The Kube was in Sukhumvit Soi 71, also known as Pridi Banomyong, named after the seventh prime minister of Thailand who ordered it to be built. He also founded Thammasat University, the country’s second oldest. He did a lot of good things for Thailand, and I don’t think he would have been impressed with what had happened in the street that bore his name. Two hundred and twenty three young people dead. Many more injured. And all because some Thai wannabe rock star thought it would be a good idea to let off fireworks in the middle of his show.
I paid the taxi driver and waited until a stream of motorcycles had passed by on the inside before opening the door and getting out. The air was stiflingly hot after the blisteringly cold aircon and within seconds my face was bathed in sweat. Panels of corrugated iron had been erected on a scaffold frame to shield the burnt carcass of the building from the road. Two uniformed policemen were standing by their Tiger Boxer motorcycles. One of them was drinking a can of Red Bull.
‘I’m here to see Colonel Somsak,’ I said in my most polite Thai. ‘He’s expecting me.’
One of them pointed at a gap in the corrugated iron and I went through. I could smell the ash and seared wood before I saw the building, or what was left of it. It had once been a two-storey building, the lower part built of concrete blocks and clad with wood, and the upper storey made of teak. Only the blocks remained, the grey concrete stained with black soot. The window frames had been reduced to ash and there was broken glass all around.
Somsak was standing in front of a concrete arch on which the name of the club was spelt out in yellow metal letters which had buckled in the heat of the fire. He was wearing his brown uniform that looked as if it had been spray-painted onto his athletic body, a peaked cap with gold insignia and gleaming black boots. His Glock was in its nylon holster on his hip and he was holding a transceiver as he spoke to a pretty woman in a black suit who was carrying a Louis Vuitton briefcase. Standing close by were two more uniformed officers.
Somsak grinned when he saw me and waved his transceiver. ‘Khun Bob, come and meet the Public Prosecutor,’ he said. ‘Khun Jintana, this is the Khun Bob I was telling you about.’
Khun Jintana smiled and managed to wai me which was no mean feat considering she was holding the briefcase. It was a nice wai, too, with eye contact before and after. I figured the wai was more out of respect for my wife than for me but I gave her a wai back anyway.
Somsak grinned again and hugged me and patted me on the back with his transceiver. ‘Good to see you, my friend.’
‘Terrible business,’ I said, nodding at the carnage behind him.
Somsak nodded. ‘You should have been here on the night,’ he said. ‘It was bad.’
Somsak was based at the Thonglor station, not far from my apartment, and the Kube was on his patch.
‘Will there be prosecutions, Khun Jintana?’ I asked.
She smiled, showing perfect teeth. ‘That remains to be seen, Khun Bob,’ she said. ‘The investigation is on-going.’ She smiled again.
I had spoken to her in Thai and she had replied in English. Perfect English, but then my Thai is perfect, too.
‘Two hundred and twenty-three dead,’ I said. ‘That’s terrible.’
‘Most of them teenagers,’ said Somsak. ‘And a lot of them underage. It doesn’t look as if they were checking IDs. And it’s two hundred and twenty-five. Two more died overnight.’
‘And how many have still to be identified?’
Somsak looked pained. ‘A lot,’ he said.
‘Is there are a problem?’
‘The bodies are in a mess,’ he said. ‘The ones with ID are done but if the fire’s destroyed ID and clothing then we just have work through missing person lists plus dental records and once we’ve done that the Central Institute of Forensic Science will start DNA testing.’
‘What about the foreigners? How do you about getting dental records for them?’
Somsak looked even more pained. ‘It’s not my field, Khun Bob. I wish that it was. I’ve been told that’s the way to proceed.’
Hierarchy was everything in Thailand. Bosses were never to be criticised, even when they were wrong.
‘I have to be going,’ said Jintana. She gave me another wai and walked away, swinging her briefcase.
‘Do you know who she is?’ asked Somsak.
‘The Public Prosecutor, you said.’
‘Ah, she’s much more than that,’ said Somsak. ‘She’s from a big family. Her father is an MP in Chiang Mai. Went to school with one of the owners of the Kube.’
‘That’s one hell a coincidence.’
‘My father always used to say that there are no coincidences in life, only opportunity,’ said Somsak.
‘Your father was a wise man,’ I said. We both watched her walk through the gap in the corrugated iron and onto the pavement. ‘So do you think you’ll punish anyone for this? For the deaths?’
‘Someone will have to be punished,’ said Somsak. ‘A lot of kids died here. A lot of hi-so kids. The phones have been ringing off the hook.’
‘What about the owners?’
‘It’s complicated,’ said Somsak. He jerked a thumb at the ruined building. ‘And after this it’s going to get even more complicated, I’m sure. The real owners invested in the place about five years ago, but they did it through an offshore company and used figurehead directors in Thailand.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘But not unusual,’ said Somsak. ‘Places like this sometimes get busted for drugs or underage drinking and the great and the good don’t like to see their names in Thai Rath.’
Thai Rath is one of the bestselling tabloid newspapers and the paper gives a whole new meaning to the word sensationalism.
‘And Khun Jintana’s father is friends with one of the figureheads or one of the great and good?’ I asked.
‘The latter,’ said Somsak. ‘But that’s the word on the street, you understand. No one knows for sure who the investors are.’
‘So I’m guessing one of the figureheads will be offered up as a sacrificial lamb.’
‘That would be a good guess, Khun Bob. Unfortunately two of the figureheads are now in Singapore. The other is somewhere in Isarn.’
Isarn, the north-east of the country, the poorest part of Thailand and the area least amenable to assisting the Bangkok police with their enquiries.
‘Do you think the investors can be held accountable?’
‘I would think not. They were just money men. But the figureheads were in the club every night. The club was making money hand over fist.’
‘It was an accident, right?’
Somsak grimaced as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. ‘It was an accident waiting to happen,’ he said. ‘There was no insurance, the fire exits were locked, there were more than a thousand people in the building at the time of the fire when it was licensed for seven hundred. There hadn’t been a fire inspection for three years and there were twice as many cars in the carpark as there should have been. One reason that so many died is that the fire brigade couldn’t get close to the building.
‘Who was in charge, on the night?’
‘The sons of one of the owners were there but they were entertaining in the VIP area upstairs,’ said Somsak. ‘They both died.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘One of the owners was downstairs when the fire broke out. He was one of the first out. Straight into a taxi without looking back. He’s the one in Isarn.’
‘He didn’t try to help?’
‘He fled the scene, that’s what we were told.’
‘What sort of person would do that?’
Somsak shrugged. ‘The sort of person who thinks he’ll be punished for his actions. His instinct for self-preservation took precedence over helping those who were trapped.’
‘And the fire exits were locked, you said?’
Somsak nodded. ‘That’s why so many died. There was only one way in and out and when the fire broke out there was a stampede and the exit was blocked. Everyone on the upper floor died, except for half a dozen who managed to break a window at the back. They jumped and are all in hospital, smashed up but they will probably live.’ He pointed at the left of the shell. ‘There was another VIP area in the basement,’ he said. ‘Everyone died down there. There was only a narrow stairway and when the power went it was pitch dark.’
I shuddered. It wouldn’t have been a pleasant way to die. But then again, few deaths are pleasant.
‘Why are you interested, Khun Bob?’ he asked.
‘I’m looking for a missing American boy,’ I said. ‘His parents are worried that he might have been in the club.’
‘I hope that’s not the case,’ he said.
‘You and me both,’ I said.
‘There were many foreigners in the building,’ he said.
‘Do we know how many of the dead are farang?’
‘The bodies were too badly burned,’ he said quietly. ‘In the aftermath of an inferno, we all look the same, Thai and farang.’
The two of us stood their nodding in the sunlight, the smell of death all around us. I tried not to imagine what it must have been like in the dark, lungs filling with smoke, everyone screaming and fighting to escape, the strong trampling over the weak, people choking and falling and dying. The lucky ones would have been overcome by the smoke, the unlucky ones would have been conscious as they burned alive.
I wanted to go home and hold my wife and tell her that I loved her and that if she ever went to a nightclub she should never venture far from the emergency exits.
‘If the sons were in the VIP area, who was minding the place downstairs?’ I asked Somsak.
‘The man who fled,’ he said, lighting a cigarette. ‘And a manager. A farang. From Australia.’
‘Where is he?’
Somsak blew smoke up at the sky. ‘Bumrungrad Hospital. Soi 3.’
‘That’s a coincidence.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I’ve got an appointment there tomorrow morning.’
Somsak frowned. ‘Are you sick?’
‘It’s my yearly check-up,’ I said. ‘Nothing to worry about. What about the manager? Is he okay?’
Somsak smiled. ‘He’s in hospital, Khun Bob. People generally don’t go there unless there is a problem.’
It was hard to tell whether he was joking or just taking me literally. Then he grinned.
‘Very funny, Somsak,’ I said. ‘I meant is he seriously hurt?’
‘Third degree burns,’ said Somsak. ‘He will live but he won’t be winning any beauty pageants.’
‘Do you think he’s up to receiving visitors?’
‘You want to talk to him?’
‘I want to see if he remembers seeing the American boy, that’s all.’
Somsak nodded slowly. ‘You can try. His name is Ronnie. Ronnie Marsh.’