The Noble Path: A relentless standalone thriller from the #1 bestseller Peter May (intellectual books to read .txt) 📖

one. God, she thought. Sex! The world was obsessed with it. She pressed the top button on the set and caught an old episode of Rawhide dubbed into Thai. The dialogue bore no relation to the lip movements, and it seemed incongruous to see a young Clint Eastwood squawking in a guttural alien tongue. She lay down on the bed, head propped against a pillow, and watched with amusement, eyes growing heavy as she drifted in a state that was neither sleep nor wakefulness. From somewhere deep in the memory of the Lisa she had been, she seemed to recall having seen a rerun of this episode as a child. She tried to remember how it went, but it was as elusive as her father, not quite tangible and always just out of reach.

She woke at eight to the hiss of the television, the screen a shifting mass of white dots. She dragged herself wearily out of bed and wondered if she had slept at all. She still felt just as tired as the night before. A coffee and croissant in the pizzeria downstairs helped to revive her, though she became uncomfortably aware of the many eyes that watched her here in the hotel lobby. Men and women seemed equally curious, though there was an intent in the dark eyes of some men that frightened her. She supposed it was unusual for a young Western girl to be on her own in a place like this.

Back in her room, she asked the hotel exchange to get her a number for Tuk Than. She rang several times over the next hour, but there was no reply. Her spirits, which had lifted a little with the morning, sank once again, and she began to think this whole trip was nothing more than a wild goose chase. She lay back on the bed and wondered what to do. She could always phone later, or even call round to the house. In the afternoon, perhaps. But what would she do till then? The city scared her. A place like Bangkok, a girl on her own.

Oh, to hell, she thought. I’ve come all this way, I’m damned if I’m going to spend the entire time sitting in a hotel room. And, anyway, if I’m ever to be a reporter . . . She remembered reading in a magazine on the plane an article about the Grand Palace. So she showered, and changed, put on her make-up, then went boldly down to the lobby and left her key at reception.

The city beckoned through the glass doors, a bustling street thick with traffic and people. She summoned all her courage and went out, and the heat wrapped around her like a hot, wet blanket. The heat. She had forgotten about the heat, and her courage wilted in it.

‘Taxi?’ One of several men loitering in a group outside approached her, touts trying to scrape a living from the tourists. He leered at her suggestively.

She hesitated, for a moment about to turn back to the safety of the hotel, then looked him straight in the eye and said with a confidence she did not feel, ‘Yes, please.’

He seemed surprised. ‘You wait.’ And he went down on to the pavement and waved an arm at the passing stream of cars. Almost immediately a white car with a taxi sign on the roof pulled in at the kerbside and a good-looking young man, with short, dark hair and a disarming smile, leaned across from the driver’s side and rolled down the window. The two men had a brief exchange, then the driver nodded and got out the car. ‘This man will take you,’ the tout said.

Lisa felt quite pleased with herself. Perhaps she would manage better than she had hoped. She passed the tout a few coins and he grinned and nodded his thanks. The young driver opened the rear passenger door for her. And now she was surprised. Things were looking up after the unpleasant experience of the night before. She smiled and got in, grateful for the cool of the air-conditioned interior. ‘Thank you.’

The driver spoke a polite, stilted English and, she thought, he really was very good-looking. ‘Where would you like to go?’

‘I have some time to kill. I thought I’d see the Grand Palace.’

‘You are tourist, then?’

‘Sort of.’ And she supposed that’s what she was, although it was not what she had come for.

‘If you want, I take you on tour of Bangkok.’

She hesitated. That might come quite expensive. But she had money, hadn’t she? She could afford it. ‘Why not? Starting at the Grand Palace.’

‘Okay.’ He smiled at her and leaned on the back of the seat, waiting, as though expecting her to say something more. Then, ‘How much?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘Well – just set the meter.’

His smile widened and he shook his head at her naivety. ‘In Bangkok,’ he said, ‘all taxis have meters. But they never work. You must agree price before or else driver will rip you off.’

‘Oh.’ She was not at all used to this. ‘Well – how much do you want?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You want me rip you off?’

She laughed at his directness. ‘I’d rather you didn’t. But I’ve really no idea how much.’

He began to laugh. ‘You are too innocent, lady.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Two hundred baht, and I take you anywhere you want for the day.’

She made a quick mental calculation and was pleasantly surprised. ‘Alright. But you decide where we go. I really wouldn’t have a clue. Do you want the money now?’

‘No, you pay after.’ He put the car in gear, slipped out into the traffic and glanced at her in the mirror. ‘You know anything about Bangkok?’

‘Well, no, not really,’ Lisa admitted. ‘Except it’s the capital of Thailand and Thailand used to be called Siam.’

He shrugged. ‘Is a start.’ He talked as he drove. ‘You know that Bangkok is only what foreigners call our city?’ She shook her head. ‘In Thai it means