Bangkok Dragons, Cape Cod Tears by Randall Peffer

Author:Randall Peffer [Peffer, Randall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4405-3221-4
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2009-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

34

MICHAEL’S on the floor, back against some fruit cases, eyes closed, trying to let his breathing settle. Holding her as she sobs against his chest, wrapping her in her robe again, when he hears a familiar voice.

“We meet again, American.”

He looks up, sees Wen-Ling standing on the cellar stairs. She’s wearing a green silk pants suit, waving a small machine gun in front of her, an Uzi maybe. Smoke rising from its barrel in the damp air.

“Jesus, give me a break!” Marcus is still taped in his chair. “Not her again.”

“I should have known you would be here too.” Michael’s throat burns from the fire still raging in his belly. “Lucky for you.”

“What are you talking about, Michael?” Tuki opens her eyes, looks around at the carnage. “Her,” he says. “Wen-Ling.”

“You called the police about this?” Tuki demands. “You had them follow us?”

“I couldn’t let us walk into a trap with no way out, no back up. I called Samset before we got in the boat. I should have known she would turn up too. She smells that ruby the way a shark scents blood.”

She offers a bottle of water to Tuki. “Let’s just say I just have a nose for trouble. Where’s the ruby, Tuki?”

“Nam yen pla tai.”

“Tuki. I really need that ruby.”

Tuki finally reaches out and takes the bottle of water. “Who are you? A dirty cop? Nak-lin?”

Wen-Ling tightens her fingers on the grips of her gun.

“She’s some kind of government agent. Samset told me.”

“Silab? National Security Agency? Nuy lachikan lab?”

“My job is to return the Heart of Warriors to the people of Thailand.”

“Don’t trust her,” says Tuki’s bpaa. His voice has the conviction of a man who may know more than he’s saying. “She’s a viper.”

“I got you out of Changi Prison, old boy.”

“You tried to have us killed in Singapore and—”

“Those boatmen were supposed to carry you to Jahore. Something went wrong. They were freelancers … or working for someone else.”

“Likely story.” Aparecio again.

“Where’s the ruby, Tuki?”

“I don’t trust you, la.”

“Trust? You want to talk about trust. You bought your freedom from me in Singapore with a glass ruby.”

“Len kap sak sak ti hua. You play with the dog, it will lick your mouth.”

“We don’t have time for proverbs. The nak-lin will be coming back here. Give me the stone. I can get you out of here. Out of Thailand. You’ll be free.”

“And dead,” says her father.

“First thing tomorrow morning. Just like I got Brandy and Delta out of Bangkwang. She slides her hand to the inside pocket of her suit jacket, pulls out an envelope with the United Airlines logo, hands the tickets to Michael.

“What?”

“Here. Talk to them.” Wen-Ling punches a number into a cell phone, passes it to Tuki.

Delta answers. She talks to her. Thai, Vietnamese, pidjin English. The only clue he has about what is going on is the widening eyes, the first smile he has seen on Tuki’s face in days.

“What?”

“They’re at the Silk Underground. They’re free.”

“Now hurry. Where is the ruby?”

Words rise in his throat.

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