William Morrow, 2008
All those stories one hears about Bangkok are true. It is the capital of Asian sex tourism. The bars in Pat Pong seem to be always open full bore, but certainly not boring. Thai-style massage is a full-body experience. Bar bands can make one feel that the Beetles or Elvis, not to mention Jimmy Hendrix, are still alive and performing before your very eyes. Traffic may be worse here than any place in the world; It once took me 5 hours from the airport to my hotel - normally, a 45-minute ride - and I had to walk the last mile!
All that is true, yet the Thais call their city, Krung Thep, the City of Angels. And, that is equally true. Monks clad in saffron robes are ubiquitous each morning as they make their rounds to receive alms from the faithful; this is not begging. Spirit houses sprout in front of every building to propitiate the spirits where animism is as alive as Buddhism. Temples are every where, both as simple as where the Golden Buddha is housed and as elaborate as the Temple of the Emerald Buddha.
All those stories one hears about Bangkok are true. It is the capital of Asian sex tourism. The bars in Pat Pong seem to be always open full bore, but certainly not boring. Thai-style massage is a full-body experience. Bar bands can make one feel that the Beetles or Elvis, not to mention Jimmy Hendrix, are still alive and performing before your very eyes. Traffic may be worse here than any place in the world; It once took me 5 hours from the airport to my hotel - normally, a 45-minute ride - and I had to walk the last mile!
All that is true, yet the Thais call their city, Krung Thep, the City of Angels. And, that is equally true. Monks clad in saffron robes are ubiquitous each morning as they make their rounds to receive alms from the faithful; this is not begging. Spirit houses sprout in front of every building to propitiate the spirits where animism is as alive as Buddhism. Temples are every where, both as simple as where the Golden Buddha is housed and as elaborate as the Temple of the Emerald Buddha.
Timothy Hallinan has captured the essence of Bangkok, especially its seedier side, although his Bangkok is not so seedy or overtly sexual as that in a John Burdett novel. This new Bangkok has Western-style malls, cell phones, and a go-get-'em Western mentality, which is in direct conflict with traditional values.
Poke Rafferty is a moderately successful travel writer who has hired a retired CIA agent to teach him the wiles of the spy-trade so that he can write a novel. This pretend intrigue soon turns deadly serious. His girlfriend Rose and her partner Peachy, former Thai bar girls turned legitimate, deposit money from their housecleaning business. The money Peachy withdraws in order to pay her girls is counterfeit, part of an elaborate scheme by the North Koreans to flood the world market with bogus money. A final "Note" avers that this element is essentially true. This brings in the US Secret Service, one of whose duties is to protect our currency. In the meantime, Poke's father and half-sister turn up. He had abandoned Poke and his mother years ago to follow his "yellow heart," his love of Asia. Now, he is running from a debt owed to a Chinese mafia lord who seems to know everything and who is inevitably tied in with the North Koreans.
Poke Rafferty is a moderately successful travel writer who has hired a retired CIA agent to teach him the wiles of the spy-trade so that he can write a novel. This pretend intrigue soon turns deadly serious. His girlfriend Rose and her partner Peachy, former Thai bar girls turned legitimate, deposit money from their housecleaning business. The money Peachy withdraws in order to pay her girls is counterfeit, part of an elaborate scheme by the North Koreans to flood the world market with bogus money. A final "Note" avers that this element is essentially true. This brings in the US Secret Service, one of whose duties is to protect our currency. In the meantime, Poke's father and half-sister turn up. He had abandoned Poke and his mother years ago to follow his "yellow heart," his love of Asia. Now, he is running from a debt owed to a Chinese mafia lord who seems to know everything and who is inevitably tied in with the North Koreans.
There is much derring do, much shoot-'em-up as the characters pursue one another through the streets of Bangkok along real streets. The denouement occurs near the Klong Tooey docks, an area that was determined to have the worst slum in the world in the early 1970s by Time Magazine, and so a fitting setting for the final shoot out. Of course, good prevails. It is the getting to that point which creates the pleasure in reading this mystery set outside our normal surroundings.
The Fourth Watcher is the second novel featuring Poke Rafferty, a character who seems straight out of a Robert Parker novel. Set in Bangkok, it follows A Nail Through the Heart, which came out in 2007. This followed a previous series of six novels set in Los Angeles, which had received some critical acclaim but less popular approbation. Hallinan seems on more solid footing here. The characters are strong, the setting exotic and interesting. The story seems to propel itself along. This is a perfect companion while sitting quietly on a beach somewhere, perhaps Thailand.
