Lok Kok

Black magic practitioners in Thailand use the body parts of dead children. The fresher, the better!

Copyright Colin Devonshire

All rights reserved. No part of this publication is stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

Designed by Dark-Novels

No character in this book is a real person. Any similarity is purely coincidental. 

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ISBN: 9798646504327

ASIN: B0897M9T21

Thank you

This book is for Boom, my wife. The lady who keeps me working.

For my children, will one of them be a writer? Doubtful.

And yes, Caddy, you got a mention.

If you enjoyed this book, you might also like the other books in the series:

‘Not Far Enough From Worries’

‘Worry No More’

‘Children With No Worries’,

and

Another one is coming ...

Novels and anthologies

In the No Worries series, all set in Thailand.

Would you like a free anthology of Colin’s short stories? - Check out ‘Beat The Beach’ on all the best book sellers.

It would help me if you were good enough to post a review on Amazon or Goodreads.

www.dark-novels.com for comments.

Contents

Prologue       

1  Skylab’s news    

2  Welcome to my cave   

3  Ancient coffins    

4  Another baby goes missing 

5  Debt collector’s child   

6  Join a queue, please    

7  Another baby    

8  Police help needed    

9  News, but no news    

10  Black magic?     

11  Let us begin      

12  Off to see the abbot    

13  Missing girl      

14  A surprise for Debbie   

15  Bridge over the River Kwai 

16  At last       

17  Can you get lost in a church? 

18  We must do something   

19  Trudging and Texting   

20  Caught in a Cave    

21  To hell and Back    

22  Rain, rain, go away    

23  Family Fears      

24  Blade to the Rescue    

25  Books and Bodies    

26  Back to the Cave    

Part Two

27  Baby goes missing    

28  More murders    

29  Gatts has news    

30  Hla’s story      

31  One more baby    

32  Cryptic mess     

33  Gun practice      

34  Don’t take your guns to town 

Epilogue             

Prologue

'GOTT IM HIMMEL!' murmured the man, dressed in a fashionable woollen suit.

He stood open-mouthed, dazed by sight in front of him. The burnished gold caught the sunlight, which flashed onto his dark blue silk tie. His neatly trimmed moustache twitched as he spoke.

'What are you going to do with all that?'

Most non-Thai men in the area wore military clothing. This European man felt undressed without his Nazi uniform.

'I should curse God. Why did you follow me?'

The man who answered was wearing a uniform. They made it in Tokyo. The Japanese officer quickly decided on his course of action.

The Nazi said, 'I wanted to see what you are doing. My god, where did you get all this?'

Trailers with tonnes of gold were being wheeled into a cave. Deep in the cavern was greater wealth. They stacked huge steel containers box on the box of looted precious metal and jewels.

Thermometers were touching forty degrees C. The European insisted on keeping his tie knotted. He eased the damp material away from his neck. The Thai jungle was steaming. Tree frogs croaked after the early morning rain.

'I have no time for childish friendships. My life belongs to Imperial Japan. In the coming weeks, we will be defeated, whatever my leader tells us. I want to secure the future for all loyal Japanese by hiding this treasure.'

'But how did you move so much?'

The Japanese soldier unclipped his pistol.

'Sorry, my friend, but you must die with the secret.'

He raised his weapon, released the safety, and aimed. His target had thought of a simpler plan. To keep this wealth for himself, the further away from European troubles, the better.

With no second thoughts, the Japanese finger tightened on the trigger calmly and surely. An explosion shook the rocks. The pistol fired wildly; the ricochet went unheard, lost as rocks tumbled. Stone and dust filled the air, and the two men drowned in rock within seconds. The cave roof collapsed. Rocks tumbled from the top of the hill, bouncing and rolling down.

It silenced the frogs.

A cheer went up one hundred yards away, outside the cave entrance.

'Got him at last,' said Pi Chit, a Thai special forces soldier disguised as a labourer. He peered eagle-eyed through his binoculars. Savouring the sight of a known enemy, now surely dead.

Pi Chit preferred his country to be Siam, as they knew Thailand before 1932. 'When this war is over, maybe we can go back to calling the place I love Siam again?' he said to himself.

His loyalty to His Majesty, the King of Thailand, was unswerving.

The gold was out of his field of vision, hidden behind mounds of rock. The unseen wealth was now buried deep in fractured stone and dust. His mission was complete.

The Seri Thai, or Free Thai Movement, an underground resistance group, were delighted at their victory. Small, in the greater scheme of war, but they hated all Japs, and that one in particular. He had forced Thais to work as slaves in their own country. The small group of fearless fighters took on the Japanese invaders during World War II at every chance they could. They were proud men and had been an important source of information. They were grateful for the chance to pass on any military intelligence to the Allies in the region.

'Who was the man with him?' asked the senior labourer. 'A falang, who cares?'

The word falang is believed to come from falangset, the Thai word for French, the first Europeans to visit the Kingdom.

The falang was not French. He was an Austrian Nazi officer. Who had been sent to India by Hitler to work alongside the Indische Legion. Officially the Free Indian Legion was an underground force determined to rid India of British rule. The German army was happy to assist in their aim. He had correctly guessed that the war was about to end. He could not stay in India. He hated the filth and crowded cities. But where could he go?

Not Europe, where he would face war crime trials. Thailand was near, and as he was not Japanese, he assumed he could easily start a new life there when the war finally ended. He boarded a boat, sailed into Bangkok’s Khlong Toei port, and travelled to Kanchanaburi.

A week before his cave visit, he had met an English-speaking officer. Wearing his Nazi uniform, it was easy to pretend he was here to pass messages to senior Japanese officers from the Nazis. He and Rikugun-Chūjō became friendly.

They had sat Hiro and Mat next to each other during a formal dinner. Too much Saki was drunk. A few words slipped out—enough to get Oberstleutnant Mat von Wolff’s interest.

Mat made it his duty to himself to find out more. Hiro was trying to be careful. He knew the saki had caused him to say too much. But, he had enjoyed the Austrian’s company.

'I will have to watch that man,' Hiro said.

None of the other soldiers stationed in that part of Thailand could speak German. Very few could speak any English. Hiro’s parents had insisted that in the future, speaking English would be of huge advantage in business when the war ended. They insisted their son took his language studies at university seriously. He did well, speaking accent less English.

Mat’s parents had both been lawyers, and they, too, saw the big plus for any English speaker whenever the war ended. When Germany won, they would need people with language skills to take charge of smaller countries.

The two men enjoyed laughing at each other’s jokes, especially as nobody else could understand.

Back at the cave, rocks continued to rumble down the slope. Mat’s first sense as he stirred was being dragged out of the rubble. Then came the agony. Every part of his body was bellowing with pain. Hiro’s skull had been smashed flat. The Austrian had glimpsed the splattered mess as he passed it. His first thought was about his medical condition. The pain was a thrill. He thrived on it, even if he enjoyed inflicting agony on others.

His second thought was, 'The treasure? Have the Thais found it?'

Then more pain. A second wave hit him, but from his shattered bones, he held his dreams of vast riches at bay.

Days later, he came fully awake for the first time. He was soaking wet, sweat ran down his angular body, and he saw himself in a clean but damp bed in a spacious hospital ward. A pigeon flew into the ward and quickly left via the opposite window.

'That wouldn’t happen in Germany,' muttered Mat to himself.

He noticed a Thai man peering at him.

'The war ended while you slept. What are we going to do with you?' asked the Thai.

'How is my friend?' answered Mat.

Knowing full well he would never see him again, but keen to glean any information he could.

'Your friend? You are a Nazi. How can non-Aryan be your friend?'

The Thai slyly studied his reaction.

Mat was trying to gather his wits. Who was that man, and what did he want?

'We are not all the same,' answered the groggy Mat.

'Really?' asked the man dressed in a Western-style suit.

Mat guessed he must be secret service or similar.

'No, I can be of use to you. If the war has ended, you will need help. I speak English and German. You will need someone like me,' stated Mat.

'I will talk to my boss.'

The well-dressed Thai turned and walked away, leaving Mat wondering.

Mat checked his body, with one leg in plaster, a heavily bandaged head, and strapping on his arm.

'Could be worse,' he thought, grinning to himself.

The pain was fun, Mat enjoyed it, and then a nurse ruined it by administering more morphine. He slept again.

'Hi, I’m Sol Finkelstein,' said the painfully thin patient in the next bed. 'You were muttering in your sleep. I couldn’t place the accent.'

A newly groggy Mat tried to shake off the haze of drugs.

'How could they put a Jew next to me?' Mat asked, not caring who heard.

His dread got worse. A white man was pushing a dark-skinned man in a wheelchair down the ward. The two Australians had been injured while being transported from the death railway camp.

'Don’t say they will put Abbo on the other side of me?' Mat felt dirty.

A nurse took over helping the black man to his bed while the other Australian hobbled past.

'Nurse, give me a walking stick. Now!'

'Solly, sir. I no Engleesh.'

Mat was tempted to hobble out of the ward. Instead, he feigned sleep until a doctor came. It had been bad enough conversing with the Indians. That was duty. But chatting with his two neighbours went against everything he believed in.

The doctor’s English was not fluent but passable. 'Good afternoon, sir. How do you feel?'

'I would feel a lot better away from these two.' Mat pointed to either side of him.

'Sorry? What do you mean?'

A frustrated Mat was losing his temper.

'I can see you are busy. I want to leave. Get me a stick, and I’m off.'

'But sir, I cannot allow you to leave my care,' the doctor studied Mat’s set expression.

'Just do it.' Mat stared at the white-coated man.

Not used to taking orders from lesser beings, Mat wanted to be away as fast as his broken leg would allow.

The doctor raised a hand. 'Before you go, you had a visitor while you were sleeping. He left this phone number. Please call him.'

Mat hobbled to the front desk and used the phone without asking. The man on the other end of the line asked him to wait for his visitor to return to reception.

A well-dressed middle-aged man breezed through the entrance. He walked directly to Mat and said, 'Do you want to earn an income? You can work for me translating papers.'

Mat didn’t know, but it was unusual and impolite not to wai on greeting someone. Also, the man got straight to the point, with no preamble. Odd for a 'classy' Thai. They settled it. Mat would have an income.

He started his new job; it was boring after the thrill of the war, but at least he had time to recover his strength. He had a small staff house and a woman to keep the place tidy, and soon she took care of his manly needs, too.

She became pregnant and gave birth to a son.

'A pity he is not more European looking,' Mat grunted.

His woman did not understand him. Mat had learned some Thai. Sometimes it was handy that his pronunciation needed to be clearer.

The three lived in the same house. The father never spoke to his son. As much as the mother wanted her son to learn English, his father could spare no time. He needed to be more busy planning how to retrieve his treasure. Until he became sick. Cancer hit hard and fast. Mat was bedridden. He spent his remaining time writing.

'Give this to your son when he can read English,' Mat said in basic Thai.

'He is our son,' she whimpered as she clutched the envelope.

'Just do what I tell you.'

His passing was quick.

The air-mail envelope was put away in her small jewellery box, promptly forgotten under cheap trinkets.

The son grew into a fine young man, polite, respectful and good-looking with his father’s fair hair. Sadly, he never learnt English. Anyway, his mother had forgotten her promise to his father.

Years later, a grandson was born and named in memory of his grandfather, Mat Junior. He was unlike his father, having more similarities to his dead grandfather.

Young Mat, at four years old, was already rude and arrogant.

Both parents and grandmother thought they should consult a monk.

'Someone is living inside him,' warned the orange-robed man.

'What should we do?'

'You pray.'

Months and years passed, and prayers did not help.

Chapter One - SKYLAB’S NEWS

'HOW DO YOU FEEL, Miss Skylab?'

'I feel great, thanks, doctor.'

Skylab had already taken to wearing loose and baggy clothes. There was no need yet. Her partner, Kev, the father of her unborn babe, laughed. 'Your belly is not bigger than mine. You are not showing yet, so why wear all the ill-fitting gear?'

The doctor cringed. He knew Thai girls were proud to show ‘their condition’ as soon as they knew. Kev had not been an expectant father before, in England or Thailand.

The doctor carried on, 'Everything seems to progress perfectly. We’ll move next door and check the ultra-sound if that is okay. I’ll see you in two weeks. Don’t forget, no heavy lifting, keep the stress to a minimum.'

The doctor looked at Kev pointedly.

Kev didn’t notice the doctor’s glare. He wouldn’t have understood the doctor’s meaning, anyway.

Kev’s smile brightened the dimly lit ultra-sound treatment room. He thought he could see it was a girl. At least, he hoped so. It was as if his daughter grinned at him. The doctor then smiled his agreement. Then said, 'It is too early to tell, but as you can see, there is something in there, and he or she is moving.'

Coffee Investigations, the expecting couple’s business, had been busy for months. At last, they planned a quiet week. Kev and Skylab