39

Mae Sot

‘Sawat di kha.’

Mary was a pretty-faced woman, a Big Mama type, who looked like she could have come straight off the set of South Pacific. She kept one eye on Mann as she delivered the traditional Thai greeting and pressed her palms together as if in prayer and bowed. ‘This my place.’ She opened her large arms. ‘Next door restaurant…’ She waved her hand at a place behind him. ‘…and here internet.’ She pointed to the far end of the reception area. ‘If you want you can hire bike from me. You want, you ask, okay?’

There was something likeable about Mary; she was the ‘cut-throat with a kind heart’ type.

‘My three daughters help.’ She fixed a look on Mann that he had seen many times before. It said, I have unattractive daughters that I can’t get rid of, I am selling them cheap—interested?

‘Three? How lovely,’ he replied politely.

‘One is marry. Two no.’

As they were talking a young, over-fed, over-preened woman with a pretty face approached the desk. Mann knew it was one of Mary’s daughters, summoned by a discreet whisper through a gap in the door behind the reception desk.

‘My daughter, Cantana.’ The young woman bowed and giggled. ‘She take you to your room.’

Mary had one face for Mann, and the opposite for her daughter, who received nothing but scowls. ‘Best room in hotel—bathroom, shower, very nice, you see.’

‘How many rooms have you got here?’

‘Have ten rooms.’

‘Are they all full?’

She shook her head and her neck fat quivered. ‘These are very hard times. Just have three rooms with guests.’

‘Most of your guests are volunteers?’

She nodded, looking a little worried about Mann’s line of questioning. Mann had read the local police report. After they were kidnapped from the refugee camp the five’s belongings had been removed from Mary’s. It appeared that they either came with very little cash or that someone had removed it after they disappeared. But then, it could have gone into any one of a number of pockets along the way, Mary’s apron pocket was only one possibility.

Cantana beckoned for Mann to follow. She spoke no English but she smiled a lot. He followed her through to the backyard and up a flight of stairs that led to a row of rooms on the left. Mann’s was the first door—the number six hung by one screw from the battered-looking door. They stood on the peeling linoleum just inside the room and Cantana started sweeping her arms around in a ‘how about this then?’ gesture. Mann looked around the room. It certainly was a shit hole to be wondered at, thought Mann, but he smiled dutifully, feigning delight as Cantana stepped backwards, bowing, hands clasped, and backed out of the room. She was still smiling at him through the diminishing gap in the door as he finally managed to close it on her.

He put his bag on the bed. It was hard to believe that this was the best hotel in Mae Sot. The room appeared to be directly over the restaurant, flooded by the smell of food being cooked from underneath. Any stray light found its way in through massive gaps where the curtains didn’t fit. The room was partitioned from the next one by a blocked-out window, covered in cardboard. It blocked out the sight but not the sound of next door’s love-making session. He switched on the ceiling fan and pulled back the cover of the bed to have a look at the state of the sheets. It looked like a couple of sumos had been wrestling in the bed. He took out the trusty kikoy that he always carried; along with Delilah, it was the most useful thing he owned. Ever since his surfing days, he had travelled everywhere with it. It served as a towel, clothing, windbreak, sun shield, and now a sheet. He was tempted to look under his bed but decided it was probably best not to know what lurked there. Plenty of lizards on the walls—that was a good sign as any bugs might be eaten before they could start eating him. A big gap under the door, the perfect size for a snake to come in looking for somewhere cool to lie—not so good. Just as he finished stuffing a rolled towel into the gap, his phone went.

‘Shrimp? How’s it going?’

‘It’s an awesome place. It must have been paradise before the tsunami. Lots of the small businesses have lost everything though. The government hung on to the aid money. They sold off the villagers’ land around the coast and didn’t let them return. Now the place has more highrises going up than homes. It’s the same old story—the little people suffer, the big people cash in.’

‘Who’s there with you?’

‘There are five of us here. The others have been here for ten weeks. They were glad to see me, new blood.’

‘Who are the others?’

‘A bunch of middle-agers “living the dream”—which has turned into a bit of a nightmare. They came over to build this school but now we have all this trouble and unrest. The project manager pulled out, which is why I got the job. They say we’ll all be pulled out if things don’t resolve themselves in a week. Basically, I am organising morale-boosting projects rather than building ones. I have left that to the Thai workmen and am taking the volunteers off for a picnic tomorrow, and tonight I have got a quiz night organised. My two categories are fashion through the ages and the history of guns.’

‘What’s their take on NAP?’

‘They’re a bit reluctant to badmouth it, they paid a lot of money to come here, but they obviously feel it’s all a bit of a con. This school is no way looking like it will be finished and it seems to be the same all over.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t know where the money’s gone, then,’ said Mann. ‘We know that millions were raised to help after the tsunami. Magda told me she was involved with the fundraising. It was going to rebuild small hotels, shops, beach bars. What’s happened to it? Find out exactly what NAP has been doing out there for me—and try not to have too much fun.’

‘Okay, boss, will do. How’s it going with you?’

Mann looked around the room.

‘I’m in Camp Cockroach. It’s forty degrees and I don’t have aircon. And the couple next door are on a shagging marathon. Apart from that, great…I’m off to the refugee camp tomorrow but so far I have a list of possible but no clear suspects…Oh and, Shrimp?’

‘Yes, boss?’

‘I am hiding two million US dollars here.’ Mann looked across at his bag. He’d been carrying it around since Hong Kong. He was keen to find a safe place for it now. ‘I will text you the details when I know where. If something happens to me and there’s any chance of still getting the kids out, I am relying on you to come and do it.’

‘No problemo, boss.’

Mann went to liven himself up with a shower. He wanted to chat to the other inmates along the landing but, as the session next door was still in full swing, he decided now was not a good time. Instead, he headed down and stopped at the front desk on his way out. Mary disappeared suddenly when she saw him coming but soon reappeared, dragging a sullen-faced girl with the traditional crusty yellow sunblock that the local girls liked to smear on their cheeks. It was regarded as a beauty enhancer but as far as Mann could tell it either hid or caused bad skin, because hers looked like the lunar landscape under the yellow crust.

‘Mr Mann—this is my number two daughter, Nissa.’

This girl was obviously the brains of the outfit. Her English was good but her face would have soured milk. She stood blinking at him for a few minutes until her mother nudged her in the ribs, then she smiled reluctantly. Mann could see why she didn’t do it willingly; she had the worst teeth he had seen in a long time.

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Mann smiled and winked. She panicked and remembered that she’d dropped something on the floor behind the counter. She didn’t come back up. Mary flapped her arms and, to judge from her jerky body movements, gave her daughter a few sharp kicks beneath the desk. Mann left: the girl had suffered enough.