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The Bangkok Asset

Sonchai Jitpleecheep-the brash and beguiling Royal Thai Police Force detective who has been our guide through John Burdett's five previous acclaimed Bangkok novels-is back. The former monk and devout Buddhist, forever battling to protect his karma from the assaults of morally compromising cases, is now faced with the most horrifying technological innovation to make its way to the streets of Bangkok, and a conspiracy of almost unfathomable reach.

With Sonchai on this case is the young female inspector Krom. Like Sonchai, she's an outsider on the police force, but unlike him, she is socially savvy and a technological prodigy. When they're called to a demonstration-in the midst of a typhoon-of the deadly, superhuman strength of an American man who is seemingly controlled by a CIA operative, they have no idea what they're actually witnessing or why. Their reliably obtuse and unequivocally crooked boss, Colonel Vikorn, explains some of it, but the most telling questions remain unanswered: Could the Americans have figured out a way to create a physically and psychologically enhanced supersoldier? Are they testing him-or it-on Thai soil? And why is everyone, from the Bangkok police to the international community, so eager to turn a blind eye?

Searching for the answers to these questions, Sonchai and Krom find themselves in a remote Cambodian jungle compound for aging American ex-soldiers, where they will discover just how far a government will go to protect its worst secrets-both past and present. But the case will also have much more personal repercussions for Sonchai, shaking his world to its very foundation and perhaps finally forcing him to confront his long-lost American father.
"Delightfully eccentric and unpredictable . . . Sonchai is a terrific character: a devout but skeptical Buddhist with a philosophy that combines classical religion, Thai superstitions and amused pragmatism . . . Sonchai is a wise, cheeky guide through Bangkok's baffling but fascinating mix of cultures-high and low, sexy and straight-laced, modern and traditional."
-Adam Woog, The Seattle Times

"Compelling . . . The ever-appealing Sonchai, whose many-sided personality holds kaleidoscopic fascination, [will] keep series fans in thrall."
-Bill Ott, Booklist

"Wild and entertaining . . . Impressively, everything comes together for a dramatic and satisfying ending."
- Publishers Weekly
John Burdett, geboren 1951, arbeitete als Anwalt eines britischen Konzerns in Hongkong. Nach dem Erfolg seiner Thriller »Die letzten Tage von Hongkong« und »Eine private Affäre« ging er als Schriftsteller nach Frankreich und Spanien. Heute lebt er wieder in Hongkong. Nach »Der Jadereiter« erschien zuletzt »Bangkok Tattoo«, der zweite Thriller um den buddhistischen Polizisten Sonchai.
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    These are strange times on Planet Thailand. Even Colonel Vikorn is acting out of character. He called me at around four- thirty this morning to tell me to find my own transport to take me to a specific point on the east bank of the Chao Phraya River.

    "The team is already there. Sergeant Ruamsantiah will explain."

    "Is it related to- "

    "Not clear."

    He closed his phone before I could ask what it was about, and why he would need me to meet the Sergeant at such an hour at a location some ten miles from District 8. And what team, exactly, was he talking about? And why would he choose the filthiest morning I've witnessed since the last typhoon season twelve months ago? And most troubling of all: why was I being distracted from the case known as the Market Murder, in which the victim has been provisionally named as Nong X? A case, after all, with my name on it.

    Like a dutiful serf I grabbed a pair of jeans, T-shirt, and waterproof jacket, kissed Chanya on the lips while she snored, took a peep out of the door at the sheets of rain that were flooding the street, which would be a river of brown mud in an hour or so- and called a cab. I had to promise to pay triple before the driver would consent to take me to the river. He showed up in ten minutes, his wheels sloshing through the mounting torrent, and he turned out to be more valiant than I expected. We were within half a mile of the location given by Vikorn when he stopped. The flooding by that time was up to the level of his exhaust pipe, forcing him to keep gunning the motor while slipping the clutch, to stop water from entering the cylinders. I gave him his full fee and wished him luck on the way home and watched him drive back through the muddy floods, his engine screaming. According to the GPS on my smart phone, all I had to do was find the river and walk a few hundred yards north along its bank.

    I found the river by following its thunder. I don't think I've ever heard it so loud or been so drenched. I was shocked, too, by the way the wind roared through in gusts, temporarily tearing up the mist and revealing a churning brown monster in a rage bathed in clear end- of- the- world light. I wondered how the cargo ships were faring at the port. And where had they stored all the long- tail passenger ferries, the tourist vessels, the floating restaurants, the rice barges. No boat was built for this leviathan.

    From the east bank of the Chao Phraya it was easy enough to follow the GPS on my smart phone in a northward direction. Visibility was so low that even if I reached the coordinates the Colonel had given, there was no guarantee I would be able to see the people I was supposed to meet. Unless the wind conveniently cleared the air again.

    For a moment it did. A sudden gust screamed down the river valley, tearing up the mist in one long howl. I was at a bend where the river made an abrupt turn to the west. I knew that bend; so did everyone who had spent Sundays hanging out on the Chao Phraya. It was a tourist spot that jutted way out into the water where you took selfies of you and your loved ones smiling and playing at happy families. Not today, though, not in this storm. According to my phone I was no more than fifty yards from the meeting point Vikorn had given, which was about twenty yards from the riverbank. I forgot about that when I caught sight of a small flat- bottomed tourist vessel downstream in the middle of the torrent, held fast by a stout rope fastened to a stanchion on the extended promontory. I stopped, gripped the safety rail, and stared.

    At first I thought the only human on the boat was a tall farang with startling blond hair. He stood in some kind of high- tech parka with feet apart, arms folded, compensating for the rolling of the deck without visible effort. Then I realized he was standing over a group of terrified Thais, two men and two women. The Westerner opened his mouth to speak in what se
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Einband gebundene Ausgabe
Seitenzahl 320
Erscheinungsdatum 04.08.2015
Sprache Englisch
ISBN 978-0-307-27268-3
Verlag Random House US
Maße (L/B/H) 24.5/16.9/3.2 cm
Gewicht 605 g
Buch (gebundene Ausgabe, Englisch)
Buch (gebundene Ausgabe, Englisch)
Fr. 32.90
Fr. 32.90
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inkl. gesetzl. MwSt.
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