Analu stared at Sam with wide eyes in the rearview mirror. “You sure?”
“Never more so. And we’ll need you to translate if they don’t speak English,” Remi said.
The expression on Analu’s face clearly indicated he wished he’d asked for more details about their errand before accepting the job. As a native, he’d been raised to understand that going to the police station was right up there with juggling hatchets in terms of prudence. Still, he put on a brave show and nodded as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Which would have been more convincing if his face hadn’t blanched at least three shades lighter.
When they reached the town center, Analu made a right turn and drove up a block, then parked in a muddy lot in front of one of the few concrete buildings, the rest fashioned out of wood and painted gaudy colors. He shut off the engine, which wheezed like a chain-smoker before expiring with a shudder, and they climbed out into the muggy swelter. Sam eyed the building, which seemed barely large enough to house a few desks and a cell. He motioned for Analu to lead the way.
Inside, two wiry men with thick heads of greasy black hair sat behind a counter, smoking hand-rolled cigarettes, their uniforms stained with sweat despite the fan blowing a tepid stream of air their way. A portable radio on one of the desks blared a pop song that would have been insipid in any language. They looked up with drooping eyes as Analu made a cautious introduction. One of the officers stood, went into the back, and emerged after half a minute with a short, plump man in his forties who looked like he’d just woken up. The man buttoned his uniform shirt with clumsy fingers and then barked an annoyed question at Analu, who smiled with trepidation and embarked on a rambling explanation of why he’d interrupted the captain’s afternoon rest.
The captain mopped at his perspiring face with a soiled cloth handkerchief and grunted and then asked another question, this time with a distinct tone of menace. Analu nodded like a buffoon and turned to Sam.
“He want to know what you looking for. I tell him you important guests of Laotian people and have questions, yeah?”
Sam cleared his throat. “Tell him that we’re looking for a British man who was either in custody or owed money to the police here about a month or so ago. The gentleman’s name is Lazlo Kemp.”
The plump man’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Lazlo’s name. Analu translated and the captain waved him away with an abrupt gesture, then fixed Sam with a calculating stare.
“What you want with him?” the man demanded in fractured English.
“We’re friends of his. We haven’t heard from him for months. We’re worried. And we have news for him,” Remi said. The official ignored her, waiting for Sam to speak.
“We need to talk to him and we were hoping you might know how to reach him,” Sam said. “I’d be extremely grateful if you could help. Extremely.”
The man glanced at Remi and returned his attention to Sam, his expression now more one of cunning than annoyance. “You friend?”
“Yes. A generous friend whose problem you might be able to solve.”
“How generous?”
“A hundred American.”
The Laotian official scoffed and the negotiation began. “A thousand.”
Sam shook his head at the preposterous figure. “Hundred fifty.”
Three minutes later, Sam counted out two hundred fifty dollars and handed the bills to the captain, who showed absolutely no concern at his extortion being viewed by his subordinates. He took the money and fingered each note as if suspicious that Sam had printed them that morning and then they disappeared into his pants in a blink. He pulled a pen from his shirt pocket and scrawled an address and a name on a scrap of notepaper.
“Talk to Bane. Maybe he see English,” he said, and handed the slip to Analu, who looked at it like it was a live scorpion.
Back in the car, Analu turned to them with concern etched across his face. “This not good.”
“No, my suspicion is it won’t be,” Sam said. “But we need to find our friend.”
Analu coaxed the engine into life and they set out up the highway, turning toward the river onto a rutted dirt road after a hundred yards. They bounced along before they stopped at a complex of structures that looked ready to collapse under their own weight at the slightest breeze. Analu stared at the entry and shut off the motor with a shake of his head.
“We here. Need to pay again for information. Man who owns this very dangerous.”
“Remi, why don’t you stay here this time?” Sam said as he swung his door open.
“And miss all the fun?”
“I think I’ll pay a lot less if I don’t have a beautiful woman with me.”
“Always looking for the bargain, aren’t you?”
“It’s my nature.”
“Fine. Just don’t get yourself killed. I’d have a lot of explaining to do to Selma and the gang.”