Revenge of the CEO

  Then there was Mercury’s former chairman, Sir Edwin Philby, who had sold him down the river at the first sign of trouble. Disloyal bastard!

  Billionaire, Vic Garland, had cheated him in a land deal that had led to his demise at Mercury Properties.

  Aspine hated all of them but that hate faded into insignificance when compared with what he felt for Jasmine Bartlett and her brother, Raj George. They had unfairly blamed him for the suicide of Jasmine’s husband, Kerry. The whore had held out the promise of seduction while planting drugs in his luggage, and her brother had tipped off the customs authorities at Changi Airport. They had framed him and made him endure eight years of a living hell. He had a special hate for them; he would leave them to the last and savour the thought of the pain that he was going to inflict. They had put him jail but they had also kept him alive, because every time he contemplated suicide he drew back, his throat dry with the thought that one day he would have his revenge.

  Aspine buzzed room service and ordered a steak before taking a bottle of whisky from the mini bar. It took only two solid swigs to destroy it and he opened another, pleased to see the mini bar was well stocked. He flicked the telly on and skimmed through Fox’s channels looking for the Singapore news before settling on the BBC. Ten minutes later a toffee-nosed announcer said, “The two escapees from Changi Prison seem to have disappeared without trace. Singapore authorities claim they do not know if prison officer, Lim Kim Wee, is helping them or was taken hostage or killed. Police remain confident that they will recapture the escapees.”

  No they fucking won’t!

  There was a knock at his door. “Room service.”

  When he opened it, with whisky in hand, the two thugs hadn’t moved. “Steak.” He grinned, exaggeratedly breathing in the aroma. “Suck it up, boys.”

  Aspine would have liked to have made a mess of the mini bar but after his fourth tiny bottle of whisky he was bloated and couldn’t drink anymore. Fuckers. You not only destroyed my appearance you shut my innards down as well. He knew he couldn’t go out, so he propped himself up in bed watching movies, until he finally lapsed into a fretful sleep. It was nearly midday when he woke to knocking and the sound of Chin’s voice. He stumbled over to the door, pleased to see the thugs had gone. “The money came through. Here’s a change of clothes,” Chin said handing Aspine a small suitcase. “You need to make yourself presentable. I have a photographer coming in half an hour.”

  “Photographer?”

  “For your passport and documentation. Think of a new name while you’re getting ready. Something that won’t draw unwanted attention and is easy to consistently sign. Come to my room when you’re ready.”

  There were shirts, sports slacks, socks, shoes, sandals and even underwear. The shirts were a little too big but everything else fit perfectly. It was yet another example of Chin’s efficiency, and while Aspine had had his doubts it was now obvious, he was the head honcho of his gang.

  Chapter 10

  CHIN’S ROOM WAS BUZZING with activity, but the thugs were no longer present. A photographer was setting up a white screen and lighting while Lee was having his hair restyled, and a makeup artist was working on his face. The transformation was remarkable and Aspine would not have recognised Lee had they walked past each other in the corridor. “How do you do that? He…he looks Chinese.” Aspine asked the makeup artist.

  She smiled, appreciative of the compliment. “You can do a lot with makeup if you know how.”

  “Incredible. I would’ve thought you’d need surgery to make changes like that.”

  “Not everyone can do it,” Chin said. “She is the best in Thailand.”

  “Why Chinese?”

  “China only introduced E-passports six months ago and the people who we use have a large supply of old Chinese passport paper and covers. Mr Lee speaks Mandarin and is well versed in Chinese customs, so a pre-2012 Chinese passport is perfect. A Thai passport would’ve been easier but he doesn’t speak the language.”

  “Won’t an unused passport create suspicions?”

  “It might, but it won’t be unused, there will be some departures and arrivals, including one into Thailand three months ago.”

  The makeup artist and hairdresser finished and Lee sat down before the white screen while the photographer clicked away. Lee then signed a number of blank sheets of paper. “It is your turn now, old man,” Chin said.

  “What country’s passport am I getting?”

  “Australian. It will be more than satisfactory for banking and identification purposes in Thailand, but you should not attempt to use it for international travel. You won’t be disadvantaged because you’ll need new documentation after your surgery. What name did you choose?”

  “Roger Cobram.”

  “You’re so obvious; you had to include a snake as part of your name. An asp to a cobra,” Chin laughed. “Don’t do the same when you return to Australia. Don’t drop hints and don’t try and be smart for the sake of being smart.”

  Fuck. He was mute for eight years and I now think he might be the only person I’ve met who’s smarter than me.

  “I may not go back to Australia.”

  “You will. The thought of avenging yourself is the only thing that kept you alive in Changi. Here sign these papers and we’re finished.”

  “When do I get my passport?’

  “Thursday at the same time as Mr Lee. He’s on an afternoon flight to Rio via Brunei. We’ll have to make him up again in the morning before he leaves for Suvarnabhumi Airport. What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

  “Something light to eat. Then I might go for a walk around Pattaya and buy a prepaid mobile. You’ll have to let me have some of my cash back,” Aspine said sarcastically.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Your photo’s been on all the news channels and someone may recognise you. I can get Chatri to buy you a mobile.”

  “I don’t understand, Chin. Singapore doesn’t have an extradition treaty with Thailand. I thought that was why we came here.”

  “You have no idea how Asia works do you? Everything revolves around money, and the Singaporeans have probably offered mercenaries like me, huge sums to bring you back. You’ve made fools out of them and there is nothing they would not do to recover face. I know your courts would treat your recapture by mercenaries as an illegal arrest or extradition, but the courts in Singapore would have no such reservations. You’d be better off and far safer surfing the net and watching television in your room. Until you have the surgery you should lie low.”

  How ironic. I’m free but still locked up.

  Chapter 11

  IT WAS THURSDAY AND the makeup artist and hairdresser took a little over an hour to convert Lee to the photo that appeared on his passport. He was dressed in a traditional navy blue Chinese tunic suit and sandals. Aspine marvelled at the simplicity of his disguise and could not imagine anyone challenging his apparent Chinese ethnicity. They shook hands and Aspine knew he should wish him luck and say he hoped his son would beat the cancer. I can’t. Yes, I offered you two million but never intended paying it, and you hired a killer to make sure you got paid. Fuck you. Why should I wish you good luck? If I knew it’d get me my money back I’d tip the Thai authorities off to who you really are.

  “Good-bye, Lee.”

  “Good-bye.” The little Singaporean man said, and then turned and followed Chatri out the door. It was a two hour drive to Suvarnabhumi and this was a flight Lee did not want to miss.

  “You are a very shallow man,” Chin said. “He got you out of prison, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to thank him or wish him good luck.”

  “And it’s my money that provided him with hope for the future. Did he thank me?” Aspine said defensively.

  Chin laughed. “You would have liked to have double crossed him and me if we’d given you the opportunity. I knew what you were like. Don’t you understand? If you cheat everyone you deal with, you’ll have no one to help you when you’re de
sperate. Don’t try it in Bangkok or you’re likely to end up in a dark lane with your throat cut.”

  Aspine sat in his chair, surly and quiet, staring at the carpet. When he looked up, he asked, “What happens now?”

  “I’ve decided to leave the hotel. Your room is paid until Sunday. You can take the laptop and I’ll give you two-hundred thousand baht and let you have access to Chatri for the next two months. He is far more than a driver. He was raised in Bangkok, knows it backwards and has many contacts. Do not upset him, as you need him far more than he needs you. He will take you to the plastic surgeon we use and you should aim to get the surgery done next week. By the time Chatri leaves you, you should have healed. You’ll no be longer recognisable and on your way to Australia. The surgeon will introduce you to those who can prepare a new passport for you. After you have it, burn all the documentation in the name of Roger Cobram. Leave no trace, because if you do, you’ll leave a trail.”

  “I’ll leave for Bangkok tomorrow. I agree, the faster I can get the surgery done, the better. I’ll tell Chatri that I want to see the surgeon as quickly as possible.”

  “I’ve left two envelopes in your room. The first contains a list of Thai contacts and their names and numbers. It’s only a backup in case something happens to Chatri, so hopefully you won’t need it.”

  “It’s insurance.” Aspine smirked. “What’s in the second?”

  “It has the names of some of my associates in Melbourne and Sydney. You may wish to avail yourself of their services. I’ve also left a number where you’ll be able to contact me. Don’t lose it.”

  “I won’t need you again.”

  “Don’t be so sure. You’d be stupid to run the risk of ever going back to Singapore. If you were fingerprinted, they’d throw you back in Changi or worse, perhaps hang you. Yet there is someone there who you hate, someone who framed you, someone you screamed about in your sleep night after night, someone who you’d like to hurt or perhaps kill. Mr George is a very important person and you’re going to need help. I know what you have planned for him. You talked about it in your sleep, night after night.”

  I’ll make sure that no one ever takes my fingerprints again.

  “What did I say?”

  “You yelled about planting heroin on him and the customs officials catching him in the same way they caught you. The ultimate revenge.” Chin laughed. “Frame him in the same way he framed you.”

  “I savoured it in my dreams,” Aspine said. “I imagined sewing a quantity of heroin into the lining of one of his suits and tipping off customs officials in Melbourne the next time he visited his bitch of a sister.”

  “It’s a good plan. It’s simple and easily executed. Mr George has more than ten servants, so access to his home would be easy if you knew the right people.”

  “You?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But it would be very expensive.” Aspine grimaced.

  “Yes, it would command a very large price.” Chin grinned. “One million dollars. Are you interested?”

  “You know I am,” Aspine said, extending his hand. “Thanks, we would’ve never made it without you.”

  “What a shame you couldn’t bring yourself to thank Mr Lee in the same way. I watched you trying to get close to prison officials for years while getting repeatedly knocked back. I never thought it’d happen and if you hadn’t got to Mr Lee we’d still be in prison now. So thank you. I’m glad I didn’t have to kill you.”

  “Would you have?”

  “In a blink. Good-bye, old man.”

  Chapter 12

  ASPINE ENJOYED THE WARM sun beating through the windscreen as Chatri drove past some of Pattaya’s many fine golf courses on the way to Bangkok. Palm trees and beautiful green foliage adorned both sides of the road. Young men riding motor scooters with their girlfriends sitting side saddle zoomed dangerously in and out of slower moving trucks and cars. Tourist laden buses raced toward them on the way to the playground that was Pattaya. As they got closer to Bangkok the traffic grew heavier and the palm trees were replaced by factories and huge billboards advertising anything and everything from Rory McIlroy and Nike to the latest BMW. Chatri was thirtyish, unusually tall for a Thai, and lean and wiry. Aspine asked him to contact the plastic surgeon to organize an appointment and had been pleased when he had told them to come to his surgery as soon as they arrived in Bangkok.

  Chatri pulled into an underground car park below a high rise building on Silom Road in the Bank Rak business district. They entered one of a dozen elevators and Chatri hit level 50. A few seconds later they alighted into a spacious foyer, furnished more like a palatial house than a surgery. The carpet was a plush white velvet and blended perfectly with bone suede couches and recliners with French polished walnut coffee tables sitting adjacent to them. The reception counter was a larger matching table, and a stunning Thai girl sat behind it with a small Commander Phone system on her left, a keyboard in front of her and the monitor to the right. It struck Aspine as strange that there were no patients in the waiting area and there was no signage on the walls. “Hello, Kannika. I have a patient to see Mr Sonchai.” Chatri smiled. “He is expecting him.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said, returning Chatri’s smile. “Mr Cobram, please come this way.”

  Sonchai’s expansive office adjoined the reception and the décor was the same with the exception of his desk that looked like it had been carved from a huge piece of redwood. There was little on it except for a pen, pad and large computer screen. The wall behind the desk was covered by degrees, diplomas and memberships of plastic surgeons bodies. Large windows provided views of the business district and Silom road. Sonchai was small, tanned with heavily oiled black hair and wore a white open necked shirt and grey slacks. “Mr Cobram,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome to Bangkok.”

  Aspine was still getting used to Cobram but this was not why he paused. The sound of the Thai sing song language was unique but what he had just heard might well have come out of Manhattan. “Thank you. Are you American?”

  “No, I studied at Harvard and then spent more than ten years at Mount Sinai Hospital’s Plastic and Reconstructive Department in New York. I’m afraid I became Americanised.”

  Aspine could feel the surgeon scrutinising him. “Your nose was broken quite recently. There is still some swelling,” he said, “and your cheekbones were fractured too. We not only have changes but a little repair work as well. Tell me, what you would like me to do?”

  “I want you to make me unrecognizable. I have a distinctive nose, a high forehead and a protruding jaw, so at a minimum, they have to be changed and I presume made smaller.”

  Sonchai came around from behind his desk and sat next to Aspine. “Look at me,” he said, and then he ran his hands gently over Aspine’s face. His fingers were surprisingly long and slender. “How old are you?”

  “I recently turned fifty-seven.”

  “You’ve had a hard life. Your face is gaunt and you look like you’ve lost an enormous amount of weight.”

  “Over thirty kilograms, and yes, the past few years were very hard, but that’s behind me now.”

  “I not only can make you unrecognizable, I can make you look far younger. Would you like that?”

  “You want to do a facelift too?” Aspine frowned.

  “The surgery is extensive and the recovery will be painful. I can do exactly what you want and virtually leave you looking as old as what you do now. Alternatively, with a little extra work, I can have you looking a youthful forty-five. What would you prefer?”

  Aspine laughed. “Doc, that’s a no-brainer. Tell me what you’re going to do – in layman’s language.”

  “I will make an incision below the hairline and reduce the size of your forehead which will make it smaller and more youthful. The scar will be thin and your hair will cover it. I’ll remove the fat from your eyelids and the bags below them, this is a simple procedure but the effect is amazing. I will need to completely reconstruct your n
ose. You’ve lost an enormous amount of weight from your face so I will insert cheek implants to give you a fuller look. I will plump up your lips, and shave your jaw which is a minimally invasive procedure that will make it slightly smaller. Your ears are not pronounced but because we are altering the rest of your face, symmetry is vital, and I will make them smaller too. Finally I will do a full face lift with the stitches hidden behind your ears. It’s a bit like the cut and polish your car gets from a panel beater after the repair work’s been completed.” He grinned. “Let me take some photos and I’ll show you pics of the before and afters on my computer. What I show you will be very close to what you will look like after I’m finished and you have healed.”

  “Sounds good. My teeth are terrible. I don’t suppose you do teeth? I need crowns and implants.”

  “No, I don’t, but I have a good friend who is one of Bangkok’s finest periodontists. He will look after you. Is there anything else?”

  “Quite a bit,” Aspine responded. “I don’t know whether you can do it or not but I need a scrotum trim.”

  “It’s called a scrotum tuck and it’s not something I normally do, but it’s a simple procedure, so for you I’ll make an exception. Let me see it.”

  Aspine stood up and dropped his pants while Sonchai knelt down to get a better look. “Man, that’s some turkey gobbler.” He laughed. “Don’t worry, by the time I’m finished it’ll be as compact as what it was when you were a 16 year old. What else?”

  “Can you change my voice?” I’d like to tell you what to do with your jokes, but then where would I go? Besides, I like the fact that you were trained in the US and qualified to practice there.

  “It’s actually known as a voice lift, and yes, I can. I can make the change quite distinct but I cannot guarantee that you will not be croaky. Most of the time my patients have been fine.”