Hungry Ghosts by John Dolan Page A

Bangkok families has sometimes used a man with that name. I don’t know about recently.”
    Jingjai has previously made passing reference to her family, but has always stopped short of labeling them as gangsters. I already know , however, that they’re gangsters. And they presumably are acquainted with other families who are gangsters.
    “They use d him for what, exactly?”
    The girl with the diamond tooth chooses her words carefully. “For recruiting Westerners for smuggling. And possibly for other things too.”
    “Smuggling drugs?”
    She doesn’t answer.
    “Listen , Jingjai. A woman is missing.”
    “I know. ”
    I wait.
    “The family might be involved in drugs, yes.”
    “Then maybe I should speak to them. What’s the name?”
    “These are not nice people, David. You can’t just walk in and talk to them.”
    “I’m not that stupid, Jingjai. But I have to start somewhere.”
    She just stares at me. Then she sighs and sits down on a chair opposite me. Her breasts do look very pert today. I can’t help noticing.
    Concentrate, Braddock .
    “The name?” I demand.
    “Sangukhon,” she says with reluctance. “The father is called Chompol Sangukhon, but he’s old now. I think most of the day-to-day business is run by his son, Mongkut.”
    I make some notes while she watches me apprehensively.
    “And what kind of business does Mongkut Sangukhon run?” I inquire.
    “They have a number of front businesses , mainly around the Patpong area. Clubs and that sort of thing, I think. I don’t know the details. I always tried to avoid knowing the details.”
    “I see.”
    I stop writing and light a cigarette.
    Jingjai puts a hand on my arm.
    “You need to be very careful, David. Mongkut Sangukhon is an unpleasant man. He won’t like you asking questions.”
    I pat her hand and think avuncular again.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll be discreet. Now let’s see about rescheduling some appointments. But first, book me a flight for tomorrow to Bangkok, will you? And a convenient hotel. One in Patpong would be good.”
     
    “But you’ve only just got home, Mr. David,” sighs Wayan when I tell her I have to unpack and repack my bag. “Do you really have to go back to Bangkok again tomorrow?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “You work too hard.”
    She turns those brown Balinese eyes towards me, and suddenly I regret my magnanimous gesture to Simon Fletcher.
    “I have to go without delay, Wayan. My client’s sister is missing. Time is important in these cases.”
    She looks disappointed, but her sweet nature reasserts itself immediately.
    “Of course, Mr. David. You have to save her, I understand.”
    “Well, that’s … probably putting it a bit strong.”
    Isn’t it great having your ego stroked, though? David Braddock, Superhero . I need more of this. I’m not sure I want her to get too chummy with Geordie Sinclair.
    What am I going to do if she leaves me?
    That’s an outrageously selfish thought.
    H onestly though, what red-blooded male wouldn’t want a Balinese Princess as his housekeeper?
    OK, so she’s not a real princess. But she is to me.
     
    After dinner, I make the phone call to Miranda Tesman that I’ve been dreading.
    “Mrs . Tesman?” The line is a bit crackly, but unfortunately she can still hear me. “It’s David Braddock.”
    “Ah, Mr . Braddock. I was expecting you to call me yesterday.”
    The voice sounds icy.
    “Is it convenient for you to talk?”
    “Yes, it is.”
    Shame .
    “So how did it go with Chester?”
    I swallow hard.
    “That depends on your point of view.”
    Silence.
    “Our operative made contact with Mr . Tesman as planned, and he met her in the hotel bar for a drink later in the evening.”
    More silence.
    “Unfortunately, things went a little further than anticipated, and they ended up spending the night together.”
    “Just the one night?”
    The voice is controlled.
    “Not … exactly. In fact, they are still together now. Our … um … operative appears to