The Grey Man Read Free

would have drawn more attention to us, but nonetheless heads turned, and God knows what the staff and surprised guests thought of a middle-aged westerner dragging a thirteen-year-old girl through the lobby. Out the front I hailed a tuk tuk, bundled Kem in, climbed aboard and told the driver to take us to Wat Phra Sing, a temple near the guest house where I lived. I checked behind us and, to my relief, couldn't see the bouncer in the sea of motorcycles, cars and tuk tuks.
    There was a big crowd at the temple, perhaps for a funeral or observing some festival. We lost ourselves in the throng of worshippers, and when the mass of people began to thin out after fifteen minutes or so I at last felt confident that we had truly shaken the tattooed enforcer.
    Still, as we left the wat and headed along the footpath towards my place, I kept a keen eye out for his bike. Up until this point Kem hadn't said anything or shown much emotion, save for the odd gasp at my driving. ‘That man, he very bad,’ she said now, confirming my suspicion that we both would have been in the shit if tattoo guy had caught us.
    â€˜You'll be safe now. It'll be all right. We go stay with friends,’ I said to her.
    As well as the abandoned motorcycle, I'd hired a small Toyota sedan for the day, leaving it parked a short distance from where I was staying. I didn't want to bring an underage girl back to the guest house and arouse the suspicion or ire of the Thais I lived alongside, so I needed to take Kem to a safe house. My Lahu hill tribe friend, Sila, had put me in touch with another member of his tribe, who knew a Lahu man named Jumna, who lived in a village close to Chiang Mai. Hearing of my mission in Thailand, he had told me there was a spare hut in his village and that it would be okay if I ever needed to bring someone to stay. I had offered to pay him rent for the hut, but the Lahu are very hospitable people and he'd declined the offer of money.
    We made it to the car and I unlocked it and told Kem to get in the back. I showed her the blanket I'd placed on the back seat and, hoping I wasn't scaring her, told her in my rudimentary Thai more with sign language than voice to lie down on the floor and cover herself in case we were stopped by the police. I also told her that when we got to her destination I would give her 3000 baht to get home. She didn't seem to understand, so I left the money side of things alone. I hadn't mentioned the cash until then in case Kem had been tempted to come with me for that alone, and then return to the brothel. This way I knew she was serious.
    I'd done the deal with Jumna because I knew that the further I drove from Chiang Mai the more likely it was that I would be stopped by a police roadblock and it would be hard for me to explain the presence of a thirteen-year-old girl in my car; I would be unlucky to be stopped between here and Jumna's place. The nights were getting cold, so I swapped my baseball cap for a beanie and we set off for Jumna's place. About forty minutes north of Chiang Mai I took the turnoff from the main road and drove for another fifteen minutes along a rough dirt track until I came to the village. I found Jumna and told him what I'd been up to, and he took us to the hut. He seemed to take the whole thing in his stride.
    The adrenaline rush was starting to subside and I was feeling tired and hungry. Kem was still quiet and seemingly unemotional. Jumna's wife prepared some rice and a spicy soup dish for us and we sat down to eat. As we ate I asked Jumna if he could organise transport for Kem to Mae Sai. In one of our earlier discussions she'd told me that she lived not far from the Thai-Burma border and could find her way home once she was across.
    When I finished my food I unzipped my backpack. Inside was a smaller bag with the 3000 baht (A$120) I would give to Kem. I transferred her toy, postcard and other odds and ends into the smaller bag and gave it to her. I handed 1000 baht to Jumna to