Read Cockroaches: The Second Inspector Harry Hole Novel for Free Online Page B

you’re a
farang
, it’s more the opposite.”
    “Farang?”
    “Honky. Gringo. Half derogatory, half neutral, all depending how you play it. Just remember, there’s nothing wrong with the Thais’ self-esteem even if they treat you politely. Fortunately for you, Sunthorn and Nho are on duty today, and I’m sure you’ll manage to impress them. I hope so for your sake. If you make a fool of yourself you could have big problems working with the department.”
    “I had the impression you were in charge of that department.”
    “That’s what I think.”
    They had joined the motorway and, ignoring the engine’s protests, she pressed the accelerator to the floor. It had already begun to get dark, and in the west a cherry-red sun was going down between the skyscrapers.
    “At least pollution creates beautiful sunsets,” Crumley said in answer to his thoughts.
    “Tell me about the prostitution here,” Harry said.
    “It’s about as bad as the traffic.”
    “I’ve seen. But what counts here, how does it work? Is it traditional street prostitution with pimps, regular brothels with a madam, or are the prostitutes freelancers? Do they go to bars, do they strip, do they advertise in the paper, or do they pick up clients in the shopping malls?”
    “All of that and then some. If it hasn’t been tried in Bangkok it hasn’t been tried. But most of them work in go-go bars where they dance and try to persuade clients to buy drinks. And of course they get a percentage. The bar owner has no responsibility for the girls beyond giving them a place to market themselves, and in return the girls agree to stay in the bar until it closes. If a client wants to take one of the girls, he has to buy her freedom for the rest of the evening. The bar owner gets the money, but most of the time the girl is happy to avoid spending the evening writhing around onstage.”
    “Sounds like a great deal for the bar owner.”
    “Whatever the girl earns after her time has been bought goes right into her own pocket.”
    “Did the girl who found the ambassador work in a bar like that?”
    “Yup. She works in one of the King Crown bars in Patpong. We also know the motel owner runs a kind of call-girl ring for foreigners with special proclivities. But getting her to talk is pretty tough because in Thailand prostitution is actually illegal. So far all she’s said is that she was staying at the motel and went in the wrong door.”
    Liz explained that Atle Molnes had probably rung the woman when he arrived at the motel, but the receptionist, who was synonymous with the owner, denied point-blank having anything to do with the matter over and above renting a room.
    “Here we are.”
    She pulled up in front of a low, white-brick building.
    “The best brothels in Bangkok seem to have a weakness for Greek names,” she commented acidly and got out. Harry looked up at a large neon sign proclaiming that the motel was called Olympussy. The “m” flashed sporadically while the “l” had given up for good and lent the place a tristesse that reminded Harry of suburban Norwegian grill bars.
    The motel was identical to the American variety with a series of double rooms around a courtyard and a parking space outside each room. There was a veranda alongside the wall where guests could sit in gray, water-damaged cane chairs.
    “Nice place.”
    “You may not believe it, but when it appeared during the Vietnam War it was one of the liveliest places in town. Built for horny U.S. soldiers on R&R.”
    “R&R?”
    “Rest and recuperation. Popularly known as I&I: intercourse and intoxication. They flew them in from Saigonon a two-day furlough. The sex industry in this country wouldn’t be what it is today without the U.S. military. One of the streets here is even officially called Soi Cowboy.”
    “So why didn’t they stay there? This is almost rural.”
    “The soldiers who were most homesick preferred to fuck in the all-American way—that is, in an automobile or