The Killing Chase (Beach & Riley Book 2) (6 page)

Chapter 6

The wait for nightfall now over, Jake and the team readied themselves to put the plan in motion. They checked their weapons – Jake carrying only a fourteen-inch-long, rectangular-cut baton made of polished Thai
mai daeng
, about twice as hard as teakwood. The Aussie brothers attached Spiderco thumb-opening knives to their military webbing belts, while Tik wore a punch-dagger with a two-inch blade secreted in a belt buckle, custom-made for her by a friend of Jake’s.

Only the Thai policemen had firearms, and they were under strict instructions not to draw them unless there was absolutely no other choice. Jake couldn’t risk alerting their quarry with the sound of gunfire, or the damage it could inflict before he found the man he was here to kill. They checked their Bluetooth headsets then made their way toward the compound.

With Mike Lee atop the derelict sun deck behind the Russians’ compound, the others crept through a vacant block along the western boundary wall of the failed property development. Reaching the point outside a small lane, which divided the Russian lair from the next house, they stopped. Dozer walked up with two wooden pallets he’d carried from the neighboring property. Jake had offered to carry one, but the bigger man refused on the grounds that one in each arm would balance the load. Jake and Dozer now arranged the heavy pallets to act as a makeshift ladder against the eight-foot wall, then reached up to spread a piece of old carpet over the embedded glass shards atop the concrete barrier.

“I go first,” Tik announced, scrambling up. She had reached the carpet before anyone could protest. Straddling the wall, she used a rock to blunt protruding shards of glass so they wouldn’t poke through the fibrous material with the weight of the heavy men behind her. Priest raised his eyebrows in acknowledgment of her obvious experience, but Jake merely shrugged. He knew Tik’s operational capabilities much better than they. She looked down and yanked her head to signal everything was okay, then disappeared over the wall. The only sound the men heard was a faint crunch of gravel under her feet as she landed. Dozer was next, moving with surprising grace for his size, then Priest, over in a flash. Jake waited until the two Thai Special Branch cops were safely over before following close behind.

The group stole along the northern wall of the Russians’ lair until Jake was a foot from the corner. He pulled a small mirror from his pocket, extending it just far enough beyond the corner to see the exterior guard’s position and posture. He gave the others a thumbs-up, and Tik moved across the lane. Jake whispered into his headset, and Mike Lee threw a small stick against his side of the wall dividing the derelict building from the Russian compound. As the guard at the gate turned his attention toward the sound, Tik darted silently into the main driveway; fifteen yards farther away from the Russians’ house then stopped and turned 180 degrees back toward the target. She was now forty yards from the guard – far enough for him to think she had entered through the development’s padlocked front gates.  

Satisfied the noise from the rear of the property posed no threat, the man turned his gaze toward the gates. His body tightened as he suddenly saw Tik walking toward him, her gait faltering slightly as though she was drunk. His hand reflexively reached for the Smith & Wesson .38 shoved into the back of his trousers while he strained to focus on the small silhouette approaching him.

As Tik passed her comrades still hidden in the side lane, light from the compound began to expose her diminutive size and gender, putting the guard more at ease. He didn’t recognize her face but assumed she’d been given a key to the padlock, and could have been any one of the gang’s many street peddlers. One thing he did know – this one was going to be in trouble with the boss. Sergey would not tolerate his street-workers drinking on the job – worse still, if she’d sampled her employer’s product. He took an authoritative stance as she neared the gate. “Who are you? What you want here?”

Some quick intelligence-gathering by the Thai Special Branch after their initial reconnaissance had uncovered the name of a new addition to the Russian’s street peddlers. Jake had given the financially desperate young lady thirty-thousand Baht – about nine hundred US dollars – to forget her new job. It had been an easy decision for the simple farm girl to make. She already missed her family, and the money would easily pay their debts, buy seed for the next crop, and a couple of family feasts. She would return a heroine, without ever having done anything to dishonor her family. By the time the Russian guard was meeting her impostor stand-in, the girl was already on the long bus trip back to her parents’ farm in the northeast of Thailand.

“My name Jeab. I sorry, I go party my friend house – cannot find taxi. Please not be angry me.” Tik played the part well.

Young Thai street women are well known for their lack of punctuality and fondness for partying, so the Russian gang tacitly accepted their lack of discipline as a cost of doing business in Thailand – small price to pay for such high profit margins on their methamphetamines, or
Yaabaa,
as it’s known in Thai – literally translated as
crazy medicine
.

“Grigori will be angry. You cannot sell when you’re drunk like this.” The guard spoke surprisingly clear English.

“I sorry, jing jing.” Tik emphasized her contriteness. “Please not tell Mr. Sergey. I do anything you want – please mister…” Now her demeanor turned coy and playful as she maneuvered until her back faced the house. “I give you blowjob?”

Caught off guard despite his several months in this sin city, the guard fumbled for words while Tik undid his pants. His excitement grew quickly as Tik’s face neared his crotch, but instead of feeling the new girl’s gratitude, his pants were suddenly and violently pulled down around his ankles so he couldn’t take a step. There was no clatter from his .38 hitting the ground – Jake had stealthily arrived to catch it mid-fall, then wrapped his powerful right arm around the guard’s neck like a bulging Anaconda. Jake handed the .38 off to Priest, who brushed past them to ensure the yard was clear beyond the gate. Jake squeezed consciousness from the hapless guard, then handed him to the Thai cops. The two looked at one another, seemingly a little surprised, before they dragged him around the corner from where they came.

The Russians’ security measures were reasonably good, but there was certainly no military precision, so Jake was confident they didn’t need to make any special efforts to disguise their full frontal attack. The team darted through the front gate and across the concrete courtyard. Jake positioned himself to one side of the double front door, Dozer manned the other, and Tik stood directly in front. Jake whispered into his headset, waited for a reply from Mike Lee, then nodded to Tik. She rapped softly on the door, and donned her most innocent smile.

A muffled voice spoke from inside, but she didn’t answer. The door opened wide to reveal a shirtless and heavily tattooed man in his thirties with a Sig Sauer P226 stuck in the front of his waistband. Tik immediately moved her right hand to her waist, raising her thumb, and pointing her index finger. The signal gave Dozer his cue. In a split second, his right hand shot toward where he estimated the guard’s waist would be. His aim adjusted as the target entered his field of vision, and before the Russian could react, Dozer had grabbed him by the waistband, jerking him violently through the doorway to be brutally clotheslined by Jakes’ forearm. The unfortunate Russian’s feet flew up and forward as his head and shoulders thudded into the concrete porch.

Jake nodded at the Thai policemen, while pointing at their most recent victim. Again, the two looked at each other in obvious surprise, but dutifully retrieved the unconscious man and carried him off, around the corner. Dozer watched the pair disappear through the gate then gave Jake a quizzical look. Jake shrugged off the Thais’ odd behavior and turned back toward the doorway. Just inside the front door, Dozer kept vigil at the bottom of the stairs while Jake and Priest continued to the living room.

Rounding the corner, they heard faint sounds from beyond the dining area, through the kitchen entry. They took up positions either side of the arched entry, but before they could breach, a tall, leggy blonde wearing earbuds and a translucent red negligee sauntered past them humming some kind of techno music. It took a second to register what she’d caught in her periphery before she spun around to see the two assailants. Her mouth opened as if for a scream, but Priest’s hand shot out, thudding into her right vagus nerve where the carotid artery emerges from the base of the neck. The sudden shock overwhelmed her baroreceptors and nervous system. She was unconscious before the pain of the blow could register with her brain.

Jake caught the girl as she crumpled and carried her back into the kitchen. Priest opened the walk-in pantry door to let Jake slide her onto the floor. They duct-taped her mouth and hands then headed back to the front entrance. Satisfied the ground floor was clear, they started upstairs, carefully keeping their feet to the outside edges of the steps to minimize the creaking of timber. Dozer followed close behind Jake, his Spiderco drawn and open. Priest followed Dozer, and Tik brought up the rear. As they reached the top, Tik turned to see the two Thai policemen just starting up.

From the top of the stairs, Jake could see two closed doors and one ajar. Light spilled from the open door, sporadically broken by shadows of movement within. No light shone from beneath the closed doors. Jake signaled the Aussie brothers each to take one of the Thai cops and stand by to clear the closed rooms. Tik moved up to flank Jake as he approached the open door. Baton in hand, the former Delta Force operative readied for breach. He pointed two fingers, first at his eyes, then at his chest, telling the others to watch him for a synchronized offensive. He breathed in, tensed his legs, and barged forward, slamming the door wide open in his wake.

A bespectacled man in his mid-thirties dropped his coffee cup in shock as Jake covered the distance between them with startling speed. Tik followed into the room, dagger at the ready, but the man with glasses was the sole occupant. The Russian tried to back away, but Jake grabbed his right wrist with his right hand, pulling it up and over his own head, concurrently snaking his left arm under the right armpit, over the shoulder, and past his target’s throat. Jake hooked his short baton around the man’s neck, and pulled hard on his right wrist while forcing the man’s head backward, exposing the ribcage. The highly skilled martial artist released his grip on the wrist in order to plunge his stiffened fingers almost three inches into the Russian’s belly until he gripped under the leading edge of his ribcage. The extreme torque created by the twisting upward pressure on the neck and torturous pulling on the ribcage must have caused the most frightening pain and dread Jake’s captive had ever experienced.

Mike Lee had shown him a picture of his quarry, so Jake knew this had to be Grigori, the local crew boss. “Okay, Grigori,” Jake growled, “tell me where Sergey Ugolev is, and the pain will stop.”

The man gasped for breath but didn’t answer.

“This is not going to stop until I know where he is.”

Despite what Jake knew to be agony beyond description, Sergey Ugolev’s Pattaya underboss held his tongue. He was by no means small or incapable, but Jake’s skill, power, and determination were indomitable.  He ratcheted up the pressure. Grigori thought he would soon pass out from the searing pain and lack of breath, but Jake knew exactly how to maintain his torment. The reduction in blood flow to his retinas brought stars fluttering before his eyes, while the piercing burn from his solar plexus, and ache from his ribs felt as though hell itself welled in his abdomen. Still, the gangster’s resolve would not allow him to give up his boss. He knew full well that if he told Jake what he wanted to know, his life would be forfeit. Russian crime syndicates demand absolute loyalty – if he weakened, a gruesome death would always be waiting for him around the next corner.

“He would kill me.”

“What the hell do you think I’m going to do if you don’t tell me?” Jake relaxed his hold just enough to allow Grigori to speak.

“If you kill me, you won’t find him.”

“He’s right, mate.” Dozer’s voice cut across the room. “I reckon it’s time for Priest to do his thing. It’s time for confessional.”

“Confessional – what the hell are you talking about? I’m not letting this piece of shit go until he tells me what I need to know.”

Priest stepped forward. “Dozer’s right Jakey. This bloke’s got nothing to lose. He’ll never rat on his boss, and if you keep going like that, he’ll pass out or die soon enough. Best you let me have a go, mate.”

Jake was incredulous. “So now the SAS knows more about interrogation and torture techniques than Delta and the CIA?”

“No, mate – very little actually. All the same, I reckon you need to let me take a run at him.”

Dozer looked Jake squarely in the eye. “I know what this means to you, mate. But trust me, this is Priest’s wheelhouse.”

The big man pushed a chair toward Jake. “Sit him down here, mate.”

Jake maintained his hold.

“Go on, Jakey – you can trust me.” Priest added.

Reluctantly the Surgeon began to release his right hand. Changing grips, he dug his left hand under the gangster’s collarbone to control his movement into the chair. Dozer took a pair of handcuffs from one of the Thai cops and shackled the Russian’s hands behind his back, then reached up to give him a light smack on the cheek. “Don’t try anything stupid, little Ivan. Me brother knows exactly what to do with silly buggers.”