that were more in the river than on it.
Through the darkness a long, narrow sampan glided silently to the shore. The boat — closer to a canoe really — was being steered from the back by a skinny boy. An elderly man with only one arm and a wisp of a mustache sat in the front.
“George?” the man whispered.
Right on time as always. George climbed aboard the sampan, sat and clasped his hands together. He bowed respectfully.
“How is business, Surakarn?”
“Brisk,” the old man said. “But, alas, we have had to close down our profitable Malaysian operation. Too much heat from the state police. They are not, I’m afraid, as receptive to gifts as they used to be.”
“So I’ve heard.” George looked at Surakarn’s weather-beaten face, his skin brittle like dry brown leaves. The former Thai boxing champion must be nearing seventy now, George thought, and worth countless millions of dollars. Yet Surakarn did not slow down, nor, it seemed, did he do anything with his vast wealth. He still lived in a modest hut along the Chao Phraya, though he had long ago allowed creature comforts to enter his dwelling. From the outside, the hut looked like something from a Vietnam War documentary; inside were two big-screen televisions, VCRs, a GE refrigerator, a dishwasher, a washer and dryer, a microwave, central air-conditioning, the works.
Surakarn smiled. “You’ve been away for a long time, old friend.”
“Too long,” George replied.
Surakarn waved his one arm toward the boy, and the sampan began its slow journey down the Chao Phraya. Surakarn’s other arm had been sliced off in Chiang Rai almost twenty-five years before by a fellow competitor in the smuggling industry named Rangood. Rangood, however, had made the mistake of allowing Surakarn to live. After he captured his nemesis, Surakarn tortured him mercilessly in ways that were beyond imagination. Rangood begged Surakarn to kill him, but Surakarn would listen only to his shouts of agony, not his words. By the time Rangood’s heart gave out several weeks later, his mind had long since snapped.
Surakarn was as trustworthy as they came, but George did not tell even him about Silverman’s kidnapping. This was too big, too risky, to trust anyone. George had decided not to solicit the help of the usual local cutthroats he worked with, despite what he had written in the note to Michael. He had even gone so far as to put a mask on Michael’s face when he sneaked him into the Eager Beaver.
The Chao Phraya area was quiet this evening. The gentle splashing sounds from an occasional boat enhanced the feeling of calm, of solitude. There was no mist in the air, only the stifling humidity, and yet there always seemed to be a fog rolling across the city, as though mist and fog could be detected by some sense other than sight and smell.
“Nothing changes here,” George said.
Surakarn nodded. “Bangkok is a constant.”
“I need to use the safe phone.”
“Of course.” Surakarn pointed to a radio with a microphone. “The radio leads to a cellular phone aboard one of my vessels near Hong Kong.”
“I see.”
“You asked to make a call that could not be traced. This is it.” Surakarn moved toward the far end of the boat. “You need not fear. I will not listen.”
George checked his watch. He called in the number to the captain of the drug boat in Hong Kong, who proceeded to hook him up with the United States. No matter what Surakarn claimed, the call was still, after all, traceable. The authorities could, in theory at least, figure out the call was made from a cellular phone (no doubt a stolen one) in Hong Kong. But to find out who made the call and then to find out that there was a radio hookup to Bangkok, well, that would be nearly impossible. Worst-case scenario: it would take weeks.
A few moments later George heard the voice. “Hello.”
“Perfect,” George said. “You’re right on time.”
“I can barely hear you,” the voice said.
“Don’t worry about it. We won’t be on long.”
“Is he all right?”
“Fine. We’re having a ball together. Did you transfer the money?”
“Yes.”
“All of it.”
“Every last penny,” the voice replied.
“How did you get it?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“I’ll check my account tomorrow morning just to be sure. If it is not all there, my houseguest will be missing a few fingers by tomorrow afternoon.”
“It’s all there.” The voice faltered for a moment and then said, “Why did you have to kill the nurse?”
“Excuse me?”
“The nurse. Why did you have to kill her?”
“She saw me.”
“But you’re supposed to be an expert. How could you let that happen?”
The words stung because George knew that they were true. He had miscalculated. That was rare. And very bothersome. “It was just a freak thing.”
“Listen to me closely: I don’t want any ‘freak thing’ to happen to Michael Silver—”
“Don’t use names, imbecile! Someone could be listening.”
“What — oh, sorry.”
The voice was extra-taut tonight, George thought, like somebody wound so tightly he would either snap or stretch into something unrecognizable. George had not liked it when the voice was nervous. Now he feared that his employer was beginning to lose control completely.
That was not good. It was, in fact, very bad.
“I guess I should be thankful,” the voice continued. “At least you didn’t kill Sa — uh, his wife.”
“I was able to sneak up behind her,” George replied evenly. “She never got the chance to see me.”
“Otherwise?”
“Otherwise she would be lying on a cold slab too.”
“No one else is to be hurt without my say-so. Absolutely no one. Just keep a hold of you-know-who. Make sure you treat him well.”
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
“No. You listen to—”
“Good-bye,” George said.
“Wait. How can I reach you?”
“You can’t.” George had trusted his employer too much already but no more. It was time to take control. “Just follow our plan.” He snapped off the radio. “Surakarn?”
“Yes?”
He tried to smile, but he was still distracted. “I feel good. Let’s take a little ride.”
“Where to?”
“I just came into a lot of money.”
“Congratulations.”
“Tell me, Surakarn, can a man still buy anything in Bangkok?”
Surakarn smiled toothlessly. “Do you still like them older?”
He nodded. “She has to be at least twenty.”
Jennifer Riker’s whole body shook. Over the past three days she had read the press reports, seen the news of Michael’s kidnapping on the television, witnessed the outrage of a country. But Jennifer felt more than outrage.
She felt fear.
Susan was going to be home in another two days, but Jennifer now knew that she could no longer wait until
