Russell Blake - Betrayal

“I was thinking we spend some time there and see if there’s an opportunity to plant a tracking device on him, or at worst, on his car. I don’t like my odds of being able to follow him from the club.”

“He has a number of homes. Nobody’s really sure how many.”

“But the only one we’re concerned about right now is wherever he’s staying.”

“It’s a long shot. But I suppose it’s as good as any.”

They finished their dinner and paid, then moved out into the bustle of the streets. Two blocks south, they rounded a corner and found themselves facing a blinking neon cat, sporting a top hat and a lascivious grin.

A man approached them from the darkened doorway.

“Ping pong show. Very nice. Best in Bangkok. Anything you want. Girls. Boys. Come on in. Cold beer.”

Jet exchanged a look with Rob that appeared unconvinced.

“I don’t know…”

“Top Cat famous all over world. Anything you want. I get for you. Anything.” He offered them a leer that promised that indeed, anything that could be imagined could be found in the Top Cat.

“Can we just look around?”

“Of course. Come in. Drink cold beer. Look at all the ladies, the show. Come. Come now, sexy lady. Come to the Top Cat.”

She took Rob’s hand, raised an eyebrow and nodded. Rob played along, and they moved into the doorway. Two large bouncers stood immediately in front of a black velvet curtain. Music boomed from behind it. Rap. The street hawker nodded at them, and the larger of the pair pulled the curtain aside with a hand the size of a ham.

Rob led, and within two seconds, a hostess wearing what appeared to be a gladiator outfit crafted from black vinyl latched onto them and led them to a booth near the raised stage. The club was half full, all tourists, ninety-five percent male. At least forty young women wearing little but smiles lounged around, chatting in pairs and threesomes, their more fortunate co-workers having already found willing companions for the next hour among the men gathered around the stage.

They took a seat, and the gladiator asked them what they wanted to drink. Rob held up two fingers.

“Singha,” he yelled over the music, ordering the most popular beer in Thailand.

She departed on stripper heels, and Jet took in the club. It was larger than she’d expected — looked like it could hold several hundred people. Lighting was limited to red, which was appropriate, and was dim, with barely enough to make out the other clubgoers. She supposed that was typical.

The beer arrived within seconds, very cold. Rob paid for them. They’d agreed he would be the money for the night — in keeping with their cover as a couple on holiday looking for something exotic.

The music changed, and the stage lights illuminated with a flourish. There was no introduction. A young woman mounted the stairs to hooting applause, and then held up a foot-and-a-half-long metal tube, brandishing it like a baton. More cheers.

Rob leaned close to her ear.

“Darts. See the balloons around the stage?”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“How the hell…”

Any questions she had, or had never even considered, were answered over the next five minutes.

Three more women joined the dart performer after the display was over. It was time for ping pong. Jet watched in amazement as paddles were distributed to the men nearest the stage, and then the game began in earnest.

Her eyes scanned the room as the show continued, and she spotted an older woman with a child near one of the doorways leading to the rear of the building. The little girl couldn’t have been more than twelve and was dressed in a short skirt and a tube top, exposing her adolescent frame and skinny appendages. The woman grabbed her by the arm and was yelling at her, pointing at the crowd, and the little girl nodded, tears streaming down her face.

The woman’s face contorted in frustration, and her hand whipped out like a striking cobra, slapping the child so hard her head smacked against the wall. Jet’s stomach broiled with anger, but she bit it back, her face displaying no emotion even as she stifled the urge to leap up and flatten the woman.

Another cheer greeted the final salvo of ping pong balls, and then a tired-looking MC climbed up on the stage and announced in broken English that there would be plenty more entertainment coming up shortly, and that everyone should take a well-deserved relaxation break and find some way to amuse themselves while waiting for the continuation of the show.

The matronly woman who had hit the child approached them.

“Why you here? What you want? You want a girl? Two? Maybe a boy?”

Rob shook his head, but Jet reached out and gripped his arm.

“We’re actually looking for something a little more…exotic,” she said, hesitating on the last word.

“Ahh. Ladyboy? You wanna ladyboy?”

“Mmm, no. What else do you have?”

The mama-san’s eyes narrowed to slits. Jet could see her calculating, looking them over, trying to assess how much money they might have.

“I get you anything you want. Anything.” She put an emphasis on anything.

Jet leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear.

She recoiled and then gave Jet a smile.

“That’s not cheap.”

“I didn’t expect a bargain.”

“Maybe I can get that for you.”

“I saw a little girl over by the bathroom. She would do,” Jet said.

“Oh, you have good taste, but very expensive. She just in. Unspoiled.” The woman’s English had suddenly improved now that this was a negotiation. Three minutes later, they had agreed on a price for a room in the back and an hour with the girl.

Jet murmured into Rob’s ear, his face blank, and then he nodded and took her hand, following the woman into the back of the club.

The room was larger than she would have thought, and featured a small bathroom with a shower and a bed with fresh linen. Mirrors on the walls gave it a funhouse feel, which she was sure was unintentional. She did a quick inspection to ensure there were no cameras or listening devices, pulling the mirrors away from the wall to confirm they weren’t two-way, then turned to Rob.

“What the hell are you doing? Why get a child? Have you lost your mind?” he demanded.

“Shh. I have my reasons. Now don’t say anything more until they bring her.”

Two minutes later, there was a light knock at the door, and then the child opened it, eyes averted, and she stepped into the room. Jet moved to the door and locked it. She knew the club would have a key, but they would only open it if it was an emergency. The girl was on her own.

She moved to the edge of the bed and then looked up at Jet, whose heart lurched. Beautiful brown eyes gazed at her, terrified but resigned, and then she began pulling her dress over her head.

“No. No. Rob. Tell her she doesn’t have to do anything. Tell her,” Jet whispered.

Rob fired off a rapid fire burst of Thai, and the girl looked confused. She stopped trying to disrobe and looked at Jet quizzically. Rob turned to Jet. “Now what?”

“Ask her what her name is.”

Rob did so.

Jet could barely hear her response. Rob repeated it.

“Lawan. It means beautiful in Thai.”

“How old is she, and how long has she been here?”

Rob asked, and the girl murmured another soft few words.

“She says she’s almost eleven and she’s been here for a week.”

“How did she get here?”

More discussion.

“Her father sold her to some men, who brought her to Bangkok.”

“Sold her?”

“She says they were hungry for many days. So her father did what he had to in order to keep everyone alive.”

Jet bit back the cold fury that was threatening to explode from her.