Noble Lies (17 page)

Mark could see how they'd do it. Get the old ship going, dead ahead full, drive it bow first, right through the triple hulls of a supertanker. There'd be an explosion and they'd all be killed, but they'd leave behind an environmental disaster, wiping out the fishing for a generation and killing off the tourist industry. It'd take a year to clear the shipping lane but by then economies would have collapsed and situations would have become so bad that the destitute would line up to join the very group that ruined their lives. You couldn't say it out loud—people always took it the wrong way—but Mark could see that it was a damn good plan.

“The Morning Star sails tomorrow on the night tide. We know when they plan on transferring the ship to the terrorists and it'll be a cash deal. We need to let the ship sail from port, then get aboard when it's at sea. We're going to arrest the pirate crew, lock them up, then wait for the terrorists to arrive. It's a small group so we figure their top guys will be there for the handover. They won't stick around of course, they'll let their martyrs have all the fun, but if we're there, we can get them all and nobody gets hurt. Well, none of the good guys anyway.”

“What do you need me to do?” Mark said. There was no hesitation in his voice.

“Tomorrow you get to a ticketing office—I'll give you the address—and book passage on the Morning Star.”

“Passage? I thought it was a tanker?”

“It is, but like most of the older ships they cut the costs and raise the profit margin by renting no-frills rooms. The Morning Star has about a dozen or so, and believe me, you get nothing. One meal a day and no shuffleboard.”

“What about Robin and Pim and the others?”

“Bring them along. They'll be safer there than they will be here. The crew that's on the Morning Star now, they're not going to do anything to mess up their payday. My team will take them out without a shot. The terrorists will be unarmed, that was part of the deal, so they'll be safe on the ship. Besides, once this goes down, Jarin will know where we're at. It'll be easier for us to get away as a group.”

Mark finished his second beer and motioned for a refill. “Okay, we get aboard, then what?”

“It's pretty simple. The Morning Star will be sailing north. It's slow as shit so there's no hurry. You'll need to get down to the ass end of the ship. Should be no problem. There's a bulkhead door that leads out to a platform off the stern, right above the water line, just like on a dive boat. I think they call it the fantail deck. When the ship's in port the crew uses that door to bring in small supplies, let in fresh air. They bolt it shut when they sail and there's an alarm system that let's the bridge know if the door's been opened. Andy will show you how to get around it.”

Andy nodded. “Two-wire bypass. Easy as pie.” He flipped over a paper placemat, clicked open a pen and started sketching wires.

“You make sure the door is open by two a.m. Probably best if you stay there and wait for us, just in case someone decides to check the door.”

“Not bloody likely,” Andy said without looking up from his drawing.

“Still, it's better to play it safe,” Shawn said. “Once we're aboard, my team will know what to do. You just stay out of the way.”

“I can lend a hand,” Mark said.

“My team has been training for this for weeks. They all have a role to play and they know the ship.” Shawn looked at Mark and read his eyes. “Taking the ship from the pirates, that's our first mission. After that, we've got a couple hours before the terrorists arrive. We'll get you up to speed by then. You never know, we might just need you.”

The waitress arrived with Mark's Singha, setting down a fresh bowl of odd-shaped pretzels. “Thank you, sir,” she said as she pocketed the pair of hundred bhat notes. “We have drink special tonight. You have Sex on Beach with me?”

“No, thanks,” Mark said, seeing through the sales pitch for the fruity drink with the stupid name. “But tell you what, bring us a round of shots. Make them doubles.”

Andy looked up, a wide grin in place. “Right. Now you're talking. I'll have a Bushmills, sweetheart.”

“I'll stick with the Guinness,” Shawn said, shaking his head.

“And you sir?” the waitress said, her chest pressed against Mark's arm. “What you want to drink? Something special?”

“Yeah,” Mark said and smiled. “Tequila.”

 

Chapter Twenty five

   

He didn't hear the first set of knocks. The second set—three quick taps delivered a bit harder than the first set—blended into his half-awake, half-asleep dream. The third set of three shook the door casing and rattled the framed room-rate chart on the wall.

“Go away,” Mark said, at the same time pulling the pillow tight against his head. He heard the door open, heard the disgusted sigh, and flinched when the door swung shut with a bang.

“Did you get it?” Mark asked, his words muffled by the sweat-soaked pillow.

“Yeah, I got it,” Robin said, throwing the plastic bag onto his bed. He listened as she plopped down on the room's matching twin bed, the headboard rapping against the wall.

“That's what that was,” Mark said, moving the pillow off his head. He was sprawled, face down, on the small bed, his feet hanging off the end. His shirt was balled up on the dresser but he still had on the khakis he had worn to meet Shawn at the Bay View Hotel.

“That was what?” Robin said, not masking the disappointment in her voice.

“The headboard hitting the wall. That's what I heard all night.”

“Ugh. You had some girl in this room?”

Mark tried to shake his head but it lost something lying down. “No,” he said. “Next door. All night long.”

“Well at least someone in this hotel had a good time.” Robin folded over a thin pillow, wedged it behind her back and leaned against the headboard. “I take it you enjoyed yourself.”

Mark considered the statement. They had stayed at the Woodpecker Lounge for a few more drinks, then hired a cab to take them to the places that Andy or Shawn knew. Langkawi was in Malaysia; and unlike tolerant, open-minded, Buddhist Thailand, Malaysia was a Muslim country. But that just meant the strip clubs were harder to find. Shawn kept them supplied with low-denomination Malaysian ringgits, and while he and Andy slipped into backrooms with giggling strippers, Mark sat at the bar, catching up on his drinking. Ten years ago it would have been an epic night out. Now, with a thousand nights just like it under his belt, it had already blended into his collective drunken memory. Familiarity didn't breed contempt. It bred boredom.

“You get it?” he asked, his hand feeling around the bed near his knees.

“I told you I did,” Robin said as his fingers found the plastic bag. He took a deep breath and slowly, slowly, slowly sat up.

“They didn't have any Sinutab, but the pharmacist gave me some pills, prescription stuff. They're not as tight about that shit here as they are in the US.”

Mark took a small one-inch square baggie that held two white, horse-sized pills and a warm can of soda from the bag.

“I couldn't find any Mountain Dew. You'll have to get by with Zam Zam.”

Eyes closed, Mark popped the top on the soft drink and washed down the pills. It had a strong cola taste and the sugar made his teeth tingle. He took a second swig and leaned back on the mound of pillows he had created. He knew it was only psychological, that it would take twenty minutes for the pills to take effect and for the caffeine to kick in, but he felt better already. “Did you get the tickets?”

“Yes, I got the tickets. I thought I was running late since the office didn't open till ten and they took their sweet time waiting on me, but I see that your morning hasn't even started yet.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his brain back into his skull. “Any problems?”

“I told you I got them, didn't I?” She paused and thought for a moment. “There was this kid though, weasel-faced, kind of creepy. I saw him watching me through the window of the shipping office.”

“Think he was following you?”

Robin shrugged. “Probably not. He'd have a hard time keeping up with me. He had this handicapped leg…it's just that he looked at me funny, that's all.”

“I thought beautiful women got used to guys staring at them.”

“Don't start with me, Mark, okay?” She leaned her head back to rest it against the wall. “We need to be at the dock by four. You think you'll be ready?”

Mark squinted at the red numbers on the alarm clock on the dresser. “Plenty of time. You tell the others?”

“That's your job.”

For a long time they said nothing, Robin watching the ceiling fan, Mark looking at the far wall of the room, thinking about what lay ahead. Down the hall a door closed and in the silence the sounds of the traffic drifted up and through the open window in the bathroom. They sat like this—Robin on one bed, Mark on the other, both leaning back, their knees up—long enough for Mark to feel the sinus pressure fade along with the headache.

“Why hasn't he come to see me?” Robin said, her voice no louder than the hum of the fan. “I come looking for him, thousands of miles, all the way from Ohio. He can't even come down the beach to see me. He can go out all night drinking, but can't even fucking call the hotel to say hello?” She let the silence fill the room again before saying, “Why hasn't he come?”

Mark knew he couldn't tell her what he knew. And he knew that anything else he'd tell her would sound like the lie it would have to be. But he knew what brothers were like. He had a sister in Utah, at least that's where he thought she was, but they hadn't talked in fifteen years. Given the choice of spending an evening alone with a family member or out at some seedy dive with a girl paid to be friendly, he knew which he'd pick. “I don't know,” he said.

It was well past noon but the unfurled rattan blinds gave the room an early morning feel, the colors washed out and dim. In the other bed he could hear her sniff back tears, hear the heavy swallows, her breath coming in short sobs that she struggled to control. Someone else might have gotten up, laid beside her and held her as she cried, stroked her head and whispered, told her to let it all out or that everything would be fine. But he knew he wasn't that kind of guy. And he knew that there were times when you had to cry alone.

 

***

 

Thirty minutes and an ice cold shower after Robin had left, Mark knocked on Pim's hotel room door and asked if they'd be ready to go in an hour.

“Yes. But we will not be going with you.”

It was not the answer he had expected.

She stepped back from the door, allowing him to enter. On one of the two single beds, remote in hand, Ngern sped through the twenty satellite TV channels, flicking between Asian MTV and two episodes of Pokemon. The grandfather—Kiao? Kayto?—arms intertwined behind his back like an apprentice contortionist, stood by the window, watching the midday traffic jam. Mark took a seat at the end of the second bed and patted a space beside him. Pim hesitated a moment, then sat down. Mark said nothing and waited for her to sort out her thoughts.

“We are a burden on Miss Robin,” she finally said. “She has taken us very far and we have done nothing to help. Before, in Thailand, I could help, but here I am a stranger.”

“That's all right, Pim,” Mark said. “You helped us out a lot. You don't owe us anything.” He watched as she chewed on her lip. She seemed to grow smaller the longer she sat next to him.

“Mister Mark, you must know this. I did not always tell you the truth.”

Mark smiled but she did not notice, busy watching her feet sway an inch above the polished hardwood floor. “Well, I guess we weren't always completely truthful with you, either.”

“I did not know where to find Shawn. I heard him talk about Krabi before and told you he was there, but I did not know for sure.” She paused and turned to him. “I lied to you.”

The way she looked up at him—those soft brown eyes, those pouty lips—he knew he'd have to tell her. He took a breath and looked into her eyes. “I've seen your husband. I've seen Shawn.”

She shrugged. “I know. The cook at the Lanta Merry Huts said you were talking to a man late at night. He described him and then I knew. And yesterday, the man here at the front desk told me you received a message to go to the Bay View Hotel. The man has a cousin who works there. He called his cousin and told him what you look like. His cousin said you were sitting with two men. He described both men and I knew that one was Shawn.”

Mark felt his shoulders sag.

“I had hoped that my husband would come for me, but it has not happened.”

“He's been busy,” Mark heard himself saying. “He's involved in…several things. I'm sure he'll explain it all soon.”

“Yes, I am sure that is it,” she said without conviction. “But it has been a long time, and I have come so far. Now it is time for my family to go home.”

“Why? We're close to the end now.”

“He does not say it, but my grandfather is nervous. He has never left Thailand before.” She leaned forward and looked past Mark to her grandfather, leaning back before the old man noticed. When she spoke again her voice was a whisper. “He is not happy with Shawn. He thinks that Shawn has shown our family a great disrespect. He thinks Shawn should have returned after the tsunami and supported his family. That is his obligation,” she said, struggling with the word. “He thinks I should have married a Thai man, someone who shares our ways.”

“He said this to you?”

Pim looked surprised. “No. He has said nothing. But I can tell.”

On the other bed, his expression as animated as the anime hero's, Ngern watched a mutant yellow cat battle a spinning blue turtle. Mark reached over and covered both of Pim's hands with one of his. “We'll be leaving today, all of us. No one gets left behind. We'll be getting on a boat. Shawn will meet us on the boat, later. I'm sure he'll explain where he has been and why he couldn't come to see you.”

“Perhaps,” she said, not believing it would happen.

Mark looked around the room. The few extra clothes they had, washed the night before in the hotel sink, were air-drying on the backs of chairs. “You need to pack. We'll be leaving for the dock in an hour.”

She nodded. “Where are we going?”

“We'll be going to Phuket Town,” he said, leaving off all things that were to happen before they arrived.

“Phuket Town,” she said, looking back down to the floor. “Then Jarin will come for me and take me away again; and he will kill my grandfather for what he did to that man in the hut, and he will kill Ngern, too.”

“Look at me, Pim,” Mark said, raising her chin with his finger till their eyes met. “No one will harm you. I promise.”

He heard Pim swallow hard, but her deep, brown eyes were dry. “You can not make such a promise, Mister Mark. That is for fate to decide.”