Hit Hard. Amy J. Fetzer
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stuffed the leftover bananas in his pack and stood. “Your confidence overwhelms me.”
“Nowhere to go but up.”
And the climb would be tough. This meeting was the easy way to Rohki. And risky. Jumping in bed with the Thai mafia gangs would get him inside fast. Finding the jet, the manifest, anything on the dealers from the locals was…hell, it’d be easier to open a can with a fork. Behind him, Max adjusted his pack and knew Sam was taking this far too personal. A damn good reason to be close. Sam had a tendency to seek the quickest and most deadly route into a situation. “Lead the way, I got your back.”
Sam stopped, let out a sigh, and after a moment said, “Thanks, Max. For showing up.”
Max smiled widely. “Man, bet that had to hurt.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re welcome. One of us has to be smart. And for a flyboy, you weren’t easy to trace.”
“Yeah, but you were.” Sam walked, hacking through the jungle. “Let’s find this snitch.”
Max withdrew his machete, spied a palm, then cut a thick frond. He drank the sweet liquid from the stalk as they walked.
“Quit eating the damn flora,” Sam said. “You’re leaving a trail.”
The southbound train from Udon Thani wasn’t the fastest way to the next stop in Ayutthaya, but it was certainly colorful. Viva cradled the box, watching the scenery roll by. The river paralleled the trains, another line, a bit more modern on the opposite side. They ran so often it was more productive to have both in each direction. Her side was more scenic, like a throwback in time. Rural, vast stretches of jungle between cities so modern, they put the US to shame. Yet here, clusters of villages lined the river and jungle, wood homes on stilts half on the water. Children played despite the threat of crocs, snakes, and the really gross water monitor lizards.
At the dig, she’d had one crawl into her bed during the night and settle warmly against her back, till she rolled over and squashed it. She cringed at the memory, and braced her feet on the empty seat across from hers. To say the express train was the no-frills version was an understatement. Another train with all the comforts ran later, and as much as she’d have enjoyed air-conditioning, this felt adventurous. Warm wind poured through the open windows, blending with the odor of sweaty flesh, fruit, and the rapid sound of Thai chatter. It wasn’t that bad, she told herself, considering she had no choice for another few hours. She leaned to the window, letting the breeze cool her and saw monkeys swing through trees, then skip deeper into the jungle.
Bet he has a good career in nut gathering, she thought, leaning back in the seat. She wiggled into the lumpy cushion, and had just closed her eyes for a nap when the train suddenly lurched, then slowed rapidly. Viva stood, leaned out the window with the rest of the passengers.
“Bie nie hkrap?” she asked. What’s happening?
“Jao Pho!”
Good God. Bandits. Or more literally, a mafia gang. She glanced at the box left on the seat, then grabbed it. She couldn’t let them take it. It was a piece of Thai history. Wearing the cuff was out of the question. They’d strip it off her. Her own valuables were in her waist belt, making a sweaty trail down the crack of her butt, but she couldn’t let them find the cuff.
Quickly, she pulled her duffel from under the seat, stuffed the box behind it, then put it back. She glanced to the right, and a man just shook his head, and smiled piteously.
“Never walk with your gold,” he said in Thai.
Her smile was tight. Wasn’t my gold, she thought, it’s your country’s.
She waited for the inevitable. For the men to empty the train and search. She could see people standing on the knoll, huddled in the sun as men with big guns yanked off jewelry, emptied wallets, purses, and grass-made sacks, then threw them back at the victims. Salih was right, the plane was safer.
Well, you wanted adventure.
She had a few bhat in her pockets, nothing more than she needed for the train tickets and some food. It wasn’t long before they reached her car. She filed out; none of the passengers spoke. When she stepped out into the blazing sun, the first two cars of passengers were already collecting up their belongings and boarding.
Maybe this will be quick and painless.
A man with half an ear walked a line, stealing, shoving, threatening when people hesitated. She kept her eyes forward as he passed closer. Then Viva noticed his men go inside the train. Baggage and items flew out the windows. A crate with chickens broke and the birds scattered. An old woman in colorful hill-tribe clothing tried to catch them, but the leader pushed her down, then kicked one chicken into the air. Before it landed, he shot it.
Blood and guts rained down on top of them. Viva flicked at something on her bare arm, trying not to look. Gross. One of the men called out to Half Ear, and he crossed the clearing. Viva’s heart clenched when she saw the lesser man hand over her little box.
“No! That’s mine.” She darted forward, shaking off the old man trying to grab her back. Half Ear tossed it like a ball.
“Yours?” he said, offering it.
She ran, grabbed it, held it to her chest. “Please don’t take this. Take anything else you want.” She pointed to her small suitcase.
He put a hand on his hip and regarded her, then muttered something. His man moved quickly and reached to take it. Viva batted his hand away and looked at the leader.
“You gave it back. You can’t take it again. Law of the jungle.” She knew that made no more sense to him than it did to her, but she only had so much to work with here.
His henchman made to backhand her. She ducked. His expression contorted with anger and he lunged, grabbed the box, but she rolled to the side and sent her elbow into his stomach, then her fist smacking into his groin. He howled and stumbled back, grabbing himself, cursing.
“I told you no.”
Half Ear walked near, glancing once at his man still hunched over, then to her. “You cannot fight us all, woman.”
“Clearly. But this I have to keep, it’s not mine.”
“No, it is mine.” He reached and she swatted at him. He holstered his weapon, then grabbed her by the arms. Viva head-butted him, and as she reeled at the impact, he wrestled the box from her. It took her a second to realize she didn’t have it and charged him, jumping on his back. She knew this was stupid, really stupid.
“Farang ba!” Stupid foreigner.
Oh, yeah, like that hurts. She held tight to his hair, but it was greasy and her fingers slid. So she grabbed his face and half-eaten ear. People watched, even his men, no one came near them as he tried to dislodge her. Then he dropped to the ground, rolled till he was squashing her into the dirt. She screamed, kicking wildly.
He wasn’t much bigger than her. Strength was another matter, but that he was laughing at her made her furious. She fought the only way she could, like a woman, clawing his cheek, biting. But when he got to his knees and flipped her over on her back, Viva suddenly realized she might not get out of this alive.
Then he straddled her hips, and reached for her waistband.
The little Thai man stood between Max and Sam. Sam was doing the talking and Max could almost count the moments before his patience snapped. They’d been at this for a half hour and Phan wasn’t saying enough. Not wise.
Sam latched on to his shirtfront, hauling him close. Phan’s eyes went round. “Tell me,” Sam said in deadly voice.
“Many hiding. Lots of talk-talk.”
Max wasn’t fooled, and neither was Sam. The little shit could con an old woman out of her teeth and he wondered where the source came from. Sam hadn’t said.
Phan, if that was even his real name, had