Klempner
It’s getting too hot. And I’m not talking about the weather.
Time to leave. I’ve achieved as much as I reasonably can here. It’s time to move on.
I examine my reflection, comparing it to the passport propped up by the shampoo.
How much to shave?
They’ll be looking for either a fully bearded man or a clean-shaven one.
Taking my time, I trim down the full face of hair I’ve sported for the last several weeks, snipping and grooming it into a respectable goatee and moustache.
Then, sorting through my collection of dyes, comb through enough to darken up from my streaked Scandinavian blond to a more of a middling-mousey shade. Thin-rimmed spectacles in place, I straighten the bow tie.
To the casual eye, I could be an academic, perhaps on a research trip. Which is of course, my intention.
*****
The security officer examines my passport and visa. The visa proclaims I arrived three months ago.
I can’t have been the first killer. Or even the second.
Or the third.
But airport security is on high alert.
“You have enjoyed your visit to our country, Professor?”
“Yes, very much. A most successful trip. I have all the material I need for my paper on the development of Buddhist architecture in the Phutthawat and Sangkhawat formats…”
Please… for fuck’s sake, don’t ask me to explain that…
Blank-faced, he nods… “Indeed…” His eyes skim my companion. “And this is?”
Small, slightly-built, with narrow features and large expressive eyes: in fact, she’s eighteen years old, but she looks much younger.
When someone thinks you might have a secret…
“This is Raylai Srichure. She is my student. She has been assisting me in my research.”
…. give them a secret to find.
He checks her passport, then, “Your briefcase, Professor. Open it please.”
I hesitate, pretending reluctance, then pass it across.
“Your computer, please. Turn it on.”
I flick it on, letting the machine power up. It whirrs and whizzes, then lights up to the welcome screen: an image of a girl… A very young girl.
The image isn’t quite illegal, but it certainly goes well beyond good taste.
The security officer gazes at the image, his stance stiffening, then at Raylai next to me. “You can turn it off now.”
He flips the passport wallet closed and with a curt nod, dismisses me on to the gates.
Thirty minutes later, Thailand drops away below me.
*****
At the hotel, Raylai bounces onto the bed, looking expectant. “What now?”
“Now, as I told you, I’m leaving.” Taking the envelope from the briefcase, I hand it across to her. “Here are your tickets back home and the cash we agreed. It’s an open ticket, but this room’s booked for the weekend, so stay if you want. Everything’s paid for.”
“What? Food and drinks and things?”
“Everything. Help yourself.”
“So… I can have a party?”
“If you like.”
“But I’ve got to party by myself?” She pats the bed by her. “You’re nice. I’d give you a good time. I wouldn’t charge you any more.”
“Give someone else a good time. I have a few things to buy while I’m here. I’ll be gone in a couple of hours. It’s all yours.”
Her face settles into a pout. “Seems a waste of a weekend. I thought…”
“If you want to make something of it, pick yourself up some trade while you’re here. There’ll be plenty downstairs if you hang around the bars.”
“I suppose I could. You really don’t want…”
“No. I’ll be back in an hour.”
*****
An hour later, carrying my purchases back to the room…
Police… Two cars parked on the hotel frontage.
Crap…
Has she sold me out?
Then I see Raylai, flanked by two officers in blue uniforms, being led away in handcuffs.
Silly little tart…
Less than an hour and she’s under arrest…
What the fuck did she do? Proposition the manager?
…
…
They’ll check her ID…
Want to know what she’s doing here…
…
How long before she tells them about me?
Time to leave.
*****
A cheap disposable phone… I check the number I want from my phone, then tap in.
After a few rings, it clicks, connects, and a cautious voice says, “Yeoboseyo?”
“Dakho… It’s me.”
In thickly accented English, the voice replies “Larry? What…?”
“Shush. I need papers and fast.”
“What? Another set? Do you remember the name you were born with?”
“Stop talking. I don’t want wisecracks. I want documents.”
“Join the queue, Larry. They’re lined up in front of you.”
“I’ll pay you double…”
The tone changes; much more upbeat. “You’re on…”
“… Delivery within twenty-four hours.”
“Twenty-four hours? You gotta be kidding…”
“I’m not kidding. I need them produced and delivered…”
“Larry, I can’t do it in that time. I’ve got to get information, stamps, photos. Photo’s that might just possibly pass as you. I have to hack databases to find an ID I can use…”
“Three times your standard price.”
He falls silent for a couple of breaths. “What nationality do you want?”
“Doesn’t matter. Anything in the western world that’ll match my appearance well enough to fit. That give you enough flexibility?”
“May…beee… Hang on… You’re in Singapore? That right? You’re not putting this call through a VPN?”
“I’m sure you can see I’m not. And yes, I’m in Singapore.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to produce docs and get them delivered to Singapore in twenty-four hours?”
“I’ll arrange the delivery. You just have them ready. And remember, this might be a rush job but they’ve got to be up to standard.”
His tone drips sarcasm. “Would I do any less for such a valued client? I’d have to drop my lifestyle expectations if it weren’t for you, Larry. Speaking of which, money up-front.”
“You don’t usually insist on that with me. Why do you…?”
“Whatever you’re doing, Larry, you’re running from something. I’m just protecting my interests. And… FYI…The work I did for you, Gunnar, the Swede… That ID’s lighting up like a freakin’ firework display. I don’t know who’ve you’ve upset, but there’s a worldwide out on that one.”
“I’m sure there is. How’s Professor Whitlam looking?”
“Gimme a minute.” He falls silent for a few moments… “Looking okay at the moment. Want me to keep an eye on it?”
“Please, yes. You can message this phone if anything flags up.”
“Will do. Now, while I enjoy socialising, I’m not going to be sleeping tonight, Larry. I can talk or I can work. Which would you prefer?”
I tap off.
Where now?
Not the hotel It’s only a matter of time before they’re on to me…
Need to disappear… For a few hours…
And change…
Another hotel?
They’ll want to see my passport.
So, where?
*****