The guards looked up from their card table, startled by a rattle at the back of the club. Probably a cat trying to get to the garbage. The younger of the two made a lewd comment, and both men laughed, and then the rattle disrupted their game again.
“Go look to see what’s happening, Alak. Could be trouble,” the older man ordered. The younger threw down his cards with an exasperated exhalation of smoke. “When have we ever had trouble? Come on. Nobody would dare look crooked at this place with the old man’s reputation. You’re just trying to cheat me out of another hundred baht. I’m onto you.”
“Nobody forces you to play. Now go see what that’s all about while I take a leak.”
Both men rose, the younger taking the lead as they strode down the long hall at the back of the club to the restrooms and entertainment suites.
The older man entered the bathroom and hit the light switch. The overhead fluorescent bulb sputtered to reluctant life. He was unzipping his fly with a sigh of relief when he heard a muffled thud from outside.
“Alak? What the hell are you doing?”
There was no response.
Torn by the pressure on his bladder and his duty, he called for his partner again.
“Alak. Don’t screw around. What’s going on out there?”
He was growing annoyed when the light flickered off.
He hastily drew his weapon as he neared the door in the complete darkness, feeling along with the toes of his shoes until his gun barrel knocked into the wall. He swore silently and took a deep breath, then pulled the door open.
The hall was equally dark, the only light a sliver of dim illumination from the rear alley exit. He peered along the corridor and could barely make out an inert form on the floor. His startled recognition of the younger man’s corpse was accompanied by a whistling as the razor-sharp sword blade swung at his neck, neatly decapitating him before he could raise his pistol. An expression of puzzled surprise froze on his face for eternity as his head tumbled to the floor and then rolled halfway down the hall while his torso collapsed lifelessly at Jet’s feet, blood still pumping from the neatly severed stump of his neck.
The air was heavy with the gamey scent of blood as she leaned down and wiped the sword on the guard’s suit before returning it to the scabbard strapped across her back. A creak sounded from above, and she spun, returning to the stairs.
Jet waited, willing her breath to a near stop, listening, senses tingling from adrenaline. Another creak and then shuffling footsteps above.
The barrel of the
“So, you bitch, how does it feel when you’re on the receiving end of the hurt?”
“You dead when Pu find out about this,” she spat in broken English.
“Pu’s dead. I danced in his blood. He cried like an old woman when I killed him.”
The
“Rot in hell,” Jet muttered and then, gazing around, stepped over the woman and opened the breaker panel before flipping the master back on. She made short work of dragging the bodies into the nearest room, trying to minimize the gore in the hall, then paused, listening, before moving to the stairs.
The club was silent, except for her footsteps as she ascended the steps and approached the locked door.
The bolt sliding open sounded like a rifle shot. She pulled the door towards her and edged forward, feeling for the light switch as she heard the rustling of bodies on the floor.
The harsh glare of a single incandescent bulb illuminated a scene out of hell. Three children huddled together on the floor in a space the size of a broom closet, a metal bucket their toilet. The stink was overpowering, and Jet retched, fighting back the urge to vomit. She forced herself to smile as the three children’s faces stared up at her in apprehension. The boy was a little older than Lawan, with an adult air about his adolescent face, and the other girl was already aging in an ugly way, years of abuse and disease leaving dark rings under her eyes, her features unhealthy looking and starved, but her eyes calculating.
Lawan’s face brightened with recognition, and she leapt up and hugged Jet, tears rolling down her face, her body shuddering with sobs. The other children watched uncomprehendingly as Jet stroked Lawan’s hair with her left hand and gestured to them with her other.
“Come on.”
The two exchanged glances and rose. Jet led Lawan down the stairs, guiding them to the rear exit in the darkened hall, their feet squishing in the blood underfoot. She hesitated for a few seconds, then twisted the deadbolt and threw the back door open. Peering outside, she stepped out into the alley with Lawan, the boy and girl following her. She motioned for them to come with her, but the boy shook his head and then took the girl’s hand. Jet nodded and fished in her pocket, retrieving a thick wad of baht. The pair’s eyes widened at the money, and then turned to shocked surprise when she peeled a few notes off and handed them the rest. The girl snatched the money away and took off at a full run, the boy trailing her as they escaped their past and bolted into an uncertain future.
She watched them disappear and then turned Lawan’s face to hers, crouching down so they were at eye level. They exchanged a long look, Lawan’s eyes brimming with tears, and then Jet stood and took her hand, leaving the club’s door open to the night predators, and walked with her towards the long shadows at the alley mouth.
Lawan stood in the hotel shower for a half hour, washing away the horror with a stream of warm water and a shrinking bar of soap. Jet let her take her time, knowing that she needed to process that she was free, safe from the ugliness that had defined her last week. Hopefully over time, she would put it behind her, as Jet had surmounted the ugliness of her past, although she knew all too well that the scars never fully healed. She wished that she could communicate with the little girl, tell her that it was all going to be okay, that she would never need to go back to the club and that nobody would hurt her any more, but Jet had to be satisfied with whatever her eyes and touch could convey. There would be time in a few hours, when morning came, to hear her story and tell her the news. Matt would help — he’d promised her that he would as part of their bargain, but also because she sensed he was trying to make amends for his associate’s sins, even if he hadn’t participated in them.
Eventually, the water shut off, and Lawan emerged from the bathroom with a towel draped around her tiny frame. Jet had bought a change of clothes and an oversized T-shirt for her, which she gratefully pulled over her head. Jet balled up the filthy rags she’d been sleeping in and threw them into the trash. Lawan gave her a shy smile.
The neon dawn outside the window flickered at the curtains as they lay together on the bed, Lawan’s wet head snuggled against Jet’s shoulder as her eyelids fluttered and she drifted to sleep, her breathing soft as a lamb’s. Jet stroked her hair absently while staring into the void, and then she, too, shut her eyes and quieted her thoughts, secure in the knowledge that for the moment, at least, they were safe.
Chapter 30
“That’s not good enough,” the voice on the phone raged. “I want to see you. Twenty minutes.”
The line went dead, and Arthur stared at the scrambled cell phone with dread.
He had spent years climbing to a point of dominance in the hierarchy of the group that controlled so much of the international drug trade, but he still had to answer to one man. A man who represented powerful interests — interests that were anonymous to all but the most senior in the group — Arthur being the second highest ranking of the CIA group members, and the most active in the day-to-day operations.
He remembered the early days, when he’d been recruited into the scheme by the then number-two man in
