A New Beginning

by Mark David Abbott

  “Sawasdee ka, Sir. Can I help you?”

  “Sawasdee kup. My name is John Hayes. I have come to see Khun Sritangratanakul.”

  “I am sorry, Sir. He is not here.”

  John glanced up at the security camera watching him from the top left corner of the shop. He smiled at the young lady.

  “I know he is here. Please tell him, Mr. Yu sent me.”

  The young lady’s right eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly, her smile fixed on her face. She studied him for a moment, not moving, then John heard a click, and a section of the shelf unit making up the rear wall of the shop swung forward about an inch, and she stepped aside.

  “He will see you now, Khun Hayes.”

  John walked forward, glanced at her, then reached out, pulled the shelf unit forward a little more, and slid through the gap, the shelf unit clicking shut behind him. He was in a large room, also lined with handbags. John looked closer at the familiar-looking designs—Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci—picking one up, examining it closely. It looked real, but then he couldn’t tell the difference between the genuine article and a well-made fake.

  A voice called out from further back, and John looked up.

  “Please come in, Mr. Hayes. I am sure you haven’t come here to look at handbags.”

  John placed the bag back on the shelf and stepped through the doorway leading into a well-lit office. The walls were lined with glass display cases filled with luxury watches, and at the rear, behind a large desk, sat a middle-aged man. He didn’t appear to be Thai, perhaps Thai-Chinese… John wasn’t sure. He was a little over-weight, dressed casually in a loose linen shirt, and a few strands of hair covered his bald head in a vain attempt at a comb-over. He stood and held out his hand.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hayes. Any friend of Mr. Yu’s is a friend of mine.”

  John shook his hand. “Please call me John.”

  “And you please call me William,” he smiled, his eyes twinkling behind a pair of round, wire-rimmed spectacles. “My Thai name is a bit of a mouthful. Please, take a seat.”

  John pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “Can I get you anything? Perhaps some tea?”

  “That will be nice thank you.”

  John watched as William reached his left hand under the desk, then placed both hands on the desktop again. A moment later, the young lady appeared and stood beside John, presumably summoned by a hidden button under the desk. William issued instructions in Thai, then waited until she had left the room.

  “Now, John, how can I help you?”

  “I understand from Mr. Yu you have some, ah… special connections. Did he explain my situation?”

  “He did indeed, John, and yes, I can help you. It will take me a day or two to organize, but I can do it. Just leave your number with me, and I will contact you as soon as I arrange it. Just the one ahh… package?”

  “Yes, just the one,” John smiled.

  “It won’t be a problem. Just give me a couple of days.”

  “And the cost?”

  “Don’t worry about that, John,” William smiled. “Mr. Yu said he would bear all the expenses. He must hold you in high regard?”

  “I helped him out with something.”

  William nodded thoughtfully, then he glanced over John’s shoulder as the young lady silently entered the room and set a tray down on the desk.

  They both waited as she poured from a teapot into two small porcelain cups. Steam rose from the liquid, and the smell of lemongrass filled the room. She bowed slightly and left as quietly as she had come.

  John picked up the cup and blew softly across the surface, cooling the liquid before taking a sip. “Very nice, thank you.” He set the cup down.

  “There is something else I need help with.”

  William raised an eyebrow.

  “I will need some personal protection.”

  “You have come to the right place,” William grinned. Setting his cup down, he opened a drawer in the desk and removed a set of keys before standing up. “Please, come with me.”

  He led John into another room and unlocked a dark wood cabinet, opening the doors to reveal a selection of handguns displayed against a velvet background.

  “What would you like?”

  John hid his surprise and stepped forward, scanning the displayed weapons, looking for something familiar.

  “I’ll take that one.”

  “Of course, a good choice.” He removed the Glock 17 and handed it over. “I assume you are familiar with this weapon?”

  John hefted the weight in his hand, then closed his fingers around the pistol grip.

  “Yes, I have used one of these before. Ammunition?”

  “Will a box be enough?”

  “More than enough. Hopefully, I will never have to use it.”

  “Well, if you don’t, I will happily take it back. Once it’s used though…” William shrugged.

  “No problem. What do I owe you?”

  William placed his hand on John’s shoulder.

  “It’s on the house, John. I approve of what you are doing… I have a daughter. Just be careful.”

  50

  John walked out onto the street and hailed a taxi. The Glock and a box of ammunition were safely stowed in a cloth bag William had given him. A taxi pulled up, John climbed in, placed the bag on the seat beside him, then settled back as the taxi pulled out into the traffic.

  Everything was going well. In just a few days, Amira would be on her way back to her parents, and Adriana and he could go back to living a normal life. Once again, he wondered what normal life would hold for them. Perhaps he was worrying too much, but it scared him.

  Adriana was the first woman he had allowed himself to open up to since Charlotte died, and he was still nervous, the wounds still raw despite the time that had passed. He shifted in his seat and adjusted the air-conditioning vent, increasing the cooling. Well, there was only one way to find out. He would go with the flow and see how things worked out. Hopefully, everything would be okay, but first, he needed to focus on the job at hand and return Amira to Bangladesh.

  At that moment, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out and checked the screen. Thapa. Shit. With everything that had been going on, he had forgotten about Thapa and Amira’s parents still holed up in the hotel room in Dhaka.

  “Thapa, how’s it going? Everything okay?”

  “I think so, John. They are getting a bit stir-crazy stuck in the room though. There are only so many serials they can watch on TV, but I don’t dare let them out on the streets in case they get spotted.”

  “Yes, good idea. Just let them know it will all be over soon. Look, Thapa, sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been trying to sort a few things out here. The good news is Amira should be on her way back within a few days.”

  “That’s good news, John.”

  “I’ll let you know when I get more details. How are you keeping up? Anything you need? Are you still okay to stay for a few more days?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I’ve got my dad keeping an eye on the coffee shop in Hong Kong, but as soon as this is over, I’ll head back. I don’t want to be away too long.”

  “I understand, Thapa. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

  “It’s okay, John. It’s for a good cause. Hopefully, we can do something for the family. If you had seen where they were living, John…”

  “Yeah, I can believe it. I’ve got that side of things sorted. It’s all going to be fine. Just give me a few days.”

  “Sure, John.” Thapa hesitated. “There is one thing…”

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t mention it earlier, I know you’ve got a lot of things on your mind but… hang on a sec…”

  John heard voices in the background, then a door opening and closing.

  “Sorry, John, I’ve just stepped out so they can’t hear me.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s been a guy asking at
the hotel for us.”

  “Shit.”

  The taxi driver’s eyes met his in the mirror, then looked away.

  “Who?”

  “I think it’s one of Karim’s men. I don’t know how they got on to us so fast. Maybe the rickshaw driver who dropped us off talked.”

  “Damn it. I thought they would be safe there.”

  “Hey, don’t worry. They don’t know we’re here. If it was the rickshaw driver, he dropped us off two blocks away, so I think Karim is just asking around the general area.”

  “Hmm, okay.” John pursed his lips and stared blankly out the taxi window. “What about the hotel staff?”

  “I’ve left strict instructions the room mustn’t be serviced, and I have food and water delivered to my room next door. No-one, apart from the night watchman, has seen Amira’s family enter the building, and I’ve paid him enough to keep quiet.”

  John nodded, forgetting Thapa couldn’t see him.

  “Good work, I knew I could depend on you. Thank you. I don’t think we have much time. Hold tight, and I’ll get back to you soon, once I work things out.”

  “Sure, John. You know where I am.”

  “And Thapa…”

  “Yes?”

  “Ayo Gorkhali!” John uttered the war cry of the Gurkhas, the fierce Nepalese warrior race Thapa was descended from.

  “Ha, you bet, John. Stay safe.”

  John ended the call and stared out the window. He needed to speak to Amira about relocating them from Dhaka, away from Karim and his tentacles. He focused on the streetscape passing by the window, found a familiar landmark for reference, then checked his watch. He would be back at the apartment in about twenty minutes and would have a chat with her then. He was looking forward to seeing Adriana again. Any moment not in her company seemed wasted—she made life feel good.

  The taxi pulled up outside Thong Lo BTS Station. John paid the driver and climbed out before heading up into the station. He didn’t want anyone watching his building to see the taxi and ask the driver where he had picked him up, so he had deliberately given the station address and now planned to catch the train one stop back to Phrom Pong. If anyone saw him getting off, they would see he had come from the opposite direction. Hopefully, enough of a red herring to throw them off his scent for a while.

  At Phrom Pong, he descended to street level, keeping an eye out for any watchers but couldn’t spot anyone. The motorbike was gone from the footpath, and he couldn't see anyone else paying him undue attention.

  John paused by a street vendor, picking up a couple of boxes of Ta Ko, little cakes made from sago, sweetened coconut milk, and rice flour. John loved them and was sure Adriana wouldn’t have tried them yet.

  He nodded at the security guard in the entrance lobby of his building, a new guy he hadn’t seen before and waited for the lift.

  He rode the lift up and exited on his floor, the plastic bag of sweets in one hand, the cloth bag containing the Glock in the other. He couldn’t help but smile as he thought about seeing Adriana again. He wondered if she would like the Thai sweets. As he approached, he saw his front door slightly open. Strange. He shifted the bag containing the Glock to his left hand and stood by the door, listening. Not a sound from inside. Gently, with his right hand, he pushed the door open.

  The apartment was empty.

  51

  “Adriana,” John called out. “Amira.”

  There was no reply. John pushed the door open fully and walked into the apartment. John’s heart sank, and a feeling of dread filled his stomach. He rushed to his bedroom and peered in the open door. No-one. He did the same with Amira’s room, also empty. Shit! Fuck! He looked around the living room and took in the details. A lamp was lying on the floor, one of the dining chairs in pieces against the back wall. They hadn’t left of their own accord. Bastards! How had they found them? Thoughts raced through John’s head. What should he do? Where were they? Fuck!

  He rushed out the door, jabbed at the lift button, and watched impatiently as the lift rose to his floor. He jumped in and stabbed at the button for the ground floor. The lift took forever to reach the lobby, and as the doors opened, John rushed over to the security guard’s counter. The guard who was there when he had entered the building was gone, the desk empty. He looked at the desk, the computer keyboard and the bank of TV screens above it. There must be a record of everyone’s comings and goings, but he had no idea how to access the security feed. Shit!

  He heard a noise behind him and spun around to see a service door to the rear of the lobby opening and the regular guard coming out, wiping his hands and looking surprised to see John behind the desk.

  “Sawasdee kup?”

  “How do I see the security footage?” John demanded.

  “Kup?”

  John clenched his jaw. His brain wasn’t working, and he couldn’t think of the correct Thai words fast enough. He pointed at the screens. “TV, TV. Rewind. Rewind.” He motioned with his hands, circling his fingers.

  Slowly comprehension dawned on the guard’s face. He walked over, sat down at the desk, and entered a few commands into the keyboard.

  John did a quick mental calculation, then pointed at his watch. He motioned again with his fingers, holding two fingers up, then making a rewind motion with them in the air.

  “Rewind two hours.”

  The guard nodded, then keyed in instructions on the keyboard until the on-screen clock showed a time two hours before. Then with the mouse, he clicked play, and the clock ticked over. John stared at the screens. Nothing was happening. This would take forever.

  “Faster, faster.” He delved deep into his brain for his vocabulary “Reo, reo.”

  “Kup,” the guard nodded and clicked another button. Events on-screen unfolded in fast forward—residents of the building coming and going, deliveries being made, couriers dropping off parcels. John frowned, straining his eyes, desperate not to miss anything significant.

  “Stop. Hyud.”

  John stared at the image on the screen. A policeman and a man in jeans and a loose, untucked shirt were entering the lobby, heading toward the lift.

  “Play.”

  “Kup?”

  John gritted his teeth and grabbed the mouse from the guard’s hand and clicked on play. He watched as the two men entered the lift.

  “Show me the lift camera.”

  “Kup?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” John took a deep breath and gained control of himself. He needed to remain calm although every fiber of his being wanted to scream out loud in frustration. “Lift, Lift.” He pointed across the lobby at the lift doors. “Camera.” He mimed a film camera with his hands.

  “Ah, kapoom.” The guard smiled, typed more commands into the keyboard, and the lift feed came up. Without John asking, he rewound the feed until the same time as they had paused the lobby feed, then pressed play. They watched as the two men rode the lift. The lift stopped, the doors opened, and the two men got out. John couldn't see which floor they were on, but his gut knew the answer.

  The guard looked at him expectantly. John motioned for him to fast forward. They watched closely until they saw the lift doors open again.

  “Stop.” John watched as they shoved Amira inside the lift, and she cowered against the back wall. The policeman followed her and stood over her. Adriana followed, the man in plain clothes holding both her arms by the elbows, her hands handcuffed behind her back. She struggled, and he shoved her forwards, stepping inside after her. There was no sound, just a silent struggle unfolding on the screen. The policeman pressed the lift keypad, and the doors closed.

  Adriana turned around and glared at her abductor, the anger clear despite the lack of sound. Her abductor said something to her, and he and the policeman laughed. Adriana appeared to reply, then spat in his face. The man wiped his face clean with his sleeve, then with the same hand backhanded her across the face, sending her flying against the side wall. John’s heart leaped, and he clenched his fists in anger. H
e watched Adriana straighten up, raise her chin in defiance, then turn to look at the camera. She stared at the camera, then mouthed something.

  “Stop and rewind,” John demanded.

  The guard looked at him, his expression of shock replaced with one of blank incomprehension. John reached over and with the mouse rewound the footage. He stared intently at the screen as Adriana stared back, watching her lips. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she was saying,

  “Help me, John.”

  52

  John kicked the door of his apartment closed behind him. His hands were trembling, and his eyes filled with tears. Why was he so cursed? Why did something happen every time he sought happiness? The only woman he had allowed himself to feel something for since Charlotte’s death had been taken away from him. Tears of anger and frustration rolled down his cheeks. He walked into the kitchen, ran the tap, and splashed cold water on his face. Turning around, he leaned on the kitchen counter and stared blankly out the window on the far side of the living room. Somewhere out there was the woman he loved.

  It had to be Hassan who had taken her, Hassan and his corrupt fucking police cronies. Shit! What could he do? He couldn’t go to the police, he had no idea which ones he could trust. How was he going to get her back? His gaze withdrew from the sky, and he focused once again on his living room. He spied the cloth bag containing the Glock and the ammunition, lying where he had dropped it in panic earlier.

  Once again, he would have to deal with things himself. He would hunt down the motherfuckers who had taken Adriana and Amira and make them pay.

  The thought gave him a strange feeling of comfort. He could feel the dread and fear being transformed into one of excitement as adrenaline and anticipation kicked in. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not, but the sensation seemed familiar and comforted him. He gritted his teeth, then slammed the heel of his right hand down on the countertop.