Chapter 24

“Sawadee krap, Sergeant Wiyapong, Lieutenant Simaron,” greeted Prosecutor Mil at the two men in uniform standing at his gate.

“Sawadee Prosecutor Wattana. You may call me Won.”

“Sawadee Prosecutor. You may call me Tan.”

“Please come in,” invited Mil. They walk a short distance to the main door. The house is not that grand, as it looks like a cross between an ancestral house and a modern one.

“This is a nice crib you have. Maybe old, but looks good,” said Lt. Tan.

“Thank you, K’Tan. This house is from my father’s parents.”

“Welcome to my humble abode,” said Mil, opening the door. Indeed, it is truly a gorgeous ancestral house. At the side is the stairs, black in color, and made of polished wood. It looks regularly maintained as it reflects the light from the ceiling, which comes from two chandeliers made of glass. There is nothing much in that floor apart from the wooden tables that hold vases, and the pictures of different persons that hang on the wall.

“We’ll have snacks upstairs gentlemen,” said Mil, as they approach the staircase.

“Just a glass of water for me. Thank you,” answered Sgt. Won.

“Same for me, khun,” said Lt. Tan.

“I think water won’t do gentlemen. Trust me, this will take long.”

Going down the stairs is Mil’s lone housemaid, Mau, who has just finished setting the living room upstairs. A young woman who is in her thirties, Mau was hired by Mil’s mother before his parents went on to live in Spain, with his dad being a Spaniard. Every Christmas, Mil would fly to Granada to spend the holidays with them and return to Thailand a week or two after New Year’s Day.

“P’Mil, the living room is ready.”

“Gracias, Mau. Bring some pie and sodas upstairs for our guest, por favor.” said Mil.

“Si señorito.”

“You both can speak Spanish, prosecutor?” asked Sgt. Won, surprised.

“Krap sergeant. I know only a little. Mau, on the other hand, is fluent. Mom taught her Spanish, so that she could understand some of my dad’s command. Dad taught me too, but only for a short time,” narrated Mil as they make their way upstairs.

“Impressive. Being multilingual is rare nowadays,” praised Lt. Tan.

“Thank you, lieutenant.”

When they land on the next floor above, Mil directs them to the left. A wooden table is in the center of the living room, and beside it is the briefcase that Ren left Mil the other night.

“Be seated, gentlemen. Make yourselves at home,” said Mil.

“Prosecutor, where is that evidence you were talking about earlier?” immediately asked Sgt. Won, wasting no time to begin their conclave.

Mil gets the briefcase and lays it flat on the table with its handle facing him. After opening it, he turns it around to show Sgt. Won and Lt. Tan.

“These are it, gentlemen,” said Mil.

“Who gave you this, khun?” asked Lt. Tan.

“Ren Krittanai.”

“I’ve not heard of that name before,” said Lt. Tan. “Sergeant?”

“It rings a bell. How do you know him, prosecutor?”

“He was my boyfriend.”

“Was?” clarified Sgt. Won.

“He is dead.”

“I’m sorry, prosecutor,” said Sgt. Won. “Accept my condolences. When did he pass on?”

“Last night. He committed suicide.”

“Pardon me,” said Lt. Tan in a tone that warrants some explaining.

“Ren was a mercenary working for Maledict Mingkit. He told me that through that recorder,” said Mil, pointing to the little gadget from among the contents of the briefcase. “He killed Doctor Sebastian Yankhun, the head of Pharm Institute, and one of his colleagues, Doctor Exeter Helman.”

“Were both scientists his targets?” asked Lt. Tan.

“No, just Doctor Yankhun. Doctor Helman is just an unfortunate casualty.”

“Please continue, prosecutor,” implored Lt. Tan.

“Ren committed suicide shortly after learning that Doctor Helman died. He told me once that he would end his own life if someone else unintentionally gets killed in his missions.”

“Excuse me, señorito. Here is your food,” said Mau, serving three tuna turnovers and three glasses of soda.

“Gracias, señorita,” acknowledged Mil. He, then, dismisses her and turns back to his two guests. “Help yourself, officers,” he continued.

“Honestly, Prosecutor Mil, there have been a lot of talks circulating that the Mingkit family is running some sort of underground business that involves black market, assassinations, and high-level heists. However, all of those are just rumors – no solid proof of any sort,” explained Lt. Tan as he drinks.

“Now you have proof, lieutenant.”

“Prosecutor, do you know why he told you to contact me?” asked Sgt. Won curiously.

“Do you still remember the bank robbery at Monk Avenue about three months ago, sergeant?”

“Yes, I remember that.”

“I sent him and two others there to respond to a bank robbery being committed.” It was Lt. Tan who answered, who received the call that day.

“Yes, that is right,” affirmed Sgt. Won. “When we got there, the robbers were attempting to escape. We were still on the move and about to block their way out of the bank when one of them shot the tires of our police mobile. I got out and looked for another car we can use to chase them, and...”

“And you approached a man on the other side of the street who was wearing a black jacket and was inside a silver Fortuner. Isn't that right, sergeant?” Prosecutor Mil cut him

“How did you know that?”

“He shared that to me in a phone call that day.”

“So, that was your boyfriend's car that we took?”

“Yes sergeant. He told me that you pointed your gun at him while asking for his car.”

“I'm sorry prosecutor; I didn't mean any harm; it was a call of duty.”

“He said he was thankful that you paid for all the damages you did.”

“It was my responsibility. Actually, that chase we did, it led to the arrest of those criminals. I was promoted to Master Sergeant after that. I owed my promotion, partly, to your boyfriend, so, in return, I told him that if ever he needs my help, he can come to me,” said Sgt. Won.

“Prosecutor, forgive me, but how long have you been in a relationship with Mister Krittanai?” asked Lt. Tan.

“Nearly six months.”

“Were you still together when he committed suicide?”

“No.”

“Why did you part ways?”

“When he told to me that he is a gun-for-hire, that was when we decided to stop being together. It was actually our decision: we both agreed to it. We reached a middle ground and decided to take it before…” said Mil, hesitating to proceed.

“Before what, prosecutor?”

“Before a lot of other people get into harm’s way?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t follow.”

“Lieutenant, the Mingkit family is considered one of the most powerful and influential mafia here in the country. If Ren had decided to spill the beans on them, and they found out, they will eliminate anyone who Ren is related to, or least those he knows. He kept his connection to the Mingkits a secret from everyone – even his family – as a protection. After giving me this briefcase, he thought that it would be better for him just to be gone.”

“What he did is a big sacrifice indeed. Prosecutor, after you broke up, did you have any communication with him whatsoever?”

“No lieutenant. When we broke up, we decided to sever not only our communications but also whatever connected us – phone numbers, e-mails, even our social media.”

“Prosecutor, this is going to be a big case if we pursue it. Will you help us on this?” asked Sgt. Won.

“By all means. I don’t want Ren’s effort to go to waste.”

“But how do we begin?”

“I’ll draft a case today. When it’s ready, I’ll get in touch with you, and we will file this to court. We three will be the primary witnesses to this case.”

“That is okay with me,” answered Sgt. Won.

“How about the briefcase?” asked Lt. Tan, sounding a little worried. He is hesitant to take it to their office as others can tamper with it.

“I’ll keep it here. It will be safer here than anywhere else. When it’s time, I’ll bring it to court,” answered Mil.

“I agree.”

“Prosecutor, can we finish this before we leave?” asked Sgt. Won, who is already holding his plate and fork.

“Of course. Take your time gentlemen.” said Mil.

Sgt. Won nods.

“We should be ready. Once this starts, there is no stopping it,” said Lt. Tan.

As the two officers take their meal, Prosecutor Wattana rummages in the contents of the briefcase, pondering on the decision if this will be the last case he will handle in his professional life as a lawyer.