A New Beginning

by Mark David Abbott

“Ah John, good morning. You have changed your number?”

  “It’s a long story. Listen, I need your help, please.”

  “Of course.”

  “I need a doctor, someone very discrete.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “It’s not for me,” John explained the situation.

  “Consider it done, John.”

  “Thank you, William, and hey, can you send some food and water too?”

  “Sure. Just be careful. Those guys are well connected, and there is a lot of money involved. If they catch you…”

  John nodded, forgetting William couldn’t see him. He indicated right and pulled out to overtake a slow-moving lorry.

  “I’ll be careful. Keep a note of expenses, I’ll settle up when I get back.”

  William chuckled. “Don‘t worry, John. Mr. Yu vouches for you. That’s enough for me.”

  “Thank you, William. Oh, and they won’t open the door for you unless you say the password.”

  “Okay…?”

  “Iced Coffee.”

  “What?”

  “Iced Coffee. That’s the password.”

  John heard William laugh.

  “No problem John. You take care.”

  John hung up and concentrated on the road ahead. He had dropped back a little too much while he was on the phone, losing sight of the Isuzu. He increased his speed until it was just in sight again.

  The highway skirted the coast for a while before taking a more inland route through farmland and national parks, the scenery becoming greener and lush.

  The men stopped once again for lunch, and John repeated the process of emptying his bladder, then refueling the car and himself.

  He stretched the kinks out of his back and shook his legs. Despite the car’s air conditioning on full, his shirt was stuck to his back, and he was feeling the strain of driving so far with no one to relieve him.

  Grabbing the phone, he walked away from the car. Stretching his legs, he stood in the shade of a tree, one eye on the parked Isuzu. He dialed Adriana, the phone ringing three times before he heard her voice.

  “Hi, all okay?”

  “John, yes, where are you? Are you safe?”

  “I’m good,” John smiled, the sound of her voice giving him renewed energy. “I’m still following Hassan’s men. We’re heading south toward the Malaysian border. How are you? Amira?”

  “She’s much better. She asked for you.”

  “Tell her I will be back soon. Did the doctor come?”

  “Yes, and a very nice man called William.”

  “Oh, good. What did the doctor say?”

  “She will be okay. No internal injuries, but a cracked rib and a lot of bruising. He’s given her some painkillers and anti-inflammatories, but she doesn’t want to take them.”

  “Hmmm, okay. Do you have food?”

  “Yes, and William said he will come back and move us later. He has an apartment where we will be safe. He said we can’t stay in this hotel.”

  “I thought you liked the Shitz Carlton?”

  “Hmmm, I’m not sure I’ll stay here again.”

  “Why not?” John chuckled. “It might be fun when I’m back. That mirrored ceiling could be useful.”

  Adriana was silent for a moment, and John wondered if he had gone too far.

  “John…”

  John could hear the emotion in her voice.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You will come back, won’t you?”

  John felt a lump in his throat, and his eyes teared up.

  “Of course, I will. Nothing will stop me.”

  “Good.”

  John heard her sniff.

  “Don’t worry, once this is all over, we’re going on a nice trip, just you and me.”

  John tensed as the restaurant door opened, and the two men walked out, heading toward their pickup.

  “Hey, I’ve got to go, I’ll call you soon.”

  “John?”

  “Yes?”

  “I-I-I love you, John.”

  67

  They had been driving for over eleven hours when the Isuzu turned off Route 4 onto Route 406, heading southwest. John shifted in his seat, easing the sweat-soaked back of his shirt off the seat. He yawned, rubbed his face with his free hand, and glanced over at the passenger seat. He was out of Red Bull and low on water. The caffeine and sugar from the energy drinks were making him feel sick, and he wanted to get out of the car and walk around. Hopefully, they would reach their destination soon.

  After another hour, with the sun starting its descent toward the horizon, the Isuzu indicated left and pulled off the highway onto a minor road that led through fields into the jungle. John slowed and pulled over, allowing the Isuzu time to get ahead before following it down the road.

  He had to be much more careful now, there was no traffic for him to hide behind, to blend in with. He removed the Glock from the glove compartment and laid it on the seat beside him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need it.

  After a kilometer, the road petered out and changed to a dirt track leading into thick jungle. John stopped, not sure what to do next. If he followed in the car, there was a chance he could go around a corner and land in their lap. It was too risky. He picked up his phone and opened the map function. Setting it to satellite view, he zoomed in to his location. The track appeared to continue for another three kilometers through the jungle before crossing the border into Malaysia. John zoomed in closer, looking for any areas where their camp might be located. It had to be nearby and on this side of the border. He found a trail leading off the road about two kilometers ahead. It must be up there.

  John assessed his supplies. He had half a bottle of water, the Glock, his phone, and about two, two-and-a-half hours of daylight. Not ideal, but he hadn’t driven all this way to give up now.

  He drove on slowly for another kilometer, then pulled off the road into a clearing. Getting out, he drank the rest of the water, slipped the Glock into his waistband, made sure his phone was on silent, and locked the car. He gathered branches and leaves and covered the car as much as he could, then stood back to examine his handiwork. It would have to do. Unless someone was really searching, the car wouldn’t be spotted from the road.

  He took one last look around, then headed up the track.

  68

  The track was well worn with signs it was regularly used. John kept to the edge of the track, ready to jump into the undergrowth at any sign of a vehicle approaching. Among the thick jungle vegetation, the air was slightly cooler, but the drop in temperature was made up for with an increase in humidity, and within minutes, John’s shirt was soaked through. He unbuttoned his shirt halfway and rolled up his sleeves, but it didn’t help much. He paused and listened, but all he could hear was the buzzing of insects and chirping birds.

  After another kilometer, John reached the side track he had spotted on the satellite photo. Squatting down, he examined the wheel tracks in the dirt. The track was narrower and looked less used, but there were fresh wheel tracks turning off the main track. John stood up and considered his options. He could go straight, but that would take him to the Malaysian border, and he didn’t think the jungle camp Amira had mentioned was on the Malaysian side. The side track seemed the best option, so he set off, following it as it climbed gently upward and deeper into the jungle. The trees closed in overhead, and the undergrowth on each side grew thick and dark. The sound of cicadas was almost deafening now, and mosquitos and other insects buzzed around his face and neck. He swatted at them in vain, each one he killed swiftly replaced by another. Eventually, he gave up.

  Approximately thirty minutes later, he heard a sound ahead, what sounded like laughter, and he paused. The track curved ahead, and he couldn’t see around the corner. Erring on the side of caution, he stepped off the road into the jungle, forcing the foliage aside as he entered the undergrowth. A spider’s web wrapped itself around his face, he peeled off the sticky strands, and crept forward. The undergrow
th was thick, and he had to move with great care to avoid making noise. Something dropped off a branch and crawled down his neck. Picking it off, his fingers came away wet and sticky with the sweat that coated his body. John continued forward, heading parallel to the road until he could see a thinning of the foliage ahead, what looked to be a clearing. He stopped and listened, and after a minute, heard voices again. Crouching down, he crept forward until he reached the edge of the clearing and stopped. Slowly he moved a branch away until he could see.

  He had found it.

  A high, barbed wire fence surrounded a dusty, beaten, earth compound with two ramshackle, wooden shacks at the rear, the doors padlocked from the outside. The Isuzu was parked at the front of the compound beside an entrance gate, its load tray open, no sign of Boon’s sheet-wrapped body. To the right of the gate stood another building, smaller than the other two but more substantial in its construction, the door open. In front, in the shade of one of the few trees in the compound, three men sat in a circle on a grass mat laid on the ground, playing cards and drinking from large green bottles of Chang. An empty hammock hung from two trees to the right of the building, more empty beer bottles discarded on the ground beneath it.

  John concentrated on the men playing cards. One was the younger man from the Isuzu, but the other two he hadn’t seen before. He looked around for Prataporn, but he couldn’t be seen, perhaps he was inside the building. John pulled out his phone and took photos of the compound, then zoomed in to take a photo of the men and the Isuzu, immediately sending them through to Adriana.

  John took another look at the two huts at the back of the compound. Made of rough-hewn planks and bamboo under a corrugated roof, they appeared to have been built in a hurry with a minimum of care.

  There was no sign of life from them, but going by what Amira and Boon had told him, they would be full of people. He needed to take a closer look.

  He gently let go of the foliage, let it swing back into place, then crawled through the undergrowth toward the rear of the compound. He felt a sharp pain on his neck as something stung him and resisted the urge to slap it away. He had to make as little noise as possible. The available light had reduced significantly as the sun sank lower in the sky, and under the dense foliage, it was quite dark. John had to concentrate on making his way quietly. His heart jumped as he heard something scurry away into the undergrowth. It sounded like a rodent, but it made him wonder about snakes. The jungles of Thailand and Malaysia were full of venomous cobras, vipers, and kraits. John prayed they would be more afraid of him than he was of them.

  It took another ten minutes before John could approach the clearing behind the huts. Again, he parted the foliage and peered out. He still couldn’t see any sign of life from the buildings, needing to get closer. Out of the line of sight of the guards, he stood slowly, left the safety of the jungle, and cautiously approached the boundary fence.

  Between the fence and the buildings, the ground, unlike the rest of the compound, was uneven, with numerous indentations and mounds. John spotted what looked to be a freshly dug mound of earth and frowned. This had to be where they buried the bodies, the fresh soil covering Boon’s. He took photos, then stepped closer to the fence and peered through the wire.

  The buildings were silent, perhaps empty. He scanned them both, looking for any sign of life and was about to give up when from the corner of his eye, he caught something. He peered intently at the area of the building where he’d seen the movement. There it was again. In a crack between two of the planks lining the sides of the hut, he saw a flash of color, pink. It moved again as someone inside changed position.

  Bastards! The huts were full of people, just as he’d been told. He took more photos, forwarding them to Adriana as he did. The light was fading fast, so silently, he stepped back into the undergrowth, out of sight, and crouched down. He dropped a pin on the mapping app, sharing his location, then typed in a message. ‘I’ve found the camp. The huts are filled with people. Will call you soon, once I’m out of the jungle’ and pressed send. He glanced at the luminous dial on his watch. It would be dark in twenty minutes. There was nothing more he could do today. Tired, thirsty, and hungry, he needed to eat and rest. He would come back in the morning, hopefully, with a plan.

  It took almost an hour to find his way back to the car, nearly missing it in the darkness. Eventually, he used the phone flashlight to locate the clearing. Pulling the branches off the car, he kept them to one side; he would probably need them in the morning. Removing the keys from his pocket, he unlocked the car and slowly eased the door open. Peeling his shirt away from his back, he reached behind him for the Glock and dropped it on the passenger seat. He was about to climb inside when he heard a twig crack behind him. He spun around but was too late. The last thing he saw was Prataporn swinging a large piece of wood at his head.

  69

  The day had been long, and Adriana hadn’t been able to relax much, her concern for John constantly on her mind. It was only when William had moved them from the love hotel to an apartment he kept in a small building in Chinatown, she felt a little better and managed to doze off for a while.

  She looked over at Amira watching television. She seemed to be doing better. The apartment was clean, the kitchen was stocked with food, and Amira’s mood had brightened a little since they moved. Now, Adriana’s nerves were on edge again as she waited for more news from John. Adriana glanced at her watch. It had been an hour since she had received the photos and location from him. She checked the phone once again for messages, but nothing had come in.

  She stood up, pacing up and down the living room. She needed to keep her mind busy instead of worrying. Remembering the photos, she thought about what they should do with the information. They couldn’t go to the police, any investigation might get shut down. They needed to do something else. She had to get the story out to the media and create such an uproar, it would be too public to hush up. This was the reason she became a journalist. It was time for her to step up.

  But where was John? Adriana picked up the phone, making sure the ringer was on, then checked her watch again. Only five minutes had passed.

  She sat down on the sofa beside Amira and stared blindly at the television screen, her mind whirring away. She picked up the phone again and opened the web browser. Maybe some research would keep her mind off things. She would need background for her article, anyway. After ten minutes, she set the phone down shocked by what she had discovered.

  In the previous two years, over seven hundred and fifty thousand Rohingya Muslims had fled ethnic cleansing in Myanmar on foot or by sea, most heading for camps in Bangladesh, but over one hundred thousand had made the journey to Thailand and Malaysia. Add to that the people like Amira who were making the journey for economic reasons, and the numbers were staggering. It was big business for the traffickers who were easily able to exploit people desperate enough to risk everything in search of a better life.

  Adriana glanced across at Amira. She was just a young girl, but it was incredible what she’d been through, all so she could send money home to make her parents comfortable. Adriana couldn’t comprehend the desperation that would drive someone to take such a step. She had received a good education and lived a life of comfort and freedom; the worst thing she’d had to face was breaking up with Miguel. She tightened her lips and made a decision. She had to help these people and put an end to these evil traffickers.

  She stood up, walked over to the cabinet at the rear of the living room, and opened the drawers, looking for a pen and paper. Finding them in the third drawer, she sat down and started writing.

  Thirty minutes later, she had the rough outline of an article. Including the photographs and more detail from John when he returned, she would have something decent to publish.

  Again, she glanced at her watch. Surely John must be out of the jungle by now? She drummed her fingers on her thighs. If she called and he was close to the traffickers, they would hear the phone. No, she would wait.


  Five minutes later, she couldn’t wait any longer. She needed to know he was safe. The waiting was killing her. She dialed the number and waited as it connected, then rang. After five rings, someone answered the call but said nothing.

  Adriana listened and waited. What was going on?

  “John?” she asked hesitantly.

  Whoever was on the other end, ended the call.

  Adriana dropped the phone on the sofa. She had a bad feeling.

  70

  John blinked his eyes open and groaned. It was dark, and the air was thick and rancid with the smell of sweat, fear, and unwashed bodies. His head throbbed with pain. Reaching up with his hand, he felt a big lump under his hair. It felt wet and sticky, blood still seeping from the split skin on the back of his skull. He pushed himself upright and tried to make sense of his surroundings.

  There was a movement in the darkness, and he sensed rather than saw people around him. Now, when he focused he could hear them—breathing, the rustle of fabric, a muted whimper—and realized where he was. They had thrown him into one of the huts. How the fuck had Prataporn known he was there? He thought back over everything he had done. He had been so careful, so silent in his movements. Then he remembered the men playing cards, only three of them. Perhaps Prataporn had known John was following him all along and had waited to lure him into a trap. John felt behind him for his Glock. It was gone. So too was his phone and the car keys. Shit. What were they going to do with him?

  He didn’t want to die, not now when his life was looking so good. John felt grief and despair welling up inside and forced it back. He had to remain positive. He wasn’t about to give up yet, not when he had Adriana waiting for him. He looked at his watch, the luminous hands of his G-Shock glowing in the dark. By his estimation, he had been out for the count for over an hour. That made the time about seven-thirty in the evening. He didn't think they would do anything to him until daybreak. That gave him around eleven hours to plan a way out of there, but… if the worst happened and he didn’t make it out of there alive, at least Adriana had the photos and would do something to get these bastards shut down.