Justice, Please!
Smashwords edition
Text by
Robert Bruce Hay
eISBN 978-616-222-042-5
Published by www.bangkokbooks.com
E-mail: info@bangkokbooks.com
Text & cover page Copyright© Robert Bruce Hay
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Author’s note: this is a work of fiction. The book is based on events that occurred in Thailand in April 2009. However, the characters depicted in the book and their own adventures, unless named specifically in the news at that time, are entirely fictional. Some common Thai words are used in the text – a Glossary is provided at the end of the novel for English translations.
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For my lovely wife, Jasmine.
Thank you my love for entering my life,
and continuing to stay there with me!
Your
only Bob
Part 1: EARLY DAYS
1 Shooting Stars
He noticed the streak across the sky as he glanced to the west. It was fairly low above the horizon and was hardly moving near the moon, which looked full. It took him a while to remember the last time he’d seen such a sight.
‘Kahoutek – wow, it’s been over 20 years since I last saw a comet!’ he muttered.
He thought back to the last time this had happened, and what he was doing then. At that time there were difficult circumstances to sort out, ones he didn’t know how he would deal with. After he’d noticed the comet there’d been massive changes in his life, involving a family shift to Australia. Perhaps the comet had something to do with that, he thought. And now he was dealing with something major again, only this time with a new woman.
‘C’mon, we’ve got to keep moving.’
He helped drag, helped carry the slight woman along with him. She was losing strength quickly. Soon he’d have to carry her.
‘It can’t be too much further – C’MON!’
As she stumbled along she whispered to him, ‘You, you’ll take care of me, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will – you know that. We just need to get you there soon, that’s all.’
He tried to sound reassuring, but with the blood soaking through her shirt, he wasn’t so sure himself. He looked back at the comet, expecting something more than the smeared light.
‘Help us – please! Anyone! We need to get her to the clinic. It’s just around the corner now! PLEASE!’ But no one came. They were on their own. The gunshots must have scared away any others.
The street was dark ahead, like it had been a few minutes ago when this happened. He should have seen it coming. The others, perhaps former demonstrators as they still were wearing red shirts, had distracted him – he’d only looked away for a few moments. But when they turned into the alley and encountered the police car blocking their path, he’d thought they would be rescued. Instead they were now struggling to get her to the clinic in time.
‘Jasmine – c’mon honey, just hang in there a few more minutes!’
He felt so guilty for getting her in this situation. He’d wanted them to go for a short trip, to Pattaya, to relive their honeymoon together. He persisted and she finally gave in, even though there had recently been demonstrations near where the ASEAN meeting was to be held. Red shirts versus yellow shirts all over again, only this time it was just the red shirts causing the trouble.
‘I don’t want to be caught in the middle of THAT!’ she’d said emphatically when he’d brought up his idea at their hotel in Bangkok over breakfast. She knew that there was a State of Emergency declared yesterday for the Chon Buri District and that the ASEAN meeting had been called off in Pattaya as well.
‘Oh, don’t worry – the red shirts have left Pattaya – they’re coming here now. The Government cancelled Songkran, your New Year’s Festival, in Bangkok next week because of that! We’ll be OK. We could go to the Walking Street again tonight, maybe go dancing? We might find Songkran happening out that way too!’
‘You just want to see the go-go girls! Whooee – sexy Thai girls, dancing just for you!’ she threw back at him, with a pout on her face.
‘We had fun dancing last time – remember when we met Supaporn?’
She was still pouting, but he also saw the twinkle in her eye. He knew that she liked him to enjoy himself in the bars, and they only had a few more days left in Thailand. Finally she’d given in, partly because it was only a two hour bus ride from Bangkok, partly because she remembered their earlier time there too. Plus she could do some more shopping, which she always loved.
They got there in mid-afternoon on Sunday. It seemed quieter than normal for a weekend, perhaps due to the clampdown they thought. After checking into their hotel downtown, they’d set off for some food, a massage and (of course) a trawl of the shops. The nightlife would wait til later. All was fine until they started to head towards the Walking Street that evening. Due to the roadblocks that were still in place, they were shunted down side streets, up dark alleys and got turned around. He normally had a good sense of direction, but the wine he’d had at dinner had fogged his brain.
‘Is this the way?’ he asked her. But she didn’t know either. It seemed a miracle that, when they were totally lost, they saw a police car ahead, partly down another alley. And so, they thought nothing of approaching it to ask the cops for directions.
What they didn’t know was that the officer in charge of the unit had already been dealing with rowdy protestors for the past two days. Jasmine saw he was a Captain and so thought they’d be OK. They started feeling apprehensive when they saw him point at them and saw what looked like bodies lying by the car. But this turned to shock as a shotgun was directed at her.
‘What the . . . get down, QUICK!’ Bob shouted, pulling on her arm. But it was too late. A shot echoed through the alley, hitting her in the upper chest and her shoulder. The force of it knocked them both down.
As they lay on the ground, the two officers approached, the shotgun held ready. ‘They don’t look like the other red shirts,’ the driver said to the Captain in Thai (Bob found out what they’d said later from her).
‘Finish them off and take their belongings. Then drag them back there with the others. We’ll do just fine from the remains of this protest tonight,’ the Captain replied.
Bob reacted quickly as he heard the shotgun being pumped again. Rolling to the side he grabbed a machete lying in the street, probably left from the last encounter with fleeing protestors. He saw that the round was jammed in the shotgun, giving him time to fling the blade back at the officer, hitting him squarely in the chest. As he fell back, Bob grabbed the shotgun, got the shell loaded and pointed it at the surprised Captain. As the officer struggled to get his pistol out, Bob got off two quick rounds, hitting him both times, once in the shoulder and again in the back as he tried to get away.
Walking up to the officers afterwards he found them both quite dead. There were three others who had been shot near them, but they couldn’t be helped anymore. Then he turned to Jasmine who was lying on the road in a lot of pain.
‘Jasmine! I’ll help you! Stay there!’ he yelled as he ran over to her. He put down the shotgun and pulled her up, looking at her wound in the process. It didn’t look good.
‘I’ve got to get you to a clinic or hospital fast!’ He remembered a clinic a couple of streets over, but wasn’t sure of the way now. Picking up the shotgun again, he used it as a crutch to help balance him as he got Jasmine to her feet.
‘You’ve got to help me a bit here he said to her! I’ll get you to the clinic – just try to walk with me!’
They stumbled across the main street by brandishing the shotgun: taxis and tuk tuks screeched to a halt in front of them. Seeing the gun and the blood, other pedestrians cleared a path for them to walk through. Then, just as she was starting to fall down, they arrived at the front of the clinic.
He waved to an orderly inside to help them. Thankfully, the man came out. Having a shotgun didn’t seem to bother him at all – much had already happened that weekend. They got her to a cot in the back where the duty doctor could examine her. Then he was led to a waiting area, where he used the shotgun to prop up his arm.
It was only a few minutes before he was called by the doctor, who spoke in clear English, ‘She’ll need some blood soon. I have some here, but she really needs to go to the hospital. I’ve heard that there’s been lots of protestors taken there, though. She may not get much attention.’
‘What about her wounds? Can you do something about them?’
The doctor looked at the gun Bob was holding, but noticed that it wasn’t pointed at him. ‘What happened to her?’
‘Bad cops – they were killing anyone who looked like a protestor, maybe for sport, perhaps for money. They tried it on us, but I got the better of ‘em. But what about Jasmine? Can you help her?’
‘She’s bleeding heavily and the shotgun has left a lot of buckshot in her. Some of it is near her heart I think. If any had hit her heart, well she wouldn’t be with us now. I’ll do what I can – and give her some units of blood I have here too. Leave me to it.’
He waited for almost an hour before he was called back. As he waited, he watched a TV that was in the corner. The news was in Thai, but he could tell what was going on. They were showing scenes of demonstrators pushing at the police barricades yesterday, trying to get to the ASEAN meeting. Other scenes showed bloody protestors lying in the streets. Then the scene changed to an alleyway, with the camera pointing at a police car. Two policemen lay dead in front of it, partly covered by a bloody sheet. He realised that this was the alley they’d just fled.
‘Oh shit!’ he thought. They’ll be onto us soon. The clinic wasn’t far from that alley.
‘Doc, are you about done in there yet?’ he yelled into the back. Then he went in to see Jasmine.
The doctor was stitching her chest as he entered the room. ‘I’ve stopped the bleeding and got most of the pellets, but there’s still some lodged near her heart I think. She needs X-rays and proper medical care in a hospital. Even then I don’t know how much we can do for her.’
Bob looked sadly down at her for a moment after hearing that news. Then he turned to the doctor and said in a determined voice, ‘Listen Doc, thanks for your work. But we can’t go to any hospital right now. We were involved with a couple of bad cops, as I told you, and they’ll blame those deaths on us! I’m taking her out of town as quick as I can. Tell me what I need to do to keep her alive – NOW!’
The doctor wasn’t used to being ordered around. But he saw Bob was still holding the shotgun and he thought better about arguing with him.
‘I’ll give you some dressings and plasma. You need to keep her upper body as immobile as possible. Any movement could help the pellets work towards her heart. When she gets weak, set up a plasma drip; I’ve left the attachment for it in her arm – I’ll show you how to do it. Here’s some antibiotics too. If you can, get her to a hospital somewhere soon. Otherwise, I don’t know about her chances.’
‘Thanks much Doc. I don’t know about our chances either if we stick around here much longer!’
He got the medicine and instructions, then concealed the shotgun under a sheet. They helped get Jasmine outside and the orderly waved down a tuk tuk. Bob boosted Jasmine into the back, then pushed a couple of bills into the driver’s hand and told him to ‘Get us to the edge of town – fast!’
He thought about stopping at the hotel for their stuff, but decided against it. By going up sidewalks and side streets, they were on the outskirts of Pattaya in no time, heading north. He told the driver to stop at a petrol station by the main road. Once there they looked for a taxi driver who could take them to Bangkok, one who spoke good English.
It wasn’t hard to find a driver who needed business. He helped move Jasmine onto the back seat of the taxi. Bob got some money out of the ATM then climbed in beside her, letting her rest on his lap. He gave the driver $2000 baht ($65) and told him to get on the highway and head towards Bangkok. However, a few kilometres down the road he had him change directions, towards Isaan in the northeast, where Jasmine was from.
Jasmine woke briefly as the taxi turned towards the northeast. ‘Where, where are we now? Why are we turning around?’ she uttered with her eyes only partly open.
‘We’re on our way to Isaan, to your folks. We’ll take the back roads there. I had the driver head towards Bangkok first, in case anyone back there was watching where we were going. This change in direction will probably slow them down a bit.’
‘Why would they care? Are we in trouble, Bob?’
‘No, not once the story gets out it won’t be us who are in trouble. Now don’t worry, my sweet. Just rest against me now. I’ll wake you later if I need to for directions.’
He held her in his arms, looking at her in her white hospital gown. White was the colour of death in Asia, but in his eyes all he could see was an angel who needed his help. He would have to find a way to get her home.
He told the driver to keep the radio on soft music and not to speed so fast that they’d gain unwanted attention. He knew that they were lucky to escape the police cordon that was sure to be put in place around Pattaya to catch them. He’d heard at the petrol station about that, and that they were especially seeking people who’d killed two police officers. He knew that it wouldn’t take long for their descriptions to be telecast on TV and radio throughout Thailand. Then the chase would be on.
It would be dawn soon. In the west the streaking comet was still visible. The last time he saw one he’d been lucky. He’d used it as a sign to take his wife and kids to Australia for a fresh start. He hoped history would really be repeated, that God or Buddha would be on their side one more time, and that he’d get another chance with his new wife, his beautiful Jasmine. They’d need all the help that they could get.
2 More than an Accessory
She looked so peaceful lying there. It was best for her to be that way – any movement could worsen her condition. Even with stitches and a bandage, her wound was still seeping blood. Soon he’d have to hook the plasma bottle to her arm at a rest stop.
As he sat beside her, he thought back a few short years to how this all began, how he ended up in the middle of a political conflict in Thailand with his injured wife beside him. Before her he’d had an eventful life, for sure, but nothing like this! The changes had started through a growing dissatisfaction with his last wife (and life) in Australia, followed by absurd and at times amusing attempts at relationships during his period of separation. He was launched into uncharted territory, though, by his search for new romance on the Internet.
In Australia the leader in dating sites was RSVP, the modern way to meet and hopefully to consummate love, all available at your fingertips through the Net. There were apparently almost 1 million members, all of whom were horny, good looking and ready to ‘hook up’. The catch was that it cost almost $40 to send only 6 brief messages, and there was no guarantee that any of these would result in a ‘winner’, let alone someone who might be good date material. After numerous such meetings, it became like the movie 50 First Dates: names and faces couldn’t be remembered the next day and there was every chance of repeating it all over again the next day. What to do?
The less obvious step was to go international. Why did he do it? Because on such web sites there were willing brides from across the globe, all clamouring to be the next Mrs X, as long as it meant a one way ticket to the First World! The pictures were always appealing on those sites. Beautiful Natashas and Tatianas from Russia and the Ukraine; alluring Joys and Fons from Thailand; lovely young Marias and Catherines from the Philipines. How could anyone choose just one?
Research was called for, of course. He was familiar with that – and the Internet enabled ready access to guidebooks to enhance success rates, tales of woe from those who’d gone before, and investigators that could be hired by the overly cautious to check on the claims and activities of these young women. Investment in the former two seemed called for; the latter would be there if needed. But first he had to determine what he was looking for: why go on a search across the world for a woman when they were plenty close at hand for a much smaller cost and less trouble?
It was this introspection and plenty of talks in pubs and cafes with friends that clarified the reason for his quest. He was tired of being only an accessory to a modern, Western woman. Every time he’d gone out, heart on his sleeve, to try to romance one of these independent creatures, he’d found that he was WAY down their list of priorities in their lives.
The list usually started like this: first there were the children (if they had any), the close friends and their family (if they lived nearby). Then there was the career, their home, their pets – a cat or a small, yappy dog – especially the case if kids were lacking. There were also vacations to exotic locales, shopping for the latest fashions and going out with the girls – clubbing, movies, restaurants and whatever. The gym and further education often figured later in the list too. After all that came a Man, perhaps, usually as an afterthought.
But this could not be any old man, oh no. These were mature, educated, independent women! Women who had it ALL! Women who had been burned before and would IN NO WAY settle for second best again! And so, the second phase of the conversation (following the first awkward one, which was all about their priorities) revolved around what they wanted out of a man this time round. It usually started something like this, after they’d ascertained that he was working, in a good career, with a house, and so was a fairly good prospect.
Glancing up from her half finished glass of white wine, she would quietly ask, ‘Do you, you know, work out at the gym or something?’
This was to establish his level of physical activity, and commitment to continuing with this into the future. Nothing less than a mini-Marathon each week was ever deemed sufficient in an answer here.
After that would usually come, ‘Do you like kids – I mean do you have any, or would you want some in the near future?’
This query came from those in their mid to late-30s who had dallied a bit too long in the ‘I’m going to deal with what’s important to ME first! Then I’ll think about a real relationship, settling down and having kids!’
Only if you were a suitably (physically) qualified (and handsome) sperm bank would you ever do for her purposes. And you needed to be sensitive too, of course.
Looking down, one slender finger rubbing around the rim of the now nearly empty wine glass, she would carefully bring forth the next question in this inquisition; it was normally not too tangentially phrased, however, beginning often like, ‘Um, what happened with your last relationship . . . did it all end OK, or what?’
This was to find out if he was a macho, redneck boor or, instead, someone who was sensitive to the feminine half of the population. He knew there was no correct answer here, for if he was too assertive, then he couldn’t be controlled well enough by Little Ms Treatment, but if he was too sweet, then he didn’t likely have the genetic drive to father her children and provide for her and her many passionate pursuits.
Her list of traits that the perfect man needed to possess to catch her fancy was thus both lengthy and unassailable. No man could meet it, yet she demanded one who would. And, in the ripe mid-30s to late-40s age range, there were few good men left to choose from. Those that were available often bore the scars of past relationships (to Western women) and were now very cautious. It was a dance doomed from the beginning.
But if this couldn’t work, did that mean the end of romance as we know it? Was that it? Drinks at the pub with friends and repeats on TV to look forward to for the rest of one’s years? That’s all? He wouldn’t accept that. No sir.
That’s when the foreign brides idea started to worm its way into his brain. Here were willing, young, beautiful, educated and much less demanding women ready to take a leap of faith on an older Westerner! Sure they wanted a better life for themselves and there was the risk that they would bail once they got permanent residency. But, even so, he could have an interesting relationship for a few years with someone new, someone caring, and someone who was able to actually make a decision about her future. No more lists, no more, ‘I’ll call you next week, maybe . . . ’
This phenomenon was common in history across the world as well. From conquering armies who took women slaves to mail order brides, there has long been a mix and match of cultures for competing reasons. Each usually got something they wanted – life is a bargain after all. Only this way all the bartering was up front – no surprises were involved. And, if the relationship got a chance to develop, at least it would last as long as the typical Western one. Maybe even longer, for a lifetime (his, for he was much older) – and with an exotic, youngish lover from another land! It sounded pretty good in theory.
So, his cyberquest started with bride sites in southeast Asia and quickly spread further afield, to Eastern Europe and Russia/the Ukraine. He researched, sent countless short messages and talked to scores of potential mates. Some were unable to speak back except through an interpreter; others were obvious scam artists, seeking monetary support fairly quickly. Those who seemed too good to be true, the supermodels who – at 22 – longed for a fiftyish, out of shape denizen of shopping malls and office buildings, soon proved to be just that: gold diggers who were after a fat, Western prize.
But the search also yielded (apparently) real candidates for Bob’s romantic interests. Some were a bit on the young side, it might be said, while others had various hangers on to consider, from children to grandparents and even whole villages. A few could not speak a word of English. This brought about the final revelation needed to start towards ‘sealing the deal’: an answer was first needed to, ‘Just what am I looking for here?’
Again, this called for some careful thought, the making of (short) lists and talks with allies who were, or had recently been, in a similar situation. It boiled down to this: he was looking for someone sweet, someone to trust, where there was mutual attraction, a willingness to share a path through life and a hunger for living. Pretty simple really. Of course, she should be young and lovely as well (for all the pending trouble he would have to deal with, why not?), have a high GIB rating (Good In Bed – Western women just HATE this one!), and actually would like to be both feminine and caring toward him.
A check through his potential list of candidates, though, found that there were several hundred, perhaps thousands, who met these basic criteria. Some further culls would have to occur. And so, he set about removing: those who were illiterate (i.e. not even a high school education), since he was well-educated and would want to converse with her at times; those who did not know English (he did not want to fall in love with her translator, but with her); and, those who had various forms of evident baggage (such as children holding onto their legs). The very young (aged 18 to early-20s) had to go too, though he did this reluctantly. He knew from experience that those of such ages seldom knew themselves enough, were quite changeable, and could easily be fickle at a time of a major decision (such as sticking with him, after attaining residency). Now the list was finally becoming more manageable!
He found that there were still some good ones left from Thailand and the Philipines, with others from Russia and the Ukraine. Without thinking about it too much, he decided to drop the Filipinos and the Russians, mostly because he’d read too many horror stories on the Net about unions with their brides. He knew this was partly due to the sheer numbers of such unions, but he’d heard also that ladies from those countries could often be argumentative if things weren’t perfect. He felt that, after his last marriage and the RSVP encounters, he’d had enough of feisty women for a while. Plus, he knew through experience that perfection was only found in fairy tales.
A good friend of his in Canada had a wife of Ukrainian descent – there were millions of migrants who’d settled the plains of North America from there early last century. She turned out pretty good overall. Plus he knew of others in Australia with nice Thai wives who were both sexy and faithful. Which brought him to how to go about meeting some of the remaining women on his list, since he knew it would have to come to that . . . phone calls and messages were all well and good, and helped to build up rapport, but he could only really tell if a woman was right for him once they’d met in person. It would mean some organisation: trip(s), pre-arranged meetings, nice gifts, getting himself into workable shape (so she wouldn’t just turn away, politely, at their first meeting), enough money, more advice on romancing younger women, more research on their countries, etc, etc.
But now it was looking like a real proposition. And he was actually looking forward to something again in his life!
And yet, after all that, he was here, with Jasmine, and she was fading in front of his eyes. He had to make it better for her if he possibly could – he would do all in his power to ‘make it right’ – he promised that to her long ago, and he wouldn’t let her down. Not now.
Part 2: ON THE RUN
3 The Long and Winding Road
Once they’d turned off the highway towards Isaan, Bob started to relax a bit. He hadn’t slept at all and daylight was coming soon. Noticing the driver staring at them in the rear view mirror, he asked him, ‘Do you know the way towards Buriram by going along the back roads, near the Cambodian border?’
‘Yeah, sure Mister. We’ll need some petrol somewhere ahead, though.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll pay for the fill ups. You just keep driving. And don’t speed too much. I’ve got to rest for a while.’
Bob dozed as the taxi rolled through the countryside. He awoke occasionally to see rice fields and farm houses, then later to see that the landscape would soon change to the forested hillsides he could see in the distance. It was mid-morning now. Bob decided they needed to check on Jasmine and tapped the driver on the shoulder as they were approaching Sa Kaeo.
‘Hey, we’ll need to pull over soon. We’ll fill up at a petrol station and I’ll help Jasmine.’
He gently looked at her wound to see if it was still bleeding. It didn’t look like it – the quiet ride had helped her it seemed. But it had also made Bob feel angry at what they’d been through.
As they slowed down in traffic, he turned to the driver and said sharply, ‘We were just minding our own business, starting our holiday in Pattaya, and look at what’s happened to us! Red shirts, protestors, trigger happy cops – bloody bullshit, that’s what it is!’
‘Hey Mister, it’s not my fault. Settle down please.’
‘Yeah, I know. I’m just pissed off, that’s all. Listen, I’ve read a bit about this red shirt/yellow shirt nonsense, the Thaksin effect, and all that. But I still don’t understand it!’
‘Neither do most of us. We just try to carry on somehow.’
‘From what I can tell it’s the United Front for Democracy Against Dictatorship or UDD (red shirts) vs the People’s Alliance for Democracy or PAD (yellow shirts). The PAD shut down your main airport, the new one – Suvarnabhumi in Bangkok – late last year and just now the UDD has shut down the ASEAN meeting before it even happened! Both protests have damaged your economy. With the global recession it’s even worse! What good has come of all this upheaval in Thailand anyways? You’ve lost tourism business, people have died, others have been locked up and Thaksin’s in exile. And now there’s swine flu threatening us all, but still it goes on! What’s the point of it?’
‘I don’t know, Sir, I just drive my taxi, that’s all I know how to do.’
Bob realised the driver was trying to calm him down. He was also less talkative than many drivers he’d had before. Perhaps not all cabbies, barbers and bartenders were good at conversation. Then Bob realised that the driver had likely seen the shotgun earlier, even though it was covered by a sheet. He didn’t want any trouble from them.
‘You have a family?’
‘Yes, I do. A wife and three kids. They live in Chon Buri, not far from Pattaya. I was heading home when you came up to me last night.’
‘Well, don’t worry. You’ll be able to head home to them soon enough. I want to get her home, to her own family too. They’ll know what to do.’
‘It’s near Buriram, is that right?’
‘Yes, she knows the way. She can guide us when we get closer.’ They were leaving the town now, so Bob added, ‘Look there, ahead, there’s a petrol station on our side. Pull up and do what you need for the car. Then we’ll help her.’
The driver pulled into the station and started to fill up the tank. After he finished, he went in to pay and get some food, with money provided from Bob. As the driver waited for the food to be wrapped, he couldn’t help watching the TV which was reviewing the aftermath of the ASEAN meeting which was supposed to be held in Pattaya. The meeting had to be aborted, much to the embarrassment of the Thai Government.
The coverage focussed on the two police deaths, although many demonstrators had been seriously injured as well. The reporter said that detectives were concentrating on the greater Bangkok region in their search for the killers, as a taxi had been seen taking a farang (foreigner) and an injured Thai woman that way from the outskirts of Pattaya.
After the driver returned, Bob asked him directly, ‘So, are they talking about us in the news?’ He knew that Thai petrol stations usually had a TV or radio blasting out the latest happenings nationwide, especially the sensational stories.
‘Well, yes. They’re looking for you around Bangkok right now. They say you’re cop killers.’
‘They would say that. I had to shoot those policemen in self defence. They opened fire on Jasmine without warning, and were about to get me too.’ The driver looked frightened, so Bob continued, ‘Listen, just get us to the Buriram area later today, to her village or at least nearby. I’ll pay you well. Then you can forget you ever knew us. Now help me with Jasmine.’
Bob carefully checked under her bandages to see if they should be changed yet. They were soaked in dried blood, so he carefully cut them off with scissors and replaced them with the driver’s help. Then Bob connected the IV drip to her arm, hooking the bag to the handle above her seat.
As they set off down the road, he asked, ‘What’s your name anyways? We’ll be together for a while yet, so I should know. I’m Bob by the way.’
‘Kiat, short for Somkiat. You wouldn’t be able to remember my last name – it’s a long one!’
‘Yeah, like Jasmine’s. Let’s get off this main road soon in case the people at the station were watching us. Take some back roads that connect to another highway headed east. We need to make some distance before nightfall.’
As they drove, Bob reflected on this long journey. The last time they’d come in this direction they were with Jasmine’s brother-in-law, Surd, in a rental truck, enroute to a week at her folks’ home. It was harvest time and many families were labouring in the rice fields, bringing in the crops before the next heavy rains. It was all so peaceful then, not like now.
He cradled Jasmine’s head in his arms as she slept. The plasma seemed to be helping to stabilise her condition. If only we could stop at a hospital!, he thought. But no, not yet, not with our lives in danger. He knew that, if they were captured, they wouldn’t be treated well; no one in officialdom would believe their story. They needed scapegoats for the political problems in Pattaya and who better than some farang and his poor, Thai woman?
‘Hey, up there. You see that?’ He pointed ahead to a roadside stall, where fruit was on offer. ‘Stop and pick us up some, eh? A couple of green coconuts to drink from would help too. Here’s some money.’
Kiat pulled over and picked them up some provisions. He handed back the coconuts, complete with drinking straws. Jasmine was waking up, so Bob unhooked her drip and sat her beside him. Then he got one of the coconuts ready, holding it so that she could sip a bit out.
‘There, that’s right. You need some fluids in you.’ She sucked on the straw slowly for a while. ‘Are you feeling any better?’
‘Um, I’m, I’m very weak, Bob. Where are we now?’
‘We’re getting close to the Cambodian border. We should be at your folks’ place by later tonight if all goes well.’
‘Are they following us?’
‘No, they’re over by Bangkok. Let’s hope they stay that way for a little while yet.’
He turned to the driver and asked, ‘Kiat, how much further to the Buriram district?’
‘I’m not sure. It’s not my area.’
She talked to him for a moment in Thai, giving him directions. ‘It’s OK. We’re about half way there now. We just carry on this way down the road.’
‘Listen Jasmine, we can’t move you around too much. The doctor said that there are still some pellets in you, close to your heart. Plus we don’t want your wound to start bleeding again.’
They rode together in silence for about an hour. But then, far ahead they saw what looked like a roadblock. ‘What’s that – are they looking for us?’ Bob asked.
‘I don’t think so. They often have roadblocks near the border, ever since the Khmer Rouge problems thirty years ago. We’re getting near the Ban Khlong Luek Border Checkpoint I think. This area was only made secure about ten years ago, you know.’
She’d said more than she had all day. She must be feeling better. But Bob still didn’t want to risk a roadblock. ‘Is there any way around this?’
Kiat replied, ‘The way they set these up, you either go back or stop and have them check you. It’s your choice.’
Bob considered this and then said, ‘OK, we’re tourists here, right? So let’s look like that – we’ll smile, sip from our coconuts and act like we’re on a drive in the country.’ He fixed up Jasmine’s gown to look a bit more like a dress, then said, ‘Honey, you talk to them about your family, say they’re in Surin or something, if they ask. And here,’ he passed a couple hundred baht to the driver, ‘give them this if they hesitate.’
They drove up to the policemen slowly, sipping on their (now empty) coconuts. As Bob had indicated, he and Jasmine smiled and waved as they approached. The driver rolled down his window, telling them that he was driving these tourists to see the elephants in Surin, even though the festival wasn’t for a few months.
Jasmine added from the back, ‘Sawadee ka! (hello),’ followed by a brief explanation in Thai. As expected, there was a pause, with the officer looking longer into the back seat than they really wanted.
And so, Kiat offered him $200 baht, palmed discreetly into the officer’s hand. That brought a smile to his face. He waved them on and they sped off down the lonely highway.
‘Hope there’s no more of those ahead!, Bob exclaimed, as he finally breathed out.
‘Oh, there’s bound to be some more. We are in the border area after all,’ Jasmine replied.
Bob asked the driver if he had a map of the region. Luckily, there was one in the glove box. Bob studied it for a few minutes, then talked quietly to Jasmine.
‘Listen honey. If it gets too difficult up ahead, we need a Plan B.’ She looked at him quizzically. ‘You know, what if we can’t get to your parent’s home? What then?’
She hadn’t thought of that possibility before. Her strength seemed to melt before his eyes as she leaned into him. ‘I don’t know what to do then, Bob. Please, you have to get us out of this somehow. Protect me.’ Then she closed her eyes and held onto his arm for support.
About an hour further on their minds were made up for them. Coming around a long bend in the road they saw up ahead yet another roadblock on the way into Ban Klong Luek. This one looked more formidable, staffed by at least three police cars.
There was a fork in the road a ways before the roadblock, though, and he directed Kiat to take the smaller road to the left. It headed northeast towards the village of Te Phraya, near the border. Beyond that, the map showed that the main road didn’t go any further in that direction, turning sharply northwest instead to head towards Buriram.
Once they got near Te Phraya, Bob didn’t want to risk any more roadblocks. He was considering what to do when he looked ahead and said, ‘What’s that, up by the forest?’ It seemed to be a sign for a small tourist operation at the side of the road. As they got closer Bob could see that it was for elephant rides through the jungle along the border. The sign pointed up a side road towards Thap Sadet.
‘This’ll have to do. Jasmine, because of these roadblocks, I don’t think that we should take the direct route to Buriram. Are you up for an elephant ride? Time for Plan B, Bob style!’
She looked at him as if he was crazy, then a small smile flashed across her face. He took that as a ‘yes’.
It didn’t take then long to get to the business they were seeking. ‘Kiat, help me with Jasmine please.’ They struggled her out of the car and sat her on a nearby bench. Bob told Jasmine, ‘Say we want a ride east; don’t let them know it’s only one way, though.’ Then he went to call the owner over. They talked for a few minutes with Jasmine in Thai and reached some agreement.
‘What does he want?’ Bob asked her.
‘It’s $500 baht each for a ride on an elephant together. It comes with a platform for us to sit on, like we did before in Phuket. I told them we’d like a long ride today eastwards, returning at sunset. For romance.’
‘And they bought it?’
‘Here, kiss me – then they will.’
He held her close and they embraced for a long time. He loved her so much right now. ‘OK, let’s sort things out with Kiat and then get going.’
He turned to their loyal driver, who was getting the rest of their belongings out of the taxi. He even carried their shotgun in the sheet!
‘Kiat, thank you SO much for all of your help today! Kapun krup! (thank you)’ He bowed as he said that, handing him some folded bills as he shook his hand. ‘You’ve literally been a life saver for us. Here’s another $1000 for keeping quiet about us on your way home. After that, you can do what you want. We’ll have had a big enough head start by then and we don’t want to get you in any trouble. You can even tell them we forced you to take us if you want.’
‘No, I won’t say that. I believe your story. There’s lots of bad cops in Thailand, more bad ones than good ones. You’ve both been good to me. This money will help my family as well. Now go, take your romantic elephant ride together. And take good care of her – get her to a hospital if you can!’
He helped them get her onto the elephant’s back, seating her on the platform and buckling the safety belt securely around her waist. Then Bob climbed on beside her with their things.
‘Hut, hut hut!’ the elephant trainer said, riding on the big bull’s neck. Then they were off through the jungle, without looking back once.
4 Beginnings
As they headed east along the path through the jungle, Bob was at first apprehensive, wondering if the elephant’s rolling gait would cause Jasmine to feel sick or perhaps open up her wound. He checked her a few times, but each time she reassured him that she was fine.
‘Thank you my sweetheart. It’s so romantic rolling around on an elephant’s back!’ she said as she winced in pain. Then she leaned against him, kissed him lightly and quickly fell asleep.
It was cooler in the jungle, under the canopy of the rainforest. He asked the trainer if he was busy lately.
‘No, not good. Red shirts bad for business. No tourists come this way any more; not much before anyway. Some go across to Cambodia at Ban Klong Luek back there, others go across at Chomg Chom up ahead. In between Thap Sadet and Chong Chom, nothing. Just forest and us.’
‘My name is Bob, this is Jasmine,’ he said, pointing to his sleeping wife. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Nok. This my best elephant, Nakrop. That mean Warrior! I cut back tusks so he no cause too much trouble to anyone.’
‘Well, hi Nok and Nakrop. This trail, does it go far?’
‘Oh yes. It follow border to Chong Chom. Army patrols area before. Now they gone.’
‘Is it safe here now? I mean, there’s just us here, right?’
‘No one else. Just us and jungle. Village people no come this way, no tourists now and Khmer know better than cross border.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Mines, many. No go off trail, even if need toilet!’
‘OK, fine. Thanks for the info Nok. I’ll rest for a bit now too.’
He supported Jasmine as they rolled together on the platform above Nakrop. Bob listened to the forest birds calling as he thought back to the first time he’d held her. It was a magical time then.
She’d met him at a café below his hotel in Khon Kaen. She looked so lovely and her smile was more beautiful in person than in her pictures.
‘Sawadee ka!’ she announced musically as she approached him, bowing and doing a wai in the traditional way (with her hands together, pointing upwards) at the same time.
‘Sawadee,’ he replied and did a wai back. She sat opposite. He pointed to the menu and she ordered a cool drink in Thai from the waitress, iced coffee he thought. Then she turned to him with an expectant look on her face.
It was his turn now. He ordered coffee, then looked in her eyes before beginning.
‘I’ve waited for this moment for a long time, Noi. Thank you for coming to meet me here.’
He waited for her to reply. Finally, she just said, ‘Kapun ka.’ Then she opened her electronic dictionary and typed into it furiously for a few moments. Looking up, she continued, ‘I hope you have good trip?’
He confirmed by that her English was limited; he’d thought that before during an attempted phone call the previous week. But, no bother, she was beautiful and here with him. He drank in her eyes and her smile for a while longer. He felt so lucky!
‘Noi, don’t worry about saying too much. I like to talk. I was a university lecturer before after all.’
She looked at him questioningly, so he carried on, ‘Listen, I know a nice translator lady, Tuk, who I met on the plane. She’ll help us later if we want to talk more. For now let’s just enjoy our time together.’
He hoped she’d caught most of what he’d said. She seemed happy enough to wait for their drinks, and to sip on them after they arrived. He reached over to hold her hand lightly.
Then he opened up his Thai phrasebook and told her, ‘Kuhn suai mak!’
She giggled at that. He’d told her she was beautiful! ‘Kapun KA!’ she replied more loudly than before, as she squeezed his hand.
He pointed to her dictionary and she showed him how to use it. He typed in a few key words in English, such as translator (after which he said, Tuk), lecturer (pointing at himself) and cute (pointing at her). She liked that.
He showed her some photos of his family, home and city in Australia, using the dictionary at times to explain things a bit. She seemed totally entranced by it all.
Their first time together went by much too quickly – he was due to see another prospective mate in about half an hour. She knew he was doing that, but still acted positive. After being with her, he didn’t really feel like seeing anyone else. But it would be rude to cancel at this late stage. And so, he arranged to see her at breakfast tomorrow instead, with Tuk there to translate for them. Then he sadly said good bye, kissing her briefly on the lips after he said so.
He looked down at Jasmine, lying quietly against his arm. She’s so sweet. She is now and she was then. Nothing much had changed, except their love was deeper and he had to get her to better medical care – soon.
Realising their predicament more fully, he asked the trainer, ‘How much longer before we get to the rest stop?’
‘Oh, not much further now. We have some fruit stashed there, away from monkeys. Mostly for elephant, but you have some if want.’
Once they got over the next little rise, the stop came into view. The elephant seemed glad to be able to pause, though his riders stayed onboard. Nok got the fruit ready for Nakrop and brought them a few bananas too. He also sliced the tops off two green coconuts, which proved quite refreshing.
Jasmine was a little sleepy still, but she drank her fill before enquiring of Bob, ‘What are we going to do? We’re almost at the turnaround point I think.’
Bob pondered this for a while, then called Nok over. ‘Listen, we need to get to the next border post, and then on to Surin. Jasmine here’s been injured badly – a run in with some corrupt police in Pattaya yesterday, and she needs medical help. But we have to be careful, as the cops are looking for us.’
Nok eyed them suspiciously while the elephant munched contentedly on the bananas. Then he asked, ‘What you want me do?’
‘Well, we’d like a lift on Nakrop to Chong Chom overnight if we could. I’ll pay you well for it. Please – we don’t have any other options right now!’ he implored of him.
Nok thought about this as he stroked the elephant’s trunk. ‘Well, no like cops much. I see she need help,’ he replied, pointing at Jasmine. ‘And business bad now. How much for ride?’
‘How about another $1000 baht – each?’
The offer appeared to perk up Nok, who grinned broadly for the first time. ‘You are fine man, Bob. No take that much for help your beautiful wife. If I get you Surin too, then more, OK? But elephant slow – no go fast with her on back!’
Jasmine said something to him in Thai and then did a wai towards him before turning to Bob. ‘I thanked him for all his help and said going slow is fine, just get us there safely.’
Bob addressed Nok and added, ‘We’ll need more food somehow, plus fluids.’
Nok thought for a moment, then smiled again. ‘We get fruit from forest – Nakrop, with big nose, he sniff out.’ He made a face to show how the elephant would do that. ‘Plus he find more coconut for you too! We get there maybe tomorrow, maybe next day, OK?’
Bob nodded and the two men sealed their agreement with a firm handshake, after which Nok directed Nakrop to head down the track, shouting ‘Hut, hut!’ so that the elephant would pick up his pace a bit. Nok had found an old blanket at the rest stop and passed it back to cover them for the night. They hoped the elephant would remember the way, staying on the path; they didn’t want to wake up by straying onto a land mine!
She snuggled into Bob’s arms as he wrapped her in the blanket. ‘Thank you, Bob. Plan B is a good one. Wake me when we get near the border post.’ When he looked concerned, she added, ‘You know, elephants are good luck in Thailand.’ Then she dozed off, her head resting on his side.
Bob continued reminiscing as Nakrop settled into a steady pace. He remembered how, by the time he’d left Thailand on his first trip there, he was pretty certain that Noi was ‘the one’ for him.
He’d kept that thought alive across the Pacific, on his way to visit his family in Canada. He’d found out much more about her through a couple of meetings with Tuk before their farewell. They’d embraced at the airport and she’d kissed him lovingly before he departed. All seemed fine.
By the time he got to his mother’s home, he was ready to call off the next leg of his bride quest, to the Ukraine. He was due to meet another five women there; he’d already met eight in Thailand. A call to Noi only made him feel more unfaithful for carrying on checking out mates.
As he spoke to her, with her replying in halting English, he said that he’d like to try something out on her if he could. ‘Noi is a nice nickname for you, but it sounds a bit like annoy to me, which means to bother someone; the way Kiwis – New Zealanders – say no also sounds like Noi. How about a new name – a nicer one for you?’
When she didn’t say anything, he thought he might as well give it a go. ‘Jasmine – it means sweet smelling flower. It’s an Asian name and I think it suits you. It’s pretty, like you. What do you think?’
She paused, and then he could feel her smile over the phone, as she said, ‘That’s nice Bob. I like it!’
He was happy at that. They chatted briefly and then he said good bye, this time to Jasmine. He said he’d call her once he got back to Australia in a couple of weeks.
He felt sad that they were apart, but by the next day, after talking with some old friends and his mother, he figured that he might as well see the Ukrainian women too. The flights were booked and the fee had been paid for his meetings with prospective brides. A way to contrast women from different continents and cultures, that’s all he was doing. What could he lose?
He was thinking that as he fell asleep, rolling along on Nakrop. He awoke to Nok gently shaking his leg as they got closer to Chong Chom.
‘Hey, Mister Bob. It morning. Time to wakee. We bout half way to border post now. I tell you what we do bout Surin – I have idea.’
He stopped the elephant in a hollow just off the trail and jumped down. Then he helped Bob off as well. They let Jasmine sleep. He led Bob off a ways and then crouched on his haunches.
Drawing in the dirt, he indicated, ‘You see this – border post. And there? That main road – Surin. I figure I go with money, get you car, maybe taxi. Don’t know. Last time I there for elephant festival, few years back. Got Nakrop then, elephant yard.’
Bob pulled his map out and looked from it to the dirt and back again. ‘This way here, to the east of Surin. Is it hard to get to the Mekong if we need to?’
‘I no go that way before. Why you go there? You said Surin.’
‘In case things don’t go well there, we need to keep moving. But your plan for Surin is good; we’ll try that first.’
The next day went by in a blur. Walking slowly through the forest on the elephant, Jasmine would wake up occasionally and look at Bob before falling back to sleep. She was placing her trust in him completely. He made sure that she drank coconut milk at each stop and ate some fruit. He also covered her again that night and cuddled her up to him to keep her warm. But he knew that she still needed medical attention soon and he was getting very worried about her condition.
And so, when Nok woke him the next morning near dawn, Bob was happy to hear that they were finally near Chong Chom.
Bob got down and Nok led him along the path a short distance, then told him, There through trees. See? You wait here. I be back by lunch. That OK?’
Bob was concerned that they were being left on their own; however, he knew that he didn’t have a way to make the plan any better – they were in Nok’s hands now, so they’d have to run with it and hope for the best. ‘Do you have any more food for us?’
‘I get some at checkpoint before go.’ After getting some money from Bob, he ran off. When he came back, they went to check on Jasmine. She was still sound asleep.
‘Here’s some money for the car – is that enough? We may need the car to take us further east after Surin; we’d likely need it at least til tomorrow.’ Bob handed him $2000 baht.
‘That plenty. I bring back change for you! Now, no worry. Nakrop good elephant! I be back – soon! Like Arnold in Terminator. Good bye!’
He ran off through the jungle toward the highway as it was getting light. Jasmine awoke due to the shouting. Seeing that they were alone with Nakrop she asked, ‘What’s happening? Where’s Nok?’
‘It’s OK. He’s gone off to Surin to get us a car. He should be back by lunch. He got us some food too – here, have some.’