altogether, and it took close to half an hour to get everybody on board. This included Griswold and his nurse, a young woman

named Lemon. Dr. Nual said she was no longer needed —

another physician would meet the boat in Bangkok — and she

walked back up the trail. Meanwhile, the rain had let up and we

could see bright blue sky to the north, the direction we were

heading.

By the time we had passed the northernmost reaches of Hua

Hin, the sun was streaming down and all the men took off their

shirts and laid them out to dry. The two-man crew of the

cruiser served us tea, pineapple and sticky rice with sliced

mango in coconut milk.

Griswold lay on a chaise on the front deck and gradually his

headache lessened and his mood improved. He tried to place a

call on Pugh’s cell phone, but by then we were too far from

shore. And the ship-to-shore radio was not acceptable, he said,

because he required privacy. When Griswold returned Pugh’s

cell phone to him, Pugh went belowdecks and I followed him.

We both wanted to see what number Griswold had dialed. Pugh

did not recognize the number, but he said it was in Bangkok.

He wrote it down.

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 227

Pugh had said the journey to Bangkok would take about six

hours. Back on deck, Timmy and I stretched out in the sun.

Mango, Kawee and Miss Nongnat lay on mats in the shade of a

canopy and snoozed as we plowed over the friendly swells of

the gulf.

We overtook a Thai Royal Navy patrol boat and watched it a

little anxiously as we passed. But its crew showed no interest in us. A garland of marigolds had been draped over the Navy

boat’s gun turret. Similarly protected against bad spirits was our boat, which had a sizable Buddha figure on a shelf in the

wheelhouse just above us. Fresh jasmine hung nearby next to a

wooden carving of an erect penis, which I remembered from

my first visit to Thailand was a good-luck charm. Betty Friedan

might have had something to say about that practice, but we

were a long way from her aura.

Everybody on board gathered for lunch around noon. We

had rice, tom yam kung and spicy pig colon salad, plus bottled

water, fruit juices, and bird-spit drink for anybody who cared

for some.

As we neared Bangkok, cell phone service came back and

Pugh made some calls. He told Timmy and me after he hung up

that it might be a good idea if we delayed our arrival in Bangkok until after dark. He had no reason to think that Yodying knew

where we were, but that the general was definitely in a major

snit, according to one of Pugh’s cop friends, and precautions

were called for. Pugh spoke with the captain of our boat, an

elderly Isaan man with a formal manner and a high smooth

forehead and tattoos all over his face that looked like a bead

curtain in a Berkeley bar in 1968. The boat soon slowed and

headed east as we began to cruise around near the mouth of the

Chao Phraya for the rest of the afternoon.

Pugh summoned me belowdecks again and said, “The

number Mr. Gary attempted to call in Bangkok was that of Seer

Pongsak Sutiwipakorn. I am going to go out on a short limb

and predict that Seer Pongsak has replaced the late Khun

Khunathip as the soothsayer for former Minister Anant and for

228 Richard Stevenson

the Sayadaw U project. This is good. It may open up

opportunities for us.”

“Isn’t that the seer who predicted a coup by the end of

April?”

“That is he. Khun Pongsak failed to predict the last coup,

the one that sent Prime Minister Thaksin fleeing with his

billions of baht to the UK. But now the wizard is wielding his

zodiacal instrument like a cudgel or perhaps a threat or possibly a warning. Or, maybe he is just a vain, oafish fellow who likes

to get his name in the papers. I don’t know which it is. In any

case, maybe he would like to make a splash again by moving his

prediction up a week. From April twenty-seventh to April

eighteenth, another lucky number. The advantage of the earlier

date is, it’s the day after tomorrow. And if these momentous

events could be accelerated, we would have a better chance of

staring into the abyss and not having the abyss stare back for a very long eleven days.”

“How would we get him to do that? Griswold is wedded to

April twenty-seventh. The date plainly has magical properties

for him. It’s even when the Algonquin Steel annual meeting will

happen.”

“Ah, but these events are far larger than any mere

corporation and its machinations.”

“Tell Griswold that.”

Pugh said, “I have obtained additional information that is

likely to be helpful, though I am not yet certain exactly how. I found out that Griswold carried out a very large money transfer

from the Commercial Bank of Siam to an account in Albany,

New York last October fifteenth.”

“One and five. That unlucky day when the two Americans

showed up in Bangkok and made Griswold angry and sad.”

“Yes.”

“Do you have the name of the account holder?”

“I do. It is Mr. Duane Hubbard.”

“No shit?”

THE 38 MILLION DOLLAR SMILE 229

“Who is Duane Hubbard?”

“He is the former personal trainer of Ellen Griswold, Mr.

Gary’s ex-wife and current sister-in-law.”

“What is his connection to Khun Gary?”

“Good question. What’s interesting about Hubbard is, he

and his boyfriend, a sometime-criminal goon named Matthew

Mertz, were present on a Caribbean cruise ship fourteen years

ago when Bill Griswold’s first wife, Sheila, disappeared at sea.

Sheila Griswold was a huge pain in the neck and a financial

drain on Bill. There were people in Albany who believed at the

time that Bill — or even Bill and Ellen — paid Hubbard and

Mertz to toss the endlessly annoying ex-Mrs. Griswold into the

sea. There was no evidence, and nothing ever came of it. And

Ellen turns indignant over any insinuation that Sheila’s apparent drowning was anything but a stupid accident caused perhaps by

Sheila’s tippling habits.”

Pugh said, “Rounding.”

“What’s that?”

“When Khun Gary was moaning in his semi-delirium, he

kept going on about rounding, Ek said. But perhaps Mr. Gary

was experiencing nightmares not about rounding but about

drowning.”

“Drowning doesn’t have two Ds in it.”

“I know that. I attended college in New Jersey, just like you.

But the guy was slurring his words, and Ek may have been

slurring his hearing. Not having gone to Rutgers.”

I said, “This is fascinating stuff, but my mind is a little dizzy over what it might actually mean.”

“Well, Khun Don, hang on to your hat. Would you like to

know how much money Khun Gary had transferred into Duane

Hubbard’s Albany account on October fifteenth?”

“How much?”

“Two million US dollars.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The first thing Timmy said was, “It sounds like the family

member who committed the terrible sin that had to be atoned

for was Gary Griswold himself.”

“You mean Gary had his former sister-in-law murdered?”

“Possibly. And then maybe he paid off these two lowlifes to

keep them from talking? The original fee was insufficient and

they were broke, and they knew just where go for an infusion of

cash.”

“Why would Griswold do that?” I said. “He says he’s

interested in justice. Karmic and Old Testament.”

“There is that. And he does seem sincere. Also, why would

he want to get rid of his brother’s ex-wife in the first place? He didn’t even like Bill Griswold. He and Ellen remained friends,