Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas)

by S. M. Stelmack

  And as it’d been with Darae, she didn’t feel herself cover the distance, only that she was there, his thin arms wrapped around her, her arms holding him and holding him up. She felt him sway and loosened her hug, trying to find a way to let him sit back down on his own and yet give him the help he needed. When he was seated, she sank to her knees beside him.

  “Thought a bullet would catch me before the cigarettes did,” he said softly to her. “Doctors say I got a while yet. Time enough for us to sort things out.”

  She would not cry. She had no right to cry when she couldn’t be bothered to visit him in ten years. “I would’ve come earlier,” she whispered. “For you, I would’ve.”

  He squeezed her hand, his grip tender in its weakness. “And I shouldn’t have smoked a pack a day. Point is, you’re here now. And for the time being, so am I.”

  “You should hear your voice, Daddy. You really sound like The Godfather now.”

  He leaned close. “Gina, bambina. God made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

  Her vision blurred and she swallowed hard. She touched her forehead to his hand and felt his other hand smooth her hair. “Purple, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she choked out. “I wanted something different.”

  He chuckled, a throaty exhalation. “You always wanted something different.”

  She lifted her face to his. “Never wanted a different father.”

  “It was another story when you were fourteen.”

  “You can’t believe anything a fourteen-year-old girl says.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Good. Sometimes—sometimes I wondered.”

  Why? Why had it taken her ten years? For a decade she’d done nothing, not been there for him. He never ever smoked in her presence, a promise he’d made to her mother and kept even after she’d died. If she’d been around more, he would’ve smoked less, maybe he would’ve even stopped.

  There were footsteps behind her. She turned her head enough to see Darae’s gladiatorial sandals, Tasanee’s flip-flops and a pair of black polished shoes. She stood.

  “Give them to me.” She stuck out her hand. “Your cigarettes.”

  Kannon’s face got very neutral. Just as she was certain he’d refuse her, he relinquished them. She sent the pack like a Frisbee over the railing.

  Zaffini’s organization was made up entirely of females and transsexuals, their turf the city’s gentlemen’s clubs, massage parlors and upscale bordellos, of which they owned the lion’s share. Known as The Pink Stilettos, they dealt in sex and secrets, with more than one of them turning a blade in the back of her father’s enemies. They regularly mingled with the fringes of society, yet every one of them was staring at her as if she were a lit stick of dynamite.

  She was aware of the futility of what she was doing, that it was all too late. Then again, when had she ever accepted any authority, even that of fate?

  Kannon tore his gaze from the railing. “That was my last pack.”

  “Don’t care. I don’t want anyone smoking on this ship.”

  “Does that apply to me, too?” Vincenzo Zaffini rasped.

  She ignored his question and sailed on. “Daddy, I’d like you to meet my good friend, Kannon Takahama. We go back years.”

  If her father wondered how that was possible, he didn’t let on and instead bestowed on Kannon his blazing wide smile, the smile everyone said she’d inherited. In his emaciated state, it looked ghoulish, though he spoke steadily enough. “Your reputation precedes you, Kannon. Your boss spoke very highly of how you took care of Erawan Boontan.”

  “I owe Mr. Montri a great deal. I’d appreciate any assistance you can give.”

  Vincenzo Zaffini folded his thin hands over the jade head of his cane. “There’s a reason he chose me to be Tasanee’s godfather. Alak Montri and I have been friends for twenty years. My organization prides itself on discretion and information. My best girls are already on the job, and I have associates who’ll help, too.”

  Kannon bowed, and Vincenzo’s attention turned to Tasanee. “Your father is a great man, Tas. No matter what happens, I want you to know that you still have a family. And you will have vengeance no matter what the cost. You understand?”

  Tasanee pressed her hands together at her forehead and bowed deeply. “My father has always called you friend, Mr. Zaffini. Thank you for helping me.”

  Good grief, Gina thought, all this kowtowing. It really was like a scene from The Godfather.

  Kannon spoke. “My assistant and I have business to attend to below. Please excuse me.”

  “That a nice way of saying you’re going to break out the thumbscrews?” Gina said.

  Kannon addressed her father. “The sooner we do, the sooner we can learn what Wakai’s done with Mr. Montri.”

  With an approving nod from her father, Kannon turned to walk away.

  Gina stood. “Fine then. I’ll go with you.”

  Kannon stopped, and looked to Vincenzo.

  “Bambina,” her father said. “Let the man do his work. We both know you’re not tough enough for this.”

  “Tough enough? I used to hang out in the worst parts of Bangkok!”

  Vincenzo shrugged. “Sure. Under my protection.”

  “I took care of the guys that were after Tasanee!”

  “Must have been amateurs.”

  Gina now remembered why she used to have the hugest fights with her old man. “Oh, is that so? What do I have to do to prove I’m as tough as you ever were?”

  Vincenzo rolled his eyes. “Girl, you’re not as tough as I am now.”

  That was ludicrous. Darae stepped forward. “How about we give Gina a chance, Vinny? Let her go down and help Kannon with the—questioning. Let’s see what she’s capable of.”

  Vincenzo Zaffini twisted his mouth in reluctant agreement. Before he could change his mind, Gina marched away. “Come on, Kannon. Let’s go downstairs and get some answers.”

  On the stairwell that led down to the yacht’s underbelly, she found herself blocked by a tall Japanese man, his frame lanky but still well-muscled beneath his suit.

  “Ryota, this is Mr. Zaffini’s daughter, Gina,” Kannon said by way of introduction. “She’s here to help with the questioning.”

  Gina didn’t miss the dubious look they exchanged. “What, you two have a system I’d be messing with? Good cop, bad cop?”

  “More like bad cop, worse cop,” Kannon replied.

  The two men thought she was going to screw up and she very well might but, at the moment, she couldn’t stand for there to be one more ounce of pain anywhere. Not while she could prevent it. “So you’re going to try to beat it out of them, are you? You don’t think by now Wakai would have figured out we have them? Even if they spill their guts, he’ll have covered his tracks. Any information is going to be worthless.”

  “They’ll name names. People. Places. Leads we can use to hunt him down. Nobody can cover their tracks completely, especially now we have eyes and ears throughout the city.”

  “That’ll take time, and following a trail of breadcrumbs only invites an ambush. Besides, once you two start hurting them, they’ll say anything they think you want to hear to make the pain stop. Torture doesn’t work. We have to be smarter than that.”

  Kannon’s hands tightened into fists, his chest swelling in an effort to intimidate. Gina almost smiled at his bullying. He was so used to others doing what he said that he really didn’t have much of a repertoire when it came to getting people’s cooperation. He added words to his actions. “I have a lot more experience with…extracting information than you do.”

  Gina didn’t back down. “And I can sweet talk better than a whore on Wednesday. We don’t need those men as punching bags. We need them as bloodhounds. Get them on our side, and they’ll lead us to Wakai way faster than we could get there on our own.” She wondered where that theory had originated. Probably from Darae’s teachings a lifetime ago. “Anyway, there’s no harm in letting me try, now is there? Not like you can’t kick t
he snot out of them if I fail.”

  “We don’t have time for stupid games.”

  “Give me fifteen minutes,” she insisted. “You can spare that.” She got in his face. “You have to spare that.”

  “Out of respect for your father I’ll allow it, but Ryota and I will be there with you.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She tugged Ryota’s tie. “Now move, handsome. Clock’s ticking.”

  The two men sat in their underwear against the back wall of the hold, their wrists handcuffed to a large concrete block. Their skins were painted with angry welts, and aside from a dish of water and a bedpan, neither looked like they’d been afforded any care whatsoever.

  While one had typical Thai features, the younger man was a strange one. His features were sharp and brutish, eyes wide and manic. He pulled his lips back like a wild animal to reveal teeth filed to points. Most disturbing to Gina was the scarified script that had been cut into his forehead, not a word of which she could decipher.

  Kannon nodded at the ordinary one. “This one’s Jarun.”

  The man turned pleading eyes to Gina. “Please...something to eat.”

  Kannon tapped the bedpan with his shoe. “There’s your last meal.”

  Gina glared at him, then instructed Ryota, “Go empty it out.”

  Ryota looked wide-eyed at his boss, but after a grunt from Kannon, he left with the pan held out at arm’s length.

  The prisoners looked warily at her, and Gina appreciated how strange she must look—a white woman in Muslim garb, hair purple and wild. She considered where to begin with the two wretches, acutely aware of Kannon’s eyes on her. She needed to channel more of Darae’s teachings. She straightened and addressed them in Thai.

  “My name’s Gina, and I want to know where Alak Montri is being kept,” she began. “I don’t care what role you two played in Wakai’s plot, and I’m not going to allow Kannon here to torture you anymore. Instead I’m going to give you a choice. Either we work out a deal to find Mr. Montri and you go free, or I have you thrown overboard to drown. You want to cooperate or not?”

  Jarun eyed Kannon. “You’ll toss us overboard, anyway.”

  “It’s not what you know right now that’s of any interest to me. It’s what you can find out when you’re back in Bangkok. I don’t believe either of you have any idea where Mr. Montri is right now, though I’m sure you could find out if you had the opportunity.”

  “And what would keep you from killing us as soon as you had him?” Jarun clearly wasn’t the trusting sort.

  Gina stepped closer to, causing him to flinch, then kneeled so she was on eye level with him. “Do you know how my father took over so much of Bangkok’s nightlife, so fast?”

  Jarun shook his head.

  “Because he kept his word. And that’s why people like to deal with him—because they know that when he makes a promise, he keeps it.”

  Despite Jarun’s skeptical expression, Gina pressed on. “You and your buddy here are pawns. Henchmen. I’ll happily let you go if it means I can rescue Montri. And I give you my word that if you help us, we’ll set you free. I can’t make a better offer than that.”

  Jarun’s jaw clenched, his eyes shifting back and forth between Kannon and Gina. They settled on Kannon. “Before we make any deal, I want talk to Mr. Zaffini himself to—”

  With a snarl more animal than human, the younger man lunged forward, knocking Gina aside, an instant away from sinking his shark-like teeth into Jarun’s jugular. Before Gina’s butt could hit the floor, Kannon’s foot connected with the attacker’s jaw.

  The man’s head slammed with an audible crack against the back wall, teeth breaking. Jarun scuttled away as far as the handcuffs would let him, at the same time Kannon followed up with an iron grip on the assailant’s throat, cutting off breath.

  Gina scrambled to her feet, her eyes wide as she and Jarun exchanged shocked looks.

  The door to the hold burst open and there was Ryota, gun in hand.

  “Unlock Jarun and get him some food and clothing,” said Kannon impassively as the man in his grip turned a bright red. “Take her with you.”

  “And what about...him?” asked Gina, her heart pounding. Were it not for Kannon’s reflexes, Jarun’s throat would have been ripped out in front of her.

  Kannon tilted his victim’s head a bit, inspecting him as he thrashed. The redness of his face began to darken to blue, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth. “I don’t think this one’s going to respond to reason.”

  Gina placed a hand on Kannon’s shoulder. “We need to keep him alive.” She swallowed. “I need him alive.”

  Kannon’s grip shifted suddenly from neck to face, and whacking the prisoner’s head into the wall, knocked him unconscious.

  Gina supposed that was a fair compromise.

  Tucked into his sky lounge chair with Gina and Darae seated on either side of him, Vincenzo smiled thinly at Jarun who was in a short-sleeved red dress shirt and beige shorts, an outfit he’d been partial to in his pre-cancer days, and one, along with dozens of other pieces of clothing, he ordered to be removed. Instead, he now realized, they’d only been removed from his sight. Damn women.

  “Jarun, tell us what you know.”

  “Wakai and I grew up in the slums. He was always smart. Always a good friend. A natural leader. But his sister, Victoria, she was a psycho. Never played with the other children. Always hung out with weird scum. Street shamans. Back alley abortionists. Old Khmer Rouge war criminals. She was drawn to whatever was twisted—and wrong.”

  Vincenzo noticed Gina squirm in her seat. She always did have a hard time with tales of ugliness. “And you’re telling me this why?”

  Jarun looked him square in the eye. “Because I know John Wakai. I’m not a member of any gang. Make my living as an independent enforcer. But I’m loyal to him, and I’m not going to betray him no matter what you do to me. His sister, though, that’s another story. I bet you anything she’s behind why John turned on his boss. Kill her and you’ll be doing everyone a favor.”

  From the blaze in the man’s eyes, he clearly believed what he said. Vincenzo glanced over at Kannon who stood off to one side with Ryota.

  “The phone message Wakai left for Jarun mentioned that a woman named Victoria botched up Tasanee’s kidnapping,” Kannon confirmed.

  Interesting. Vincenzo resumed his conversation. “And how close are Wakai and Victoria?”

  Jarun twisted his mouth in disgust. “Very close. That’s the problem. She’s had her hooks in him ever since their mother died. He feels responsible for her, and she uses that to manipulate and corrupt him. She’ll know where Mr. Montri is being kept. We can both save our friends.”

  “You’re asking me to forgive Wakai?”

  “Exile him,” Jarun proposed. “He’s in a wheelchair. A cripple. No friend in the world except me. Isn’t that enough punishment?”

  Hardly. It didn’t matter if he pardoned Wakai. His fate would be decided by another. “I can’t promise what Alak will do when he gets free, but tell us where to find Victoria and both you and Wakai will have my mercy, for what it’s worth. That’s the deal we can make. Take one step out of line....”

  “I accept, and I swear I’ll do everything I possibly can.” Jarun raised his hands high in a prayer pose and bowed to his waist. “Thank you, Mr. Zaffini.”

  Vincenzo’s fingers curled a little more tightly around the head of his cane. “Seeing as we’re now friends, I think we should start with you telling me a little bit about the man in my hold. Strange scars, filed teeth—I’d have thought that I would have heard of any gang like that. Especially one with the muscle to ambush Alak. Tell me what you know about them.”

  “When Victoria was a teenager she made friends with that man’s gang,” explained Jarun. “Back then, there were just a few of them in the slums, but their organization extends into the wilderness areas of Cambodia. For years she’s had ties to them, and it was their group that raised a small army to
help Wakai. Came across the border to help him take Mr. Montri and kill his inner circle.”

  No wonder nobody had seen the plot coming. This was yet another invasion of ruthless foreigners into Bangkok, aided by the treachery of his friend’s most trusted strategist and advisor. Vincenzo suddenly felt tired. Had he and Alak accomplished nothing in life? Could it really all fall to ruin so easily? “And what was your part in the betrayal, Jarun?”

  “Nothing. It came from out of the blue. Like I said, John and I are close friends, but it was sudden, and I had no part of it. I swear to you I tried to talk him out of it.”

  Vincenzo knew in his gut that the man was telling the truth. In this business, however, you’d been a fool to say it. “I’m not certain you’re as innocent as you claim, Jarun, though in the end I don’t suppose it makes a difference. We have a deal, and I think we’re done here. At least for now.”

  Ryota escorted Jarun out, and Kannon made to follow them. Oh, no. Vincenzo wasn’t quite finished with Alak’s man. “Kannon, a word. What did you think of my daughter’s handling of Jarun?”

  Kannon didn’t pull punches. “I think he’ll either flee or betray us the moment he gets a chance.”

  Gina made an indignant squeak. “And go where? There’s nowhere in the city he could hide from us, and you think Wakai would take him back at this point? Friends or not, he’d assume Jarun betrayed him. The only way our buddy can make it out of this situation is by getting on our good side.”

  She looked so put out, so much like she’d been as a teenager, that Vincenzo laughed. “Don’t ride Kannon for telling it as he sees it. Few people left like that. Anyway, I actually approve of your plan, bambina. We’ll see how things go.”

  Gina smiled. “So, you’re okay with me helping Kannon then?”

  Vincenzo sighed. “Absolutely not.”

  “What! You said—”

  “I gave you a chance to impress me, and you have. I like how you handled the situation. Like your plan. You’re smart and you’re fearless and you’ve got heart.”

  Gina rolled her hand impatiently. “But?”