Gina Takes Bangkok (The Femme Vendettas)

by S. M. Stelmack

  Gina honed in on Kannon’s observation. “You’re right. There’s been no rain, so they were near one of the canals. They could’ve easily gotten themselves wet stepping off a boat or something.” She switched back to Kittyjack, and made the descending sound of a falling object.

  Kittyjack set her jaw. “And the second clue?”

  Kannon’s dark eyes scanned the still video. This time it took the better part of a minute before he picked out the guard’s hands. “His knuckles. They’re enlarged.”

  “Yes,” Kittyjack conceded. “About twice the size of a normal person’s.”

  Gina made a second descending whistle. “And that means…?”

  “It means that he’s likely a serious bare knuckle fighter,” Kannon said. “And an old school one at that. Remember the photos hanging in the home of Lwin Kinjo? Hands like that used to be common in Asian boxers about fifty years ago thanks to a practice called pinging.”

  Gina blinked. “Pinging?”

  “A boxer,” Kannon explained, “would punch an anvil so hard he made it ping. The force of the blow would break the cap of their middle knuckles, and when they healed up they’d be much rounder and larger. Being punched by someone like that would be like getting hit with a hammer. Only the most hardcore fighters did that.”

  Gina snuck a look at Kannon’s hands. Sure enough, his middle knuckles were large, calloused and iron hard. “Or someone who wouldn’t really feel it.” Here he was in the middle of showing exactly how brilliant he really was, and all anybody would see—all he saw—were those knuckles. “That’s all very fascinating, how does it help us find Alak?”

  “Not too long ago I saw a man with knuckles like mine on board your father’s boat.”

  Gina thought about it. “Jarun?”

  Kannon jutted his chin at the screen. “I bet that’s him. Now, we need a where, not a who.”

  “Until you meet someone like me,” Kittyjack smiled. “Bet I can tell you where this Jarun guy is going to be tomorrow night.”

  Kannon studied the screen yet again. C’mon, Gina cheered him on silently. Don’t let the nerd girl win. “I don’t see how.”

  Kittyjack opened her mouth right when Gina cut her off. “I’ll find it.” She leaned in again.

  Kannon sighed. “We don’t have time for these games. Let her tell us.”

  “One minute.” She studied the screen, willing something to appear. And it did. “Lookee, lookee! Jarun’s eyes. He’s reading the back of it. Like a headline caught his eye.”

  She whirled in triumph to Kittyjack, whose peeved expression said it all. Gina made a loud crashing noise. “That is the sound of pride breaking into a million pieces,” she crowed. “Team Genius takes gold!” She raised her hand to do a high-five with Kannon, who actually did it with her, even though he was looking at her as if she had tumbled off the edge of sanity herself.

  “I would’ve never taken you for the competitive type,” he commented.

  “Oh, if I play, it’s to win.” She leaned on Kittyjack’s table and let the double meaning hang between them.

  “Better shove over, you need to share the podium with me,” Kittyjack said. She opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a copy of the same newspaper. “Not a headline, an advertisement.”

  She flipped it over so that they could see the back, and Gina felt a rush of excitement as she realized what Montri’s captor had been looking at. There in the upper right corner was a display ad for a local kickboxing tournament, to be held at an open air arena that night.

  Gina laughed. “Okay, I admit it. You’re a genius!”

  “Duh” was the hacker’s gracious reply.

  Kannon didn’t seem to hear them. “We can tail him back to where Alak Montri’s at. A rescue would change the entire situation. And we can be prepared to follow him on water as well as land. It’ll be tricky, but Wakai could’ve given us our biggest opportunity yet.” Gina could feel his suppressed energy, so different from his melancholy the previous night and the sexy slyness of that morning. Three different moods in less than a day. Maybe, finally, she was getting to see what else there was to the man who only saw himself as a killer.

  Wakai studied the footage on his tablet, the imaging software smoothing out the pixels to transform the jagged, static-y scene into something for him to analyze. Although cameras were barred from Triple 9 by request of the patrons, they were on the streets, and the local shopkeepers had proved cooperative.

  The club doors burst open, and he paused the action. He zoomed in on the trio that had appeared, then set the software to sharpen their features. Kannon and Ryota were instantly recognizable, but who was the woman with them? She wasn’t Asian, that was for sure. Too tall. Her features too pointed. Breasts too large.

  She didn’t seem like a hired gun—women with looks like hers didn’t need to resort to violence to earn a living—so why was she with Kannon? With those shocks of royal purple throughout her dark hair, she was far from low key. Certainly no private investigator.

  He retracted the zoom to further dissect the scene. There was a shrill metallic chime, and in the top corner of his screen a small image appeared from the elevator camera. It was Ek, and by the looks of him, he was as irate as he’d been last night.

  Wakai tapped the button to allow entry. “Victoria,” he called over his shoulder. “The wizard’s here.”

  She emerged into the living area from the bedroom. “I wish you’d stop calling him that.”

  “I think you’d like my other names for him even less.”

  She kneeled beside him. “He’s a valuable ally, John. When we needed him he was there to help us. Him and his entire clan. Why can’t you be nice to him?”

  Wakai tried to feign a smile. “The man’s a bloodthirsty, sadistic, child-raping cannibal. You’ll excuse me if I’m a little suspect of his motivations.”

  Victoria propped her chin on the arm of his chair. “He can’t help having the hungers he does, John. No more than I can help mine. I know we seem like monsters to you, but that doesn’t mean he’s disloyal.”

  “He just wants to ply his trade in a new territory. At best, he’s a mercenary.”

  Victoria tilted her head. “And what does Montri do?”

  Her point was obvious. “Yes, he smuggles, defrauds and kills. Except he rid the city of foreign gangs like Ek’s. Put a virtual end to child prostitution. Helped thousands of Bangkok’s poorest get a leg up. He’s never driven around in big cars or owned fancy apartments. His intentions were always as good as any criminal’s could be. Ek’s are as bad as they get.”

  His sister’s lower lip came out. “Even after what he tried, you’ll defend him?”

  “I did what I had to do to protect you,” Wakai stated. “That doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. As for Ek, you have to give up on this fantasy of us being brothers. It’s never going to happen.”

  On the far side of the penthouse there was a low chime, and Wakai heard the elevator doors open. “We’ll finish this conversation later.”

  Victoria stood as Ek strode over, one arm in a cast. The giant stopped directly in front of Wakai’s chair, pausing only to nod in greeting to Victoria before glowering down at him. “You’ve got some balls talking to me like that last night. I want to know where Montri is right now.”

  “I left him in the care of you two for a week and he looked like he’d been run over by a truck,” Wakai said, not so much as glancing at Ek. His fingers traced over the tablet screen. Something caught his eye. The woman in the van. He knew her, he knew her…from where, where, where?

  Ek railed on. “We were trying to get information out of him. Information you weren’t able to, either.”

  “Yes, I failed. Unlike you, however, I’ve actually got a plan on how to get rid of our enemies.”

  Victoria gave a little happy squeal that Ek squelched with a glare. He glowered down at Wakai. “What are you going to do?”

  “Not what I’m going to do, Ek. What I’ve already done. And what I’
ve already done is set a trap for Kannon and his friends. Soon enough you’re going to have a chance to pay him back for your elbow.”

  “When? Where?”

  Always impatient, always greedy. “I’ll let you know the time and place,” Wakai replied calmly. “Remember your role and everything will work out fine.”

  “My role?” Ek growled.

  At last Wakai looked up at the brute, making no effort to hide his disdain. “Our deal is simple, Ek. You’re the muscle. I’m the brains. We’re partners of necessity. Don’t get the idea that you can do what I can.”

  Ek gritted his yellowish teeth in a sneer. “You think you’re so smart. If it weren’t for Victoria here you’d already be dead.”

  Wakai snorted. “If it weren’t for Victoria, you and your simian clan would still be cowering in some Cambodian backwater.”

  “We’re rakshasas, not from some fucking simian gang.”

  “Your answer proves direct lineage.”

  His sister got between them. “Please, enough fighting. We’re in this together. We’re more than a gang. We’re a family. And Bangkok belongs to us so long as we work together.”

  It was plain enough to Wakai that his feelings for Ek were returned in full, but he nodded. “We all have our roles to play,” he said, extending a small token of conciliation for her sake.

  Ek grunted.

  “Besides, I have more good news for you two. I know who’s been helping Kannon. Who’s probably protecting Tasanee.”

  Victoria’s eyes widened in excitement. “Who?”

  Wakai angled the tablet to Ek and Victoria, and pointed at the driver of the van. “See that woman?”

  They nodded.

  “Her name’s Darae Zaffini. Her husband controls half of Bangkok’s brothels and massage parlors, and he’s a close friend of Montri. Should have guessed he’d be the first to cross me.”

  “Where is he?” Ek demanded.

  “I don’t know,” replied Wakai. “Yet.”

  GINA SAT BACK from the small plastic table at the tiny makeshift café and enjoyed the view. It was of Kannon, coming toward her through the crowd of diners and colorful stalls, his mirrored sunglasses blazing like the eyes of an avenging angel. From his right hand hung a large duffel bag, the thick fabric straining under the heavy contents, though he carried it with the same ease she did her purse. Or with the same ease he had carried her from 70 Rai. Or with the same ease he marked her with his kisses.

  She scooted out a chair for him. He took it and set the bag down close, tapping it with his foot.

  “Quite the interesting toys Dr. Chaiboonma has. We’ve got this on loan for tonight, and Kittyjack’s on standby to operate it. How did you do with Mrs. Kinjo?”

  “Lwin called some fighters who’ll be competing, and they put me in touch with the arena’s owner. They’re going to keep a lookout for anyone with ‘pinged’ knuckles as they collect the tickets, so it’s all arranged. Now all we have to do is hope our hunch is right. You had anything to eat yet?”

  Kannon looked down at the trio of empty paper plates in front of Gina. “I’m not hungry. Besides, I try to avoid street food.”

  “What? It’s the very best kind!”

  “And how do you figure that?”

  She gestured about her as if the answer was obvious. “Look around you!”

  He did. “All I see is chaos and all I smell is way too much of everything.”

  “Kannon, most of the foods around us are delicacies. They’re not easy to make, and they take a lot of care to cook. Each vendor only makes one or two specialties, so over the years they become masters at preparing them. A restaurant chef is never going to get that good. That’s why I avoid restaurants when I’m here. And the best part is, any day now it will all be gone.”

  “Come again?”

  “You really don’t get it, do you? You’ve been here for how long, did you say?”

  “Two years, about.”

  “And do you know why I asked us to meet here?”

  “I don’t know. I asked for a nice, quiet, empty place.”

  “Because this morning driving by, it was! This was a vacant lot and that won’t do around here. Probably what happened was a motorcycle with one mini-kitchen in tow pulled up and began serving noodles. Then one after another came more motorcycles and up went stalls and soon you got all this—a half-dozen kinds of noodles, sweetmeats, coconut hotcakes. People coming around with baked goods and bottles. And see, there. A busker. It’s like a carnival.

  “That’s the thing. American and Europeans always want to control, set down laws, tie things up in red tape, but the people of Bangkok, they grab hold of chaos and ride it into whatever adventure it will take them, and everyone accepts everyone else. That’s why you can have a skyscraper beside a shrine, and why a hooker and a monk make an offering side by side.” Gina scooted her chair closer to Kannon and nudged his shoulder. “And a decent man is out with a wild woman.”

  She’d said the last bit because as she spoke, his entire pose had changed. He’d become very intense, his elbows were on his knees, and along the edge of his sunglasses she could see crinkles where one eye was narrowed on her. “You belong here.”

  “In Bangkok?”

  “Yes. Like a fish in water.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what Darae wants.”

  “Not what you want?”

  “I don’t know what I want. I know what I don’t want.”

  “To be head of The Pink Stilettos?”

  “I’m not any good at it, despite what Dr. Chai and Darae say. I’m no crocodile tamer, as Lwin puts it. I’m a washed-up party girl, and that’s it. You know what’ll happen to this market tomorrow, maybe the next day? This lot will be swarming with construction workers, and all these stalls will blow to the wind like dandelion seeds and touch down somewhere else.”

  “You saying you’re a dandelion seed?”

  She sighed, sitting back in her chair. “I wish I was. God knows that’s what I’ve been trying to be. Problem is my whole life has been rooted in this city since before I was even conceived.”

  “And how’s that?” he asked.

  She cocked her head at him. “Ask me out on a date.”

  “What? Right now?”

  “Yeah. And tell me we can go anywhere I want.”

  He looked at her uncertainly, but with a shrug he acquiesced. “Fine. Would you go out with me, Gina?”

  “Yep,” she smiled. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Anywhere you want to go, apparently.”

  She took him by the hand. “Then come on. I want to show you those roots we were talking about.”

  As they crossed a canal, Kannon looked over his shoulder. “We’ve got seven dogs on our tail. Any idea why that is?”

  Gina could understand Kannon’s caution about being followed, even if it was by the four-legged. “Beats me. They always follow me around. When I was a kid, I thought they trailed after everyone. Turns out I was special.”

  “You certainly are.” That hung out there and then he added, “My father would’ve used your talents.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s a bit of a story.”

  “It’s a bit of a walk.”

  Kannon adjusted his grip on his bag, and took her hand, so they were strolling along like a normal couple, and not a hit-man and a mafia princess killing time until they could hunt down a rival. When he spoke, it was soft and easy, as if they’d all the time in the world. “My mixed heritage didn’t make it easy to fit in with the other kids. When I was six I got beaten bad enough by some of the older kids for my mother to pull me out of school.”

  “Wanted to make things easier on you?”

  “They only got harder.”

  Gina stroked her thumb along his poor beaten knuckles. “How so?”

  “My father, he was an animal trainer for the Yakuza. Handled the Tosa breed of fighting dogs. Since I was at home, he started training me right beside them.”

  “Your
dad trained you like an animal?”

  “It’s not that strange. To win at tōken, which is Japanese dog fighting, an animal can’t bark, yelp or lose its will to fight, no matter how hurt it might get. The same applies for someone in my line of work.”

  “So what did he have you do?” Gina asked, at once shocked and fascinated by Kannon’s revelation.

  “For hours each day my father would force the dogs to swim back and forth in a deep pool, and naturally I shared the same regime. Puppies that weren’t strong enough to make it drowned, and I wasn’t allowed to save them no matter how much I begged. A couple of times I disobeyed my father and did it anyway, but all I got for my trouble was a lashing and the puppy kicked back into the pool.”

  “That’s horrible,” said Gina.

  “That’s life,” he said. “When I wasn’t strong enough to stay afloat, he let me sink before fishing me out. It taught me to keep struggling to my limits. Gave me the kind of strength not many people have.”

  “That sounds psychotic.”

  “My father was trying to prepare me for life, Gina. The kind of life I wound up leading. He schooled me in judo. Taught me to punch, kick, grapple and throw till my form was perfect. He showed me how to fight with knives and sticks and broken bottles. How to ambush and trip. To blind and cripple. By the time I turned twelve I even looked as muscled as a Tosa. Then came the real training.

  “My father had kept a list of every kid that had picked on me, and one by one he sent me out to pay them back. To break teeth or arms. Or torture them.”

  Gina didn’t even know what to say. The kind of training she’d received was unicorns and rainbows compared to Kannon’s upbringing.

  “Of course I did as he ordered, and when I started high school I can tell you there was no more teasing. Everyone, even the seniors, gave me a wide berth. Made the Yakuza accept me as well, despite the color of my skin.”

  “Made you into the man you are today.”

  “Like I said before, it’s all I know how to do.”