“Caine is not prey. He is a predator, like me. And to catch a predator, you must have one thing.”
The elder patriarch stroked the grey stubble on his chin. “All my resources are at your disposal. What is it you need?”
Zasko turned away from the case to face Rudov. He licked his lips.
“Live bait.”
COLD KILL - Chapter 2
Caine pressed the phone to his ear. It rang and rang, but no one picked up. He raised a hand and whistled, signaling one of the yellow and blue taxicabs that sped past the port entrance. The tiny van swerved out of traffic, and screeched to a halt in front of the gates to Bali Hai pier.
Caine climbed into the rear seat, glancing left and right at the crowd. His reading of Ramil told him the man was too spineless to try anything stupid, but it couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out.
The driver slid the door shut behind him, then hopped back into the driver's seat. “Sthan thi thi ca? Where to, mister?”
Caine ignored him, and listened as the phone continued to ring.
Naiyana… he hadn’t seen her since his encounter with the man known as Pisac. The Devil. The Burmese gangster was a high-ranking member of the Red Wa, a criminal organization operating on the northern Thai border. Naiyana was a bar girl. Pisac, along with his Russian Mafia contacts, had targeted her in a human trafficking operation: girls kidnapped to order, auctioned off on a fake dating website.
Naiyana was the closest thing Caine had to a friend. She was one of the few people he’d confided in since his betrayal at the hands of his CIA masters. When she was taken, he went after her. And in doing so, he unleashed the bloodshed that always seemed to follow in his wake. When it was over — when she was safe — she left Pattaya, and returned to her small town.
It was better that way, he told himself. Safer.
Safer for her to stay away from him. Safer for him to stay alone.
Suddenly, the phone picked up. Caine heard breathing. Without waiting, he spoke. “Naiyana! I thought you left town, I thought—”
“Not Naiyana!” The voice belonged to a young boy. He sounded like he was running, huffing for breath. “This is Taavi!”
Naiyana’s brother Taavi was a local pickpocket and street hustler. His antics had landed him on the local gangs’ shit list. Saving the fourteen-year-old boy from a beating was how Caine had met Naiyana in the first place.
“Taavi? What are you doing on this number?”
“Naiyana give me her phone before she leave. She tell me to call you if I get in trouble!”
“Let me guess… You’re in trouble?”
“Men are following me. First I think they just perverts, looking for ladyboy tail. I lost them on Walking Street, but now they back!”
“Taavi, where are you?”
“I hide in old building, the flop house behind Ruby’s, where the drug mules used to crash.”
“No, Taavi, listen to me. Stay on the street! You’re safer out in the open—”
“Too late!” The boy’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “They follow inside! I know hiding place upstairs. Hurry, please!”
There was a click, and the line went dead.
Caine looked up. The driver was staring at him in the rearview mirror. “Khuṇ phrxm? You ready to go now?”
“You know the backstreet that runs behind Ruby’s bar?”
The driver nodded.
“Then step on it.”
Caine knew something was wrong, even before he saw the crowds blocking the narrow backstreet. A plume of smoke, rising from a decrepit abandoned building, was visible for miles. The cab slowed to a crawl. The driver turned back to face him.
“Too many people, have to stop. You get out here.”
Caine shoved a wad of crumpled baht notes into the driver’s outstretched hand. “Keep the change,” he muttered as he threw open the door and slid off the seat.
He pushed his way through the throng of sweating bodies, as a wave of intense heat rippled from the end of the alley. Caine heard people gasping, and the crackling sound of burning wood.
Finally, he made his way to the end of the cramped, narrow street and stood facing the rear of the abandoned hovel. Somewhere inside, Taavi was hiding.
The building was on fire.
Flickering tongues of orange flame crept up the warped frames of the structure’s windows. Thick black smoke hung over the alley, trapping the heat in a cloud of dry, stinging air. The smoke stank of burning rubber and gasoline.
Napalm, Caine thought. This fire was no accident. This is arson.
He froze for a moment, his eyes darting around the crowd. They were locals, mostly… bar girls on their way to work, street vendors pushing their carts towards the walking street. It was still too early for the tourists to have crawled from their cozy air-conditioned hotel rooms.
Caine grabbed the arm of a young woman staring up at the blaze. “Where are the police? The fire department? Is anyone coming?”
The woman narrowed her eyes and jerked away her arm. “He! Tea mux xxk pi, farang!”
Caine let go, and held up his hands. He took a step back. “I’m sorry. My friend is inside.”
The woman looked him up and down, then shook her head. “Your friend is drug dealer?”
She gestured towards the building. “Police no come. Gangs live in there. No one care about this place.”
As she hurried away from him, Caine ran his hands through his hair, wiping away beads of sweat from his forehead. Something about her tone, her nervous glance as she walked away, made the meaning of her words clear. After years of hiding in Pattaya, Caine knew how the system worked.
Money changed hands. The police, the fire department… they were paid to stay away. They’re going to let this place burn to the ground.
With Taavi inside.
Caine remembered the last time he had seen Naiyana. The look of concern in her eyes. Her kind voice, and soothing words.
You good man. Good friend to me…
Now, Taavi was back. Strange men chasing him, arson… It all felt wrong. It felt like a trap. The hairs on the back of his neck bristled in the super-heated air surrounding the blaze.
Suddenly, one of the rear windows exploded, sending shards of glowing glass into the alley. The crowd gasped again, and shuffled back as a column of flame leapt from the opening and crawled up the exterior wall.
Trap or not, Naiyana’s brother is inside…
Caine scanned the crowd again. He spotted a rotund man in a sweat-stained shirt pushing a metal cart loaded with sliced fruit and bottled drinks. He cut through the alley, heading to the walking street, where hordes of tourists would soon gather.
Caine darted through the crowd, moving towards the cart at a quick jog. “Water! Hey, do you have water?”
The man stopped and smiled. He fished into the ice, pulled out a clear plastic bottle, and wiped off the droplets of moisture with a dirty white rag.
“Chi na,” the man chanted. “Water, yes. Five baht.”
Caine grabbed the bottle and tore the rag from the vendor’s hands. “Sorry, no time!”
He gave the man a shove, sending him reeling backwards. Then he pushed back through the crowd, fighting his way towards the blaze. He doused the cloth with water, and tied it over his mouth like a bandana.
He charged up to the building and kicked open the door, sending a shower of glowing ash into the air. He took a deep breath through the cool damp cloth, and closed his eyes for a second.
Then he plunged into the inferno.
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The Thomas Caine Series
If you enjoyed this collection, here are some other books featuring betrayed assassin Thomas Caine…
CAINE: RAPID FIRE SERIES
DEVIL’S DUE
Caine: Rapid Fire Book 1
COLD KILL
Caine: Rapid Fire Book 2
SANDFIRE
Caine: Rapid Fire Book 3
DEPTH CHARGE
Caine: Rapid Fire Book 4
THOMAS CAINE NOVELS
TOKYO BLACK
A Thomas Caine Thriller
RED PHOENIX
A Thomas Caine Thriller
FIRE AND FORGET
A Thomas Caine Thriller
Andrew Warren Bio
Andrew Warren is the international bestselling author of the Thomas Caine thriller series. He was born in New Jersey, and studied film, English, and psychology at the University of Miami. He has over a decade of experience in the television and motion picture industry, where he has worked as a post production supervisor, story producer, and writer. He currently lives in Southern California.
Andrew loves to hear from his readers! Please feel free to contact him here:
www.andrewwarrenbooks.com
[email protected]
Thomas Caine series Boxset Page 101
