Infamous Spy back in Bangkok !

 

 

 

 

 

Infamous Spy back in Bangkok !

John St Austell Deare, listed as a civil servant in the Department for Culture Media & Sport. He was previously listed in the Department of Agriculture and Fisheries.

London September 2007.

...... Deare swiped his electronic ID to gain entry to 85 Vauxhall Cross, known in the intelligence world as Legoland. Entrance refused, the equivalent of an I speak your weight machine replied. He tried again, same response.
He wondered about his recent excess drinking because of the stress symptoms that had been plaguing him. He turned and watched the hawk-eyed Ministry of Defence police watching with curious interest. MOD-plod could be a pain, he smiled and waved, they didn't respond. The situation was unusual. A sudden chill ran up his spine and tingled his neck with a get out fast now! One of the MOD police had a phone in his hand, Deare stumbled out of the exit into a passing taxi that he flagged down with a twenty pound note from his back pocket.

Deare peered at the situation from the back of a black cab, the clich?of "Where to guv?" was met by an address two streets away from where he lived. "Wait, I'll pay you," he ordered the unshaven man in a flat cap and a Chelsea supporters badge.

Deare strode towards his London flat near the King's Road, he noticed a police van in the distance, another car near his flat parked on a double yellow line and a young tough looking individual with a crew-cut standing at the entrance appearing to press his doorbell, they'd break down the door to no reply. Deare returned instantly to the black cab. "Nearest ATM !" The driver just nodded with a grunt. The ATM ate his first card with a "Please contact your issuing Bank", and then the second. Deare pulled out his never used virginal card, the one he had for emergencies just like this. He was about to shove the card into the slot, "Damn fool, they'll track the card from the first two !" He muttered out loud.

"Airport, Terminal Three!" he ordered the Chelsea supporter now reading a copy of The Sun newspaper. " Stop here, now turn left." They continued along a row of terraced houses in Chiswick. "Wait here!" He got out, walked up to a house whose paint had seen better days and rapped on the door. An elderly lady of about 70 years answered. "Oh Mr Thompson, 'ow nice, what do we owe...." Deare put a finger to his lips to hush her response. "That package I left you, the one you should never open." The old lady went to the back, she returned with a smile like a retrieving dog with his master's prize, it looked like a shoe box wrapped in brown paper. Deare pressed a 50 pound note in her hand, he wondered if he had enough for the taxi.

Deare gave the taxi driver another 50 pound note, then another ten with a, "You've never seen me!" The driver winked an eye, "Who me guv, I've been queuing for football tickets!"

He then made for the nearest ATM in Heathrow Terminal 3. No problems this time. Deare took out the maximum he could. Scanning the electronic departure board he aimed for a flight that he could just make in time. Bangkok via the Middle-East, "Any luggage sir?" He explained he had to travel light, he couldn't be bothered with the baggage check. All his things were at his flat in Bangkok, he lied. Deare produced a Swiss passport from the package retrieved from the old lady in Chiswick. "OK Mr Tomsohn, gate 22, you will have to rush." Deare rushed towards his Etihad Airlines flight. They were keen to impress, the ticket purchase was swift and the price reasonable.

He bought a cheap carry-all bag airside so as not to look conspicuously naked. Then he purchased essentials from Boots the chemist. Closing his eyes in relief as the aircraft powered along the runway, a large whisky and soda would be his first request for the stewardess.

Why an outcast? His own service had turned on him in an instant, but why? He never believed he would have to use his self-made get out clause. He knew the signs immediately, he had just avoided arrest, for what? He was a ‘Cosmic-Tier’ agent, and now a non-person. "Another whisky sir?" The pretty Czech girl with a badge that said Eva held out the tray with a generous measure of Ballantines and a black mini-can of Schweppes soda water.

The flight took him via Abu Dhabi with its flowerpot porcelain centre to the Terminal. He drank more whisky at the piano bar while he waited for his flight to Bangkok. Somebody had put on a track by Miles Davis. All Deare could think about were his years of service then unaccounted for rejection, nothing added up. He wondered if ageing spies were like ageing pop-stars, trying to hang onto past glories?

Deare gazed at the grey concrete and steel of the new Bangkok airport and wondered whether he had landed in Frankfurt by mistake. A cheeky Londoner in a white suit joked with the girl at immigration, "I like this new Savannah Boom Boom airport!" he said with a grin.

Deare checked into a well-used hotel on Soi 4, it called itself Nana. Nan of this and nan of that, Deare joked with himself. Longing female Thai eyes followed his elegant stride as he left the hotel looking for a cheap change of clothes. Cheap designer everything, only 200 metres away. Deare stuffed the new man into a plastic bag, his new image should make him look like just another tourist desperate for affordable sex.

Deare’s trained eyes took in a military Humvee vehicle lurking yards away. Lines appeared on his puzzled forehead. The military truck reminded him of trouble spots in South America. Trouble in Thailand? He thought they has dispensed with that years earlier. His situational antenna sensed trouble.

(2)

After two days of sampling Thai food, drinking too much, watching Thai troops playing 'toy soldiers' and Thai-foreigner love match games, the theatre of the lobby at the Nana Hotel. Deare decided to try using the Internet. He had set up an anonymous web-based e-mail account under the name of 'Black Panther', he couldn't think of anything better at the time. He had also thought of using PGP encryption, free from the 'Net', but that would automatically draw attention to his messages, super computers at ‘No such Agency’ would crack them anyway. He hoped to get a message from an old friend who, while not connected to the Service, usually had a pretty good idea what was going on.

In a small Internet shop, that looked like a converted broom cupboard, Deare opened the web account. He expected just the usual spam messages. There was one that wasn't spam, it read. "Panther, they are after you, big time. What has happened, what have you done? Take a look at some UK related news items. They want you arrested. "Renegade spy" the tabloids are saying. There are alerts right across the diplomatic chain. Mate, stay anonymous, otherwise they'll get you. I'll keep you posted. Cheers, URUBU."

Back at the hotel Deare picked up the free copy of The Nation, Bangkok's English language newspaper, he flicked through it and found nothing. Then a small item caught his eye. "Dangerous British ex-security agent on the run." Ex, ex-agent ? A feeling of total isolation engulfed him. The next line he found even more I am listed as a civil servant in the Dept of Culture and Sport! Interesting: " Tracking down the ex-spy will be the first job for the new 'C' aka ‘Control’, who took over three days ago. The identity of 'C' cannot be released for security reasons, now officially called ‘K’. Rumour has it that he/she is an expert on China and the Far East."

Deare ground his teeth. All this had happened during the ten days he was on annual leave. His return to work had culminated in rejection. What happened to his boss the ex-Admiral ? He was not due to retire for another two years. Had the Young Turks staged an internal coup? Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, he shivered in the air-con. There were some particularly nasty ambitious types trying to ascend the greasy pole of promotion, completely different from Deare and the Admiral's era. Post-Cold War, two-faced and only interested in their own careers, patriotism is a dying art. He was sure their only loyalty was to money. The regime change had to be linked to his present predicament. Another short news item, adjacent, intrigued him. "Henry Dilson, the high flying Labour MP , expected one day to be Prime Minister. Has just returned from a fact-finding tour of China, by invitation of the Chinese Government."

Deare walked around the corner and got smashed on Chang beer in Bully's Bar. The girls there decided he was a homosexual as for such a handsome man he showed no interest in them. He was woken at closing time, he lifted his head from a table and a black lock of hair fell across his face. The Thais were polite, they were made wary by the scar running down the side of his face.

(3)

Deare poked out his tongue at the mirror in his room at the Nana. It looked and felt like the hotel carpet without the cigarette burns. His head thumped, why did he ever drink that Thai beer? He was sure they added formaldehyde to extend its shelf life. He donned the cheap clothes bought from a stall. Ferrari sweat shirt and to his mind the most awful shorts, with pockets seemingly everywhere. Deare shoved his bare feet into flip-flops with a Velcro tightener. He viewed his decidedly tourist attire in a full length mirror. If there were such a phenomenon as 'Fashion Police' in Bangkok, he would be arrested the instant he left the hotel. As he was, he would fit in perfectly.

He had overheard some Westerners claiming that Gulliver's in Soi 5 had the best scrambled eggs and bacon. Crossing Sukhumvit Road, a dangerous task, at least they drove on the same side as the UK. He had been in safer gunfights.

Deare appreciated the smiling faces and helpfulness of the staff as he ordered an extra large helping of Bacon and scrambled eggs with a large pot of coffee. A late 1950's American car hung from the ceiling in the bar area adjacent. The isolation of the restaurant area suited him until he saw his face flash on the BBC World Service News on the TV opposite. A smiling waitress drifted by, "Ooh look Sir, you look same-same man TV!" "Oh Ja!" Deare smiled back miming a Swiss-German accent. Damn, even if he pretended he were Swiss the cunning new 'C' aka ‘K’ was bound to include, 'May pass himself off as Swiss or German' in the news releases. His file recorded his ability in German and Swiss German.

(4)

As Deare finished munching his crispy bacon, a breakfast called late lunch, the new ‘Control’, now known as ‘K’ at his insistence. C and K ironically Russian language prepositions, flicked Deare’s file between impatient fingers. Back and forth, back and forth, he pressed the intercom button. "Miss Johnson, is Miss Tonypandy enjoying her relocation?" She has just resigned sir, apparently gone to grow roses in Cornwell with her aunt." replied Tonypandy's instant replacement. "Thank you Miss Johnson." 'K' leant back in his chair with a comfortable sense of satisfaction. Tonypandy gone, and now for Deare. A sudden thought snapped him to his senses, he flicked through the last few pages of the file. Did Deare understand what he had discovered in Hong Kong? He reflected: need to know? Each had only a part of the story, not the whole, this avoided disclosure if captured.

Deare knew too much, yet he had slipped the net. 'K' confidently expected the Echelon 2 Plus surveillance system would soon catch up with him, added to the news releases of a rogue agent on the run. K's fist hammered the table. Deare could bring down the whole of his perfectly planned and convoluted edifice in a moment. Delicate fingers toyed with his gaudy signet ring, there was only one answer. Deare must die!

Deare realised why he had drank cheap beer the previous night, it was all he could afford. The days of specially made Dunhill Special custom made cigarettes with Turkish tobacco and Dom Perignon '76 champagne were over. He was just another Cheap Charlie pouring ale down his neck. A Cheap Charlie boozing with all the other Cheap Charlies. Almost a perfect camouflage, but he had to be discrete. With the affordability of Thailand, he wondered how many others were on the run. Costa del Crime last year, and now the charms of Thailand, he must be cautious with expats.

Two Thai women on the make observed the lone figure in the restaurant area. One said, "HHmmm hansum man, but I think he work job like postman in Swissserland, or Germaneee. Come Thailand, spend money, live in fantasy world, think him playboy. Then spend year pay off credit card. Him haff no munee, no good, but still hansum man. Maybe I do for free?" The other just nodded, they practiced English with each other. They considered that it increased their value for customers. "Farang man do job like that, no clever, money nit-noy." The other finally added. "I think him boom-sing too good, too much." The first to speak sighed.

Deare's intuition spoke, he turned. He was caught in the headlights of two attractive ladies. His loins stirred, his head rejected.

Back in London in an office by the Thames, 'K' manicured his nails with a pair of petite scissors. He also had intuition, and it bothered him. For all the countless times he had perused Deare's file in the old Civil Service faded manila cover, he was sure he had missed something. He shook his head and said to himself, "Deare must die!"

(5)

Deare did not want the attention of the two attractive Thai ladies, however desirable. He needed a low profile, wagging tongues and jungle drums would announce his presence. He paid his bill and made for the exit. His progress was followed by a pair of hard Chinese eyes.

Wong Ling Li screwed up her pretty face trying to recall where she had seen the handsome Westerner before. She would have liked to approach him, pretending to be another bar-girl, with a "Hansum man, I think we meet before?" She would have liked to have accosted him with faked, gentle innocence. Somewhere in the back of her mind the facial scar and lock of falling hair hit the warning bells of recognition. Wong Ling Li could do nothing, she awaited the American contact hungry for money. A man in need, is a man to bleed, for information. Ignoring this contact would get her in trouble with her boss. Would it be necessary to kill the Yankee ? An activity she rather enjoyed, all in the line of work of course. She leant forward and sucked at the straw of her cocktail. The American was late already.

Deare thought he would take a stroll for a while. Taking a short walkdown Soi 5, he turned left into an area of Arab restaurants, shops and telecom shops.

He felt a sudden tug on his shirt. He had to fight the reaction to turn and hit, automatic responses had been ingrained into his psyche, sometimes at a cost.

Looking down at a small pretty Thai girl, he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Hello hansum man, my name Nong. I see you in Gulliver, I think nice man and want to talk before professional Jeen...I mean Chinese lady talk with you first. By doo-ay?"

"Excuse me?" Said Deare.

"Oh no matter, I not want go with you haff boomsing, I jus' want be friend. I like you. You not like other farang. They all pom-pooey, have big stomach, dink lot of beer. Get angry then get fighting. I think you same same gentleman, hansum man."

"Well thank you Nong, I am glad you like me but I am busy, so I cannot go with you, you are very pretty."

Deare tried to be polite, he didn't want any intrusions, or a scene.

Nong tried a different ploy, "I see dangerous Chinese lady look you. Have seen before, she know gangster man. Do drug bizziness. Have gun, shoot people, police afraid of she, them do nothing. Powerful dangerous, sure!" she lied.

Deare's early warning system called instinct, suddenly threw up three red lights.

"Tell me Nong, why would this lady notice me apart from any other customer?"

"Oh she look you long, long time. Evil eyes, have tiger eyes and act like snake, sure."

He thought of the possibilities of coincidence, he had not been back long from Hong Kong when he had had his little problem at the office.

"Nong, would you like to have a drink?"

Nong's face beamed, she almost tripped over herself with enthusiasm. "Have loom, have two loom with big bed. One loom for you one for me, you must pay me for loom, OK?"

"Whoa, steady on Nong, let's have that drink first." They made their way to Soi 3, Nong pointed out the Bamboo Bar. "Do you have friends there Nong?"

"No sir!" She lied.

He felt uneasy, but continued on, he may have been discovered already. What if Nong was telling the truth?

(6)

Nong led Deare into the Bamboo Bar. A large place with pool tables and a stage for a local rock group. They found a table at the back of the bar. One girl saw Deare and missed her shot on a pool table. It didn't matter, she was already well ahead of the farang partner. A smiling face appeared at their table. "I'll have a double Scotch and soda." He looked at Nong. "Red Spy." Said Nong. He chuckled to himself at the irony of the drink's name.

"Why you laugh?"

"It's a very long story my pretty little one."

Nong looked at Deare, thrust out her ample chest and enjoyed the fact that eyes were upon them. She had a trophy, the last thing he wanted was public attention. "Somebody after you?" Her Thai radar saw through him like glass. "No I am just shy." "I don't believe." She sipped on her Spy.

"Nong, what do you do?"

"Have customer, but not in my loom, I go hotel, do boomsing, get money, go home. I send money to family in Khon Khaen village, far from Bangkok." "Why do you want me to stay with you and no boomsing, as you call it?" "I get lonely, I know you nice man, have good heart. I think you have money nit noy." "Money nit noy?" Deare appeared slightly confused, all he knew in Thai was khrupp and OK kar.

"Oh sollee, nit-noy mean littern bit in Thai."

He pondered he situation, she was right, he certainly had money nit noy, the days of wine and roses were over. A significant thought, roses were associated with his 'Service' or ex-service in his case. "Where you go honey? You mind long way away." "Just daydreaming." That was the last thing he was doing at that moment. Some of the girls in the bar found ways of passing near to him so they could get a closer look. One leant over the bar to the cashier, "That man over there make me horny, but have lady."

"What name you?" said Nong.

Nong tried but struggled with the name, it came out more like Joan.

" You can call me Dimbo if you like. An American friend used to call me that."

"OK, call you Deembo, what happen friend you?"

"He was killed, he worked for the American Government."

Nong blew out her cheeks and looked like she didn't know how to reply.

"Nong, tell me about this Chinese lady in Gullivers." "Oh she, solly I lie." "What!" "OK I lie, nit noy, littern bit. She not with drugs gangster but still powerful lady. I think she do bizziness. My friend An, tell me that she friend important general. Name Kamakheang, or something like that. My friend An and her friend Kung they go orgy with important man, lot of rich people there. Get good money. I not do." "And the Chinese lady?" "I think her name something like Ti Li, she not do boomsing. My friend say; she just watch with stupid face, smoke expensive cigarette and drink champagne. I scared she. Something tell me she very bad, kill like Scorpion." Deare froze for a moment, he recalled something a contact had said in Hong Kong: Beware the beautiful lady with a Scorpion tattooed on her bosom. The next day the contact was found floating in the harbour. He had been castrated.

Deare thought of his traceable hotel, and the risky offer of accommodation at a cheap price. Hotel lists could easily be checked. Something about his legend as a Swiss may give him away to an experienced professional. Deare weighed up the chances of being detected. He knew nothing about the girl opposite. "Nong, may I see your room you want me to rent?" Nong looked as if her birthday and the ultimate payday had just coincided. She couldn't speak, her head nodded up and down in agreement.

Deare was glad to leave the attention of the bar. They both sat in the back of a taxi, a garland of flowers hung from the rear-view mirror adding a pleasant fresh smell to the air-conditioning. Deare’s eyes took in the Buddhist dedication daubed in white on the Toyota's ceiling. The nondescript square shops and buildings flashed by in a part of the city Deare didn't know. It could have been any part of South East Asia.

The taxi pulled up in front of a run-down block of flats. Deare paid the driver while two surly cycle-taxi riders in red numbered jackets eyed him with suspicion. They hauled themselves up stone steps while  Deare eyed the green mold on the walls. A baby cried out loud somewhere. The stairwell stank of urine and decay. They reached the third floor. A muscular Thai in a singlet that said 'rock-babe' pulled on a cigarette, his rice field burnt dark skin, covered in sweat. He had been watching porn films all morning. "He my friend, him good electric, I have satellite, not pay." The Thai suddenly broke into a smile of friendly acknowledgement. An excuse for a moustache covered his upper lip.

Nong let them into her spartan apartment. Basic but clean, she had a double gas ring for cooking, there was also a type of pot where food could be charcoaled grilled. The toilet, the squat type that Deare abhorred. A large plastic tub of water and a shower pipe next to the toilet completed the arrangement. He had seen more comfortable prisons. A large soft cuddly toy bear sat on her bed.

"You like?" "Yes Nong." Deare lied. It was in a way something better than he could have hoped for. Although as a farang he will stand out, it would not have been that unusual for a farang to come to a Thai girl's home. The Thai boyfriend would take the day off as usual.

"You give me two thousand baht a week?" "One thousand Nong." "Thousand, five hundred?" "One thousand." "You pay food and electricity?" "I pay food and electricity." Nong jumped up and down and tried to fling her arms around him, but he was too tall. Her mobile struck up a tune, 'Welcome to the Hotel California'. Nong answered it immediately. "Have go work, come back later."

Within two hours Deare had checked out of his hotel and was sitting in his room, attempting to go ‘Off-grid’, drawing on a Marlborough and gazing at a picture of King Chulalongkorn, Rama V. He had already given one packet to the electrician friend, a form of acceptable currency. Two cockroaches raced across one corner. If this were China, they would be already betting on the outcome of the competition. Smoking cigarettes made of tar, shouting and screaming at one another.

The meeting had gone well. Wong Ling Li had got the information she required. The American, another corpse floating in a Klong, identification taken. Just another farang that had met with a drunken 'accident'. The nagging thought had not left her mind. Where had she seen the handsome man with the facial scar and the lock of hair falling across his face ? This was not a bloated sex tourist but a man of action. She sensed it. He had no interest in bar girls and looked out of place. She would have to wait until her return to China to get answers. She stubbed her cigarette into an ashtray and blew the smoke into the face of the Thai girl who sat near her. The bar girl turned away, she knew a devil when it presented itself.

(7)

Deare felt for his gun under the pillow. His customary way of sleeping, a common habit of agents. He clasped at nothing, then swept his arm back and forth. He sat up with a start and a bare Thai room stared back at him. Of course, Thailand, alone and without a gun. He would never had been allowed through customs. No more nod and a wink or the turning of a blind eye for an 'Cosmic’ level agent. How long had he slept? Where was Nong ? The luminous hands on his wristwatch told him he had been asleep for only two hours. He reached for his Marlborough cigarettes, his body covered in sweat, not from the heat or the humidity but the nightmare. A couple of Thai men were shouting at each other in the street below, then a motorcycle roared off with its characteristic buzz of a bee in a bottle.

Deare lit a Marlborough and took a long thoughtful drag , then he blew smoke at the barely capable ceiling fan that rocked as it , looking as if it was about to drop on his head. A thousand thoughts passed through his mind, how long would his reserve money last, where would he get a gun, who would find him first? He groaned inwardly at the inevitability of his 'Ex-Service' catching up with him. They would be devious and tip off a former adversary to do the deed. Deare rolled the past few months around his mind hoping to discover a clue as to why the new 'K' aka ‘C’ had turned on him. Loyalty to his previous boss seemed a too simple reason. Who or what had now taken over the service ?

A key turned noisily in a lock and Deare's attention focused toward the next room. A loud crash announced that something had been thrown to the floor. Sobbing followed, then another crash as if a chair had been kicked over. He tensed and picked up the only item of furniture next to his floor mattress, a small, crude but heavy table. He edged towards his door, bedside table in hand. Deare flung open the door to surprise the intruder, he lifted up the table to strike. Then stopped, Nong lay in a heap on her mattress crying uncontrollably. He lay down the table quietly, she didn't seem to notice his presence.

"Nong, what's the matter?"

"Go way!" Deare edged backwards to return to his room.

"No, please I solly, I very upset. Bad men American."

He sat down next to her on the mattress. Nong put her head on Deare's chest and began sobbing again. Deare put a fatherly arm around her.

"What's up Nong?"

"I take customer, go back hotel room, him have friend, I not know, wait in cupboard. We start to boomsing and another man, naked jump out of cupboard. I try scream but American, him strong man and put hand over my mouth."

Deare's eyes widened in disgust, he felt he knew the next part. "Go on." He gave her another firm cuddle.

"Then customer say I pay you three time if you not scream and play with my friend as well. I say no, cannot. Him then say OK I pay you five time. Then I thought of Mama and Papa and how much they need money, they have problem, I not lie, for sure, so I say OK."

A worldly Deare knew the type, he guessed the outcome.

"Then other man say he want to boomsing my ass, I say cannot, then he just give me ten thousand baht, like that. I say OK." Them both do. It jep, mark mark."

"Jep, Nong, what is jep."

"Oh solly, it mean hurt. After I go hotel downstair. Use toilet. I bleeding !"

She started crying again. Deare held her tightly and whispered in her ear. "It's alright now, Papa number two is here." Nong stopped crying for a moment and managed a half smile.

Her bag and contents were strewn across the floor where she had thrown them. Deare picked up a large wad of money. "Don't loose your payment, you've earned it." He wondered what motivated the girls to accept such humiliation. Nong snatched the money from his hands, then went quiet. She started to count the money then stopped, her jaw dropped. Nong tried to say something but only emitted a squeaking sound.

"What's the matter Nong, somebody short-change you?"

She shook her head and thrust the money at Deare, indicating he should count it. "What's this now, a Thai girl not being able to count money." He joked and flicked the notes. Fifty thousand baht, about 800 pounds sterling. Nong just stared at the money.

"Christmas has come early Nong." Deare wondered why there were people around spending money like water. He calculated that amount would be a two week spree for the average sex-tourist, all for two hours in a hotel room, how strange.

(8)

Nong cuddled up to Deare again and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, "I OK now, have Papa number two." After a short while he sensed the stress leave her body and wondered if it would be a good time to ask her the difficult question.

Nong was left to switch on her TV while he went to retrieve the Marlborough packet from his room. Nong sat transfixed in front of the screen, her jaw would have hit the floor if it had dropped further. Deare returned and stood aghast. There was his picture on a news item spoken in Thai. Nong shook her head. "Them gohok, them lie. They say you bad man, take money from employer, kill many people, and run away. All airport and police told by British Government to watch out for you. People told not approach because she killer!"

"He's a killer." Deare corrected and swallowed hard.

A tear rose in Nong's eye. She rushed to him and clasped him around the waist." Them gohok, them lie, you my Papa number two." His singlet became wet with her tears.

"I hope looking like that man doesn't give me any problems?"

Nong saw her chance to absolve her new friend. "If you have problem, I have friend Krit!" She began to smile and squeezed him again.

"Krit?"

"Yes, him boy who do my TV, you see outside. Him clever, can do."

"Errr, can do Nong ?"

"Yes, him work for you, get you places, not have problem with police, drive very fast. Get you anything you want. Him do business"

Deare thought of drugs, risks and his money situation. He needed to look as little like his picture on TV as possible. Good bye razor blades. He took a deep breath.

"Nong, can Krit get a gun?"

"Can." Deare wondered what rusty ex-service revolver he would be overcharged for, he thought about money again.

Nong was already on her mobile talking quickly in a dialect that sounded different from the Thai spoken on the TV.

Krit was annoyed. He was loosing at cards, loosing face and had drunk too much Mekhong Whisky. He grabbed his mobile and was about to throw it at a sleeping dog when he had second thoughts. "Urr." He grunted. Then went quiet. He looked like a man saved at the eleventh hour.

"Urr!" He slammed his hand of cards face down on the rough wooden table and expected the worst. The two canny old Thai-Chinese he gambled with, smiled, and sucked on pipes loaded with something that smelled like old socks, teabags and Buffalo dung. They turned over their cards in triumph. Krit closed his eyes for a moment, then turned over his cards. The two old men grumbled with anger. Krit had just won back all the money he had just lost. Evens, face saved.

"So Nong, what did you say to your friend?"

"I say, my friend want gun, not old rubbish. Latest model, him important man, have gangsters chase, want to kill."

Deare raised his eyes. "And?"

"Him say, can do!" He worried about money yet again.

The next morning Deare stood in front of a broken mirror, perched on a shelf. His stubble contained black and grey. He looked at the haggard image staring back at him. When footballers reach thirty-three it is usually time to retire. He wondered when it was time for spies to retire. Especially, those at ‘Cosmic Level’ who kill but get slower by the day, just like a footballer.

He heard a well known pop tune from the next room . Nong answered her phone. "Ka, ka, ka, ka, OK ka, ka. Krit bring gun this afternoon, him get up early do bissyness." She shouted through. "We go breakfast?"

Him get up early, do rip-off, thought Deare, Thai style.

(9)

The previous night, the news item about Deare had other eyes.

Wong Ling Li lay on her bed smoking a small pipe containing opium. She wore only a black silk dressing gown with a design of pale grey scorpions. Every part of her body had just been massaged by an eighteen year old Thai girl. 'Apple' finished the massage around Wong ling Li's neck area. Opium, her preferred way to relax after a climax. She drifted, floating on an ocean of ecstasy, ignoring the television that was never turned off. 'Apple' began to bite the back of Ling Li's neck. Without warning 'Apple' was thrown aside like a discarded cigarette. Ling Li sat up, bolt upright watching the picture that accompanied the news item. She pounded the bed with her fist. "Mobile Apple, I want my mobile!" The young Thai maiden retrieved the phone in an instant and Ling Li mouthed a tirade of obscenities in Mandarin as she pressed the fast dial button.

A telephone was answered immediately at the other end.

"It's me!" "Who else?" Joked Colonel Ping of a special Chinese intelligence unit inside Guojia Anquan Bu ,Chinese Security. A wheel within another wheel, it would be like peeling the layers of an onion to get to him.

"Yes, it is him, our asset has already informed us that he has disappeared somewhere and nowhere. Most major news networks have been pushed to show the story." said Ping. "He is mine, I want to kill him slowly, I want him!" "You will have to find him first." said the Colonel. "I have, I have seen him in Bangkok!" Her hands gripped the bed sheet. "Are you sure?" "Facial scar, lock of hair permanently falling down, the handsome looks, same athletic body. He was trying to look like a tourist, but failing." The Colonel thought for a moment. "HHmm, Bangkok, I suppose it's as good a place as any to hide. He may remember you from the Embassy social gathering in Beijing? The asset has requested immediate termination, a hasty and ill thought action. I require Deare alive a little longer. I shall let the British and Americans believe he is still undiscovered. Then I shall give him to you, to play with."

A smile crossed Ling Li's lips, which she began to lick slowly. "Thank you Colonel Ping." She rang-off. "Again!" she commanded 'Apple' as she slipped out of her dressing gown to reveal a fashion model body. Apple took a sip of Listerine and began to gargle.

Colonel Ping rose from his desk as a secretary in uniform brought him some Jasmine tea. "Thank you Yi." The uniformed girl gave an expressionless bow and left.

Ping picked up a cup with steaming tea and moved his skeletal frame toward a giant map on the wall. The map showed Asia including Japan. A large red arrow pointed at Taiwan. Pinned at the top of the map was a photo of a strange looking satellite, large by normal standards, the official explanation was 'communications'. That was only a minor function.

The Colonel began to talk to himself," The Americans walk into a trap and the British give me good favour without request. The fools think only of tomorrow, not in years hence." He looked at his watch and calculated the time in London. "7pm, that little creep will not be hanging around Covent Garden yet."

Ping picked up a special phone and dialled an International mobile number. "Hello." Came the guarded response. "Not gone out to pick up a friend then?" Scowled Ping. "No sir, I am your loyal, obedient servant." The voice had a feminine, feline quality. A pretty twenty-four year old Chinese boy looked out across London from his luxury Docklands flat, nervously holding the phone. If he dressed as a woman, he would have been taken as such. "I approve of you taking customers to subsidise your lifestyle but if it compromises your relationship with our asset you will either taste acid or a meat cleaver, you understand?" "Yessir!" The pretty boy quivered. "Let me know the latest pillow talk when you can get it? I want our asset begging for more in the bedroom." "Yes sir." The Chinese agent spoke slowly as he closed his eyes with the natural long lashes of a woman. With delicate fingers he removed the SIM card from the phone, then cut it in two with a pair of strong scissors. From a small book that looked like something bought from a post office to contain stamps, he removed another SIM card, filed with a predetermined numerical sequence. He inserted the new card for the next call. He checked the Bluetooth had been disabled. The phone, small for a mobile and the most basic.

Colonel Ping replaced the phone and returned to his map, thoughtfully tapping the island of Taiwan with his finger.

At Menwith Hill, an RAF base near Harrogate in Yorkshire, an operator threw down his headset in frustration. He turned to a colleague who also sat at a computer screen. "I've another 'chinky' anomaly, bounced in from somewhere off something else to a new mobile in London's Docklands." His colleague raised a quizzical eyebrow.

The first operator continued, "Damn these regional accents! They teach you Mandarin and dialects at university, then expect you to understand some farmer's lingo spoken in Western Hunan or wherever. It was probably mostly slang anyway. What's the point of all this high-tech? My auntie Mary is smarter than ECHELON 2 Plus, and she would be cheaper than all that wasted tax payers money!"

"Didn't you get anything?" said the other.

"I could only pick out the words, asset and meat cleaver. It's probably the Triads putting the heat on some poor sod?" He replaced his head set and went back to monitoring the ether.

(10)

Deare struggled with his Phad Thai in a small open fronted Thai restaurant near the apartment. At the entrance stood a glass case containing noodles and offal, next to this a wooden chopping block with an evil looking meat cleaver stuck into it. Offal, noodles and Singha beer, Thai style. Nong's appetite, a bottomless pit, as she tucked into a second helping of some strange creature and rice. Nong watched Deare play with the noodles, he wasn't hungry.

"You want eat ant egg ? Aloy, mark mark." She asked

Deare raised his eyebrows and blew out his cheeks.

"No thanks Nong I'm not hungry right now. What does aloy mean?"

"It mean tasty, ant egg tasty, them do with garlic." She looked at him and screwed up her brow.

Yum, yum thought Deare, the Beluga Caviar market had better watch out for competition.

"You thinking too much." The word much, sounded more like muss. "I know you have problem, cannot tell. One day you tell Nong, Nong help her friend."

"That's a fine offer Nong but I think all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't help me right now." Deare continued to poke his noodles around the plate.

"King good man, I love him, him do everything, build boat, take picture, play jazz."

"I don't think he would be interested in helping a fugitive wanted by a Western Government."

"What you do? You not bad man, you good man." Nong's voice took a protective tone.

"That's the point, I haven't done anything wrong that I am aware of. I turned up for work one day and suddenly I am bad man, mark mark, as you would say."

"Kohn Baa ! Ting tong , I think them ngoo, mai dee."

"Nong you will have to translate again."

"Oh sollee, them crazy, but bad like snake, I know, I feel."

Chop, thud, chop,thud, he watched the lady cook fiercly attacking some pig's stomach on the chopping block.

"All the King's horses and all the King's men, couldn't put Humpty together again." Deare said in a quiet half voice.

"Jeembo, allo Jeembo my friend, you dreamin' ? Who Humpty ? Why you King not put together? Mai khao jai - not understand."

"It's a song young children at school learn, nonsense really." The meat cleaver attacked the offal again.

"Why you teach school children nonsense ? Farang school crazy, Thailand better."

Thud, the cook then proceeded to chop up a boiled pig's face into fatty slices.

Nong's phone started to play Welcome to the Hotel California. She answered it immediately. "Ka, ka, ka, ka. Good, OK ka!" Switching off the call she announced to Deare.

"We have to go home, Krit come back, have gun already."

Deare paid the bill, he couldn't believe how cheap it was.

When they arrived Krit was standing by the door holding a plastic Tesco-Lotus supermarket bag. It looked like he had just bought some groceries. Krit grinned slightly with a triumphant half smile.

Once Nong had let them inside Krit held up the bag, then gave it to Deare with a nod. Deare pulled out an old dirty towel, then an even older shirt. They were both wrapped around hard objects. One heavier than the other. Opening the towel Deare was faced with a HK P7M13, a very useful weapon and an accurate hand gun. It was factory new, so much for the rusty revolver thought Deare, then he started to think about money again. The lighter object was in the shirt which he unwrapped quickly. To his surprise he now had in his hand an Austrian Glock 37, a plastic gun. Deare rubbed his hand in admiration over the polymer weapon.

"Cannot show up on x-ray, it plastic." Said Krit. Deare wondered about the new scanners.

Deare knew this to be incorrect but he now had two very useful weapons to choose from. He liked the lightness of the Glock, which was also accurate but somehow felt the reliability of the HK might win out. Deare fingered the bullet scar on his shoulder, a result of his beloved Beretta's lack of stopping power. Both guns had laser red-dot sights, which made them uniquely accurate. He took a deep breath, "How much?"

"75,000 baht."

"For both?"

"Oooh cannot, 75,000 each." Krit looked upset.

Deare doubted whether Krit had paid for either, or had got them at a stolen knock-down price.

"35,000 for the HK."

"Cannot!" Krit shook his head wildly.

Deare got into the time-old bargaining game that would have not been out of place at an Arab bazaar.

"55,000 baht for the HK." Said Deare.

"OK,OK, can do." There was a glint in Krit's eye, Deare didn't miss it, nor any target he cared to aim at using the HK.

"I'll have to go to the ATM." Said Deare.

"No problem, I have car, Subaru Impreza, very quickly." Krit held Deare by the arm and ushered him out, eager to get some money in his hands.

The Subaru Impreza had an oversized exhaust pipe, with a brightly polished silver tip. The car had been lowered slightly and Deare felt like an astronaut trying to get into the sports seat. Krit turned the key and the car roared into life, the exhaust made a strange barp sound. Deare was pressed into the seat by the acceleration.

"You like car Mr Nong's friend?"

"I like car very much, but I not like being stopped by the police for speeding." Deare mimicking the Thai way of speaking English.

"Oh no problem, police my friend, not stop, I give money!"

John St Austell Deare just shook his head in amazement.

They pulled up outside a bank that stood alone. It was painted white. On top of the building was a large sign, pointing its brand to the sky. Deare got out of the car and ascended steps that led to the ATM. A man in a suit had just finished, he turned and gave Deare a surly look. Deare smiled a good-day , but the man ignored him. Deare typed in his code and the machine spat the notes and a payslip at him. He wondered how long it would take to reach his limit. Just the one card in the name of Tomsohn, Credit Suisse.

Krit stuck the 55,000 baht in his jeans, he looked like he owned the World. Deare wished he could buy both guns, but that would be extravagant. They roared off with curious glances from old women with shopping bags.

Half way back Krit did a handbrake stop, all blue smoke and boy-racer. Winding down his car window he shouted at a blond Western girl wearing hot pants and a T-shirt that left little to the imagination.

"Anya, Anya, by ny ?"

The girl suddenly broke into a huge smile and trotted over, nearly tripping as her stiletto caught on the broken pavement.

"I go see my boss Sergei, he has a good customer for me."

"OK, OK, see you tonight at Siam Square?"

"If customer finish, he pay a lot of money for Anya. Who's the handsome passenger?"

"Him my friend, we do business." "I'll do business with your friend anytime." The tall blond girl winked at Deare.

"Russian hookers in Bangkok?" Deare raised his eyebrow.

"Oh yes, have many, she my friend, fantastic boomsing, she scratch my back, and do screaming, I like, but make Krit tired too much."

"I'm sure Krit, nothing like a screaming boomsing!" Deare added up the possibilities, Krit had got the guns from the Russian Mafia, the Vory-V-Zakone. He wondered what 'they' wanted in return ?

(11)

That night he spent his time alone at an open-air fish restaurant, about ten minutes walk from the apartment. The half empty tables had a subdued atmosphere surrounding them. Perhaps the diners found the consumption of excellent fish too important to be disturbed by mere conversation.

Deare lit another Marlborough with a 35 baht plastic lighter. Sucking in he gazed at the starlit night. A tiny white dot tracked its way across the sky, "there are probably more satellites than mosquitoes," he said to himself as he slapped his arm.

The next morning he went for a stroll and would read a paper over breakfast. Nong would unlikely get up before 3pm or later. Shunning the International papers Deare picked up a copy of the Thai English language paper 'The Nation' from a local book and newspaper shop. Back at the Thai restaurant the lady cook smiled a welcome. How would he explain that he liked his bacon crispy and his eggs scrambled? He sat down at a formica topped table that had what looked like a toilet roll in a pink plastic container next to the wooden tooth picks. A slightly overweight girl of about 20 years walked up to him with a ballpoint and cheap notepad in her hands. "You want eat, you want dink?" She said with an indifferent expression. "I'd like scrambled eggs, crispy bacon and coffee." The girl pulled a face. "Clispy?" "Crunch, crunch, and fluffy scrambled eggs!" The girl pulled another confused face. A voice came from the cook's area. "Hello mister, I know, you want crunchy bacon and foamy eggs." Shouted the cook. Deare smiled back and nodded. The cook shouted something in Thai at the girl who then burst into a smile. "Hansum man like crunchy bacon." She giggled.

The eggs and bacon were to Deare's liking but the coffee tasted like boot-polish, two out of three, he thought, I can't complain.

He lit up a Marlborough and scanned the newspaper. More calls for a previous Prime Minister to face justice for avoiding tax and being involved with shady land deals. Three people killed in the South of the country, the problems with Muslim insurgency rumbled on. Then his eye caught an article of interest.

The US continues to show concern about Chinese A-Sat capability

U. S. intelligence agencies believe the successful anti-satellite (asat) weapons test at more than 500 mi. altitude on Jan. 11 last year destroying an aging Chinese weather satellite target with a kinetic destruction vehicle that was launched on board a ballistic missile. Continues to pollute Space with debris. Details emerging from space sources indicate that the Chinese Feng Yun 1C (FY-1C) polar orbit weather satellite launched in 1999 was attacked by an asat system launched from or near the Xichang Space Centre.

The attack is believe to have occurred as the weather satellite flew at 530 mi. altitude 4 deg. west of Xichang located in Sichuan province. Xichang is a major Chinese space launch centre. US experts said remnants of the destroyed satellite could threaten to damage or destroy other satellites for years or even decades to come. American satellites tracked the launch of the medium-range ballistic missile, and later space radars saw the debris and noted that the old weather satellite had vanished. A Whitehouse spokesman said," Space should be for peaceful purposes not warfare."

Chang Hua Li, a spokesman at the Chinese Embassy in Washington, said, "He had heard about the anti-satellite accusations but had no information. He added that it was sheer hypocrisy for the Americans to complain about asat systems when they had been testing such weapons for years. The Americans do not have the sole right to be the only nation in Space that can remove satellites that are considered a threat to others. They complain we illuminate their spacecraft with ground based lasers but this is just lies typical of the present US administration in their support of Taiwan."

Source: AP

The next conflict will be between extremes, thought Deare. It will begin with satellite attacks and soon move to submarine conflict. One day the American Super-Carriers will be as vulnerable as Battleships during the Second World War.

Almost the same time as Deare read the newspaper article, Colonel Ping was on the phone to General Tang, responsible for a special project at the Xichang Space Centre.

"Can you confirm that the Li Chen Ting Laser Attack Satellite is ready to test fire?"

"I can confirm that Colonel Ping. Shall we try it on the Taiwanese satellite they have just launched ?"

"No, not yet, I want to be certain it works. Try it on that other old weather satellite the Feng Yun 1D. Then I want to watch the American reaction, if any."

Two hours later the huge, by satellite standards, Li Chen Ting Laser Attack Satellite, tracked the Feng Yun weather satellite.

"Initiate!" Ordered General Tang. A number of white coated engineers focused on their TV displays. A pulsed red beam left one satellite and hit the other at a critical angle. The old Feng Yun toppled and its orbit degraded, the satellite would soon burn up in the earth's atmosphere over the Indian Ocean.

to be continued ....................

 

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Yuri Velasquez & Robin Rix