Noy came to pick me up at the hospital and drove me back to our apartment in Soi Thonglor, after we’d paid the hospital bill, of course. You get great treatment at the Bumrungrad, but it comes at a price.
She didn’t ask me any questions in the car, but once I was on the sofa with a cup of coffee in my hand, they came thick and fast.
Who had shot me?
Why had they shot me?
What had happened to the man who’d shot me?
Was he working for someone else?
The problem was, most of the questions I couldn’t answer even if I’d wanted to. It looked like a professional job, which means the hitman had been bought and paid for. But who would want me dead?
Petrov, the Russian, maybe.
Thongchai or one of the Kube investors.
Tukkata’s father, maybe. He hadn’t been happy about me going around to his house.
But I didn’t think that me asking questions merited any of them putting a price on my head.
Maybe it was one of the other cases I’d worked on over the years.
Hell, it could even be a case of mistaken identity. I wouldn’t have been the only middle-aged farang leaving the Bumrungrad and Thai hitmen aren’t generally known for being smart.
‘I don’t know, honey, really I don’t know.’
‘Is it one of your cases, do you think?’
‘It’s either that or someone on eBay thinks they got a raw deal.’
She folded her arms and gave me a withering look. ‘This isn’t funny, Bob.’
‘I know, honey. I’m just trying to lighten the moment.’
‘Someone tried to kill you.’
‘I know that honey.’ I touched the plaster carefully. ‘I think that’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?’
‘And they might try again.’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘They were hit by a bus.’
She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘A bus ploughed into the bike. I’m guessing they’re in much worse condition than me, and I’m pretty sure they won’t have had health insurance so they won’t be getting the Bumrungrad treatment.’ I sipped my coffee. ‘I’ll go and see Somsak tomorrow. He’ll know what’s going on.’
My mobile rang. I fished it out of my pocket and squinted at the screen. ‘Speak of the devil,’ I said.