And almost every evening he drove for nearly an hour through the choked traffic of Sukhumvit Road until he reached one narrow soy, or side street, passing the ubiquitous roadside food stalls with their running kids and yapping dogs, the clutter of cars and motorbikes, and the clutches of smiling bar girls, and dined at the Cezanne, his personal club. The Cezanne catered mostly to American expatriates. Its ambience was the closest to family life that Simolzak ever cared to come. It had a regular coterie of customers, Americans whose professions ran the gamut from oil rigger to spy to corporate executive. It had a constant core of beautiful young Thai hostesses, women of taste who were technically not prostitutes but who would go out or home with a man if they liked him. It was, of course, mandatory that a woman’s host “pay the bar,” buying her from the bar’s owner for the night, and then recompense her for her time. But a prostitute didn’t have a choice, while the women in places like Cezanne’s did, making them more like independent contractors than actual whores.

It was seven o’clock. Simolzak sat back in his chair at one of the Cezanne’s ground-floor tables, drinking his beer and smiling, surrounded by an atmosphere of thick smoke and loud American music. Behind him at the bar, two dozen well-dressed American and Thai men had gathered, sharing drinks and jokes, debating the merits of that night’s activities. A young woman half Simolzak’s age was massaging his back and cooing to him over the music and loud conversation. Her nickname was Sapphire. She was sultry and happy and beautiful. She wore a tight black bodysuit and blue jeans, an outfit that could have come from a page in a top fashion magazine.

“Zak, you pay the bar, you pay the bar,” Sapphire was urging. “I want to be with you tonight. You need a beer, let me get you one more beer.”

As Sapphire cooed to him and pressed her fingers into his massive upper back, another girl came over and helped Simolzak light a fresh cigar. She was shorter and had a round, wide-mouthed face. Although she was very pretty, the other girls had named her Frog. Simolzak joked with Sapphire and Frog as he pointed to the empty seats he had arranged around the small table.

“Later, ladies. Maybe I’ll pay the bar for both of you. But first we’re going to have a party! In fact, here comes Father Mike right now.”

“Oh, Father Mike,” said Sapphire with genuine reverence. “He speak too-good Thai.”