An Angel with a Gun Read online

  “Did he tell you that we kill people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he tell you who we killed or where we dispose of the bodies?”

  “No.”

  “I think Frits has told you a lot. Maybe he has told you too much. If I don’t let you work for me then I have a problem. What can I do with you? I cannot just let you go if I don’t employ you. But I don’t have a vacancy for you. What would you do in my place Alfie?”

  “I don’t know. I definitely wouldn’t kill me though. That would be the very last thing that I would do.”

  The man with the long slim bladed knife laughed.

  “Can you be trusted to keep a secret Alfie?”

  “Yes.”

  The Albanian man stopped behind Frits. In one swift movement he held Frits’s forehead and thrust the long blade under his chin, up through his mouth. The blade went through his tongue and the roof of his mouth, behind his nose and between his eyes and through the front of his brain. Andy gasped and barely held in a scream. Frits didn’t move.

  The man walked back around to his side of the desk leaving the long blade embedded behind Frits’s face and piercing his brain.

  “Look at Frits, Alfie. You see he can’t move now. He’s paralyzed. He can’t talk, but he isn’t dead yet. He can still see us. He can still hear us. He will die soon. The slow bleed from his brain will kill him, but now he is just frightened and wondering what just happened. He is wondering why I have just killed him. I want him to know why I killed him before he dies. Why do you think I killed him Alfie?”

  Alfie glanced at Frits. There was a terrified look in Frits’s eyes that Andy would never forget. Fear and terror - a frightened panic. Frits looked back at Andy. He could feel the pressure building up in his brain. It felt like it was going to explode.

  “Why did I kill Frits, Alfie?”

  “Because he couldn’t keep a secret.”

  “Yes. That is right. He couldn’t keep a secret and secrets are very important in my business. I’m sure you understand, Alfie.”

  “Yes. I understand.”

  “Do you still want to work for me Alfie? I pay big money and give you free drugs if you do good work.”

  It seemed to Andy that there was only one correct answer and he didn’t hesitate before he answered.

  “Yes. I would like to work for you.”

  “This is good because it seems we are about to have a vacancy on our workforce.”

  The man walked back around the desk to Frits. He pulled the long knife down slowly from under Frits’s chin. When it finally came out Frits’s head flopped forward. Bleeding now from his eyes, nose, mouth and the wound under his chin, he was dead.

  The Albanian boss went through Frits’s pockets and retrieved a mobile phone. He checked it before handing it to Andy.

  “This is the most important thing you now own, Alfie. Guard it with your life. You don’t use this phone for any other reason than to receive instructions. We will ring you and tell you where and when to go - who to meet and what to do. You do not use this phone for any other reason in any circumstances. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “There is only one number on this phone. This is the only number that will ever ring you. If any other number shows up then you do not answer it. If you have a problem and it is an emergency then you can ring this number and only this number. I will pay you money each week because you are my staff and I will pay you for every job you do. I will pay you well. You belong to me now and I expect total loyalty. You do whatever I tell you to do. You do not ask questions and you never, ever, tell anyone anything about me. You don’t tell anyone about anything that you do or anything about what you see or hear and you never bring anyone here for a job.”

  He looked at Frits.

  “Your friend made a mistake. I don’t expect you to make any mistakes.”

  He handed Andy a roll of 1000 baht notes.

  “Get yourself some transport. I don’t care if you buy or hire, but you need a car. Get one today.”

  The ‘Boss man’ looked inside Andy’s rucksack and removed his passport.

  “We’ll look after this for you.”

  Andy was escorted back down the metal stairs and out of the abandoned warehouse. He was driven back into the city and dropped off in China Town. It was over an hour later before he stopped shaking. He thought about everything that had just happened. Eventually he managed to justify everything to himself and decided that he would work for the Albanian gangsters for a while and make some money before he would run away. He decided that he could always replace a ‘lost’ passport and then leave Thailand for good. He managed to rent an old Toyota car very cheaply from a motorbike hire shop that wasn’t bothered about taking a photocopy of a passport, although it meant that the deposit was more than the car was actually worth. At first Andy was convinced that the Albanians were following him. He was scared, nervous and paranoid. After a few hours he relaxed. He still had a sizeable roll of 1000 baht notes and decided to find a nice room to stay, but first he wanted to go back to Frits’s room. Frits was dead, so he decided that he might as well go and take anything of value from the room before the landlord did. Andy knew that Frits had some good ‘skunk’ in the room.

  Andy sat in a little bar opposite the scruffy ‘rooms for rent’ place where Frits had a room. He was feeling slightly nervous and sipped a cold beer while he watched for Albanians or police or anything else that would look like anything suspicious. Unfortunately for Andy everyone now looked suspicious to him. Every time he caught someone’s eye he was sure that they knew exactly what was going on and everything that had happened that day. There was no movement in or out of the unassuming black door that led into the rented rooms. Andy finished his beer, picked up his rucksack and walked across the street. The old Thai man in the string vest was asleep again so Andy helped himself to the key to room six from off one of the nails behind the sleeping owner. He walked along the hallway towards the flickering light that lit up the stairway. The buzzing light, the smell of stale beer and cannabis flashed a memory through his mind from the previous day when he was walking along the same hallway with Frits and the two French girls, Adele and Bibi. Just 24 hours ago his life was easy. There was no danger and no threat. He was safe, but now he felt as if he was in danger. When Frits suggested that he went and meet some people he hadn’t sensed any danger. Now he was angry at himself for not even thinking about it. He slid the key into the lock. From the room next door he heard a woman scream and then laugh in a way that suggested something sexual was happening. The sudden noise had frozen him to the spot and it took him a moment to relax enough to open the door to room six and go inside. There wasn’t a lot to search, only an old wooden wardrobe and possible the bed and the area underneath it. When Andy realized that he was holding his breath he breathed out and made a conscious effort to breathe, deeply and evenly. He was scared, but he was also experiencing a kind of rush. The danger and excitement was as intoxicating as any drug he had ever tried. He flipped the flimsy mattress from off the metal framed bed. There was nothing underneath it except dust and old tissues set hard with sperm. He searched the wardrobe. There wasn’t much to search - a few old clothes and an empty rucksack. There was a cardboard shoebox on the floor of the wardrobe with a towel thrown over it. Andy could tell by the weight that it was full. He sat on the metal frame of the bed and opened it on his knee. There were some hand written letters, but they weren’t in English so Andy couldn’t read them. He guessed from all the kisses at the end that they were from a girlfriend. There was a Siam Commercial Bank book with well over one million baht in the account. There was no bank card and Andy guessed that the Albanians would probably have it now. There were quite a lot of photos that had obviously meant something to Frits. There was 20,000 baht in cash and two diaries, but just like the
letters, they were written in Dutch. There was no passport and Andy guessed that the Albanians had taken it, just like they had taken his. He took the cash, the diaries and the letters, but decided to leave the bank book. He didn’t want to give the Albanians any excuse to terminate his employment contract. He hung the key back on the nail behind the sleeping Thai man and walked outside into the hot Bangkok sunshine. He looked around to make sure that nobody was watching him. It seemed to Andy that everyone was watching him, but he was feeling quite paranoid and he tried to shrug the feeling off as he walked along back towards his car. He wanted to get a nice room, but he wanted it away from Khoasan Road. Now Khaosan Road felt like a dangerous place to be and he didn’t want to be there. He got in the car and drove. He didn’t really know where he was driving to, but he stumbled on a small hotel down by the river. There was a small bar next to it. He liked the hotel. The room was clean and bright and he had a view of the river. It seemed to Andy that it was in a quieter part of the city. It was slightly rundown, but there was a bar and some shops. He didn’t see many farangs - only Thais and Chinese. He booked the room and got a special monthly rate. For the time being at least Andy was going to be staying there indefinitely. Andy exited the hotel by the back door, which led out onto a terrace overlooking the river. He walked along the wooden boards that formed a walkway to the bar next door. He ordered a beer and lit up a cigarette. He blew out a long stream of smoke.

  “I’m a fucking gangster” he said to himself, with some degree of smugness and satisfaction.

  Andy Machin was destined to become a drug runner. It suited his drop out lifestyle. It was easy money and he was usually too stoned to worry about the risk. It was only a matter of days before he did his first job for the Albanians. He answered the phone and went to where he was told. There he met the Albanian with the scar down his face. Drugs were loaded into his car and he drove them back to the abandoned warehouse in Bangkok. As his Albanian bosses gained confidence in him he was given more and more work. It always involved him moving drugs, but sometimes it also involved moving bodies. Sometimes he even witnessed the murders.

  Sometimes he was followed by the Albanians, sometimes he wasn’t. He didn’t know it anyway, but he never did anything wrong so it didn’t matter. He followed his instructions and delivered the goods. He was paid well and got free samples. He enjoyed life and felt as if he belonged to something special. He was part of a family - friends with power who would look after him. He was happy to belong. Well, to an extent anyway! He also realized that there was no way to leave his gangster family. He had been sucked in too deep. The only way to leave the Albanian Mafia was the same way that Frits had done and he didn’t want that. He had a vague idea in his mind that one day he would run away and go and live in another country, but the idea had no plan or structure to it. The months rolled on and when Andy wasn’t collecting and delivering dead bodies and drugs, he was exploring the city of sin that was Bangkok. He was being drawn into Bangkok’s neon nightlife and bustling bar scene. Its manic beer bars and raunchy go-go bars sucked him in like quicksand. The sexy and scantily clad young girls selling love by the hour were as addictive as the drugs he was snorting. His lifestyle might have continued indefinitely, but every now and again in life a catalyst comes along. Andy’s catalyst was a Dutch girl named Anna.

  Anna was blonde and beautiful. She had dazzling blue eyes and a smile that lingered long on her lips. She was captivating and she captivated Andy when he saw her sitting with a girlfriend in a go-go bar, watching the naked dancers wrapped around the stainless steel poles and gyrating to the music. Anna flashed a smile at the handsome Johnny Depp look-alike and it was enough for Andy to go and introduce himself. Andy kept both of the Dutch girls entertained and they had a night out around the city. When her friend went back to their hotel, Anna went back to Andy’s. They made love several times in between smoking joints.

  When they awoke in the morning they decided to go and get some breakfast after a shower. When Andy came out of the shower with the white hotel embossed towel wrapped around his waist it was purely on impulse that he decided to show Anna the diaries and letters that he had taken from Frits’s room on the day that he had been murdered. Anna started reading the letters and scanning through the diary. Andy could see from the look on her face that it wasn’t good. Her expression changed from one of intrigue to one of shock and then sheer horror.

  “Alfie! Where did you get these from?”

  “A friend sent them to me. I didn’t really know him, but I knew that he was Dutch.”

  “His name was Frits and he was a very scared man. He worked for some Albanian gangsters and he was convinced that they would kill him if he tried to leave. He had obviously written to his girlfriend in Holland, because these are her replies begging him to go to the police. In his diary he writes of a plan to introduce somebody else into the gangster family and make his escape. When was the last time that you heard from your friend Frits?”

  “I don’t know. Not for a long time. Nearly a year, I think.”

  “I think your friend might be dead. You should go to the police.”

  “Or, he might have escaped. But you are right. I will take these to the police later today.”

  Andy took Anna out for a breakfast in China Town and quickly made his excuses and left. She kept talking about the diary and Andy decided that it was time for them to part company. He had no intention of taking the letters and the diary to the police of course, but at least now he knew what was in them and he also knew that Frits was setting him up so he could escape. It all played on Andy’s mind. He knew that the only thing the Albanians cared about was the drugs and the money. They probably didn’t care who was collecting and delivering them. He decided that the only way out was to talk somebody else into delivering the drugs after he had collected them. In the meantime he could collect his stuff from the hotel in Bangkok and run away. The Albanians wouldn’t be too happy about it, but at least they would have their drugs and a potential new driver. If they didn’t like him they could kill him, but at least Andy would be gone, probably in another country. He decided that it wouldn’t be worth their time in looking for him. He could post the letters and diary to the police once he had escaped. It seemed like a plan was forming after all.

  Andy’s mobile phone rang. He had another job. As usual he didn’t know anything other than a time and a location where he had to be. This time he was told to be at the abandoned warehouse at 6 am the next morning. As always he was there on time. His battered old Toyota was loaded up with drugs and he was given an address in Khanchanaburi to deliver it to. It was an old tractor factory. Andy made the delivery and then got another phone call telling him to go to an address in Chiang Mai for another collection. As he drove through Khanchanaburi city he saw a tall man dressed in a small man’s clothes, standing at the side of the road. The man looked as if he had mental health issues. Andy stopped and picked the man up. He had met Steven West - a simple man who was easily manipulated. He had met the person who was going to take his place working for the Albanian Mafia. He introduced himself as Jack Sparrow and Steven West believed him.

  There was a slight problem when he found out that Steven West couldn’t drive, but it was only a small problem and he showed him how to drive the automatic car. He planned to let Steven West drive the drugs back to the warehouse in Bangkok and he would make his escape. He dropped Steven off in a bar in Chiang Mai and arranged to pick him up again after he had made the collection. He arrived at the collection point on time and met the Albanian with the scar down his face. The Thai drug dealer who met them had decided to inflate the price for the new batch of pure cocaine. An Albanian bullet through his brain meant that the Albanians got the drugs for free. The car was loaded up with the drugs and a dead drug dealer and Andy drove off. The plan would have worked except that the Albanians decided to follow Andy as they did sometimes. He was just unlucky. They reported back
to Bangkok about the strange man who Andy had picked up from a bar. One of the Albanians followed Andy back to his hotel room in Bangkok and the others followed the car.

  Andy was feeling exhilarated. Freedom was just a dash across the border away. He felt as if he was taking back control of his life. He wasn’t going to hang around in Bangkok and he started throwing his belongings into a bag as the Albanian man stood outside his room on the phone to the boss man. Andy didn’t have a lot to pack, just some clothes, toiletries and his drugs. He also decided to take the letters and the diary that he had taken from Frits’s room. He put his hand on the door handle and took one final last look around the hotel room that had been his home for the last twelve months. He had been happy there, but now it was time to go. Time to escape. Time to recapture his freedom. He opened the door and a heavy fist smashed into his face sending him flying back into the room and sprawling on the floor. The shock of what happened masked the pain, at least temporarily. Two heavily tattooed Albanians stood over him. One of them was stroking the heavy metal knuckleduster that he was still wearing on his right hand. The men didn’t speak. The man with the knuckleduster picked up Andy’s bag and the other man picked up Andy.

  The Albanians took Andy from his room and took him to see the boss in the abandoned warehouse. He was dragged into the warehouse and up the metal staircase to an office. The thin faced boss man with the mafia tattoos was sitting behind the desk waiting for him. He was wearing the usual white shirt unbuttoned to the navel, jeans and a dark coloured tailored jacket. The boss man stared at him through narrow angry eyes. Andy felt the chills running through his body. The floor had been covered in plastic sheeting and there was a hammer and some long sharp knives on the desk. Andy noticed two meat hooks hanging down from the ceiling on heavy metal chains. A sick desperate feeling filled his body and he felt his knees buckle. The Albanians either side of him held him up. The boss man flicked his head towards the meat hooks. The two Albanians pulled Andy’s clothes off his body until he was naked. They put handcuffs on his wrists and ankles and hung him facedown from the two hooks. The metal handcuffs cut into his skin and the pain felt burning hot, but he feared there was more pain to come.