James Patterson - Swimsuit v5 by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2009-12-27T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 60

HENRI’S WELL-EARNED HOLIDAY continued in Bangkok, one of his favorite cities in all the world.

He met the Swedish girl in the night market, where she was struggling to translate baht into euros so that she could decide whether to buy a small wooden elephant. His Swedish was good enough that she spoke to him in her own language until, laughing, he said, “I’ve used up all of my Swedish.”

“Let’s try this,” she said in perfect, British-inflected English. She introduced herself as Mai-Britt Olsen, telling Henri that she was on holiday with classmates from Stockholm University.

The girl was striking, nineteen or twenty and nearly six feet tall. She wore her flaxen hair cut straight at the shoulders, drawing his attention to her lovely throat.

“You have remarkable blue eyes,” he said.

She said, “Oooh,” and batted her lashes comically, and Henri laughed. She waggled her little elephant, and said, “I’m looking for a monkey, also.”

She took Henri’s arm and they strolled down the aisles of colorfully lit stalls of fruit and costume jewelry and sweets.

“My girlfriends and I went to the elephant polo today,” Mai-Britt told him, “and tomorrow we’re invited to the palace. We are volleyball players,” she explained. “The 2008 Olympics.”

“Truly? That’s fantastic. Hey, I hear the palace is really stupendous. As for me, tomorrow morning I’m going to be strapped into a projectile heading to California.”

Mai-Britt laughed. “Let me guess. You’re flying to L.A. on business.”

Henri grinned. “That’s a very good guess. But that’s tomorrow, Mai-Britt. Have you had dinner?”

“Just little bites in the market.”

“There’s a place close by that few people know. Very exclusive and a little risqué. Are you up for an adventure?”

“You are taking me to dinner?” Mai-Britt asked.

“Are you saying yes?”

The street was lined with open-air restaurants. They passed the boisterous bars and nightspots on Selekam Road and headed to an almost hidden doorway that opened into a Japanese restaurant, the Edomae.

The maitre d’ walked Henri and Mai-Britt into the glowing, green-glass-lined interior, partitioned with aquariums of jewel-colored fish from floor to ceiling.

Mai-Britt suddenly grabbed Henri’s arm, making him stop so she could really see.

“What are they doing?”

She jutted her chin toward the naked girl lying gracefully on the sushi bar and a customer drinking from the cup made by the cleft of her closed thighs.

“It’s called wakesame,” Henri explained. “It means ’floating seaweed.’ ”

“Hah! That is quite new to me,” she said. “Have you done that, Paul?”

Henri winked at her, then pulled out a chair for his dinner companion who was not just beautiful, but had a daring streak, was willing to try the horsemeat sashimi and the edomae, the raw, marinated fish that the restaurant was named for.

Henri had already fallen half in love with her — when he noticed the eyes of a man at another table fixed on him.

It was a shock, as though someone had dumped ice down the back of his shirt. Carl Obst. A man Henri had known many years ago, now sitting with a lady-boy, a high-priced, very polished, transvestite prostitute.

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