CITY OF ANGELS – A Murder Story in 30 Chapters (part 20 + 21)

On Thailandblog you can read the pre-publication of the thriller 'City of Angels' which, as the title suggests, takes place entirely in Bangkok and was written by Lung Jan. Today chapter 20 + 21.

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Chapter 20

For the next two days, Kaew was particularly busy verifying and reverifying the data they had gathered so far. J. wouldn't admit this openly, of course, but Superintendent Maneewat had been quite right when he said he couldn't run around like an elephant in a china shop and ask random questions. That's why Kaew was delegated. He may not have blended in too well with the crowd, but in the course of the years that he was at 'The Nation' built up its own reliable network of informers and tipsters. And that paid off for the umpteenth time. In just 48 hours he had succeeded in digging up quite a bit of incriminating material that increasingly substantiated the Narong thesis.

According to Kaews' sources, Anuwat had been actively protected by Thai Special Forces and perhaps with the knowledge of the CIA, very profitable with the Khmer Rouge trade driven. In the late summer of 1992, however, he had heard rumors that some top police figures were offended by the lucrative business the army had set up with the Khmer in the border region. Thai politicians were increasingly pressured by human rights organizations to end support for Pol Pot and his cronies. Not that this sparked off much, but the matter did move after UN observers also condemned the Thai policy of tolerance in increasingly harsh terms. One group of twenty-one UN Blue Helmets was even killed by the Khmer Rouge held hostage on Thai soil under the eye of a Thai border patrol who, to the frustration of UN observers, did not intervene but fraternized with the Khmer.

Anuwat realized that intervention would inevitably happen sooner rather than later. Without the knowledge of his accomplices in the army, he moved all his activities in the illegal timber trade to the north of Thailand and the border with Burma in stages. Ditto for the highly profitable smuggling of rubies and sapphires. He gradually closed the traffic via Isaan and opened a new route that ran through Chantaburi. Without arousing much suspicion, he gradually managed to buy into a number of companies that did business on the Talaat Phloi, the internationally renowned gemstone district in this city. He cleverly invested his black money in real estate in the rapidly developing hotel and catering industry on neighboring islands such as Ko Chang and Ko Samet. Activities that slowly but surely also give him some credibility and prestige with the Hi so provided. Slowly but surely he made his way from illegality to legality.

What J. and Kaew couldn't possibly have imagined was that, as they pondered how to solve this case, in the United States, nearly 12.000 miles. of the City of Angels in Langley, Virginia in a tense atmosphere a meeting took place with exactly the same object.

Six CIA agents and analysts and three 'special agents'  from the Federal Bureau of Investigation aka the FBI together. The atmosphere was slightly tense as none other than John Burdett, the head of all CIA operations in Asia and Europe, had condescended to honor this urgently convened meeting with his presence.

Jim Algie, a bony and very experienced CIA officer who supervised agents in Burma, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam and Cambodia, opened the meeting with a brief welcome and then went straight to business:In February 2018, the Thai army captain Aran Narong, who had been presumed dead for years, turned up in Phnom Penh. This Narong had for years what I will describe as a solid professional relationship with the United States. Not only did he largely coordinate and lead the operation of the agency that was co-set up by this agency  Task Force 838 but he had a long track record with us before that Special Forces built up in Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos. We trained, trained and supervised him intensively until he suddenly disappeared from the radar in 1993. In the following years no one received any sign of life and five years after his mysterious disappearance he was officially declared dead by a Thai court. Can the light be turned off, please?'

It was getting dark in the room and a beamer projected some pretty vague black and white photos of an Asian-looking man posing in a camouflage uniform with American soldiers.

'These are some photos from the period 1969 – 1972 from his file that the Military Security Service has made available to us. We have never been able to prove it, but there is a good chance that in 1975 he was on a secret mission in Laos against the Pathet Lao his American platoon commander and the two US Rangers who were with him of the not inconsiderable sums they had with them to give to the anti-communist resistance. Not one of them has returned from this mission. Only Narong reported again almost two weeks later with his Karen mountain guide. The others, he said, had disappeared into the jungle in the dead of a moonless night without a trace. We have one more search & rescue mission performed but without result. They were never heard from again. Narong was suspected by us for a long time, but due to a lack of evidence and pressure from the Ministry of Defense where he was apparently needed, we had to let him go.'   

A dozen color photographs of an older-looking man with a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes now appeared on the wall in rapid succession of images.

'These photos are stills from the footage captured by two security cameras in Bangkok's Sathon Tai Road a few days ago. From a biometric facial analysis we can say with 95% certainty that this man is Narong.'

"Why is the Agency now suddenly so intent on finding a possible perpetrator of three equally hypothetical murders supposed to have taken place forty-four years ago?" one of the FBI agents interrupted Jim Algie's speech.

'I just wanted to get to that. On February 14, 2018, Narong killed an American citizen, a CIA operator in Phnom Penh.”

"Happy Valentine…" one of the FBI'ers said cynically.

“The agency went after him and soon discovered that the resurrected Narong was at the head of quite a dangerous criminal organization. One of our people caught sight of him in Battambang in northwestern Cambodia in August. Instead of waiting for reinforcements, he decided to act on his own, which also proved fatal. Since then we had lost all track, but we strongly suspected that he had crossed the border and was hiding somewhere in Thailand until the storm passed.'

"Are you sure the murderer was that Narong?"

“Absolutely, 100% sure. Two fingerprints at the crime scene dispelled any remaining doubts. '

'And…' asked the same FBI agent.

Algie seemed slightly annoyed by the interruption. 'To be on the safe side, we had briefed our people in Southeast Asia, and therefore also in Bangkok. You never know. A few weeks ago it suddenly hit. One of our Thai contacts had overheard that someone was snooping around in the environment for a stolen antique Buddha statue. Not really interesting in itself were it not for the fact that the person in question also made inquiries here and there Task Force 838.”

One of the other FBI agents gave a quick whistle.

 “The same person who inquired about Task Force 838, a lecturer at Thamasat University, was found murdered three days later under a bridge in a Bangkok slum. We have such a dark brown suspicion that he has been eliminated by Narong.'

'And where is this Narong now?'

A new set of photos appeared on the wall.

'Presumably still in Bangkok. It took some effort, but if we insist with the right people, we will have something new this morning early in the morning stills from our friends at the Thai traffic police. In the first pictures we see Narong walking from Sathon Tai Road to Lumphini metro station. In the following photos he gets off at Klong Toey station and suddenly disappears in one of the side streets of Sunthon Kosa Road. Our people are still busy with image analysis, but it is already certain that he took the metro again in Klong Toey the day before yesterday during the busy evening rush hour.'

'And what now ? '

'With a bit of luck and a little help from our Thai Friends can we pick up narong in bangkok' said Algie. ' We have now installed telephone taps through our good Thai friends at a number of acquaintances of the prof, including his suspected client. Maybe we should also take a closer look at it because it is an Irishman with no past. So suspicious… There is no information, not even a shred of paper about him that is older than 1984…'

'Sorry, but what exactly do you mean by we?the senior FBI man interrupted. 'I just want to draw your attention to the fact that this guy, that Narong, is directly involved in at least two violent crimes that killed two US citizens. He may even have killed five Americans abroad. Consequently, this is a federal file and therefore a matter for the FBI'

'The agency would..'

'Nee,' the FBI man again interrupted Algie. ' This is really not about who has the longest… This has to be strictly by the book. Thailand is a valued partner and we can't just make our own Asian version of it like a bunch of trigger-happy cowboys the gunfight at the OK Corral give the best…. I don't know if you realize this, but our operational powers in Thailand are quite limited. Through an agreement with the Thai government, we have the privilege of accessing information that Thai law enforcement may collect in a murder investigation of an American in Thailand. The problem, however, is that the murders of our fellow citizens that Narong is suspected of have taken place in Cambodia and possibly Laos as well. A simple fact that the Thai police have absolutely no use for. So the question is whether they will be very cooperative.'

Burdett, who had kept his mouth shut until then, broke his silence: 'Do not worry. Leave the Thai authorities to me.'

He turned directly to the older FBI man. 'Dwight, you are, of course, quite right about the legal implications of this case. However, this doesn't mean we can't encourage our Thai friends to'for the benefit of the general to make an extra effort that could lead to Narong's arrest. I myself have already exerted some light pressure on the Thai military security. After all, Narong was one of their men. I think this is a nice job for the local FBI attache in Bangkok, don't you think Dwight? ' Dwight glanced at his two officers, and when they seemed to have no objection either, he nodded in agreement.

"Good," Burdett said, a diplomatic, frugal smile on his thin lips. 'The Agency is prepared to assist your man on the spot with advice and assistance.' To the astonishment of all present, he added:I will personally see to that. I leave for Bangkok in exactly 25 minutes…”  

Burdett immediately put his money where his mouth was and disappeared. He left the select group busy speculating. After all, it was highly unusual and in fact unheard of for a CIA man with his position and stature within the security services to be engaged in simple fieldwork. What no one knew was that Burdett would stop at nothing to stop Narong. This was a personal vendetta. He had erased all traces from Narong's files years ago that could have led to him. No one needed to know that he had created this monster, let alone know anything about their special collaboration in the turbulent but oh-so-stimulating Burdett world. Task Force 838-period of time. Shortly after being seconded by Washington to the border region with Cambodia in 1984, Burdett had learned about Narong's odd jobs for Anuwat. His silence had not only been bought off with a few dozen discreetly pushed flawless and above all very large rubies, but also with the not unkind amount of a small 130.000 US dollars in bribes. Not to mention the extraordinarily attractive little Botum, a barely fifteen-year-old Cambodian whom Narong had given him as a gift in November 1988 as what he euphemistically described as 'housekeeper'… It was just a pity that in the beautiful late summer of 1990 a kink in the cable came when some ambitious and especially know-it-all smart-ass, still wet behind the ears, came straight from Langley to his area of ​​operations to verify a few things. Some vague gossip and envy had nearly killed him. Burdett, cunning as ever, managed to stay out of harm's way, but they all had to slow down a lot after that.

No, it was in Burdett's best interest that Narong be silenced as quickly as possible. He would take care of that….

Chapter 21.

J. and Kaew would be the pointed that night Special Forcesman above a seedy spice shop in a side street off Yaowarat Road, Chinatown's main thoroughfare. A street that is notorious for perhaps the most chaotic display of Street Foodstalls all over the city, if not the planet. Balancing precariously on curbs, largely blocking sidewalks and anathema to Westerners who crave cooking hygiene, it is the energetic beating heart of Chinatown and a permanent assault on visitors' senses.

They had on the way twice Tuk tuk swapped. Not only because this was always a test for the much too tight J., but of course also to make it difficult for pursuers. In the end, they themselves had struggled to orient themselves in this hectic maze of streets and alleys. Walked on all sides sois, like threads in a spider's web, into the darkness. Most of the shabby homes in this dimly lit maze resembled rabbit holes full of unscented rooms with masses of hidden passages and doors to other properties in adjacent alleys. Many of the houses suffered from what J.Bangkok Syndrome' mentioned: they seemed prematurely obsolete. Scottish and crooked, they leaned wearily against each other, broken and slowly rotting away. Still wary of pursuers, J. and Kaew carefully walked the long and dark self where they had their appointment. At the end of the alley a car door suddenly slammed shut with a bang and they immediately dived - although one was a little slower than the other - into a doorway. Someone jingled the keys and a clearly tipsy woman's voice shouted, giggling, "This will really be my last cigarette!' The shrill laughter died down and J. and Kaew continued on their way in relief.

'Phew… It would make you paranoid,' Kaew laughed.

'I thought you had been for years...' replied J. wittily as they cautiously approached the narrow storefront where their interlocutor was waiting for them. The spice shop was housed in one of Chinatown's oldest and shabbiest buildings. It stood on the corner of two small streets and the open front was closed with a rusty folding gate that was locked with two large padlocks. At the side of the house, protected from the elements by a rotting corrugated iron roof, an even shabbier-looking staircase led to the first floor.

After Kaew had struggled up the narrow and shaky staircase with visible effort, they had a long and incisive conversation with a man who called himself Mr. X. After his service with 838 he became an instructor in the Special Warfare School and after that he was for a time assigned to the Ranger Battalion. In 2003, after a serious accident while on duty, he was declared 35% incapacitated for work and had left the army prematurely. He now ran a small security firm in southern Thailand. A region ravaged by Muslim terrorism where security work was on the rise.

Mr. X had served as a sergeant under Narong for over eleven years, confirming what our duo already knew in broad strokes. Narong had been one of the top officers in Task Force 838 and had worked very fruitfully with Anuwat. X had been an eyewitness to the end of this association. Captain Aran Narong operated with his mane from a large and well-equipped bungalow near Phnom Prak, a village barely a kilometer from the Thai-Cambodian border on the Cambodian side, which was still under construction by the Thai army until December 1993 disaster presented itself in the form of a raid by Cambodian commando troops. The village was overrun and Narong was able to escape with great difficulty. His wife and infant daughter, who were on their way by wagon, were ambushed and promptly killed by Cambodian regular troops.

Mr X confirmed that the man behind this attack had been none other than Anuwat. In exchange for immunity, he had made a deal with the Thai police. On the instructions of Anuwat, this had a weapons depot, crammed to the brim with Chinese weapons and ammunition, which was guarded by Khmer Rouge, discovered not far from the border in Thailand. This discovery led to a escalating conflict between the army and the police, the umpteenth in a power struggle that has dragged on for years and continues to this day in the country.

The Thai army top, which decided that it was appropriate to wash their hands after the revelation of the arms trade, not only proceeded to disband Task Force 838 but was also convinced that not only Narong's family had perished, but also that Narong himself had fallen somewhere in the jungle. What they could not know was that the crafty Anuwat had played double game. Narong was a much too incriminating witness and could possibly give a very incriminating testimony about their joint cross-border activities. If the regular Cambodian troops or the Thai police could not eliminate him, his allies from the Khmer Rouge just do this. Immediately after the raid on Phnom Prak, he knew a number of leading figures within the Khmer Rouge with a handful of dollars and a few deftly forged documents that Narong had betrayed the depot intended for them to the Thai police out of self-preservation.

Anuwat knew the deadly paranoid Khmer Rouge often needed only half a word to kill someone. On the orders of an enraged Pol Pot, Narong was promptly handcuffed, tortured and, when he refused to confess, imprisoned in one of the Khmer's notorious makeshift prisons. Everyone has a tipping point, a limit that should not be crossed. Narong's executioners, despite their best efforts, never got that far. It had been transformed into a wretched wreck thanks to their skill, yet they could not break it. It made their heads go round, but none of them could figure out how to overcome the dark desperation that had been a common characteristic of all their victims. The fact that he was not killed was due to the opportunistic intervention of a few Khmer leaders who believed that they might still be able to use their prisoner as a bargaining chip, for example if the protection offered to them by the Thai armed forces suddenly disappeared completely.

Former Thai army captain Aran Narong wasted away in the filthy hellholes of the Khmer for nearly five years. Sometimes he was locked in a cave in one of the jagged limestone rock formations near the border with Thailand for months and had to be moved to another location during his transfer because his half-blind eyes had to get used to daylight again. Then he would sit for weeks, sometimes months, in a muddy hole several meters deep. A forgotten pit in the jungle covered with a rudimentary trapdoor of sharpened bamboo poles. He relieved himself in a bucket that was hoisted up every three days. Several severe dysentery attacks and dehydration took their toll. He lost more than a quarter of his body weight, but he kept himself alive by the smoldering vengeance deep within him. The hatred turned out to be an unexpected source of energy for him. After all, you really didn't have to be a genius to figure out what was going on and who was responsible for this betrayal. Especially when one of his jailers, who had once smuggled for him, talked his mouth out, Anuwat's fate was sealed. Even if this was the last thing he would do on earth, but he had to kill that bastard. Point.

When Brother No. 1 alias Pol Pot gave up the ghost on April 15, 1998 and his body was cremated in seven haste on a rubbish dump, it took more than a year before Narong was released. He was now the prisoner of the former chief of staff of the  Khmer Rouge Ta Mok, the'Butcher of Cambodia' who, from his HQ in Anlong Veng, was responsible for the northern territory of the Khmer Rouge and who, as a result of the internal power struggle within what remained of the organization, had arrested Pol Pot on June 10, 1997 and had him sentenced to house arrest for life in a mock trial. When Ta Mok was captured by Cambodian troops at the Thai border on March 6, 1999, Narong was released a week later by his former captors in the middle of the jungle. After all, no one knew what to do with him and it is possible that the last Khmer hoped that he would die of exhaustion somewhere in the mountains.

They were deceived in this last expectation. Instead of going straight back to Thailand, where he was officially registered as dead by a court after being missing for more than five years, he went into hiding in eastern Cambodia where he not only regained his strength but also small gang that soon became attached to him recruited from among his former guards. He still knew how to command men and still had that natural authority that he unmistakably exercised in the 838 period over all who came into contact with him. After recovering as much as possible physically from the hardships he suffered in captivity, he returned to action. The question is whether he had also recovered psychologically, because his stay with the Khmer Rouge had left deep, very deep traces. This did not prevent him from throwing himself again and with even more zeal into the still lucrative smuggling. The high level of corruption in his new homeland undoubtedly helped him to expand his illegal activities. He may also have been credited with a few bank robberies in Cambodia and Laos during that period. All these activities served only one purpose and that was the destruction of Anuwat.

'But how can you be sure that Narong is still alive?' asked J. skeptically.

'Simple as pie. He contacted me in 2014. I met him in October of that year in Laos, two days in Luang Prabang. He wanted to use the services of my company for a rather obscure job, for which I declined. He believed that one of his oldest comrades-in-arms wanted to lend him a hand.. Not so…'

"What impression did he make on you?"

'To be quite honest… He's not quite on track' said Mr. X. slightly alarmed. 'He's been in the shadowy world of intelligence and special operations too long to distinguish between reality and fantasy. I think he just went crazy. At times he seemed crazy. The grueling years as an uninvited guest of the Khmer Rouge may have given the death knell to the last ounce of common sense left to him.'

"So he spent years and years planning how to get back at Anuwat."

'It looks like that. '

"And he didn't turn his hand to kill for it?"

“No, he's a ruthless killer. I once saw with my own eyes how he treated a small and above all very stupid Thai criminal who tried to put a path in the basket at the border with bolt cutters before skinning him alive.'

'A modus operandi that sounds familiar to us' said Kaew.

'Aran Narong is perhaps an even bigger psychopath than the Khmer who tried to break him for years' concluded Mr X.

J. and Kaew were all too aware of the slippery ice they were on. Although the image of a sweltering and steaming swamp under the tropical sun with treacherous quicksand and writhing snakes might have been more appropriate.

To be continued…..