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They were two of many Western tourists Sobhraj had snuffed out on the so-called Hippie Trail.This path stretched from Europe through southern Asia, trekked by Western dropouts as they smoked grass and connected with the locals.They traveled up and down the countryside, drugging tourists, taking them in a semi-comatose condition to a spare apartment Sobhraj rented.He convinced them that the local doctors were dangerous quacks and that his wife, a registered nurse, would soon have them in the pink of health.Sometimes he kept them sick for weeks, Leclerc administering a “medicinal drink” consisting of laxatives, ipecac, and Quaaludes, rendering them incontinent, nauseated, lethargic, and confused, while Sobhraj doctored their passports and used them to cross borders, spend their cash, and fence their valuables.ne night in the winter of 1983, shortly before I left for Bangkok to work on a movie, a friend told me about a serial murderer known as the “Bikini Killer,” a handsome, charismatic occasional gem thief named Charles Sobhraj who had operated out of Thailand in the early 1970s.My friend had known a Formentera couple, smuggling heroin in relays from South Asia, who had been separately lured to their deaths.
Sobhraj would fleece these spiritually thirsty wanderers of any money they had, contemptuous of what he considered their loose morals.
Production delays in Bangkok left me to my own devices for several weeks.
It was a disorienting, smelly, traffic-crazy, scary city full of begging monks, teenage gangs, motorcycles, temples, murderous pimps, terrifying prostitutes, sleaze bars, strip joints, street vendors, colonies of homeless people, and mind-boggling poverty.
After discovering that Captagon, a powerful amphetamine, was sold over the counter, I sat at my rented manual typewriter for 12 or 14 hours at a stretch, churning out poems, journal entries, stories, and letters to friends. After a speed binge I knocked myself out with Mekhong, a virulent whiskey said to contain 10 percent formaldehyde and rumored to cause brain damage. He had passed himself off as an Israeli scholar, a Lebanese textile merchant, and a thousand other things while trawling southern Asia for tourist victims as a drug-and-rob man.
Upon her arrival, he ordered her to pose as his secretary or his wife, as occasion demanded.
Sobhraj rarely fucked her, much to her chagrin, and only when her common sense threatened to overpower her florid romantic fantasies.