One Night in Bango

This story is part of an ongoing series.

The chronological order of my stories is listed in WifeWatchman's biography.

Feedback and

constructive

criticism is very much appreciated, and I encourage feedback for ideas.

This story contains graphic scenes, language and actions that might be extremely offensive to some people. These scenes, words and actions are used only for the literary purposes of this story. The author does not condone murder, racial language, violence, rape or violence against women, and any depictions of any of these in this story should not be construed as acceptance of the above.

Part 5 - Bangkok

"One night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster,

The bars are temples but the pearls ain't free.

You'll find a god in every golden cloister,

A little flesh, a little history.

I can feel an angel sliding up to me."

--- Andersson, Ulvaeus, Rice, 'One Night In Bangkok'.

11:00pm, Monday, March 18th. Shane O'Brady and I walked into the front entrance of 'Bangkok'. It was a bar in one of the worst areas of the City. If the front of the building was the bottom side of a rectangle, the front entrance is at the bottom right. As we went in, I saw the bar at the far wall, in the center of it. On either side of the bar were a couple of stripper's poles, and one woman was on each side, scantily dressed, gyrating on one of the poles. The room was one-third-full, many of the customers in leather, some Punk, most BDSM participants.

There was a parking lot in back, fortunately. It was not full, being a Monday night. Even so, we did not take my SUV nor O'Brady's vehicle; instead, we borrowed one of the FBI's undercover cars, which looked like a piece of crap not worth stealing, but had a powerful motor under the hood.

"Whatever you do," I said to O'Brady as we walked on the grimy sidewalk along the side of the building towards the front, "do not mention the other three murders. Just Cash's. I want to see if he says something about the other crimes on his own."

"You suspect him?" O'Brady asked.

"No data yet." I said. "Until we have that... I suspect everyone." O'Brady nodded.

I was dressed in all black with the khaki trenchcoat, badge a bit better hidden on my belt, firearm in a holster on the back of my belt. I'd had to help O'Brady dress for the occasion; the sportscoat, slacks, and black loafers was not going to cut it here. He was in olive green khaki pants, a black pullover, a borrowed trenchcoat, and workboots.

"The cover is twenty, gentlemen." said a man at the front counter. He was short, wearing a black wifebeater-'ish' t-shirt. But I was looking at the muscle guy behind him, the bouncer.

"Butch Harmony." I said to the muscle guy, who'd worked at 'Whippet's' in my Town at the time of the 'Eyes Only' case.

"Well, if ain't the I.C." said Harmony, looking up and recognizing me.

"Here you go. For your personal courtesy." I said, handing Harmony a one-hundred-dollar bill, which was wrapped around my card, my TCPD card. "To watch my back, and to answer a couple of questions."

"These guys are all right, Mitt." said Harmony to the doorman. "Take five."

"They haven't paid." said Mitt.

"What did I just tell you?" snarled Harmony, glaring at the shorter, less muscular man. "You want to get your ass ripped? The

hard

way?"

"I'll take a potty break." said Mitt, slinking away from the counter, and towards an opening in the back right of the bar.

"What are you doing on this side of the State?" I asked Butch Harmony.

"Gotta find work where I can get it." said Harmony. "Whippet's is a dead club walking. And I.C... this place ain't safe, even for you."

"I'll keep an eye out." I said. "Actually, that wasn't my first question, which is: point out McGinty to me."

"Back left, table in the back corner." said Harmony. "Near the fire exit. He's the guy giving a bad name to trenchcoats. Not like you, I.C. At least you've got a sense of style."

"Nice to know I have a backup career if I need it." I said. "Second and last question: you remember Tomoko Shimono? Asian girl that came to Whippet's, looked like Asa Akira?"

"Yeah, I remember her." said Harmony. "Not my type; she was a woman. Last I heard, she came over all dead, murdered by that Westboro guy. He was a bad, bad man."

"Don't I know it." I said. "Thanks." With O'Brady in tow I walked along the back tables until I saw McGinty. Yes, the trenchcoat could not hide the sloppiness and sleaziness of the man, who in the face reminded me of the late Leonard 'Sergeant' Sharples, droopy mustache and all. Still... there was something about the guy. He wasn't quite the loser he was attempting to portray himself to be.

We walked up to his table, and he looked up at us. "Yeah?"

"Bundy McGinty?" O'Brady asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm O'Brady." said O'Brady. "I called you earlier."

"Not the same voice." said McGinty.

"No, it was my voice." I said.

"And I told you to come alone... Iron Crowbar." said McGinty.

I took the liberty of taking the chair to McGinty's right, putting it to face the stage like McGinty was facing, and sitting down. O'Brady did the same on McGinty's left.

"I see introductions are not necessary." I said.

"You should never go undercover." advised McGinty. "Everyone knows who you are."

"I'll keep that in mind." I said.

An attractive woman in a black corset, fishnet stockings, and black high heel pumps came up to us. Her black hair was pulled back, and her eyeliner was some kind of Egyptian-style tapering off towards her temples... no, those was tattoos, I observed. Her red-lipsticked-lips were full and sensuous, and her blue eyes were warm and inviting.

"What can I get for you guys?" she said, her voice sounding like honey.

"Another one." said McGinty, holding up his empty drink glass.

"I'm good." I said. I handed her a $100 bill. "That can pay his bill for tonight, and tonight only. You keep the rest, buy yourself something nice."

"Thanks." the girl said with a smile towards me. "And if there's anything you need, just let me know."

"Oh, I will." I said with a smile. Then I sat back down as the girl went to her other customers.

"Why didn't you tell us how to find you in here?" O'Brady asked McGinty.

McGinty grunted. "Harrumph. Shit, if you can't find me in a place like this, why in the hell would I help you? How'd you know it was me?"

"You give trenchcoats a bad name." I said.

McGinty did a double-take and then peered at me. "So whaddya want to know?" he asked.

We paused as the waitress brought McGinty's drink back. She looked like she was very used to this: she knew McGinty, and knew others met him here and probably paid his bar tab as I had.

When she left us alone again, I surveyed the room again, then said "Paul Cash. Westphalia cop. Murdered. I want to know what you know about that."

McGinty nodded. "What happened to him?'

"He was gunned down." I said. "Pro hit, very well done. Whoever took him out was very good."

McGinty grunted. "That's too bad." After a pause he said "Yeah, he came to me for some information. We shouldn't talk here. Let's go somewhere. We can exit out this side door, here."

When McGinty stood up, I saw that he was relatively short in stature, overweight but not blatantly obese, and that he had high blood pressure. His clothes had been high-quality at one time, but were very worn now. His fedora hat matched his trenchcoat, but as Butch Harmony had said, the coat was now spotted and threadbare, and badly out of fashion.

The door was a fire exit, but McGinty pushed the door open and the alarm did not sound. Interesting, I thought to myself...

Part 6 - Mr. Big

We drove up to the bar near the Federal Building that was called 'The Place'. We got the booth in the very back corner of the side room. McGinty insisted upon sitting where he could see everything, and I couldn't blame him for that. I also sat so that I could see as much as possible, leaving O'Brady to sit with his back to the door, sideways to the front wall and window of the room. After ordering food, and McGinty ordering a drink and me and O'Brady getting coffee, we began talking.

"Yeah, Cash called me a few weeks ago." said McGinty. "We met at Bangkok, just like you did tonight. He wanted to know about some murders that had happened over time. He also wanted to know about a guy named 'Mr. Big'."

I noticed that McGinty was watching both of us for a reaction. He only saw a face of iron passivity in my features. O'Brady also showed no reaction.

"Why did Cash come to you?" O'Brady asked as we all noticed a very attractive redheaded white woman and a tall, well-built black man come into the room. They took seats at a table closer to the front window, and were flirting and making a lot of eye contact. McGinty looked disgusted as he glared at them.

"Mr. McGinty?" I said.

He seemed to come out of a reverie, then turned and said "What? What did you say?"

O'Brady said "I asked you why Cash came to you in the first place?"

"Oh." said McGinty. "He came to me... because the first of the three murder victims he was looking into was my Police partner with the City P.D., Sullivan."

"What happened there?" I asked.

"We were working on a drug distribution case, eight years ago." McGinty said. "Sullivan worked his way into the group transporting the drugs. Or so we thought. We were going to make the bust at a warehouse near the Airport. Me and my men got there about five minutes late; I'd taken a turn expecting to turn right at the next intersection, but it was a one-way street going left. By the time we got it figured out and got to the warehouse... it was over. We found Sullivan, shot up. He was still alive, and whispered 'Mr. Big' just before he fell unconscious. He never woke back up."

"The City Police went through the motions, they put all of us on desk duty while they investigated." McGinty said. "I began trying to find out who this 'Mr. Big' was. Then all of a sudden, the City Police brought in the FBI. My access to computers was cut off, and I was suspended without pay. Three weeks later, I was fired... for negligence, leading to Sullivan's death. No hearing, no process, no nuthin'. The Union didn't lift a finger to help me. The fix was obviously in."

"Why?" asked O'Brady. "Did they think you were involved with it?"

"Let me just tell the story." said McGinty, a bit impatiently. "After I was fired, I looked for other LEO jobs. There was nothing out there. Soldiers were coming home from the wars and were being hired, at least that's what I was told. So I went and got a P.I. license, and I've been a P.I. ever since."

"I found out about six months later," said McGinty, "that one of the guys on the team ratted me out, went and told I.A. that I'd led the team the wrong way on the streets on purpose. They brought the FBI in to bypass procedures and make it look like a legit investigation. The guy who ratted me out, his name was Jeff Farley. He was the one that gave me the bad directions, then went and told I.A. it was all my all my fault.

"After I found out, I went looking for Farley, but he had disappeared." continued McGinty. "Some years later I heard he was working with some guy named Ferrell in the SBI. So we had a mole in our unit, and when Sullivan was killed, I was the patsy."

"So you took the fall." I said. "I'm sorry for the loss of your partner; I know that had to hurt. What can you tell us about this 'Mr. Big'?"

"I'll tell you what I told Cash." McGinty said. "He doesn't exist. Most people thought he was a creation of that Westboro guy. Mr. Big would supposedly show up just when someone was getting close to Westboro. Until you took Westboro down, Mr. Iron Crowbar." He took a healthy swig of his drink, then said "After that, there were sporadic whispers that Mr. Big was real, but I knew the truth from what I'd found out..."

Our food arrived at that time. I did not let the story stop me from eating. I was hungry!

"So what did you find?" O'Brady asked as we were left alone again.

"The real guy we've all been looking for," said McGinty, "is a man known only as 'Birdie Edward', and that's apparently a first name. He himself may have been using that Mr. Big story to keep himself hidden. But I found out that he was the guy behind the smuggling operation that got Sullivan killed. So... this is where we negotiate terms."

"Why, you----" started O'Brady but I stopped him.

"What do you want?" I asked, beginning the negotiation.

"What are you offering?" McGinty asked back, looking up at me under his eyelids.

"Right here and now," I said, "Five thousand dollars." O'Brady's eyes were wide as saucers as he looked at me.

"Make it ten thousand." said McGinty.

"I'll have to check back with the Director before I can do that." I said.

"Ten thousand, and one other thing." said McGinty. "I want you to clear my name in the Sullivan murder."

"Whaa?" I asked, shocked.

"Look," explained McGinty, "you are the Iron Crowbar. You are probably my last and only hope to clear my name, and this is my one and only opportunity to get you to work on my behalf. Ten thousand, and clear my name."

"I'll get you the ten thousand." I said, looking the bum P.I. in the eye. "I'll look into the Sullivan case... I'm going to anyway, of course... but I can't promise you anything. With the FBI, SBI, and City working together? That's tough to crack. And they probably left no traces after all these years, especially if it

was

a dirty setup."

"The

Government

never destroys a thing." McGinty said. "You find the proof, so I can sue the bastards and get millions. Otherwise, ten grand won't be enough."

"All right." I said. I reached into my trenchcoat and opened a hidden lining. I took out a stack of $100 bills, wrapped in paper tape, and passed it to McGinty. As he quickly counted the money and secured it in his coat, I looked around. The mixed-race couple were still at their table, holding hands, their faces close and smiling at each other. Ah, young love...

"All right, here's the story." said McGinty. "Birdie Edward keeps to the shadows. Very few people have ever seen him, and I am not one of those people, at least not that I know of. What I do know is that he's middle-aged, older than any of us here, that he looks 'distinguished', carries himself very well, and dresses very well. He occasionally personally oversees really big distribution jobs, and he has very well trained guards protecting him, military-class guys."

"What else?" O'Brady asked.

"That's it. There's nothing else." said McGinty, looking at him.

"What?" O'Brady exclaimed, almost too loudly. "For ten thousand dollars, that's it?"

"It took me years just getting that much." said McGinty. "I ain't in this for public service."

I kept my voice calm as I said "There has to be more. What are the shipments this 'Birdie Edward' makes?"

"Contraband." McGinty said. "Mostly drugs, I guess. That's what Sullivan and I were going after him for."

"You never told Cash of any way to contact this guy?" I asked. "Nor how to find out about his shipments?"

McGinty's eyes changed, and he realized I must know more than I'd been letting on. He said "I might can get that information. That's what half of this 10-K will go to. Is that what you want me to do?"

"Yes." I said. "Lead us to Birdie Edward, and Cash's killers. If we make arrests, you'll have a lot more than ten thousand in your pockets before too long."

The mixed-race couple got up from their table and walked hand-in-hand to the door, the woman giggling. He let her go through the door first into the main room. McGinty was staring at them, his face a mask of ugliness.

"I don't know what's wrong with white women, these days." he growled. "Letting goddamn niggers shoot their filthy seed into their white pussies." O'Brady gasped. I just had an 'oh well' look on my face.

"Oh, one more question." I said. "The FBI Agent that led the investigation of you. Do you remember his name?"

"How could I forget?" McGinty muttered. "Craig. Les Craig." I nodded.

We got up to go, eventually following FBI Special Agents Sandra Speer and Julius Jefferson out the door...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You gave him ten thousand dollars? For

that?

" O'Brady just about exploded s we drove back to the Federal Building after dropping McGinty off at 'Bangkok'. "Hell's bells, he'd given us Birdie Edward's name already. We might could've found out all that for ourselves."

"Maybe." I said. "But we've got the information, and we can get a lot more now." Then I grinned and said "And I have ten thousand more that I could've given him, but didn't have to."

"Good Lord." said O'Brady. Then he said: "Hell's bells, indeed... no wonder you get all the results."

"The money is marked, the serial numbers known." I said. "The FBI and DEA will be watching for it in any drug deals they catch. So... what do you think of McGinty?"

"He's an utter sleazebag." O'Brady grunted. "Can we trust him to have told us the truth?"

"He never contradicted what we already know." I said.

"Have you ever heard of this 'Mr. Big' before?" asked O'Brady.

"I heard the name when I was chasing down the Consultant of Crime." I replied. "McGinty was right about that... 'Mr. Big' was one of the Consultant's ruses. But we also heard the name as we were going after Marcie Harper. So we'll see what shakes out."

"What's next? asked O'Brady.

"I'm going home, get a change of clothes." I said. "There's one thing you might want to do, and that's to get as much sleep as you can, as often as you can. I get the feeling we're going to be keeping some pretty long and strange hours in the next few days..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

4:00am, Tuesday, March 19th. I came into the front door of the Mountain Nest. A handsome white dog came rushing down the stairs to greet me.

"Hey, Bowser!" I said as Bowser whimpered his happiness to have me home, jumping on my leg and running himself in circles. I sat down on the sofa and gave him a lot of skritchins, and he tried to lick my face as his tail wagged fiercely. He was really happy to see me, even more than he normally was. Then I saw Laura standing at the top of the stairs.

"He's been worried about you for a couple of days now." she said. "Why don't you come up and take a shower, and then tell me why he had reason to be worried..."

Part 7 - Tuesday Trials and Tribulations

"This is Bettina Wurtzburg, KXTC Channel Two News." said the redheaded MILF reporterette at 7:00am, Tuesday, March 19th, from the anchor desk of the KXTC studios. "The State House Judiciary Committee has postponed forcing Town & County Police Commander Donald Troy to testify before them this week!"

Bettina began. "State Representative Gloria Bernstein of Westphalia, a Democrat who won the State House seat vacated by the election of Sharon Marshall as Lieutenant Governor, asked the Committee to delay Commander Troy's testimony until next week. Representative Bernstein said that Commander Troy is investigating the murder of Westphalia Police Lieutenant Paul Cash, and should be given a few days to complete that work."

Committee Chairman Justin Madoff issued a statement saying Commander Troy's testimony would be delayed, but must happen next week, before the Legislative session ends." continued Bettina. "State Representative Nina Cortez was very angry about the delay. Roll tape."

Tape rolled, showing Rep. Cortez, a young Hispanic woman, shouting "It is more important for Commander Troy to be testifying about Governor Jared's abuses of women that made credible claims that the Governor sexually harassed them than to be investigating a murder that is not even in his jurisdiction. We should let the Pottsville Police handle the murder, and force Commander Troy to testify under oath so that we can impeach the white nationalist Governor Jared!"