Notable (Smith High)

by Marni Bates

  I struggled not to smile. “Of course. I guess we should have considered that possibility.”

  “I think we should move up our whole timetable. Call him right now and see if you can catch him off guard.”

  “But . . . you do realize that we need to make sure this thing goes off without a hitch, right?” I blurted. “Our team isn’t even in place yet!”

  I had just enough presence of mind to stick to vague pronouns, because no matter how entrancing my kissing skills, Wesley would probably start paying attention if I dropped the name of the hotel owner into my conversation.

  “You mean the reporters Jane promised would get here today? Funny story, they got in early too. I did just tell you that you weren’t going to believe me.”

  Only Ben would waste time making jokes in the midst of a hostage crisis, but his tone lost its lightheartedness when he said, “It’s time for you to make your move, Chelsea. We need Sovann out of the hotel for as long as you can manage. Starting right now. So when you get him there . . . stall.”

  “I understand.” My mouth turned painfully dry as if I had just tried to eat five saltine crackers. “I’ll make the call right now.”

  “Good. Give him hell, Chelsea.”

  Ben hung up, and I tried to hide my panic by pretending to have found the disturbance annoying instead of life threatening. I tossed up my hands in mock disgust.

  “Work crisis. I’ll only be a minute.”

  I started dialing before he could suggest that we both try to kick back and take the day off work . . . or something equally ridiculous. It was funny because Wesley struck me as a workaholic type, but he wouldn’t stop talking about how lucky we were that the hotel owner had asked for a temporary recess in the middle of negotiations.

  Yeah, not so lucky for me, actually. Or Amy.

  “Hello, sir,” I formally greeted the drug lord when he picked up on the third ring. I found myself missing the feel of Houston’s hand squeezing mine, but I forced myself to stay on task. I couldn’t afford any distractions when I needed to be at the top of my game. So I glanced skyward one more time for good measure so that Wesley would know that I’d much rather spend the day exclusively with him.

  And I tried incredibly hard not to let Rithisak Sovann sense my fear over the phone.

  The accented voice that replied was going to haunt my nightmares for years. “I have the man. You want him in one piece, we meet now.”

  I nodded like a demented bobblehead. “Shall we meet at Wat Phnom temple in, say, thirty minutes? Does that give you long enough to get here?”

  Wesley stiffened, and I hoped that Aaron didn’t need any more alone time to make those phone calls of his. I couldn’t bring my fake date with me to a hostage exchange with a brilliant psychopath.

  “We conduct our business at the hotel,” Rithisak insisted hoarsely.

  “Neutral ground is so much better for everyone. Less room for either party to renege on the arrangement.”

  Silence. God, his silences were effective at rattling me.

  At that moment I wanted to agree to anything he said rather than risk piquing his anger, except Ben had specifically told me to lure him away from the hotel. Probably because getting him away from his base of operations was the fastest way to split up his forces.

  The only downside was that it left me dangling in the wind too.

  Still, Ben had sounded determined, not scared, on the phone. This time it was my turn to go on blind faith and take the plunge.

  It helped knowing that Rithisak Sovann had wanted to make the exchange badly enough that he’d bribed the Cambodian police and dragged Neal out from whatever cell he’d been rotting in. He wouldn’t back out now over the inconvenience of meeting a few miles away from his precious hotel.

  “Let’s meet by the shrine for the statue-finding lady.” I probably would’ve sounded a lot smarter if I had remembered the woman’s name, but details like that tend to allude me even when I’m not negotiating with people who probably want me dead.

  “Fine. Be ready to make the exchange.”

  “I look forward to seeing you soon, sir.”

  He disconnected, leaving me in the decidedly uncomfortable position of having to explain to my date that my work-related crisis required my immediate attention. Oh, and that I would completely understand if he didn’t want to stick around.

  If I happened to leave out the little detail that I was about to become an international drug dealer, well . . . some secrets are better off kept that way.

  Chapter 30

  He was right on time.

  Apparently, punctuality was one of the few values this particular drug lord was a stickler for upholding. And here I’d assumed that anyone who made their living in less-than-legal enterprises would have an equally flexible relationship with deadlines.

  Not so much.

  It unnerved me to realize that we hadn’t even exchanged pleasantries and I had already underestimated him once. It didn’t exactly inspire much confidence in my ability to proceed with our swap, especially when I saw that the few photos I had found of him online hadn’t done him justice. They had all been portraits that featured him smiling in a “Welcome to Cambodia, foreign investors!” kind of way.

  He wasn’t smiling now.

  Instead, he was bearing down on the relatively secluded shrine with a scowl firmly entrenched on a face that didn’t betray his age. His jet-black hair was cut with razor precision, and I knew even from a distance that his watch alone could pay ten times over for our stay at the Royal Continental Hotel. Even more impressive than the obvious display of wealth was the way he radiated power—a don’t mess with me air of authority.

  And I didn’t want to mess with him. I really, really didn’t.

  Especially when I caught sight of Neal being shoved forward by the thugs on either side of him. The vicious blows he’d taken back in Siem Reap clearly hadn’t been the only ones he had received; Neal’s normally expressive face was swollen red and mottled black and blue.

  The beaten, run-down man in front of me didn’t look foolishly optimistic anymore . . . but when he saw me, standing only a few feet away from a statue of the Lady Penh, he yelled out a hoarse warning.

  “Run!”

  My stomach clenched as one of the thugs delivered a stunningly powerful punch to Neal’s gut, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet the professor’s eyes. That would be the fastest way for me to entirely lose control of my emotions. Neal needed me to keep it together . . . and so did Amy.

  I just hoped the others were doing a much better job of rescuing her.

  And that someone would be hurrying this way to provide me with some desperately needed backup.

  “Hello, sir.” I bowed my head respectfully the instant Rithisak came close enough for us to speak without drawing attention to ourselves. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

  Then again, I’d be even more honored if you would just hand over my friends.

  He examined me closely before speaking, his gaze lingering on my every attribute like I was a thoroughbred horse being scrutinized before a big race. I half expected him to demand to see my registration papers.

  He also didn’t appear even mildly disconcerted by Neal’s pain-filled wheezes. “I fulfilled my end of the arrangement. I hope you were also true to your word.”

  I nodded and gripped my tote even tighter. “I have it stashed nearby.”

  A lot closer than you might think. Now I simply need to stall until the cavalry arrives.

  “You appear to have overlooked part of our arrangement. I don’t see my messenger with you. Where is she?”

  Neal gasped and tried to lurch forward. “Run, Chelsea!”

  I desperately shook my head, hoping that signal would be enough to keep him from speaking again, but the fist that plowed into his rib cage was probably a more effective deterrent. The resounding crack of broken bones only ratcheted up the noise inside my head until it became a hot, twisting mess beyond my control. The keening scream t
hat barely escaped through Neal’s swollen lips shredded me. I felt empty. Strung out.

  Terrified.

  A tourist nearby gasped in horror, but she quickly ducked out of sight so that she couldn’t be pulled into my mess. I didn’t blame her for not sticking around. She hadn’t signed up for hero duty, and since this wasn’t the kind of adventure abroad she could brag about to her quilting group I doubted she would be returning with help.

  “I know what I’m doing, Neal.” I tried to infuse my words with a confidence I didn’t feel. “Mr. Sovann and I have an understanding.”

  We both understand that I might not be making it out of this alive.

  Ben better have had a good reason for asking me to stall.

  “However, I am confused about the absence of my messenger. Did I not make myself clear enough on that point?”

  It was hard to tell because of all the swelling, but I thought Neal’s eyes became even more frantic as he tried to mouth the question, Amy or Liz?

  “Give me the Buddha and then we can negotiate for her.” Rithisak Sovann’s lips twisted upward at the ends into a rough version of a smile.

  “That’s not what we agreed!”

  His expression didn’t waver as his hand disappeared in his suit jacket only to reemerge with a handgun that looked fully capable of shutting me up. Permanently.

  “I’m keeping the girl.” Rithisak took three confident strides toward me and then ran one long, elegant finger down my cheek and hooked it beneath my chin in a dispassionate examination. “I may even keep you. Now give me the package.”

  This would’ve been a really great time to utilize some sneaky maneuver I had been holding back in reserve. In the Hollywood version of my life, my ballet training would allow me to gracefully execute a perfect grand jeté to the evil drug dealer’s face.

  Too bad real life never works out that way.

  Instead, I stood there frozen. And the only thing I could think was a resounding Holy crap!

  Seriously.

  Nothing profound about the meaning of life or the importance of family or all the things I should have said or done but hadn’t. No regrets about Logan. Or Jake. Or even Houston, for that matter.

  Just . . . holy crap.

  “Uh, okay. Fine. Keep her!” I said desperately, my eyes never straying from the barrel of his gun. “Would I like her back? Yes. Finding good help isn’t easy. I’m sure you can relate to that in your line of business. But she’s not worth this much trouble. So . . . whatever. All yours.”

  Okay, so now that was the biggest lie I had ever told. No way would I calmly accept letting that creep get his hands on Amy again. Ben, Liz, and Houston were going to ensure it for me. But Mr. Sovann seemed to have no trouble believing that the panic-stricken girl in front of him would willingly sell out a glorified assistant if it meant saving her own skin.

  “Why don’t you, uh, put that down so we can talk?” I said hopefully.

  He lowered his gun only slightly, but I didn’t doubt for a second that he could have it jammed against my throat before I sucked in the breath to scream. He may have wanted the drugs badly enough to fly Neal into town, but nothing was valuable enough for him to allow someone else to call the shots. Especially if that someone else was a seventeen-year-old ballerina-in-training. I was just lucky he hadn’t decided to lodge a bullet into some “non-essential” part of my body in order to teach me a lesson about interfering with other people’s affairs.

  Although I couldn’t shake the horrible suspicion that my current lack of bullet holes was probably a calculated decision based on the profit margin between uninjured sex slaves and their crippled counterparts.

  That thought didn’t exactly help me keep it together.

  “No more talking. Give me the package.” Rithisak flicked the gun at me like a composer leading his orchestra with a baton. “Now.”

  But I couldn’t . . . not when Neal was alive and two feet away from me. All I had to do was keep him that way. To trust in Ben and keep stalling.

  “You release him, and I will make sure you get the heroin. Simple.”

  “He’ll kill you!”

  I couldn’t handle it.

  Neal and I both knew exactly what was coming. He even braced himself for the thug’s retribution, but that didn’t make it any easier for me to watch him crumple under the force of the blow. To see it coming and be absolutely unable to prevent it from happening . . . that’s when I completely lost it.

  It was like some essential part of me snapped.

  “He’s not wrong,” Rithisak said calmly, as if he’d politely told Neal to raise his hand before speaking next time. “I can’t let my rivals think a silly little girl can undermine me. Especially now that I’m handling a new product.”

  Then he chuckled, not in a supervillain I shall plot world domination while I twirl my mustache kind of way—that at least would have allowed me some room for levity in the midst of this completely un-funny situation. No, this laugh was legitimately terrifying because it didn’t sound even remotely calculated. The man was actually taking pleasure in watching my face blanch with every strike Neal received.

  He was enjoying this twisted game with me because he saw it as a temporary amusement. I was just a little bit of sport to him. A fleeting diversion that would never become a serious threat because I wasn’t going to leave our little meeting alive.

  Whatever plan Ben was using sure had one enormous flaw in it.

  There was no backup on the way for me. I was screwed. Damned if I handed over the drugs and equally damned if I didn’t.

  My fingers slid into my tote and clutched the Buddha that had landed all of us in this mess. A sense of inevitability settled over me. I was going to die. That much had become painfully clear when I had first looked down the barrel of the gun. Rithisak Sovann was going to have no moral reservations to prevent him from pulling the trigger. He wouldn’t start making exceptions based on my age and gender.

  I tipped my face up toward the sun I saw so infrequently back in Portland and tried to accept the situation.

  It was a beautiful place to die. I could almost taste the incense that saturated the air around the temple. Idly, I wondered if my funeral would be held in this very spot or if my mom would insist on having it back in Forest Grove. It didn’t matter much to me either way. No doubt somebody would point out that my tragic fate could’ve easily been avoided if I hadn’t tried to coast through life on my looks. If I had only been a little more interested in textbooks instead of tutus. I had no trouble imagining my mother standing above my grave, wailing, “This is all your fault, Paul! If you hadn’t coddled her—”

  She might not be able to directly inform me of her disapproval, but I seriously doubted that would stop her from publicly expressing it. At least she would have the satisfaction of being right about her only daughter’s ineptitude to keep her warm at night.

  Except that was such bullshit.

  The more I thought about my impending death, the more pissed off I became until I was inwardly seething. I didn’t deserve this. Okay, so maybe my reign as the Queen of the Notables meant I had some bad karma stockpiled with my name on it back at Smith High School. But even at my bitchiest I hadn’t done anything to merit this. Even the psychopathic drug dealer had no reason to criticize my behavior considering that I had contacted him trying to return his missing merchandise. And what did I get for all my effort?

  Most likely, one shallow Cambodian grave.

  The cool wooden body of the Buddha felt right clutched in my fist. Maybe I wasn’t going to make it out of this particular mess alive, but it wouldn’t be for nothing. And I was going to drag out every second for as long as was humanly possible before I enacted my very last act of revenge.

  Mr. Sovann was in for a big surprise if he thought I would docilely await my death sentence. Maybe it was the young-high-school-girl thing I had going for me, but he was seriously underestimating just how much hell I could raise when cornered. A misconception I had every
intention of using to my advantage.

  I wasn’t going down without a fight.

  “So how do you see this playing out? I hand you the drugs and you sell me as a sex slave? That doesn’t seem like a fair deal to me.”

  Another one of those low chuckles was his only immediate response. The sound didn’t bother me as much this time. The more he snickered at my naïveté the less he would expect of me.

  But that didn’t mean I’d expect any less of myself.

  For the first time I really, truly, swear-on-whatever-holy-book-you-want, didn’t care that I was being dismissed as nothing more than an ornamental object. Maybe I wouldn’t become a Rhodes scholar anytime soon, but at that moment I wouldn’t have traded my ability to keep cool under pressure even for all the answers to the redo SAT test my mom would have undoubtedly made me take back in Oregon.

  No textbook could teach that particular skill.

  And maybe it was petty and vindictive to make destroying Rithisak Sovann’s precious Buddha my very last mission in life . . . but I was surprisingly okay with that. Just as long as I could get Neal out of there first.

  “I have a better punishment in mind for you.”

  I raised one sardonic eyebrow. “You want me to stick around as a devoted ass-kisser? Oh, right. I forgot. You already have a pair of those.”

  As long as he planned to hurt me, I saw no reason to be polite to the jerk.

  “Seriously, guys, I don’t care how much he’s paying you. So not worth it.”

  The disdain radiating from his eyes would have been petrifying if I’d had any spare room for fear. My anger did such an excellent job of insulating me from every other emotion, I gave him my sunniest smile.

  “You foolish little idiot!” he snapped. “You don’t even know what you carry, yet you dare to lecture me!”

  Some distant part of my brain registered that there was something seriously off about his little rant—something besides the way his ego was spinning out of control. I didn’t know what I carried? Sure I did.

  Heroin.

  I had Googled it and everything.

  Except that didn’t explain why Rithisak Sovann had been so bent out of shape over reclaiming half of his shipment. Sure, nobody likes to lose a profit, but according to Wikipedia, heroin is the most common drug available in Cambodia. It didn’t make sense for Rithisak to go through the trouble and expense of paying for a private plane, bribing the police to release Neal from prison, hiring thugs to escort him every step of the way to Phnom Penh, not to mention the delay to his precious merger to regain something that he could so easily replace.