Jim Micheal Hansen - BANGKOK LAWS Chapter 1

BANGKOK LAWS

Chapter One
Day One—June 11
Monday Morning

ALAN EWING SAT IN THE COCKPIT of the Grob Aerospace SP jet, cruising on autopilot at 30,000 feet through a pre-dawn sky, checking the instruments only when necessary. He could still smell Bangkok in his clothes and taste it in his mouth. In another ten minutes he’d begin the descent into Denver International Airport.

Such a pity.

He’d turn around in a heartbeat if he could.

His cargo sat in the back—four guys from International Gems—drunk and slapping each other on the back for their magnificent ability to buy three suitcases full of precious gems and minerals for hardly any money. In another few minutes, when the aircraft started to lose altitude, they would no doubt swear each other to secrecy one more time, to be sure their innocent little wifey-poos didn’t find out about their three or four trips to the Soi Cowboy blowjob bars.

BJ bars.

Amateur stuff.

It was almost a sacrilege to waste good Bangkok time on soft-core stuff that was available right here in the States. But if they wanted to be too stupid or too scared to taste the real gratifications of the city, then that was their problem. Ewing wasn’t going to tell them what they were missing. Not to mention that they wouldn’t have the guts in any event to go where the deep pleasures were.

IN FACT, IF THE TRUTH BE TOLD, Ewing himself had been apprehensive the first time—no, not apprehensive, downright scared. A skuzzy looking man about five feet tall showed up at Ewing’s hotel room after dark, counted the $1,000 in cash that Ewing handed him, then grinned and slipped back into the Bangkok night. All night long Ewing worried that he had been ripped off. But, true to plan, a driver showed up at his hotel the following morning. Once they got on the road, Ewing had to put a hood over his head and lay down in the seat, so he’d never be able to tell anyone where the location was.

Then they drove for a long time.

Maybe to somewhere far outside Bangkok.

Maybe in a big circle to somewhere not so far.

When they finally stopped, Ewing had to keep the hood on while the driver grabbed his arm, pulled him out of the vehicle, and made him walk. That was the worst two minutes of the whole thing. He pictured a sinister shape sneaking up behind and pointing a gun at the back of his head while the driver stepped aside to keep from getting splattered with blood and brains.

But that didn’t happen.Instead, they entered a door and, after it closed, the driver pulled Ewing’s hood off. They were in a stone corridor with a musty smell.

The passageway led to a large windowless space.

An older man and a younger one were seated at a table. Both looked like they could kill Ewing right then and there, all in a day’s work. The younger one smiled, extended his hand and said in English that his name was Kovit.

Then he clapped.

Two seconds later a door opened and three men led twenty women into the room.

Each one was blindfolded.

And naked.

Kovit clapped again.

The women turned in a circle to the right.

He clapped again and they turned in a circle to the left.

Then he looked at Ewing.

“Nice?”

Ewing swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“You can have one, two, or whatever you want.”

Ewing chose a petite Asian woman in her late teens or early twenties at a cost of $1,000, meaning a second $1,000, for four hours. The rules were simple. He would have a fully equipped dungeon to himself where he could do anything he wanted to the woman, except disfigure or kill her. If he left any marks that wouldn’t clear up within three days, he would be charged extra, depending on the severity of the injuries.

That was Ewing’s first trip to the place.

More than two years ago.

He ended up being charged an additional $500.00.

Which was more than fair, considering.

THE LANDING AT DIA couldn’t have come any sooner. In another ten minutes Ewing would have fallen asleep at the controls. His watch said 6:42 a.m.

The hangar was empty except for the guards.

The parking lot was quiet.

The four passengers tipped him $500 for getting them home alive, and then disappeared. Ewing threw his suitcases in the back of the 4Runner and headed south on Pena Boulevard, then west on I-70, with the cruise control set at three over the limit. He let his mind replay the sins of the last three days while he rubbed his cock. The bed would feel good. He couldn’t wait to get naked, spread out on top of the sheets and play with his dick until it exploded.

Then he’d sleep for twelve hours straight.

HE LIVED IN A FRENCH TUDOR east of Colorado Boulevard in an upscale neighborhood with tree-lined boulevards, befitting a skilled jet pilot. He parked in the garage and decided he wasn’t in the mood to mess with the suitcases right now, so he left them in the vehicle and shuffled his tired feet into the house.

He stopped in the kitchen long enough to take a long swallow of cold Gatorade. Damn good stuff. Then he headed to the master bathroom and took a piss while he brushed his teeth.He stripped naked and briefly contemplated taking a shower before he decided he was too tired. His 32-year-old body reflected in a full-length mirror.

Toned and taut, thanks to 24-Hour Fitness.

Watching himself, he played with his cock until it got hard.

He had to admit, he had a pretty nice dick.

Eight inches long.

Thick.

Perfectly straight.

Rock hard.

Capable of shooting a load three feet.

He turned off the lights and headed for the bed.

His cock pointed the way, like a divining rod.

IT WAS THEN THAT HE HEARD SOMETHING. He turned his head just in time to see the blurred shape of a person.

Then pain came.

White hot.

Excruciating.

His spine stopped working and the feeling in his legs disappeared.

As soon as he hit the carpet the person stabbed him again.

And again.

And again.

Ewing counted the stabs for as long as his brain let him and realized that in two more seconds he would be dead.

One second later everything went black.


BIO: Jim Michael Hansen, Esq., is a Colorado attorney emphasizing civil litigation, employment law and OSHA. Visit Jim the attorney at www.JimHansenLawFirm.com. Jim is also the author of the Laws novels, which are hard-edged legal/crime thrillers featuring Denver homicide detective Bryson Coventry. Night Laws (March 15, 2006); Shadow Laws (October 15, 2006); Fatal Laws (June 1, 2007); Deadly Laws (October 15, 2007); Bangkok Laws (March 15, 2008); Immortal Laws (October 15, 2008); Voodoo Laws (March 15, 2009); and Ancient Laws (October 15, 2009).