realised she had a problem. It had been an incredibly hot day with temperatures way above normal, and she had been feeling hot and sticky since early that morning. She had had a long succession of meetings in stuffy rooms with no air conditioning and a picture had started to emerge. Or perhaps it was more of a suspicion. She could not decide which, but the follow-up work when she got home would undoubtedly answer all her questions.
Her return to Sweden was not many days away. In fact it was approaching all too quickly. It had been her original intention to round off the long trip with a few days of holiday sunshine down in Cha Am, but circumstances beyond her control had put paid to the plan, and she realised the most practical thing now was to stay in Bangkok until it was time to go home.
What’s more, her father’s latest email had made her uneasy:
You must be careful. Don’t extend your stay. Be discreet in your investigations. Dad.
Once the last meeting of the day was over, she asked to borrow a phone.
‘I have to ring the airline to confirm my flight home,’ she explained to the man she had just interviewed, taking out the plastic wallet with the electronic tickets she had printed out.
The phone rang several times before the operator answered at the other end.
‘I’d like to confirm my flight back with you on Friday,’ she said, fiddling with a Buddha figurine on the desk in front of her.
‘Booking number?’
She gave her booking reference and waited as the operator put her on hold. Tinny music began to play in her ear, and she looked idly out of the window. Outside, Bangkok was on the boil, getting ready for the evening and night ahead. An unlimited choice of discothèques and nightclubs, bars and restaurants. A constant din and a never-ending stream of people going in all directions. Dirt and dust mixed with the strangest sights and scents. Hordes of shopkeepers and street vendors, and the occasional huge elephant in the heart of the city, although they were prohibited. And between the maze of buildings, the river cutting the city in two.
I must come back here, she told herself. As a proper tourist, not for work.
The tinny music stopped and the operator was back on the line.
‘I’m sorry, miss, but we can’t find your booking. Could you give me the number again?’
She sighed and repeated the number. The man who had lent her his office was clearly losing patience, too. A discreet knock at the door indicated his wish to reclaim it.
‘Won’t be a minute,’ she called.
The knocking stopped as the endless loop of music resumed. She was kept waiting longer this time and was deep in reverie, imagining future tourist trips to Thailand, when the operator’s voice broke in.
‘I’m really sorry, miss, but we can’t find your booking. Are you sure it was with Thai Airways?’
‘I’ve got my e-ticket right here in front of me,’ she said irritably, looking at the computer print-out in her hand. ‘I’m flying from Bangkok to Stockholm with your airline this Friday. I paid 4,567 Swedish kronor. The money was taken from my account on the 10th of January this year.’
She could hear the operator working away at the other end; he had not bothered to put her on hold this time.
‘May I ask how you travelled to Thailand, miss?’ he asked. ‘Did you fly with us?’
She hesitated, recalling the earlier stages of her trip, which she did not want to refer to.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘No, I didn’t come with you. And I was not travelling from Stockholm when I entered Thailand.’
The names of a string of cities flashed on and off in her mind. Athens, Istanbul, Amman and Damascus. No, it wasn’t information anyone else needed to know.
The line went quiet for several minutes, and the man knocked on the office door again.
‘Will you be much longer?’
‘There’s a bit of a problem with my airline ticket,’ she called back. ‘It won’t take long to sort out.’
The operator came back on
J. S. Cooper, Helen Cooper