Free Assignment Bangkok by Unknown Author

the man you call Uncle Hu. You did not talk much to the man we know as Mr. Chuk. You found the young boxer, Tinh, dying of poison. You destroyed government property in removing a microphone from your hotel room.”
    “Ah. It was you.”
    “And this is enough for us to hold you forever, under our military laws,” Savag went on smoothly. “However, I believe you prefer to tell me your real mission in my country.”
    “It’s to confirm your own job,” Durell told him.
    “My job?”
    “The insurgents in your frontier district seem to have a free hand.”
    “My job is intelligence.” General Uva Savag paused. “As is yours. But there is something special about you, I think. It troubles me. I do not like to be troubled, eh? So you will be frank and cooperative with me.”
    “I’ll give you the same answer I gave Chuk,” said Durell. “To hell with you.”
    General Savag did not look like the ordinary Thai. There was none of the pleasant geniality of the Thai peo-pie in him. Somewhere in his ancestry was northern blood, Chinese or Mongol, from ancient conquerors of Indochina’s tortured land. Perspiration shone on his round, brown face. Unlike most Thais, he sported a moustache. His uniform was extremely neat, the brass polished, and he had a swagger stick laid across the top of an empty, immaculate desk.
    A fan whirred noisily in the little office. They were in an empty barracks on the outskirts of Sampeng, not far from a highway from which came the rumble and racket of diesel trucks. The soldiers under Savag’s command were tightly disciplined, and they kept out of sight. A blue porcelain teapot steamed on the desk near Savag’s elbow. He drank noisily, and his obsidian eyes never left Durell’s face. He did not offer Durell any of the tea.
    “Are you concerned about Miss Slocum?”
    “Not particularly,” Durell said.
    “But she is an old friend, I understand.”
    “I don’t think she’s any man’s friend.”
    “Ah. You do not like her? And her brother? A rascal, a whorechaser, improvident, living on his sister’s hard and persistent labor.”
    “It’s not my problem.”
    “Is not Mike Slocum your problem?”
    “I’ve been looking for him,” Durell admitted. “He does odd jobs for me. We’re all trying to help your country—if Thailand is your country, General.”
    Something flickered briefly in Savag’s black eyes. “I will overlook the remark. You have had a difficult time since your arrival here. You could use some medical attention.” “Who told you about it?” Durell asked. “Miss Ku Tu Thiet, in James’ house?”
    Tiny muscles bunched in Savag’s jaw, under his ears. His eyes were malevolent. “We are both in the same business. Yes, yes. Miss Ku works for me. A lovely child. It is her duty to report to my intelligence staff. We are riddled with traitors, saboteurs, terrorists, Mr. Durell, who work for the enemy. I will not tolerate it, I will use any means, any tool, to learn what I must know. You interfere with my work. I will not tolerate that, either. I speak plainly, you see. Miss Slocum, by the way, will be sent home under protective custody. But you will be kept here. I will not soil my hands further with a fahrang like you. I shall turn you over to Major Luk, who will question you further. In the morning, you will be escorted to> the airport for a plane bound for the United States.”
    Durell felt relieved. He did not think he could tolerate any more abuse at the moment.
    Major Luk was in another office in the deserted barracks building, and through his window the lights of Bangkok made a pale haze in the night sky, seen through a screen of wild banana trees that had grown up against the outer wall. Luk was very polite, very urbane. He apparently ate at odd hours. He had a paper plate of Thai bacon and a bowl of pineapple and coconut rings before him, and he was putting lime juice on a slice of papaya when Durell was escorted in.
    “Ah. My apologies. You wish a doctor