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    Virgin Auction
    Virgin Auction
    Virgin Auction
    Ebook346 pages7 hours

    Virgin Auction

    By alasdair gilchrist

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    About this ebook

    A seemingly low key unambitious undercover operation stumbles across a conspiracy that thrusts the ill-prepared investigators into direct conflict with dangerous and influential people. Suddenly a boring routine job becomes a case of abduction, trafficking, an audacious jail beak, a manhunt for a dangerous kidnapper and his young deaf and dumb hostage and a fear that corruption permeates the highest level of society.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publisheralasdair gilchrist
    Release dateDec 31, 2014
    ISBN9781507067864
    Virgin Auction

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      Book preview

      Virgin Auction - alasdair gilchrist

      Chapter 1

      Namfon watched, and waited patiently as the stream of cars flowed by, the traffic lights would change soon and then she would take her chance. She counted the seconds off in her head, anticipating and visualizing the change of the lights for there was a finite time available to her. She needed to maximize her productivity during the brief window of time when the cars were stationary, when drivers were bored, and their attention and generosity easier to capture.

      To her annoyance, a sleek, silver Mercedes with dark windows slipped out of the main stream and glided towards her, creeping along edging its way down the hard shoulder. She shuffled back from the curb to allow it to pass, agitated that the car’s passing might interrupt her work. The car slowed as it approached and the passenger window slid down with an electronic precision.

      The driver leant across to talk to her, and her spirits rose, smiling she lifted up and presented her flowers and her most dazzling smile. Focused on the potential sale and the customer she did not hear the rear door open or the heavy footsteps that crunched the fine gravel on the tarmac by her feet. However, she did notice, with a sudden shrieking panic, the strong broad arm that grasped her by the waist and tugged her backwards so suddenly and so forcefully that it lifted her off her feet. A rough hand clapped across her mouth. She let out an instinctive scream, but the huge sweaty palm muffled her incoherent cries. Trapped, she struggled, wriggled and kicked, dropping her basket by the roadside. The strong hands dragged her backwards, in a blind panic she realised they were dragging her into the back of the car. Kicking and scrambling she fought in desperation against her captor’s grip, against the damp padded palm locked over her mouth and nose.

      Her vision began to swirl and fade, and her mind struggled against the sweet pungent odour, but her kicks and swinging arms were still wild, her feet slapping off the seats, the window and the headrests. With her mind reeling and her eyes blurred by tears, she tried to resist, but her body betrayed her and she breathed heavily, swallowing hard, as the door slammed shut. Invading tendrils of mist crept up from her lungs and nostrils invading her brain, seeping first the colour from her vision, and then cropping the periphery, leaving her staring down a long narrow tunnel, before the mist turned to a fog of darkness and snuffed out even that. As she parted company with her consciousness, she felt and visualised in the shimmer of a dream the engines strain and the vibration from the suspension as the silver spirit sped away.

      ***

      Major General Song of the Royal Thai Police slipped behind the stout teak desk and took his seat in the fine old burgundy leather chair, for him fate had faithfully restored him to his rightful position of power and influence. He relaxed, leaning back heavily and snuggling in to conform to the ancient contours of the stuffed leather chair, as he surveyed the room, his office, with smug satisfaction. The chair felt good, comfortable and homely, it was good to be back after his somewhat dubious ‘sabbatical’, his office restored to order, his domain once more, no trace of the usurper remained.

      Just the thought of her, the craven treacherous usurper, sent a shiver of agitation through him and with it a pulse of restless energy that forced him up out of the comfort of his chair. He crossed the room pacing the thick pile carpet his pace slow and purposeful his head hung low and his hands held high, animated by the aggravation of his concern.

      He had been unable to convince his superiors to move Chief Investigator Bee on to another department, or rather back to her familiar role amongst the snakes and handwringers at Serious Crimes. She had after all only come on an assignment, on a specific case, as a psychology expert, and that case, although technically still open and active, was in reality anything but. Indeed such had been the catastrophic political fallout and subsequent damage to every department and their investigators, no one in their right mind would consider venturing to re-open that Pandora’s box.

      He paused and stared out of his office window it overlooked what should have been the police station’s front gardens but many moons ago hawkers and food vendors had laid siege, and claimed it for their own. The motley crew had colonized the area with a ruthless determination, boldness and persistence that would make the Mafia or even Serious Crimes blush. He had been unable in all his years, seven he considered on reflection, to move them on. Even if he did manage too, it was only for the briefest of time, the shallowest of victory, for somehow they kept returning, it was akin to battling mosquitoes. Would shifting the usurper C.I Bee be a similar struggle?

      The bosses at Serious Crimes seemed to want to keep her on secondment, to keep her working alongside him. He knew why, Song was very political by nature, he knew SC’s game, they plotted to keep their girl close to him and his operation, waiting for a slip or an opportunity to strike. Despite the fact that the bosses had restored him to duty and even promoted him from Senior Colonel, the rank that Bee now held, he suspected they were still watching, still wanting Bee to stay close and to watch and gather information, to be their informer.

      Song surveyed the vista beneath him, watching idly the vendors and their hungry customers milling around, when a flash of brilliant white amongst the multi-coloured landscape caught his eye. It was Bee, splendid in her white dress uniform. She made her way elegantly through the seething mass of brightly dressed, cheerful but hungry souls that crowded around the food carts. Song smiled, it was such a pity their relationship had ended so badly, and that he had misjudged her, this time he would make sure to keep an eye on her. He watched her cross the courtyard, yes, he would keep her close and he knew how.

      ***

      Namfon’s family were becoming impatient particularly her father, he was hungry and eager to eat. Her brothers had already returned and were pestering to be fed, her mother laid the food out on the floor of their flatbed Subaru pickup, and with irritation, the woman turned towards he husband. Where is that girl? It is always the same we have to wait for her, every time.

      How should I know, where was she working? Was she down by the highway? he answered irritated that she should address him as if he was to blame for Namfon’s tardiness.

      Well someone go look for her, she replied looking directly at the boys, the youngest rose shaking his head and with a scowl he jumped down from the pickup and headed down towards the highway.

      She is always late, always holding us back ... never can come on time. The woman muttered to herself, which was as well as no one else was listening.

      Have you boys sold well today? the father asked.

      The boys shuffled about not wishing to answer, their body language telling him everything he needed to know. He groaned in frustration, there would be no whisky for him tonight, unless one of his friends had managed to strike it lucky. He looked away across the car park towards the highway, he hoped Namfon had done well, she could be relied on to work hard, and people liked her, liked to buy her flowers for she was a very pretty girl. Yes, he thought there was still hope that Namfon had managed to sell her flowers she usually did better that the rest of them combined. He considered this with a hopeful grin as he looked out into the distance. He recognised the little boy in the distance running towards them waving, what was he waving? Then he realised he was waving flowers and he carried a basket, Namfon’s basket.

      What is he doing, where did he get her basket? the woman said suddenly disrupting his thoughts.

      I don’t know, maybe she left them to go to the toilet.

      Don’t be stupid ... she never does that, the woman said rising up wide eyed and worried.

      I found these by the road ... the boy said breathlessly as he handed the flowers to his mother, ... and this. He remarked, as he raised his hand to hand over one of Namfon’s sandals. The woman took the sandal from the boy and she studied it, with an intense curiosity. Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. Her husband too became transfixed by the sandal, and he noticed her look, and recognised her fear, all suddenly became clear and he leapt down from the truck and started in a jog towards the highway.

      His jog soon escalated into a run, then a fast run, then as the horrible realization set in his mind, a mad sprint. He charged across the car park as if possessed, impotently, ridiculously calling out her name. The boys followed charging after him, caught up in the drama, but they couldn’t keep up. Her father scrambled around the corner that joined the car park with the exit slip road, leaving the boys in his wake. He charged down the slip road towards the highway his thighs pumping and his sandals slapping. He shuddered to a halt his sandals sliding on the loose fine gravel on the tarmac as he saw the spot where some of the scattered flowers lay abandoned.

      In screaming panic, he scanned the road in a desperate search, and then he eyed the fast moving three lanes of traffic, his heart pounding and his mind racing. He approached the spot where Namfon’s flowers lay discarded and scattered by the road side and his eyes darted backwards and forwards, scanning wildly, the road and the edges and the reservation and the grassy banks, but she was nowhere to be seen. His legs nearly betrayed him and he had to concentrate to stop them shaking as he felt them weaken beneath him. He breathed deeply, sheer relief flooded through him as his brain calculated and his eyes told him there was nothing lying on the road and the traffic was flowing normally. He stepped back and slumped down into a squat by the scattered flowers, a car had not hit Namfon, there was no broken and bloodied body cluttering the highway, and the relief was orgasmic in dimension, but a cloud of doubt drifted across the sudden blue skies ... where was she?

      ***

      Investigator Deng sat behind his humble desk in the large open plan office, squinting at the flickering computer display that he had asked IT to change several times. To be fair they had, but with one with similar problems. However, as luck would have it, every time they sent a technician to check the screen, the thing suddenly become as if new, without even the slightest shimmer, let alone flicker. Of course it didn’t last, no sooner would the technician be out the door than it would resume its irritating ways. Deng wondered whether it had something to do with the overhead lighting somehow interfering with the monitor’s frequency. He stretched out and pushed and pulled the monitor around the desktop to see if he could find a sweet spot free of interference and it was as he was doing this that he noted Chief Investigator Bee enter the open plan office.

      Deng stopped fiddling with the display and stood up to greet her. Bee was still his boss technically, she also outranked him being a Senior Colonel to his Colonel, and she had somehow managed to retain her title of Chief Investigator, despite Song’s return and her eviction from the upstairs office. However, now that Song was back in control micro managing the station’s affairs, Bee’s rank and role actually made little difference. Song was in charge, and really, any rank or role below him was merely a trifling technicality.

      Are you ready to go pay your respects and welcome back our benevolent leader? asked Deng, stepping out from behind his desk and walking over to meet her with a mischievous grin.

      Yes, well I suppose we had better get it over with ... I had dinner with him last night, I think he wanted to let me down gently, you know, not have a public scene. she smiled sadly, but anyway he is back and at least I am not demoted.

      Yeah well, why did they not send you back to Serious Crimes?

      They want me here for the present, apparently there is a big case on the go and they want me involved from the start.

      Yeah ... what big case, I can see nothing on the open files or complaints, I was just looking?

      That is why our lord and master summoned us Deng, he is the organ grinder, he knows the tunes you are merely the dancing monkey.

      Oh I thought he wished to bestow an audience to us, you know to give us the opportunity to welcome his triumphant return and to humbly pledge our loyalty, and lives.

      Hmm, no I don’t think so ... well not in my case anyway. Come on lets go see what he has to say for himself.

      But then again you’re probably correct he might just be wishing to throw me a banana.

      ***

      Namfon’s father rose up from his squat by the roadside when the boys caught up with him and he stretched happily before he rounded them close up to him. Look everything is okay, he couldn’t bring himself to vocalize what his worst fears had been, she must be up at the shop or at the toilets, we need to go look for her okay, so spread out ... but no one goes close to this road okay.

      The boys delighted by the drama raced off back up the slip road with cheers of uncontained excitement in search of their sister. The man followed them but at a much more sedate pace. He was still euphoric with relief and basking in a glow of fatigue-induced contentment, all thought of food banished from his mind. He made his way back towards the pickup truck and gave his wife the good news. She too, when hearing the news, slumped down on her haunches, shattered by the worry, and overcome with relief. Her tears fell in gratitude that there had been no tiny broken body found by the roadside, hit by the traffic, bloodied and battered to a pulp, as was so often the fate of the flower girls.

      She must be up at the shops, at the 7-eleven or the Kentucky Fried Chicken, you know how she likes them, he said as he leaned against the rear of the pick up, The boys are away looking for her.

      The woman mopped her eyes and considered the sandal, but she nodded in agreement, yes, he was probably right.

      When the boys drifted back sullenly an hour later as darkness was falling, the man’s mood had changed again. He was once more fidgety and anxious, irritable and short tempered. ‘Where the hell was she?’

      The woman sat silently in the rear of the pickup, the food lay untouched, her focus on the sandal that she clutched close to her breast.

      Where could she have gone the man asked impatiently but the boys shook their heads, they had searched everywhere, there was no sign of her, she had disappeared into thin air.

      Perhaps a Ghost has taken her, said the youngest of the boys his eyes wide with alarm.

      Or a spaceman, an alien from outer space, said another older boy, that comment earned him a smack across the side of the head.

      Where could she have got to? repeated the man anxiously, she can’t just have disappeared into thin air, she must be around here somewhere, did you check the toilets?

      The boys’ nodded in unison, we looked everywhere.

      The woman studied the sandal, and then cast a weary desolate glance over to the basket, she groaned with such sorrow, that it captivated all their attention. Someone must have taken her ... abducted her.

      Why would anyone do such a thing ... don’t speak nonsense, we have no money, one look will tell them that.

      Perhaps it is not our money they want, she said rocking back and fore cradling the single sandal.

      An icy chill spread through the man as a terrible unthinkable understanding surfaced, a deep terrible fear and dread rose with such a sickening desolation that it made his heart clench and physically ache. ‘No, this could not be true, no, that is unthinkable ... No’. He shook his head to drive the vile thought from his mind, anger rising within for even thinking such an appalling deed, not Namfon, no, that cannot be.

      Don’t speak like that ... that is just nonsense, come on you boys keep searching!

      ***

      Ah, Deng and Bee please come in, welcome please take a seat beamed Song greeting them by the doorway in his full official ceremonial mode, pausing briefly to return their respectful greeting, the wai, Good to see you Deng, I am glad you too have come through the other side of that terrible ordeal. Still what doesn’t kill us can only make us stronger, eh.

      Bee giggled nervously and Deng turned to glance at her, but she was staring down at her feet with a half smile, but it seemed frozen and more like a grimace.

      Yes it was a long struggle, but hopefully behind us now Sir. Deng replied confidently.

      Oh indeed and in the past it will remain. I want to make that both clear to you. We do not hold grudges in the Division we move on and make a better future for ourselves. Understood?

      Yes Sir, they replied in unison.

      Good then let that be the last words we hear on the subject. Song said raising a hand to prevent any interruption, but Deng wondered why, as neither he nor Bee had been likely to argue or agree, they just took it as an order. Okay then let’s get down to business, as time as always, is of the essence. Song said leaning back and slowly rotating his chair from side to side with his hands cupping his chin in deep concentration. Where to begin, well, best to just come out and say it I suppose, he said his glance flickered between them. You two are going to be partners ... you know out in the field.

      Silence.

      Yes, out in the field not stuck in this office but out their doing real Investigations, rolling your sleeves up and getting your hands dirty ... good old fashioned police work, he added quickly trying to arouse in them some response. Song looked upon their blank pale faces, with their slack jaws and glassy eyes. Have you nothing to say ... no comments?

      No, said Deng in barely a whisper. Bee merely shook her head her eyes once more taking an interest in her shoes.

      Okay well that’s splendid I thought you might have had a little something to say ... you know how it is. Song laughed as his eyes darted between the two. Okay well I have a job for you ... ‘team’, you know undercover.

      Undercover ... are you joking? spluttered Deng turned sharply to Bee to gauge her reaction but she seemed not to have heard as she still stared blankly at the floor.

      Yes good old fashioned undercover work, the two of you as a couple, it will be good for you, get you working together as a team from the off.

      But Sir ... I don’t mean to speak out of turn but Bee isn’t an investigator, well not really.

      Yes I know she may not have the training or the field experience that you have had Deng, I am quite aware of that but ...

      What do you mean I am not an Investigator, I hold a rank of Senior Colonel, I out rank you and I am not only an Investigator I am a Chief Investigator ... Investigator! Bee stated firmly her eyes blazing as she addressed Deng directly.

      Ah okay let’s hold on here ... said Song I don’t think Deng meant it like that ... I think he considers that undercover work is not for the amateur ... shall we say.

      Amateur ... I will amateur him, I am certainly more suited to undercover work that Investigator Deng ... I may not have had the benefit of his training but I am emotionally stable for one thing. And another I don’t see what good Deng’s training has done him anyway if his recent investigations are anything to go by.

      Oh no, you’re not going to drag up Krabi again are we ... stuttered Deng.

      Actually yes I am ... you are the one not suitable for undercover work ... and the case in Krabi proves it beyond any reasonable doubt. Ghosts, huh up to your gills on magic mushrooms is more like it.

      Okay, okay let’s call a halt here now please, suggested Song, enough of the unpleasantness you are partners now remember, all for one and one for all, so to speak, Song stated trying to figuratively step between them. But, across from him Deng and Bee sat glaring at each other with barely concealed contempt.

      Okay now that we are settled, let me explain what the case involves and what your roles will be ... I’m sure once you hear the plan, the scenario, you will be as excited as I am.

      I doubt that very much, muttered Deng under his breath, Song did not catch it but Bee certainly did.

      Don’t worry the feelings mutual. She whispered back casting him another angry glare.

      Okay, children, if you’re sitting comfortably I will begin ... Song rested back in his comfortable chair and clasping his hands before him said. As you are probably aware Thailand has a somewhat dubious reputation for being a safe haven for foreign criminals and their ill-gotten gains. Well we intent to put an end to that by addressing the problem. You see Immigration police or rather their Major General Boonson, a good friend of mine, has decided that he will deport all foreign criminals forthwith. He is adamant about this and so it is our job to assist him in his drive to purge the Kingdom of criminal and undesirable foreigners, Song stated dryly. Furthermore, Major General Boonson has boldly nailed his trousers to the mast by declaring this intent at the beginning of the year, and now in the autumn he suddenly sees the enormity of the task before him, because of course, there are problems ...

      And what would these problems be? asked Deng.

      Well let’s say that many foreigners are not keen to co-operate. As most of the scoundrels living in our country, and you know we have more than our fair share, are wanted criminals in their own countries. They are not terribly keen to return. The good General in charge of Immigration claims to have over one thousand arrest warrants from numerous countries wanting us to apprehend and deport their fugitives. Song glanced up to the ceiling and arched his fingers, But you see criminals are a wily lot, and few wish to be apprehended and deported, so it makes our search for them all the more difficult. The problem though is that eighty thousand foreigners arrive in Thailand every day of the week through several airports, and land crossings. Keeping track of them isn’t easy. Presently we have two methods; the TM.6 card that tourists complete on arrival, on which they declare their hotel or address in the Kingdom, which in many cases is just nonsense, the tourists just write anything, usually it is illegible if not downright lies. The second method we have, are the rules under section 38 of the Immigration Act. The act requires that managers’ of residences, hotels, guesthouses, condominiums, resorts, blah, blah, must inform Immigration of registered guests within 24 hours or face sanctions under section 77 - between two and ten thousand baht per guest per day. Nonetheless, despite these potentially crippling penalties we still only have around 60% of residences complying, though a recent crackdown should push that figure up towards a more acceptable figure. However the problem remains, we just don’t know where tourists are whilst staying in the Kingdom, let alone rogues and scoundrels. So we need a method, a trap you might say, in order to catch these rogues. He paused to consider the point, After much deliberation, we have selected Pattaya to be the focus of our operation, a testing ground, to round up these rogues and misfits. We believe that the majority of these undesirable will be holed up there.

      But surely criminals or undesirables will be staying here long term on business, marriage or retirement visa? Section 38 isn’t going to apply to them, as they will most likely be staying in rented houses in the names of their Thai girlfriends or business partners. You know Pattaya has long since had a bad reputation for this kind of thing, and there have been previous crackdowns, so I think the foreigners will be well prepared, said Bee regaining her composure but directing her words purely towards Song.

      Indeed, but it has got out of hand and Immigration want to put a stop to it, and this time they mean business. Major General Boonson is sick fed up with the Immigration Bureau Division being the laughing stock of Asia, with Pattaya, in particular portrayed as a safe haven for criminals. The good Major General wants change.

      And is Pattaya a safe haven for criminals? Deng asked.

      Of course it is ... have you no idea? said Bee turning sharply to address Deng, though Deng ignored her and directed his comments towards Song.

      Well no Sir, I don’t actually, can you elaborate.

      Sure I can, okay we seem to have, ah, well, Major General Boonson claims to have thousands of warrants from other countries for criminals believed to be hiding out here in Pattaya. Now that is no exaggeration, thousands of wanted criminals from around the world are living freely in the Kingdom. Pattaya is their preferred location, as they have turned it into a home from home. Pattaya hosts every type of criminal, traffickers in drugs and humans, kidnappers and extortionists, bank robbers and thieves, conmen, scammers and fraudsters, boiler-room tricksters and snake oil salesmen, and that is before we consider, the sex pests of just about every perversion known or maybe even unknown to civilized mankind...the wretched waste of every nation has somehow found sanctuary in the blocked sink of Pattaya bay, said Song sadly shaking his head.

      Yeah, it is that bad? And we put up with this? asked Deng.

      Well yes we do, they bring in foreign currency, crime does pay you know, however it is not our doing. But let us get one thing straight ... the Immigration Bureau Division are here to do a job, but they are over worked, stretched you know.

      Ha, ha I am sorry to hear that Sir, please forgive me if I fail to shed a tear.

      Yes Deng ... do you seriously wish me to pass on your heartfelt condolences? Well, anyway Major General Boonson has asked for my assistance, Song said, They have only 200 odd officers nationwide so they are struggling to cope with this new initiative. They have the new Immigration Control System Centre just opened, all the latest high tech stuff, computers and all that stuff and this project is to be used to highlight the effectiveness of the ICSC. But, they do need our help, and yes desperate as they may be that includes you two, you know good old fashioned boots on the ground, Song

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