Russell Blake - Betrayal

“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.”

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…”

“Not everyone condones sex with minors.”

“Yeah, I can see the loathing and disgust the proprietors and customers at the club displayed. Touching.”

Rob didn’t pursue it.

“Hey. He’s moving. Look.” She held the phone up, and they watched as the blinking red dot began inching away from them.

“Hold on.”

Rob started the engine and swung into traffic, narrowly missing a tuk tuk that appeared out of nowhere from behind a double-parked car. The driver swore in Thai and made a universal gesture of displeasure at Rob, who grinned and then gunned the gas.

“He’s two blocks west. Make a left at the next street and you’ll be behind him.”