Inspector Zhang And The Dead Thai Gangster Read Online Free

the empty seat by the window.   “Would you mind if I sat there while I ask you a few questions?”
    “Go ahead,” said Mr. Nakprakone, and moved his feet to allow the Inspector to squeeze by.
    Inspector Zhang sat down and adjusted the creases of his trousers. “I assume that you know that it is Mr. Srisai who has been murdered?”
    Mr. Nakprakone nodded.
    “I was wondering if you could tell me a little about Mr. Srisai.”
    Mr. Nakprakone frowned. “Why would you think that I would know anything about him?”
    “Because you’re a journalist and because newspapers don’t usually fly their staff around in business class.” He smiled and shrugged. “I am in the same position. My boss told me that I had to fly economy. The Singapore Police Force is always trying to reduce costs and I am sure that your newspaper is the same.”
    Mr. Nakprakone grinned. “That is exactly right,” he said, speaking slowly as if he was not entirely comfortable communicating in English.
    “So am I right in assuming that you are here in the business class section so that you could talk to him, perhaps even to interview him?”
    Mr. Nakprakone nodded. He took a small digital camera from his pocket. “And to also get a photograph.”
    “Did you talk to him?”
    “Only for a very short time. I waited for his bodyguard to go to the toilet and then I asked Khun Srisai for an interview. He refused.”
    “And did you by any chance get a photograph?”
    Mr. Nakprakone switched on the camera and held it out to Inspector Zhang. “Just one,” he said.
    Inspector Zhang looked at the screen on the back of the camera. Mr. Srisai was in his seat, holding up his hand, an angry look on his face. Inspector Zhang looked at the time code on the bottom of the picture. It had been taken thirty minutes before the plane had landed. “He obviously didn’t want to be photographed,” he said, handing back the camera.
    “Just after I took it the bodyguard came back so I returned to my seat.” He put the camera away.
    “So tell me, why was Mr. Srisai of such interest to your paper?”
    “He is a well known gangster, but he has political aspirations,” said the journalist. “There was an attempt on his life in Udon Thani two months ago and he fled to Singapore. But last week his uncle died and he was returning for the funeral.”
    “Political aspirations?”
    “He had been setting up a vote-buying campaign in his home province which could well see him becoming an MP in the next election. But someone put a bomb under his car and killed his driver. And shots were fired at his house at night, killing a maid.”
    “So he was forced to flee Thailand?”
    “We think he was just hiding out while he took care of his enemies.”
    “Took care?”
    Mr. Nakprakone made a gun from his hand and pretended to fire it. “There have been half a dozen killings in his province since he left.”
    Inspector Zhang nodded thoughtfully. “You think he was taking revenge?”
    “I am sure of it. And so was my paper.”
    “So it is fair to say that a lot of people would want Mr. Srisai dead?”
    Mr. Nakprakone nodded.
    “You say that his uncle died. What happened?”   Two flight attendants began moving down the aisles handing out drinks and snacks.
    “He was driving his motorcycle at night and he crashed. He’d been drinking and the other driver fled the scene.” He shrugged. “A common enough event in Thailand.” He leaned closer to the Inspector. “So he was shot, is that right?”
    “It appears so, yes.”
    “But that is impossible. He was perfectly all right when I spoke to him and there have been no shots. We would have heard or seen something, wouldn’t we?”
    Inspector Zhang looked forward. All he could see was the back of the seat in front of him. He couldn’t see Sergeant Lee or the pilot even though he knew that they were standing at the front of the cabin. “You wouldn’t have seen anything sitting here,” said Inspector Zhang. “But you