“Who do you think?”
Simon considered this, not just why Rafa turned down the offer but why PetroSaud had made it. He gazed at the urban sprawl. There were skyscrapers everywhere, seemingly placed at random spots. Alone, in groups of four or five, and in the distance, a conglomeration—downtown Bangkok. Construction cranes sprouted like mushrooms. Ben Sterling was right. The place was booming.
He passed a large sign forbidding the tattooing of the image of Buddha. Heavy black clouds gathered on the horizon. He looked in the rearview mirror. The silver BMW that had followed them since leaving the airport remained two cars behind.
Their driver pulled into the fast lane and they came up alongside a truck with a caged-in flatbed. About twenty young women stood inside the cage, shorts and T-shirts, tank tops, flimsy blouses, each with one hand chained to a pole running along the top of the cage. Painted on the front door was a shield withROYAL THAI POLICE, IMMIGRATION BUREAUon it.
“What did they do?” Simon asked Adamson.
But it was the driver who answered, a look to his right before glancing at Simon. “They are illegals. Rohingya. Muslims. Doesn’t matter. They go.”
“Where to?”
“Border. Myanmar. Laos. Cambodia.”
“And then?”
The driver shrugged. “No more in Thailand. Better for everybody.”
It began to rain, fat drops splatting the window. Simon looked at the women quickly becoming drenched. One girl met his gaze. She was younger than the others. Sixteen at most with long hair framing a pretty face. He read nothing in her eyes. This was the world and her place in it. Then the real rain began, a downpour. Within seconds, visibility was cut to inches. It was as if she had disappeared.
Simon returned his attention to Adamson. “What does Mr. Malloy have to say about all of this? He’s the one who made the agreement with Rafa in the first place, isn’t he? I imagine he’s the one who supplied the incriminating information.”
“Malloy is unavailable.”
“Why is that?”
“He’s no longer in the picture.”
“Meaning?”
Adamson grimaced, avoiding Simon’s gaze. “According to reports in the Swiss news, he was killed two days ago in a climbing accident in the Alps.”
“Two days ago?”
Adamson nodded.
“An accident?”
No response. Simon could hear the lawyer’s acid reflux shift into high gear.
“And you were planning on telling mewhen?”
“As I said, Colonel Tan is our point man.”
“Change of plan,” said Simon, tapping the driver on the shoulder. “Take me to the jail. I want to see Rafa immediately.”
“Not possible,” protested Adamson. “We haven’t arranged a visit. They’re expecting us tomorrow.”
“Make it happen.”
“Things don’t work that way here, Mr. Riske.”
“Tell Colonel Tan I may be able to convince Rafa to take the deal. That’s what everyone wants, isn’t it?”
Adamson studied Simon—Yes,thought Simon,he wants this deal, too—then placed a call. A heated conversation ensued. Simon was interested to learn Adamson spoke fluent Thai. No worries. Helen Mirren translated flawlessly. Adamson hung up, cheeks flushed. “One hour. But he’s not happy about it.”
“I’ll be sure to thank Colonel Tan personally, if he manages to make it to the prison after his board meeting. Mekong Distillery…that’s his brother-in-law’s company, right?”
