsed at Chatri’s boxing camp. Simon had found an unused dormitory room for her and Suki. There was no air conditioning, but a powerful ceiling fan did the trick.

Suki wasn’t there.

Val got up, hungry. A glance out the window revealed she was on the top floor of a modest compound of two-story buildings. A grassy area, now parched, spread below. The light outside was harsh and glaring, and she looked away. She had no idea where anyone was.

Val slipped on her clothes: cargo pants, a T-shirt, and sandals, and went outside into the enervating heat. Shouts echoed through the empty, polished wood corridor. Mesh covered the windows. Beyond was a stretch of small trees, then a road where sunlight glinted off passing automobiles. It was a nondescript street of squat buildings and lonely palms.

She followed the echoes through the corridor, down a set of broad steps and to a lobby. A woman sat by a desk, sweating in the heat despite the fans. “Suki?” Val said to her. “Simon?”

The woman replied in Thai. The grunts and hitting noises clearly came from down the corridor. Shout sin Thai grew louder as she traversed the hallway. An empty cafeteria opened to one side, a pair of offices along the other. Huge trophies lined the floor and photographs of kickboxers adorned the walls.

Val entered a large, hot gymnasium. The dozen powerful fans couldn’t cut the sweat-saturated air. Only the sounds penetrated that fug: those of hardened hands and feet, knees and elbows, slamming bags, mats, flesh; and the grunts of men accepting pain.

Forty-odd athletes, both Thai and Western, trained inside, rotating among stations: a teacher guiding one group in shadow boxing; a knot of men attacking pads with hands and feet; partners wearing hand and shin pads, exchanging blows; boys crunching out rapid sit ups and push-ups; two teenagers sparring in a ring. One combatant punched the other’s padded head and the boy fell to the mat and vomited. This caused a series of exclamations and jeers, but just as the trainees stopped to look at the mess, everyone got distracted by the blonde with the bruised lip.

Only the rhythm of one man against a punching bag continued, and she recognized Lotdorn. He was a blur of motion that kept the bag swinging on its rusted chain. Watching him, she could see how Simon had fought his way out of that Patpong alley against Butcher and Baker.

An older man with pockmarked skin barked a command. He wore red satin shorts and a simple gray T-shirt that hugged his washboard stomach. Everyone quickly resumed their exercises as he approached Val and scowled.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m, um, looking for Simon Newby.”

“Not here,” said the man. He was probably the first Thai person who hadn’t given her at least a pro-forma smile.

“Are you, uh, Chatri?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know where I can find Simon?”

Chatri turned back and beckoned two men. Lotdorn broke from the punching bag, dripping sweat, and walked over, followed by a large Westerner with Nordic features.

“Lotdorn,” Val said. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course,” Lotdorn said. “It is very nice to see you again, Khun Val.”

“I’m looking for Simon. He’s with Suki, I think.”

The Westerner looked shocked. “What, you’re with Newby too? Incredible. I’d kiss your hand, but I’m afraid I’m a bit of a sweaty mess. Magnus is the name, miss…”

“Val.”

“Val. Splendid. Well, I don’t know where Newby is. Can’t imagine why you’d want to know. Perhaps I could show you around?”

She looked to Lotdorn for help.

Chatri said something gruff to Lotdorn, who clasped his hands before his face to wai and escorted Val out the door. Magnus wanted to follow but Chatri waved him back to work. The Swede winked and called out, “See you again, Val?”

Escaping the boiling air of the gym was a relief. “Khru Chatri is not happy with Simon,” Lotdorn said. “Guests are not permitted.”

“I know. I really appreciate you putting us up. I’ll ask Jira to talk to your teacher, it might be easier for her to explain things. Where is everybody?”

“You please come this way.”

Lotdorn led her back to the rooms the way she had come. He opened another door. “This is where me and Simon live.”

Muddy lay curled in one of the beds, still dressed. He snored. An empty whiskey bottle lay on the tiled floor. The room stank of booze.

She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“You see why Khru Chatri is unhappy.”

Muddy stirred. His half-closed eyes tried to make out the source of sound and light.

Val knelt beside him. “Muddy, you’re drunk. Oh, Muddy.”

“Lemme sleep,” he mumbled.

Val picked up the empty bottle and tossed it in the trashcan. She noticed a mobile telephone, which she assumed was Muddy’s, also beneath the bed. She picked it up and checked the log. He had called Jodie around midnight. She put the phone back and followed Lotdorn back outside.

“There are many bars along the street on the way here,” Lotdorn explained. “After you went to bed last night, Muddy went out. He was supposed to stay with me and Simon. After a few hours, Simon got very scared. He didn’t know what happened to Muddy. So we went out to find him. It was almost two in the morning, the time all the bars must close, and we found him on the street with that bottle. It was a full bottle. He was already quite drunk.”

Val felt despair. “He’s an alcoholic. He told me he hadn’t touched a drink for years.”

“He was very noisy when we brought him back, and he drank the rest of that bottle even after we had put him in Simon’s bed.”

“Where did Simon sleep?”

“We both sat up most of the night.”

“Lotdorn, I’m so sorry. I had no idea this would happen.”

“It is all right.”

“And you’re still working out this morning, after no sleep.”

“Yes, I’m very tired. And I don’t know how much longer Khru Chatri will permit you to stay.”

That afternoon, Val found Muddy resting in the shade of a large banyan tree that dominated the short yard facing the road. The compound was quiet; training had ended until it cooled off, and the students were resting.

She sat down beside him and picked at the grass. “It’s hot out here.”

“I like it this way,” Muddy said quietly. “I can sweat it out of my system.”

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“When’s the last time this happened?”

“Been years. Honest.”

“So why the relapse?”

“The heat and the girls, and the gold and the fear. I needed something to steady the nerves.”

“Did you speak with Jodie last night?”

“Yeah, I remember we spoke. She was crying and I got angry and hung up. Kind of gets blurry after that.”

“So what are you going to do?”

He rested his head in his hands. “Today I’m going to try not to have a drink. That’s about as far as I can think right now.”

“Should you go back to Hong Kong?”

“Should? Of course I should.” He left it at that. Later, he said, “I don’t think we can shake those Yanks.”

“It was easy for them to follow us to Bangkok, but they don’t have any way of knowing where we are now. Maxwell’s ruthless, but he’s not that smart.”

A tuk-tuk coughed through the gate and parked at the compound entrance near their banyan tree. Simon and Suki climbed out of the back and the driver killed the motor. The couple waved to Val and walked toward the banyan tree.

“Hi,” Suki said.

“G’day,” Muddy said, slowly getting to his feet. He extended a long hand to Simon. “Owe you an apology.”

Simon shook it. “Okay.”

“Where’ve you been?” Val asked.

“Chatri told me I needed to build merit after last night,” Simon said. “So we went to the wat this morning to make a donation. And then we had to go find a new place for you to stay.”

Suki added, “We found a hotel nearby.”

“Get your gear,” Simon said. “I’ll flag another tuk-tuk.”

The hotel was just down the road. Its rooms were faded but clean, and it was practically empty. Beyond the dark, cool lobby was a dining area enclosed in a glass canopy that looked out on a brackish swimming pool. The place was discreet and cheap, and they took three rooms.

Val hung out with Muddy that night. They ate a desultory meal nearby, but in the end he returned to the room, watched television for a while, and fell asleep. The next day he found an Internet café where he could begin researching the geology of the border areas near Three Pagodas Pass, and hunt for the necessary equipment.

Muddy gave Val a list of provisions they would need for the journey. Lotdorn told her about a nearby department store. She and Suki purchased practical clothes for a trek, camping supplies and new mobile phones and SIM cards.

Then it was Muddy’s turn. She and Lotdorn went with him to a construction site, where a foreman sold him a metal detector. Finding ground-penetrating radar – a GPR machine – proved harder, and entailed a long cab ride to a branch of PTT, the local energy monopoly, and more of Val’s cash. The thing was a heavy console and a large, surfboard-shaped antenna that barely fit into a taxi’s trunk.

Suki, meanwhile, mended fences with Khru Chatri by taking photographs of him and his boys at work in the ring. She developed the pictures at a nearby shop and put them in simple wood frames. The trainers and the students glowed with dignity and power in those photos. The dour master broke into a wide smile and placed the best ones in the lobby.

Jiraporn got her hands on government maps of Kanchanaburi province. She called Val to announce her finds, and they agreed that everyone would meet that evening for dinner at the hotel. They had the desolated dining area beneath the glass canopy to themselves.

Lotdorn, skinny as a reed, promptly began to scarf food down, while Simon moodily minded his weight.

Val went over their finances. The money from Takahashi and her own savings was almost gone.

But Jiraporn was the person they really wanted to hear. She had come from work and wore mannish slacks and a button-down shirt that, with her pert hair and glasses, gave her a gender-bending appeal. She laid out the geological survey maps obtained from the Ministry of the Interior.

“This is Kanchanaburi Province, just west of us,” she said. “The main city, here, Kanburi, is the site of the bridge over the River Kwai.”

“Like in the movie?” Simon asked.

“Yes.”

The province stretched toward the Myanmar border.

“I understand most of that land’s limestone,” Muddy said. “But I’m also worried about sandstone formations.”

Jiraporn tapped the map. “Three Pagodas Pass is entirely limestone. The older sandstone hills are further north.”

“Good,” Muddy said.

“What’s the difference?” Val asked.

Muddy said, “Sandstone’s hard to mine, and it’s got a thicker jungle canopy. Basically a pain in the arse to deal with. But limestone’s a fossicker’s dream. Those karst formations are riddled with fissures, caves, and all sorts of underground streams and caverns. Dead easy to explore.”

“There’s a lot of mines in that area,” Jiraporn added. “Tin, mainly. They also mine the limestone to make cement.”

“If we get close enough, a basic sonar check will tell us a lot,” Muddy continued. “It’s also likely that the Japanese, when they buried this stuff, found a cozy cave, with an entrance that will be easy to find, if the map is accurate. There’s even a chance that, if we know where to go, we can just walk into a cave and find it sitting there. I’ve done that in the Philippines.”

“But,” Val said, “that means anyone could have found it.”

“Maybe, but gold’s tough to transport. It’s damned heavy, and you don’t want to alert the local owners or authorities of your find. Again, in the Phils, sometimes it was just impractical for the natives to do anything about gold they knew might be there. To request the kind of equipment they’d need would give the game away.”

“Tourists?” Simon asked. “There’s lots of tourists who go exploring caves.”

Jiraporn said, “This area has been politically unstable for decades. A war zone until recently. Firefights go on – the Burmans, the Mon, the Karen, our own army. Except for the popular places around the Death Railway, the caves around the Three Pagodas Pass are virgin sites.”

Jiraporn returned to the map. “There’s just one major road through the province, from Bangkok to Kanburi and all the way through the hills. The road ends here, at Sangkhlaburi, a small town about four kilometers from the border.”

“The gold’s along the border near there,” Muddy said. “Who’s in charge in that place?”

Jiraporn paused to eat some more. “This area’s still unstable. Three Pagodas Pass has always been an invasion route for the Burmese, and now it’s a major artery for smuggling. Most of the people are from hill tribes. And because the Burmese have never consolidated power in the area, it’s full of Mon and Karen ethnic armies and refugees. It’s a no-man’s land, and there’s only so much the police can do outside of the towns.”

Muddy asked, “Who owns the land? Is it private?”

“No,” Jiraporn said. “I’ve checked. There are plot holdings, and mining concessions, but the wilderness is all government-owned. The Mon and Karen camps in the area are just squatters. There’s a village mayor and a few police in Sangkhlaburi, and of course the army’s at the border.”

“What kind of rackets do people run there?” Simon asked.

“Smuggling,” Jiraporn said. “When the sun goes down, the border gets busy. The police take bribes and lorries cross back and forth all night long. Teak is a big export from Myanmar, and so are gemstones. But the most lucrative trades are in drugs and in people. Have you heard of yaa baa?”

“Sure,” Simon said. “The ‘crazy drug’. Amphetamines. They’re everywhere in the clubs.”

“Myanmar produces most of the yaa baa,” Jiraporn said. “It’s our national scourge.”

“You said they smuggle people?” Suki asked.

“Some illegal workers,” Jiraporn said, “but most of the trafficking is in women and girls.”

“To be prostitutes in Thailand,” Val said.

“There are networks that send hill tribe girls and poor Thai village girls to the floating discos in Kanburi, or to Bangkok, or abroad to Japan.”

“Japanese men,” Suki sighed, tapping her fork against the table.

“Will these gangs get in the way?” Muddy asked.

“I don’t know,” Jiraporn said. “Look, I’m painting a bad picture of this place, but don’t think it’s full of criminals. It’s not, it’s just poor. The people there are mostly peaceful, trying to get by best they can. But the law is only enforced when it suits the police, or one of the local nakleng – the tough guys.”

Val lit a cigarette and leaned back. “So if we just follow the map to some point in the mountains, pretending to be tourists, would anyone care?”

“No,” Jiraporn said. “You look like ordinary farang backpackers. But Muddy’s equipment could catch someone’s notice – remember, it’s a small place. You’ll need transport. And you’ll need a guide, even with the map. If there’s no trail, it will be difficult to get around. And the map area may look small, but believe me, it would be easy to get lost. And that would be dangerous.”

Val exhaled a cloud of smoke. “That may not be a big deal. After all, we’re bringing you, right? And Suki, to take pictures? If the gold’s as hard to move as Muddy says, then we don’t have to worry so much.”

“What concerns me is finding the site and then getting the hell out of there,” Muddy said. “Until then, Maxwell and his cowboys are going to be a problem.”

“That’s why you have Simon and me,” Lotdorn declared.

Jiraporn looked doubtful. “Some of these provincial officials are very powerful men, and very corrupt. We’ll have to be careful. If the police get involved, we’re in trouble.”

Muddy looked at the main map. “How long does it take to get there?”

“From here, Kanburi is two hours. Kanburi to Sangkhlaburi is another five or so, depending on weather.”

“Well,” Val said, stubbing out her cigarette, “I don’t see any point in waiting.”

“Hang on,” Muddy said. “Jira, you said you were going to check into those Americans. Have you learned anything?”

“Well, yes, I did.” The reporter cleared her throat. “It seems, Khun Val, that your father has arrived in Bangkok.”