The Noble Path: A relentless standalone thriller from the #1 bestseller by Peter May (learn to read books .TXT) 📕

‘Well, yes, I suppose I should.’

Grinning, he took a deep breath . . .

‘Krungthepmahanakhornbowornrattanakosinmahintarayuthaya-mahadilokpopnparatratchathaniburiromudomratchaniwetmahasathan.’

She giggled. ‘You’re kidding!’

‘No,’ he said solemnly. ‘That is official name. But many Thai people smoke cigarettes and have no breath left to say this name, so we call it Krung Thep for short – the city of angels.’ Lisa was not at all sure that he wasn’t pulling her leg. There was such mischief in those smiling eyes in the mirror. ‘My name is Sivara,’ he said. ‘If you tell me your name I don’t keep calling you lady.’

‘I’m Lisa.’

‘Lisa. This is good name.’

Sivara parked the car off Maharaj Road and walked her through the Grand Palace. Wide, elegant squares flanked by grand buildings and temples – built in the Ratanakosin style, he told her – inlaid with glittering mosaics of glass and ceramic and gold and precious stones. Giant statues of colourful Thai warriors guarded every flight of steps, every entrance. A long and elaborate fresco mural lined the inside walls of the compound in the shade of arched colonnades – the Thai version of the Indian epic Ramayana. He took her to the adjoining Wat Phra Keo. ‘The Temple of the Emerald Buddha,’ he said.

An armed guard stood in the doorway. A sign warned that visitors must not take photographs of the Buddha, and rolls of film ripped from the cameras of tourists who had ignored the warning hung from a wooden rack just inside. ‘Can we go in?’ Lisa asked.

‘Of course. But you must take off shoes first and never point feet directly at Buddha. It is great insult.’ They left their shoes at the door, walked into the cool of the wat and knelt on the cold stone tiles. The Buddha sat high up in a glass case draped with a fine shawl. ‘To keep Buddha warm,’ Sivara said.

Lisa stifled a laugh. ‘Warm! In this heat?’

‘It is our cool season,’ he said gravely. ‘The King himself changes the robe on the Buddha at start of each season.’

‘God, if this is cool, I’d hate to be here when it’s hot.’ She looked up at the pale green carved Buddha and wondered if offering it a prayer might help her find her father. ‘Is it really solid emerald?’

Sivara smiled knowingly. ‘It says so in the guidebooks.’ He paused then added, ‘Actually, is made of jasper, like jade. Come, I take you to Wat Traimit, the temple of the Golden Buddha.’

He parked opposite the temple in Charoen Krung Road, in front of a row of dark shops that disappeared into the crumbling interiors of dilapidated buildings. Incurious Asian faces peered out from the gloom. The temple itself was an undistinguished building set in a small, scrubby garden. Inside, it was dark and smelled of burning incense, and against one wall sat the Golden Buddha. It stood a massive three metres high and shone brightly as though burning. Lisa looked at it in awe. ‘It’s never solid gold!’

She did not notice how Sivara ran appraising eyes over her body as she stared at the Buddha. ‘Five and half tons,’ he said. ‘Solid gold. It was discovered only thirty years ago. It had skin of plaster and when it was being moved it fell and broke and they found gold underneath.’

‘It must be worth a fortune.’

‘Buddha does not measure life by wealth,’ Sivara said. ‘Is not important.’

She watched Thai worshippers buying small flakes of gold leaf which they stuck to images of the Buddha, and she turned to Sivara. ‘If he places so little value on wealth, why is it all his images are made of gold or precious stone, or stuck with gold leaf?’

His smile faded. ‘You have seen enough now? I take you back.’ He turned away, out of the temple and across the road towards the car. She chased after him.

‘Sivara, Sivara, I’m sorry – I didn’t mean to give offence.’

‘If I come to your country I do not say such things of your God,’ he said.

Lisa said, ‘I’m not sure I have a God.’

In the taxi she said, ‘It must be about lunchtime. Can you take me somewhere to eat? You must know the best places.’

‘Of course.’ But he did not smile, and the mischief had gone from his eyes.

He pulled in on Siam Square, near the station, and pointed out a large noodle shop called Co-Co at the corner of one of the many alleyways leading off the square. ‘Very good Chinese food,’ he said.

‘That sounds great.’ She started to get out of the car, but he made no move. ‘What about you?’

‘I wait in car.’

‘Oh, don’t be silly, you must come and eat with me.’

‘Is too expensive for me.’

‘Not when I’m paying, it’s not. Oh, come on.’ She gave him a playful push on the shoulder. ‘I don’t want to eat on my own, and I wouldn’t know what to order anyway.’

For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, then he turned and smiled, the mischief back in his eyes. ‘How can I refuse beautiful lady like you?’

Sivara ordered, and endless bowls of rice and noodles and chicken and beef and fish in various sauces arrived at their table. They drank sake and laughed a lot at the way she was frightened to try things, and all the questions she asked before she would even take a taste. ‘It’s not like the Chinese restaurants at home,’ she said.

She felt herself getting quite light-headed with the sake. She was relaxed and felt good for the first time in weeks. He told her about himself and his family, eyes sparkling at her the whole time. Fine, dark, laughing eyes. She laughed when he told her about his young brother who would arrange himself on the pavement, outside one of the big tourists hotels, early in the morning, so that he appeared to have no legs. He easily filled the bowl he placed in front