UNKNOWABLE (Murder on the Mekong, Book 2)

by Rivers, Hart;

  “There is a large contingency of very ambitious, well-funded, and powerful people who want to take over your poppy fields and the operations you have worked hard to secure and make profitable. They have done their research as to your whereabouts and planned to take over by force. Mr. Jordon has intervened on your behalf. I’m here to ask you to meet with him, and a few others who also realize the obliteration of all you have built is in no one’s best interest. They’re hoping I will return from this visit with your agreement—”

  “Enough!” He silenced her with a strike to the wine bottle that shattered and hurtled in all directions. Gone was the sweet Dalai Lama. His face was thunderous, as was the tone of his voice, demanding, “Did you lead them here?”

  “I…I…” Had she? She didn’t think so, thanks to everything that had gone wrong earlier. Now it seemed what had gone wrong was a good thing, at least for the moment, since she could honestly reply, “To the best of my knowledge, no. But these people have their means and they will eventually find you. And if they don’t, the worst of them will not hesitate to take their napalm bombs and destroy everything within a fifty-mile radius or more, if that’s what it takes to get their hands on everything you’ve built. Even if you manage to escape, you will lose it all and many innocent lives will be sacrificed. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You can intervene—and retain the majority of your present holdings.”

  Then she did something she hadn’t rehearsed. Kate dropped to her knees. She raised her hands in supplication to The Poppy King.

  “Please. I beg of you. Agree to a meeting. You have the power now to negotiate, to broker a truce—”

  “A deal,” he said flatly.

  “A truce, a deal, whatever you want to call it. They are prepared to offer extremely generous terms. A win-win for all that will keep you in power while keeping away those who want more than anything to take it from you.”

  He snorted. “A win-win. Such an American thing to say.”

  “There are more than Americans involved.” Where it came from Kate didn’t know. She’d never considered herself a particularly upstanding citizen, but a sense of indignation propelled her from her knees, and, foolish though it may be considering where she was and to whom she was speaking, she stood taller, so The Poppy King had to look up at her. “I came here to appeal to your intelligence and what is clearly your loyalty and love for the people who depend on you for their own livelihoods and safety. It was the least I could do since JD is no longer able to do it himself.”

  “Really?” A short laugh. “I have trouble imagining JD would try to convince me of this. It makes me wonder, just how did he die?”

  “He drowned. Trying to save me. My atonement for that is in trying to save you.”

  She held out her wrist to emphasize the one silver bracelet JD had placed on it in much happier times. As for the matching bracelet that Gregg had basically shoved in her face for her part in JD’s drowning, it was in a place of safe keeping.

  Zhang stroked his small chin. “There is much to consider.”

  “Indeed,” she agreed, “but time is of the essence.”

  He nodded, once. “Your courage is impressive. I can see why JD so honored you.” A pause. “You must know he wished to marry you upon receiving his brother’s blessing.”

  “I…” She had no words.

  “A sad day this is, then, for us both.” Zhang raised a bejeweled finger and out trotted her earlier escorts. “I need time alone to consider all this, as I am sure you understand. Now please, enjoy the evening in your quarters and have no fear. You remain safe. I will give you a decision in the morning.”

  “Thank you.” As Kate bowed in Asian fashion she thought of the canteen with explosives that Mike had brought—that she had given him under orders from Phillip. She hoped he didn’t decide to use it. “The man who helped bring me here, is he safe as well?”

  “But of course,” Zhang replied blandly. “You must understand, however, that, all things considered, I feel more comfortable keeping you apart. But rest assured he is being well taken care of. For the time being.”

  Kate let herself be led away, wondering how she could find Mike without raising an alarm, when Zhang called after her, “And do be careful yourself, Miss Morningside. Particularly of those who sent you here. Were Mr. Jordan and his associates invested in your own wellbeing, do you actually think he and they would put you at such risk as to let you meet with me alone?”

  The time she spent alone that evening was not pleasant. Zhang’s parting question dogged her, despite the fact she had insisted on coming. It echoed the concern Phillip had raised about JD leaving her alone and unprotected on the Mekong.

  And now here she was, alone and unprotected in Zhang’s hidden lair, having no idea if Phillip’s men were nearby, if Gregg and Izzy were safe, or even where Mike Gallini was, and whether the canteen had been confiscated. He might be considering using it to get out.

  She went through the satchel: a tiny camera that looked like a matchbox, a compact to powder her nose, with code embedded in the mirror, the trusty lipstick that could literally kiss a man goodbye, along with several other items; and none of them doing her any good now or telling her anything she needed to know about how to deal with the present situation. She wondered…

  Couldn’t she simply avail herself of a nice walk and play stupid if someone approached her while she went in search of Mike? A guard was posted at her door, presumably to keep intruders out rather than to keep her in. Looking down from her balcony, she saw nothing but a softly lit courtyard. A bubbling fountain was all she heard.

  Kate eyed the distance from the balcony to the ground. She wasn’t that high up. She could manage the drop. The problem was getting back in. Then again…

  Maybe not.

  A thick grouping of tall bamboo grew right outside her balcony, spanning the distance to the ground and sturdy enough for her to scale back up.

  She changed into the trekking clothes she had worn from the boat. It was such a relief to actually do something, or try to, instead of just waiting for whatever might happen. A pleasant amount of adrenaline pumped while she lowered herself down and softly landed on her rear end, cushioned by a thick carpet of grass. She got to her feet and was dusting off her backside when a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Gooseflesh prickled her neck as a warm, familiar breath whispered against it, “Going somewhere?”

  Chapter 34

  Mouse flicked his Zippo. The flame was getting low. He had to pace himself since he didn’t have any lighter fluid and he wasn’t sure what would happen if he couldn’t get his Zippo to light. He ALWAYS had it filled and ready to go. But now he was in real trouble, and when he needed his Zippo the most, it was on its last few flicks.

  He didn’t want to do it. No, he didn’t wanna do it, but he put the Zippo back into his pants pocket for safe keeping, gave it a little pat.

  If Missy was here to calm him down he might be okay, especially if she did that special dance for him like she had in the shower. He glanced at the bomb canteen. He couldn’t believe it didn’t get confiscated because hell, if he was the fuckin’ Poppy King he wouldn’t trust nobody with nothing, not even if he stashed them away for safe keeping.

  Looking around, Mouse knew a prison when he saw one, even if it was a pretty nice gook jail. He had a mat on the stone floor, some lit candles to see by; even some kind of little pond he could bathe in if he didn’t mind going swimming with the fishes. The food they’d brought him wasn’t half bad either, even if it didn’t come near to Missy’s cooking.

  Missy. She was the reason he hadn’t tried to blast himself out, to get some lighter fluid if nothing else. But if he did that, what was he gonna do? Jump on one of those Poppy King elephants and barge down the gates? Nah, that’d be stupid. He’d never pull it off. But even if he did he’d have to leave Miss Kate behind since he couldn’t exactly go knocking door to door to find her. And if he left her behind, after getting his orders to make sure she st
ayed safe, he’d be on the run all the way to Australia or Jersey, or wherever he could take cover if he got luckier than lucky, and he’d have to leave Missy behind to fend for herself.

  He couldn’t do that. He just couldn’t. Which meant he couldn’t frag the locked door like he had the dumbass major who had it coming not all that long ago.

  Yeah, he’d been working his way up the ladder then and doing good, real good. Now, with KRZY and that Joplin bitch jamming in his head so loud they had to be playing stereo out both ears, Mouse could only wonder how things could’ve been going so good, only to get so fucked up, so fast.

  Mouse clamped his hands over his ears, only that made the screeching worse. He could hardly hear himself think, but…Maybe if he screamed and kept screaming it would drown out the static and that Piece of My Heart shit for music and…No, no, he wasn’t gonna scream, he was, he was, he was…

  Gonna sing! Yeah, sing so loud it drowned everything else out. Singing always made him feel better, and dancing too. That’d take his mind off things. But which song, which song…? Darin, that was it. One of his favorites and best evers. He’d just keep singing and dancing and if all the noise got one of the guards to come in…Well shit, in other circumstances he might take off a nose, maybe even part of an ear, then hightail it outta here, but he had Missy to think about so…“One” snap, “Two” snap, “Three” snap, “Four…and hit it!”

  I’m a shark, babe, see my teeth, dear

  And I shows them oh so white

  It’s just that rabbit, with them pink eyes

  Now he’s got me outta sight

  So when I bite Drac with these teeth, babe

  All that white skin is turnin’ red

  And all that mon-ey that he owes me

  Has got-ta help my head—yeah!

  He was tap-tap-tap dancing and singing at the top of his lungs when he spun around and…whack.

  When Mouse came to he wondered what had hit him. And then he wondered some more when he realized the canteen was gone but in its place was an uncracked bottle of Jack. He had no idea where it had come from, any more than he knew who had smacked him to the moon and back, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Mouse drank deeply and prayed he’d pass out again, long enough to last until Miss Kate got him sprung from this gook jail so he could see Missy again—but first he’d get enough lighter fluid to see him—and the nearly empty Zippo he flicked just once for good luck—into old age.

  “I have it.” Missy extended the canteen to JD at their appointed meeting place within the gates of the palace.

  “Good work, Missy. I couldn’t take the chance that he’d see me and tip off the wrong parties. Since he confides in you, we can still use him.”

  “I am glad to know this.”

  “I think you’re becoming attached.”

  She shook her head. “No, no.”

  “Look, it happens to the best of us,” he said in a way they both understood. “But we have to do what is necessary when the time comes. Understood?”

  “Of course. And you are right, it is my error to let personal feelings get in the way of what is necessary. Still, I will ask that when the time comes his body be sent home to his family. I know they mean a lot to him. And it will mean a lot to them—including his Uncle Louie who could become our friend if his Jersey boy is returned as killed in action, with honors for his bravery attached. Will you promise me, when the time comes?”

  “I’ll do what I can to make that happen. I’ll have to be in a position to negotiate the finer details, which clearly, at this point, I’m not.”

  Missy sighed deeply. “The devil is always in the details, as the Americans like to say.”

  “The Americans like to say a lot, but have a very bad habit of breaking promises when things fail to go according to their plans.”

  “And what more can we do to interfere with their current plans for our poppy fields?”

  “We need you to return to your assigned post. The Pale Man’s been very busy of late. He shouldn’t have any idea you went missing since your time is divided between Kate and Gallini. Transport is waiting to take you back. Continue to report as you are able to Zhang with any valuable information, and once this is all done, you and I should discuss things of a more personal nature.”

  “Presuming we are both still alive to do so.”

  “Old dead girlfriends and newly dead boyfriends should have a lot in common.” JD gave her a hopeful smile.

  She sniffed the hand he put to her cheek, then cast a disparaging glance in the direction he had come from earlier. “I didn’t ask before since time was of the essence, but does Kate now realize I am more than she has been led to believe?”

  “Not yet. But she did provide the information about the canteen to eliminate further complications, and I, in turn, made her aware that it is in the best interest of doctors Kelly and Moskowitz, as well as herself, to advocate heavily for The Poppy King amongst the vipers she is in bed with. As for where her interests take her long term, that is no longer my concern.”

  Missy smiled back at that. “And the doctors you took from the boat to bring here, they are agreeable to this situation?”

  A rustling sound. They immediately went silent. In the moonlight he signed: They are trustworthy and no one’s concern but mine until I can get them back to where they belong.

  Missy signed in return: Perhaps this time we will find that we belong with each other, instead of with those who do not understand where we have come from, or where we may yet need to go.

  If Go is like war, chess is a knife fight in a phone booth.

  Anonymous

  A Very Dangerous Kind of Beauty

  Lesson of the Panther

  I think it is fair to say that after Maman died I was a lost boy. Lost boys can become lost men, and lost men often try to lose themselves in their work, in sex, in any number of distractions that enable them to remain lost. While part of me will always be lost since Maman took something vital with her the day she left me—and was it truly voluntary? I increasingly think not—what Zhang, and the monastery, taught me, was that brothers and sisters do not have to share blood to be bound by their history and loyalty to each other.

  My loyalty to Zhang was immediate the moment he took me under his wing. He taught me there is strength in compassion for the vulnerable, and that more power can lie behind a throne than sitting on one since fewer eyes will see you coming. Walk softly. Be invisible.

  One of the most memorable lessons I received at the monastery to reinforce these truths occurred when I was twelve. I was to find and follow a panther through the forest, touch the panther, and still live. Of course, only another monastery student would believe such a thing, but on my mother’s grave, it is as true as the Thousand Days I spent learning in the cave. As with that initiation, I was taken to see the old abbot, still ancient yet never seeming to age another day. He gestured me forward, looked me over, and said, “You are stronger. I see you are diligent in your training and unrelenting in your studies and”—he paused with the gravity of what awaited—“and this test will be difficult. Many strong boys have gone out and not returned from the panther. You must keep your chi surrounding you at all times. You must find and track the panther, and when it rests you are to touch it and return here immediately.” I bowed and then went to wash and scrub every human scent from myself. My scalp, shaved clean, was scrubbed and washed. I was allowed to take my blade for protection.

  When I entered the forest, I walked to where I knew began the vast hunting grounds of the panther. I walked and walked, stopping and listening to the sounds of the night birds who sang, until finally I heard their urgent song alerting me the panther was near. I steadied myself and remembered to keep my chi outward and around me. Dawn was growing closer, enabling me to better see. But I knew if I did not stay calm, fear would drive my body and blind more than my vision. I saw the print of the panther. I came across what remained of its kill. By its tracks I could
tell the panther had slowed and was looking for a place to rest. I saw it then and I prepared myself to approach in absolute silence, upwind.

  Fortunately, the black-coated one was curled away from me, napping beside a tree after its meal. I tried to control my trembling as I so very slowly crept closer and closer to the sleeping killer. I could barely breathe by the time I reached out, my heart pounding so hard I feared it might wake the panther as I gently stroked the lush fur.

  The huge cat exploded from the ground, whirling in midair and landing so it faced me. The green eyes burned and the snarling jaws were all I could see as the cat prepared to pounce, its haunches bunched and—

  The cat sprang sideways and up into the tree. I sank to my knees in relief and joy and wanted to shout, “I did it!” I had tracked and touched one of the greatest predators of the jungle, and scared it! My heart was bursting with pride. But pride can be a dangerous and blinding thing, and it robbed me of my focus and awareness. Of my chi. Too late I realized that I had not frightened away the big cat. Something much more dangerous than myself had done so. The low growl came from behind me. I slowly turned my head and, standing only feet away, was a full-grown male tiger. I was paralyzed with terror. I dropped my blade. All birds were silent. There was no movement in the grass or leaves. The world held its breath. The massive animal moved and I knew there would be no escaping the true Lord of the Kill.

  Then a man rose up from the high grass not far from the tiger and spoke with his hands in the silent language we were taught in the monastery, instructing, Just glance at his eyes. Lower yours in respect. That’s it. The tiger took a step closer. Now he wants to scent you. Let him. Let him smell your breath. The tiger raised its face, sniffing at me, so close I could see its nostrils moving, hear it breathing. My own breath was shallow as I crouched there, immobilized, allowing the tiger to make what he would of me, and praying I did not smell like his next meal.