CITY OF ANGELS – A Murder Story in 30 Chapters (Part 1)

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 part 1.

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Foreigners call the capital of Thailand Bangkok.

Thai, on the other hand, call them Krung Thep, the City of Angels.

 

'Bangkok is also safe. If you see anybody wearing

camouflage holding a machete, don't be scared.

They sell coconuts.'

American actor Bobby Lee

 

Bangkok, like Las Vegas, sounds like a

place where you make bad decisions…'

Director Todd Phillips about The Hangover II.

 

' It is pre-eminently a place for mosquitoes, smells,

Chinese pawnshops, wild dogs…' That's what

 The Otago Witness, a New Zealand paper, wrote

in 1894 about Bangkok. It's now 2019

and nothing has changed…'

1.

J. paused in the broad shadow of a tall tree on Sukhumvit Road. The air-conditioning on the Skytrain had been cranked up to Siberian temperatures, and now that he'd stepped outside, the damp heat fell over him as if he were an ice cube accidentally dropped into a bowl of steaming hot Tom Yam Kung soup. J. may have lived in Thailand for almost thirty years, but getting used to the temperature had never been his strong point. Not even today. It was a pity that he had to show up for his appointment with soggy sweat rings, but he already had the impression that he had not been invited for an interview because of his sparkling appearance.

Officially he was an employee of his own company. A somewhat shadowy at first glance, but quite thriving art & antique shop in Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand. But he was also widely known for taking on just about any lucrative job that came along. There was little he turned his nose up at. Whether it was tracking down a precious amulet or exporting illegally excavated gems, J. was your man. His rule of thumb was that you shouldn't be too choosy in these economically less prosperous times. But he should have been better today, even though he couldn't have known it then…

A quick look at his Breitling Navitimer, checking that he was on time – a must in a country where no one seemed to care about punctuality – and he stepped into the imposing lobby, rich in smooth marble, gleaming copper and superfluous plate glass. from the business building where he had his appointment with fate. After a short verification and receiving the obligatory badge, he entered the elevator and on the forty-fifth floor a not unkind young lady was already waiting for him. She led him briskly, her pumps pitting the aubergine-colored deep-pile carpet unmercifully, into a spacious office where a small but select crowd scrutinized him as he entered. A distinguished-looking older man who was clearly the epicenter of this club introduced himself after exchanging the wai, the traditional greeting, for if khun Anuwat. A sharp-lined face, a piercing look from dark brown, almost black eyes, tight lips that betrayed determination, and carefully trimmed but thinning hair that was already graying gracefully at the temples. A body that, unlike J.'s, had so far stood the test of time well. In short, a man who was better taken into account, but J. realized that all too well. He had - as usual - done his homework, and knew or thought he knew perfectly what kind of meat he had in the tub.

Behind the deceptive facade of a successful and cultured businessman, as was the case with many of the New Rich in the Land of Smiles, was a much grimmer story. This business tycoon who with the regularity of a clock 'the talk of the Town' beautifully illustrated how the Underworld had gained access to the Overworld in the City of Angels. He had been born sixty-eight years ago in Isaan, the poor northeast of the country. He had spent his first years of life in a scrawny, crooked and warped hut on stilts in a hamlet so insignificant it hadn't even been given a name. A narrow roof of rusty corrugated iron had protected little Anuwat from the heavy rains of the monsoon season, and the wide cracks in the plank walls provided a hint of relief when the merciless scorching sun of the dry season scorched the surrounding land. Like most children in the neighborhood, he had learned to read and write through the good care of the monks in the school next to the local temple, but from the age of ten he was, as had been the case for many generations in this corner of the country. to work in the fields with his parents. Everything in this hard existence revolved around simple survival and everyone had to contribute according to their own piety and ability. That was a life lesson he quickly learned. In the rice season, until he felt his back was broken and his hands were painfully paralyzed, he planted rice. During the rest of the months he took on odd jobs, from herding stinking buffalo in the muddy floodplains of the Mun River to seemingly uninterruptedly delivering bricks and mortar to various construction sites. Not only did he quickly get calluses on his hands, but also calluses on his soul. In a span of just a few years, he became as hard as the existence his family had to endure…

Like tens of thousands of others, as a pimply adolescent, in the early XNUMXs as Thailand's economy slowly but surely began to boom, he had migrated with his parents at random from the rice fields and the hills to Bangkok in search of work and a better future. While most of his fellow sufferers had failed to do so, he had made it in life, thanks to a good portion of guts and even more ambition. If he had lived in the nineteenth century, he might have been characterized as a prime example of social Darwinism. The Survival of the Fittest was his credo and he had gone over corpses to underline this. Anuwat was an opportunist ultimate, who saw opportunities that others had and took advantage of them. First as a petty criminal who was mainly involved in petty theft and extortion, but soon he saw things bigger and was no longer satisfied with the crumbs that could be gathered around the big table. No, Anuwat wanted to go higher and everything and everyone had to give way to his boundless ambition. He was way too smart to be nothing more than a gangster. Hard and relentless he continued on the chosen path and before he realized it himself he had evolved from one of the people who smell like buffalo to one of those who inhabit heaven in the City of Angels. He had made a small fortune exporting illegally harvested teak from Burma to China. A risky and dangerous but also very rewarding business. As if this were not enough, persistent rumors placed him on the Thai-Cambodian border in the XNUMXs and early XNUMXs. In that period a haven for everything that could not see the light of day. From his headquarters in an abandoned factory near the sleepy market town of Chong Chom, he and a few Thai generals would not only raise a hand over the head of Pol Pot and other runaway leaders of the Khmer Rouge but also supplied these mass murderers with weapons and ammunition under the cover of international aid. A lucrative business that did him and his companions no harm. During this period, his predilection for ancient Southeast Asian art and antiques apparently also awoke. It was certainly no coincidence that some of his generous but not-so-humane consignments had been reimbursed with sculptures and bas-reliefs depicting the Khmer Rouge stolen from dilapidated jungle temples. Art and historical artifacts were a very common means of payment in those years for people who did business that should not have seen the light of day. In December 1993, Anuwat's shady dealings came to an abrupt end when a warehouse crammed with Chinese weapons for his Cambodian friends was discovered during a raid by Thai police. In the meantime, he had had ample time and the opportunity to build a legal business empire.

As was to be expected, the sharply tailored, clean-shaven man with the expensive spectacles, who sat to Anuwat's left, spoke. You got the feeling that nothing would stick to it, as if it were made of Teflon. He had not introduced himself, but J. had a very strong suspicion that this slippery boy was a highly paid lawyer, a profession that he, for various reasons, hated. After all, as far as lawyers are concerned, J. wholeheartedly agreed with the American writer Mario Puzo, who once stated 'A lawyer can steal more than a hundred armed men with his briefcase…”

'I'll get straight to the point. khun Anuwat is impressed with the way you solved the case of the Jade Dragon in Hong Kong just under three months ago.'  J. had prevented a bunch of pretty stupid Chinese counterfeiters from making a lot of money off one of his best customers. That he had suffered a few scrapes was part of it Risky Business but all in all he could look back with satisfaction on this affair. He was surprised that Anuwat knew about his exploits on the Bay of the Pearl River, but then again he could expect that from someone so passionate about collecting Asian art and antiques.

'Khun Anuwat would appreciate it if you would lend a hand, of course for an appropriate fee, in a matter that requires the utmost discretion. He was robbed two days ago and how would I say this…? Wanting to use your expertise to recover the stolen property. '

J. struggled to concentrate as his eyes were irresistibly drawn to the expertly lit, three-foot-tall, beautifully patinated bronze bust of a Dvaravati-style Bodhisattva Padmapani at the back of the office. He could hardly believe his eyes. J. knew that a similar copy could be found in the masterpieces room of the National Museum in Bangkok. Art historians believed that this breathtaking sculpture was so magnificent that the king of Srivijaya had a temple specially built for it in the year 775 in Surat Thani, far to the south. He could hardly take his eyes off this exquisite image. 'Yes, don't doubt J., that's an authentic piece', the observant Anuwat interrupted his legal adviser. 'Precious, not to say priceless. But what has been stolen from me easily surpasses this beautiful work of art…'

"You have my full attention", said J. who began to wonder exactly where this conversation was going.

'I dare to hope that' replied Anuwat, somewhat gruffly.

The breathtakingly beautiful young lady who had been silently observing J. in the chair to the right of the businessman the whole time - she looked very much like the type in J.'s eyes who could spend money better than beds - suddenly opened the red leather file folder that in front of her on the smooth marble table top and J., still without saying anything, pushed a set of razor-sharp color photographs in front of her. Curious, he took the folder and carefully examined the footage. Almost impulsively he whistled softly between his teeth. 'A 14^e century golden Gautama Buddha, seated in the classic maravijaya mudra pose protected by a seven-headed Naga serpent whose eyes are inlaid with rubies… An absolute masterpiece… I assume it is made of solid gold? '

The lawyer nodded affirmatively. 'This image was discovered four years ago by a happy coincidence when a small contractor was widening a road in Ayutthaya. He was buried in a sturdy teak box between Wat Suwan Dararam and Phom Pet, the ancient city wall, near the Chao Phraya River. The rest is history…'

' Sorry, but did you say in Ayutthaya now..? There was some skepticism if not disbelief at J.'s question.

Anuwat immediately added: 'Indeed, as you undoubtedly know, hardly any valuables have survived from the nearly four centuries that Ayutthaya was the capital of Siam. Only a few gold artifacts have ended up in the Chao Sam Phraya National Museum or the National Museum in Bangkok. A few precious pieces that miraculously survived the Great Sack when the Burmese razed the city to the ground in 1767… Look, I'm not sure about this, of course, but I suspect that the abbot of Wat Suwan Dararam, then the fall of the city was imminent, had this statue buried to keep it out of the clutches of the Burmese. The few Ayutthayans who had not been slaughtered after the capture of the city were taken to the west as slaves and so perhaps the memory of this Buddha disappeared. You should not forget that all libraries and archives and therefore almost all texts that were kept in the capital were destroyed by fire and sword. For example, this image may have been erased from the collective memory. It makes this find one of the most important in our recent history.'

J. wholeheartedly agreed with this conclusion. His gray cells went berserk. Alarm lights flickered in his neurons. This was the Holy Grail for all collectors of Thai Ancient Art. It was an unusual and unlikely one farang, a stranger like himself, became involved in this case. With mock astonishment he spoke directly to Anuwat: 'Why me ? Why not rely on the competence of the Thai police?'

Anuwat just laughed. It was a short, unpleasant laugh. 'Let's just say there were a number of complications," said the nameless lawyer, his eyes behind the thick spectacles looking at him expressionlessly. ' In the first place, this work of art came into the possession of my client in a uh… not entirely legal way, which can make this matter complicated. And secondly, three of his employees were killed by the burglar. My employer is right now in the crucial negotiation phase in a complicated takeover file and can therefore miss bad publicity and certainly a lot of gossip and insinuations like the plague. The families of the victims have now been generously compensated and will remain silent. But now you can see why we're not exactly eager to call in the police's assistance.'

"You may have a point there," said J. who couldn't believe his ears.

'Besides, and this may not flatter your unkind ego,' went mr. Teflon imperturbable onward,'after a thorough risk analysis, we could only conclude that if we called on your services, we would have the greatest possible chance of success, with the lowest possible risk… '

If J. was shocked at all, he didn't show it. Anuwat was clearly observing him and J. didn't want to show his cards, let alone come across as a wimp.

'I'll play open cards with you…' filled mr. Teflon immediately. 'From the little research I conducted into your person, an image emerged that did not particularly appeal to me. khun However, Anuwat believes that your headstrong, fickle behavior and unorthodox way of working are compensated by your thorough knowledge of the field and your strong focus on results. '

To be honest, J. wasn't sure if he should feel flattered by this remark at all. He had taken on many unconventional jobs in the past, but this was a very unusual request. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to see this image with his own eyes, but on the other hand, if there had been any deaths at all, this was not the type of assignment he was eagerly waiting for. If there was one thing he had learned in his long and sometimes turbulent years in Thailand, it was to keep as much distance as possible between himself and potential danger, in whatever form. He had his reasons for this. Anuwat sensed his hesitation. 'I realize that this is a special assignment, but it also comes with a generous, I would even say very generous remuneration: 10.000 Bath per day plus reimbursed expenses and another 250.000 Bath upon delivery of the sculpture. A handful of cash, without the annoying knowledge of the annoying Thai tax authorities …Again J. whistled between his teeth. This was not a trifle, but a more than decent remuneration for such a job. That was also allowed, given the not inconsiderable risk to life and limb. He pretended to think hard and it took a full minute before he took the bite…

'I accept the challenge,' he spoke straight, straight 'but I do want an advance on my expenses of 50.000 Bath, a matter of confirming mutual trust. I guess this isn't a problem...? '

No problem ,' confirmed Anuwat and, while caressing the model's hand next to him: 'My niece Anong here will like liaison act between you and me. She arranges your remuneration and you keep her daily updated. If you have any questions, you can contact her. Does it need to be said that I count on your absolute discretion?' As he began to get up, he glanced at J. 'Well done, then it only remains for me to wish you good luck in your quest. Anuwat got up abruptly and left, trailing Mr. Teflon, immediately the office.

There was an awkward silence which was thankfully broken by Anong's question 'Do you sometimes want something to drink ? '

'Gee, I thought no one would ask,J laughed.Give me an ice-cold beer, if it happens to be available. And please no ice cubes… ' One of the habits of many Thai people farang, which he despised. Anong stepped through a door that J., following close behind, assumed was the bar. And it was. Damn handsome, he thought, and he wasn't just referring to this pleasant little room with inviting white calfskin sofas and a wall-to-wall window that afforded a spectacular view of the City of Angels. A wide and impressive panorama of the sweltering jungle of asphalt and concrete that stretches to the horizon under the unrelenting rays of the Koperen Ploert. J. walked up to the window and looked out over the city.

'Impressive, huh?she said, handing him his glass.

'Well, not really,' he replied. 'You know, it's deceptive. From afar, this city looks a bit like you: very attractive and full of promise. The City of Angels has a skyline that promises heaven. Clean and clean against the clear blue sky. But once you get closer, you have to constantly look out of your shell in this money and power-corrupted city to avoid stepping in the shit.He thought he caught a glimpse of a mocking smile…

J. noted that the perfectly waxed ebony walls of the bar were covered with photos – often signed – of Anuwat proudly posing with the Greats of the Empire: politicians, administrators, but also military and well-starred police officers. Of course there were also the obligatory pictures of what are usually euphemistically described as TV personalities, whom, in J.'s humble opinion, one had to look for personality with a magnifying glass, especially in the super light-footed and extremely flat-vulgar Thai media. It is not for nothing that there was not even one TV set in any of his homes. The few times J. was forced to watch a Thai TV show, he thought he was hallucinating and was convinced that some miscreant had mixed a mind-altering powder in his drink… These walls were clearly designed to to impress visitors, to blow them away. With just one message: khun Anuwat was someone, there should be no misunderstanding about that… That made J. all the more surprised that there was not a single photo of an art or antique dealer in this Gallery of the Great and Greater. 'Discriminatory Bastard!thought J.Or maybe he's picky...' as he settled into one of the comfortable sitting areas, his perfectly poured Leo lager in hand.

Anong, folder in his neatly manicured hand, sat down next to him. Her knees not far from his and her head bent slightly so that she looked directly into his eyes. Her satiny jet-black hair had brushed his arm for a moment, and a whiff of faint but distinguished perfume filled his nostrils. She looked up at him questioningly. 'Well boy: Keep the thought straight and the gaze down. Do not look at women inappropriately. Physical desire confuses a person. Involuntarily, J. recalled this raw truth of the Buddha before answering her defiant gaze.

'So girl' he said with what passed for his most charming smile. 'Can you enlighten me a bit? Let's start with who all knew about the existence of this statue...'

'Well, that's simple: my uncle, aunt and myself. Outside the three of us were only khun Narkkarphunchiwan, the company lawyer who was just here and, of course, also informed the contractor who found it. Unfortunately, that contractor died in a tragic accident on his yard less than a week after he had delivered the statue to uncle. The domestic staff and the security guards had no idea of ​​the origin or value of this image.'

Your uncle just happened to have nothing to do with the labordscontractor accident? '

She didn't seem really shocked by this question. 'You will have to ask him yourself…'

'Such a nice child as you wouldn't cheat your dear uncle, I hope?' J. thought he detected a slight blush, but her fierce look made him refrain from further jokes. 'Speaking of security, how was it arranged? '

'Two guards in a twenty-four hour system, seven days a week. The security guards worked an eight-hour shift, with three shifts frequenting the house in one day. One of the guards kept an eye on the security camera monitors while the other was responsible for letting visitors in and out and the security checks. He manned the gate, which is massive enough to survive the explosion of a car bomb and is equipped with a reinforced concrete security lock through which all visitors must pass before they can pass through the actual entrance.'

J. whistled softly between his teeth: "Well, that's impressive…"

Anong continued her lesson imperturbably: 'The villa is completely fenced with a 3 meter high wall and equipped with razor wire, razor-sharp and sturdy barbed wire, between which a current wire is woven. Two biting Dobbermans patrolled the garden. We found them dead as a rock, poisoned. The house and garden are fully covered by a sophisticated system of twenty-five coordinated security cameras. Inside there are another twelve cameras. Apparently they were not infallible after all, because on the day of the break-in they were all, without one exception, switched off and the recordings have just as mysteriously disappeared. We suspect that this was done by one of the security people, but we cannot prove this. All windows and doors were secured with an alarm system. The statue itself was protected by a bulletproof glass box with hi-tech pressure sensors and laser protection.'

Are there cameras in the street? '

'No, the residents of this neighborhood are quite keen on their privacy.'

'I can get in there' thought J., 'but it is - pardon le mot – It sucks that both the external and the internal system just failed at the time of the intrusion. How on earth did that happen?'

'A thorough investigation that was carried out immediately after the break-in by the people of our security company has shown conclusively that everything was switched off manually from within the home.'

So that gives us a time frame? We can pinpoint the time of the theft and murders."

"Not really, I told you the tapes are gone."

'Gosh, I forgot about that, sorry.'

If there had been a helper internally, it must have been one of the security people, J. thought, but why had he allowed himself to be executed without a fight? J. got up and started pacing around the room. Was anything else stolen? Anything, anything, even just an egg cup?'

"No," said Anong firmly. 

 'Sure ?'. He looked at her questioningly.  

“One hundred percent…I checked the inventory myself with my uncle. We double checked everything. There really isn't anything missing outside the frame.'

J. let this information sink in for a while. From what he had heard he could already conclude that this had been a very professional job. It was definitely not for amateurs to crack this security system. However, he also knew that not one burglar in the wider area of ​​Bangkok, not even in Thailand, would be so crazy as to steal the most precious possession of khun Anuwat to steal…. Moreover, something was gnawing at J. It was an indefinable but annoying feeling, like a pebble that has fallen into your sock… The burglars had deliberately only targeted this one image. If only four people on this planet actually knew it was here, how did they know about the existence of this extraordinary work of art…

'Okay, that leaves me with three last requests: Can I have another beer? Can you give me your private phone number and take me to the crime scene today?'

To be continued…..