JET II - Betrayal (JET #2) (13 page)

“Tell her that we just want to talk to her. She doesn’t have to do anything. I want to know what she’s seen here, and everything about her,” Jet said, sitting on the bed after pacing the floor while listening to Lawan’s account.

Rob translated, and they spent the rest of the hour talking to her, listening to a story that was as tragic as it was commonplace.

“What can we do, Rob? How can we get the police involved? This has to be stopped.”

“I’ll ask Edgar, but my hunch is that, given the amount of protection Lap Pu has, they will have disappeared by the time anyone gets around to conducting a raid, assuming that any raid ever took place. This is one of those sad truisms of life here. Sometimes there isn’t anything you can do. It’s sickening, but true.”

“That’s not good enough. There’s always something you can do.”

“I know, but reality is that as horrible as this is, it’s not part of our mission. You know that. We need to concentrate on the objective.”

He was right. She knew it. This was a distraction they couldn’t afford. The logic of it was clear. But sometimes logic wasn’t everything.

“Rob, I want you to tell her that we’re sorry she is here, and that I’ll be back to help her at some point. I don’t know how, but I will.”

“I’m not going to tell her that. She’ll tell someone eventually, and then they’ll just move her, and that will be it. And not to be redundant, but again, that’s not our mission.”

She counted to ten, calming herself.

“You’re right, Rob. I’m sorry. It just makes me crazy to see this.”

“I know. It’s not doing anything for me, either.”

Jet got onto her knees, and Lawan came to her. She held the little girl’s trembling frame for a brief eternity, and when Lawan stepped away, a tear rolled down her cherubic cheek. Jet’s eyes moistened, but she shook it off and stood.

“Tell her that if anyone asks, all we wanted her to do was watch us. Think she can manage that?” Jet asked.

“I doubt anyone will ask, but okay, I’ll tell her.”

Precisely one hour after Lawan had arrived, another knock sounded at the door. She shuffled to the knob and unlocked it, and then threw Jet one final look, a combination of sadness, fear and misery. Jet took a deep breath and steeled herself. The
mama-san
entered and looked at the bed, which they had rumpled so it look used, and then inquired whether they would want anything more. Rob told her that no, everything was good. As they were leaving the rear area, two beefy bodyguards in double-breasted suits moved towards them down the wide hall, and they stepped aside. The goons brushed past them, trailed by a diminutive man in his late fifties, thick silver hair slicked back with gel, wearing a burgundy silk jacket and black slacks. Lap Pu was instantly recognizable from the photos she’d seen, but she didn’t blink when their eyes locked for a fleeting second. She turned to Rob and laughed, then whispered something, smiling. Pu’s gaze drifted past her, and then another guard brought up the rear, the bulge of his weapon straining the material of his suit.

Once back in the booth, Rob ordered another beer for them both and then leaned forward, as if telling Jet a joke.

“That was about as close as you could ask to get. But it looks like he’s got the troops with him. Good luck getting a tracking chip on him. That was a swell idea, but now…well, it looks pretty much impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible. But I agree that now’s not the time. We need to find his car and figure out a way to get the chip on it so we can find his house. I’ll need a distraction. Here’s where you earn your keep. Got any ideas?” she asked.

“I think we–”

The waitress interrupted them with two more cold beers, and by the time she’d collected payment, the music started blaring again. Time for more of the show.

They sat watching another half hour of seemingly impossible acts, each more depraved than the last. Halfway through the festivities, Rob proposed something that could work. It would take perfect timing, but it was their best chance. As the show wound down to a smattering of tired applause, he pulled out his cell phone and called Edgar.

Chapter 13

Rob and Jet exited the club and wove their way drunkenly down the street, turning the corner on the alley that ran behind it. A gleaming black Mercedes sedan sat by the seedy emporium’s back door, the driver standing by the hood, smoking a cigarette. Jet laughed at some witticism Rob had uttered, and they stopped, she leaning against the brick wall as he moved close and kissed her.

Two men darted into the alley, one with a knife and the other with a chain, and before the couple could disengage, the shorter one slammed Rob in the back with the chain, screaming at him in Thai to give him his wallet. His companion repeated the demand in a guttural voice, and Jet backed away from them as Rob stood, aggressively facing the two.

They began circling him, the assailant with the chain swinging it over his head in a threatening manner as the one with the knife tried to flank him. Jet ran towards the Mercedes, eyes wide with fear.

“Help. Please. Help us,” she screamed in English, and then the two men attacked Rob in a flurry of motion.

The driver wanted no part of the scuffle, even when the woman begged him. He shook his head. Rob broke into a run and sprinted down the alley towards him. The driver shrugged away as Rob stumbled, falling to the ground, and Jet took cover behind the car. The men gave chase, and then seeing the driver, yelled at him.

“Move along, dog dick. Or you’ll be next,” the larger man growled at him from twenty feet away.

“That’s right, shitbird. This isn’t your fight. Get your candy-ass out of here or you’ll be sorry,” the smaller mugger snarled, with an ominous rattle of his chain.

The driver pulled a gun from his shoulder holster and held it aloft for the two men to see. A Nighthawk Custom chrome-plated .45. The two Thais stopped their advance and stood frozen before slowly backing away, then turned and broke for the alley mouth.

Jet removed the chewing gum from her mouth and stuck it below the back bumper and sank the tracking chip into it.

She stood and ran to Rob, who had paused near the wall of the building opposite the car, and threw her arms around him.

“Honey. Are you okay?”

“Oh, God. They almost killed us.” He turned to face the driver. “Thank you so much,” he said in English, and then repeated it in mangled Thai.

The driver waved him off, annoyed. Stupid
farangs
. What did they expect, drunk in this neighborhood? Idiots. He looked down in disgust at his half-smoked cigarette soaking in a puddle by his feet. Perfectly good smoke wasted.

“Thanks again,” Jet cooed, and then she and Rob continued down the alley away from the attackers and the club, the driver’s angry gaze following them until they reached the next street and turned the corner.

“The signal’s strong. We have a winner,” Jet said, holding the phone up so Rob could see the blinking red light.

“I’ll get a car. We’ll want to follow him, right?”

“Sure. Although I don’t want to get close enough to risk alerting him. We’ll have to be careful. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves and screw this up.”

“Agreed. So what’s the plan once we have him at his house?”

“We’ll put it under twenty-four-hour watch. We have no idea how long it will be before Pu makes his next trip north, so this could take a while. You want me to contact Edgar about vehicles and a surveillance team, or will you?” Jet asked.

“I’ll take care of it. Give me a few minutes. I’ll go get my car so we’re ready to go.”

Rob walked off towards the hotel district, leaving Jet waiting in front of a section of stalls selling Coach purses and Prada sunglasses, all made on the Chinese/Cambodian border and a hundredth of the price of the real thing. There was plenty of foot traffic; the area buzzed with activity. Bangkok came alive at night, when the population emptied into the streets for the seemingly endless celebration that was its natural state.

Four drunk Australian men in their late twenties staggered down the sidewalk, laughing boisterously and holding a loud, off-color conversation about their prior night’s adventures. When one of them caught sight of Jet, he nudged his buddy and approached her.

“How much?” he asked with an inebriated smile.

She just shrugged, playing dumb. As good a time as any to try blending in as a local.

“Come on, honey. How much to give us a rub and tug? All four of us. You’ll like it. The lads and I are ‘me so hohny’.”

She pointed at her throat and shook her head, then turned away from them, returning her attention to the purses.

She felt his meaty hand grab her arm and try to swing her around.

“Don’t give me that–”

Jet pivoted and delivered a brutal strike to his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him with an
oof
. She supported him as he fell against her, his knees buckling, and then she pushed his dead weight into the arms of his mates.

The remaining three stood stunned, and then the largest, wearing an orange rugby shirt, rushed her.

“Try that kung fu shit on me, you bi–”

The kick to his groin was so fast, he had no time to register it before he went down with a gasp, knocking a bin of Luis Vuitton clutches onto the sidewalk as he fell. The shopkeeper came running at the sound to find two of the four men sprawled on the sidewalk. The final two didn’t seem to have any appetite for more Jet and backed away from her a few steps.

She executed a small
wai
with a smile, then turned and sashayed away, wary of any pursuit. There was none, the inebriated bullies now occupied with trying to get free of the shopkeeper, who was demanding payment for the wet purses. That would keep them busy for a while –Thai vendors were as tenacious as lampreys: if they thought you owed them something, they would tie you up for hours, screaming and threatening to call the police. Any time there was a disagreement between a Thai and a foreigner, the brown-clad cops would invariably side with the Thai, so they never hesitated to avail themselves of that option. The Aussies were screwed.

She could see why the locals both despised foreigners and courted them. They came with boatloads of money the population desperately needed, and exchanged it for the national product – easy, cheap sex with attractive, willing partners. But they were an ill-behaved bunch, arrogant, loud and unrefined, and so, behind the ever-present Thai courtesy lurked a simmering hatred bred of generations of being used as the westerners’ outhouse. The altercation with the four men had been a typical one. Drunk, loutish oafs assuming that any woman on the street was a sex worker, and thus theirs to do with as they liked – the only sticking point being an agreed-upon price. There was no way they would act like that at home.

It felt good to get rid of some of the anger that had been welling inside her since her time with Lawan. There had been a number of non-violent ways she could have extracted herself from the altercation with the four men, but the truth was that she wanted to hit someone, to hurt them. The little girl’s situation was beyond awful, and there was nothing she could do about it. Jet knew there were thousands of similar children being brutalized all around her that night, but for whatever reason, she’d been touched by Lawan and couldn’t shake her.

Rob had been prudent, but that didn’t mean that he was right. She understood the danger and recklessness of getting involved in trying to save the world. But the memory of Lawan’s innocent face and the look of helpless despair in her eyes stayed with her. Somebody had to do something. And the only one who seemed to care was Jet.

A Nissan pulled alongside her at the curb, and Rob’s voice called from the window.

“Hop in.”

She swung the door open and slid into the passenger seat, the tracking phone glowing in her hand.

“Did you talk to Edgar?”

“Yup. He’ll have two more vehicles at our disposal within an hour, and a surveillance team in place within two.”

“So now we wait. It might be a long night.”

“Most are.”

Chapter 14

Tuk tuks roared by their position a block from the club, the three-wheeled conveyances ferried tourists from one den of iniquity to another. A seemingly endless parade of buzzing motor scooters made kamikaze runs in and out of the speeding traffic, their pilots seemingly fearless, immune to the effects of any ill-timed braking or a swinging fender. Sirens pierced the night as the ambulances mobilized to scrape up what was left of the riders who had timed it wrong.

“There are literally hundreds of accidents every day with the bikes and scooters,” Rob said, reading her mind.

“But everyone drives like they’re insane.”

“It’s part of the local charm.”

“Reminds me of Rome. Or New Delhi.”

“Hmm. Never been.”

“You haven’t missed much. Especially India. It’s a different world.”

“I’ve been confining my travels to Asia.” Then Rob clammed up. He obviously didn’t feel like sharing any further, so Jet let it go. She wasn’t particularly interested, anyway.

“You’re still thinking about the little girl, aren’t you?” he asked, after a time.

“Why do you say that?”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe.”

“It’s a despicable situation, but we can’t get involved. The risks are too great. And I didn’t sign up for that.”

“I know.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between them, which was fine by her. She wasn’t in a mood to talk.

They had been sitting for two and a half hours and could just make out the front of the club, occasional patrons appearing out of the night and wandering inside – always Caucasians.

“Thais only go to the ping pong clubs if they’re taking foreign guests out on the town. Otherwise it’s not their thing.”

“I know. Edgar told me. Seems like that’s about the only perversion that’s not their thing. Sex with children, no problem. Ladyboys galore, bring it on. But ping pong. Heaven forbid…”