CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Readers Group
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Thank you
Tokyo Black
Bio
DEVIL’S DUE
A THOMAS CAINE NOVELLA
Andrew Warren
DEVIL’S DUE
Andrew Warren
Copyright © 2016 by Andrew Warren. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.
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CHAPTER ONE
The tiny grill spat grease and smoke into the tropical air. Its blackened metal rods were covered by a thick, charred crust, the petrified remains of previous meals. But the smell emanating from the strips of meat cooking on its surface was mouthwatering.
From the shore, Sarah leaned over the wooden railing of the narrow walkway and waved to get the attention of the tiny Thai woman working the grill. The grill was set up on a small boat, one of several that were docked in the muddy waters of a shallow canal that crossed through the Pattaya floating market. The market was a popular tourist attraction, and a bustling crowd of people shifted around her.
As Sarah waited for the woman, she caught a glimpse of an older man wearing cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt that looked one size too small. He was eying her legs as she leaned over the railing. Her slim, lean body was tanned from weeks of travel, and she knew the tiny cutoffs and faded tank top she was wearing did little to conceal it.
She was grateful she had kept her tan, despite the cloudy, gray skies that loomed over the marketplace. She had arrived in Thailand two weeks ago, and in that time the sun had barely peeked out from behind the thick, gloomy curtain.
She ignored the lecherous man, and soon he disappeared into the crowd. She waved to the old woman again and finally caught her attention as she handed a Styrofoam plate of food to another tourist. The woman's face was dark and lined with wrinkles. A green embroidered shawl was draped over her working clothes.
"Sixty baht, sixty baht," the old woman chanted. Sarah did some rapid currency conversions in her head. Two plates of food would cost her about three Euros, which would just about buy her a can of soda back in Germany. She held up two fingers.
The old woman nodded, and prepared two plates for her. Each plate was stacked with rice, a small cup of cucumber salad, and three skewers of the sizzling meat. She handed the woman six twenty-baht notes, and a ten-baht coin. "Keep the change."
The old woman smiled and nodded, and slid the plates over the railing to her. Sarah inhaled deeply. The meat smelled delicious, but she couldn't quite identity what it was. "Chicken satay?" she asked.
The woman shook her head. "Jarakay, ka."
Sarah had no idea what that meant, but she knew the proper response when ordering food in Thailand. She smiled and said, "Aroy." Delicious. She grabbed the two plates, and continued down the wooden walkway of the market.
To her right, the long strip of water wound its way between the two sides of the market. The canal was crossed by several arched wooden bridges. Crowds of tourists made their way across each bridge, usually stopping in the middle to take pictures of the boats in the water below.
The canal was manmade, and the water was a dark, muddy brown. Its dull, flat surface only served to highlight the explosion of colorful fruits, seafood, silks, and other goods that filled every boat and stall in the market.
Sarah took a deep breath as she absorbed the sights and sounds around her. She felt alive, the most alive she'd felt since finishing university. The idea of returning home, of finding a job in some law office in Hamburg filing papers and reading court documents, seemed like just another cloud on a distant horizon. What kind of life was that, compared to what she had experienced in these months of travel? The warm, tropical climate, the thrill of new people, new places and, most of all, new possibilities ... at that moment, she knew with absolute certainty; this was the life she wanted.
Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted as she felt a hand squeeze her ass through her torn, cutoff shorts. She shrieked and spun around, dropping one of the plates of food in the process. Remembering the leering old man in the Hawaiian shirt, she raised her hand and prepared to deliver a strong slap to whoever had groped her.
She looked up, and lifted her sunglasses off her face. She was staring into the warm brown eyes of Guenther, her university mate and traveling partner. After last night, she thought, Guenther is quite a bit more than just a mate.
"Arshloch!" she screamed in German, beating his tanned chest with her tiny fist. "You scared me!"
Guenther was shirtless, and his skin also still held a golden tan. A black tribal tattoo snaked around the lean, athletic muscles of his right arm, and a shell necklace hung from his neck. Sarah watched the muscles move beneath his skin as he threw back his head and laughed. She found herself thinking more about the previous night. That feeling of being alive, of infinite possibilities on the horizon ... Guenther was part of those possibilities now, too. She couldn't deny she was hungry for a repeat performance of their intimate physical gymnastics.
"Liebling, if you haven't relaxed by now, what am I gonna do with you when we go someplace really crazy?" he asked.
She let her fingers linger on his chest. "I know, I know. Sorry, this pervert was stalking me before--just got me on edge, I guess."
Guenther looked deep into her blue eyes, and brushed a wisp of blonde hair from her face. "Well, who could blame him, eh? I was getting an eyeful of you myself. You know I love those little shorts."
She laughed. "But look what you made me do!" She pointed to the spilled food on the ground. "That's your lunch down there. Enjoy!"
She scooped some rice into her mouth with chopsticks. Guenther reached for her plate, but she turned her back on him. "Oh no, clean up your mess first."
Guenther grabbed the plastic plate off the ground, and used it to scrape the fallen mess of food off the walkway and into the canal. A school of tiny black fish darted to the surface, and nibbled at the morsels as they sank into the water.
He tossed the plate in a garbage can, and the two walked through the market. Guenther threw his arm around her shoulders, and grabbed a piece of meat off her plate. He popped it in his mouth, and chewed. "It's good," he said, his words slurred as he continued to grind the meat between his teeth. "What is it?"
Sarah shrugged. "Chicken satay, I think? I got it from one of the boats. The woman who served me called it 'jarakay'."
Guenther swallowed, and scanned the market stalls. "Jarakay, huh? Think I need a beer."
"A beer, now? Why?"
"Because
'jarakay' means 'crocodile', and in Thailand one does not eat crocodile without a cold Singha beer."
Sarah laughed. "Oh, that's a rule, ja?"
"It is now. Guenther's rule on eating crocodile in Thailand with a beautiful girl."
Sarah leaned into him, and kissed his cheek. "I like this rule. Let's go."
They shared the plate of food as they walked arm in arm through the market. Guenther spotted a small stall that was selling beer from a cooler, and he broke off. "Be right back. Don't eat all the crocodile without me!"
Sarah watched him waiting in line at the food stall. His legs were lean and strong, the result of months spent surfing and hiking around the world. She looked up at the cloudy sky, and decided that, once they left the market, they would be spending the rest of the day in their bungalow by the beach. They could go sightseeing again tomorrow. After all, there were infinite possibilities on the horizon. What would it hurt to spend one more day in bed, satisfying their passions?
She heard the high-pitched sound of a child crying. Spinning around, she saw a little Thai girl, no more than five or six years old, stumbling through the crowd. Her simple tan dress with blue and pink stripes looked handcrafted. Maybe her mother is working on one of the boats, and she wandered off, Sarah thought. No one was stopping to help. The crowd simply pushed past, oblivious to the crying child.
Sarah tossed the remaining food in a garbage can and walked over to the girl. Kneeling down in front of the child, she put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's OK. Are you all right?"
The girl looked at her with small, deep brown eyes. Her mouth seemed to struggle to form words. Sarah pulled a napkin from her pocket, and brushed the tears from the girl's puffy checks. "There you go. Are you lost?"
Sarah saw a flash of movement over the girl's shoulder. She looked up and saw the old man, the one who had been leering at her earlier, moving across a bridge towards them.
Sarah knew that, in addition to the beauty and energy that she thrived on, Pattaya had a dark side. Prostitution and sex tourism were common. If one was seeking perversions, anything imaginable could be found in the city's dark alleys and seedy bordellos ... for a price, of course.
Was that why the girl was crying? Was this pervert in a Hawaiian shirt chasing her?
She took the little girl's hand and stood up. "Come on," she said. "I know someone who can help."
The girl continued crying but dutifully followed along, her little legs moving as fast as she could to keep up with Sarah.
The two made their way back to the food stall. Guenther smiled as he walked towards them, taking a long swig of beer from a frosted Singha bottle.
"Who's this then?" He smiled at the girl, and for the first time, she stopped crying. Sarah melted, knowing how reassuring she found that smile herself.
"I found her crying over there." She pointed towards the bridge. The man in the Hawaiian shirt was there, rummaging through a box of seashells perched on a rickety souvenir cart.
"That's the guy I told you about, the one who was stalking me. I think he was following her," Sarah said in a hushed whisper.
Guenther looked down and spoke to the girl in broken Thai. "Mae? You lost your mother?"
The child stared at him in silence. Guenther spoke a few more words to her, but it was clear she could not understand him.
"What do we do?" Sarah asked. "We can't just leave her here."
"Excuse me, I help you?" a singsong male voice asked. Sarah and Guenther turned to see an older Thai man standing next to them. He was tall for a local and looked to be in his forties. His navy blue polo shirt and khaki shorts looked crisp and brand new, and his body was lean and athletic. He was carrying a large canvas duffel bag that was slung over his shoulder on a leather strap.
Above his dark brown eyes, his brow was furrowed in concern. "Heard little one crying. She lost?"
Sarah looked the man up and down. She turned to look at the Westerner in the Hawaiian shirt, but he was nowhere to be seen.
"Yeah, man, we think some pervert dude was stalking her," Guenther said. "She looks scared."
The older man kneeled in front of the little girl and spoke to her in Thai. Sarah couldn't understand what he was saying, but the tone of his words sounded reassuring.
The little girl stared at him with wide eyes and nodded. She continued to grasp Sarah's hand.
The man reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a small plastic bag of dried fruit. He opened the bag and held it out to the girl. She gingerly reached in, grabbed one of the fruits, and stuffed it in her mouth. The man looked up at Sarah.
"Dried plums. They my favorite when I was her age. Taste like candy." He grunted, stood up, and dusted off his knees. "She too scared to speak, but she must be lost. There's a police box at end of the market. I take her there; they find parents."
He reached his hand towards the girl and spoke to her again in Thai. "Ma Kab Chan. Come, come, little one."
The girl looked up at Sarah. She looked back at the man, shook her head, and shuffled behind Sarah’s legs.
"Look, she's scared. She doesn't want to go," Sarah said. "Let's just call the police, and they can meet us here."
Guenther gave Sarah a condescending look. "Babe, come on, you want to wait here all day for the police?"
Sarah stared daggers at Guenther, then turned to the older man. "No offense, sir, but we don't know who you are, and she doesn't seem to want to go with you."
Sarah saw a ripple of anger crossed the man's features. He seemed about to speak, but then hesitated. He nodded. "Yes, yes, of course, you right. Sorry, just want to help the child. Tell you what. I go to police, bring them back here."
He lowered his duffel bag to the ground. "You wait here with child. Watch my bag, OK? Very heavy! I be right back."
The man wandered off down the market. Within a few seconds, he was lost in the shifting crowd of tourists and vendors hawking their wares.
Guenther pursed his lips and uttered a low whistle. "OK, that was a little odd."
Sarah shook her head. "I don't know. I don't see the Hawaiian shirt guy anymore, and something about that other guy was weird."
Guenther laughed. "Jeez, babe, don't be so paranoid. You don't trust anybody!"
She looked down at the child, who returned her gaze with wide eyes. She lowered her voice. "OK, then why did he leave his bag? They say you're never supposed to take a stranger's bag. What if it's full of drugs?"
Guenther hefted the bag off the ground. "Well, if it is, we hit the jackpot 'cause this thing weighs a ton!"
"That's not funny!"
"Come on, let's check it out." Guenther pushed through the crowd and walked to the side of the market, where the constant stream of people thinned out to a low trickle. Sarah and the child followed, hand in hand.
"Guenther, I don't like this! Do you know what the sentence here is for drugs?"
Guenther turned his back to the crowd. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed.
He zipped open the bag.
The little girl began to cry again, and her face turned bright red. Sarah pressed up against Guenther to peer over his shoulder. "Well, what is it?"
"Just a second, can you quiet her down?"
Guenther rummaged through the bag, pulling out a bundle of cheap t-shirts. "It's just stupid t-shirts, tourist stuff ... oh, fuck!"
Kneeling, he gingerly set the bag on the ground. Sarah caught a glimpse of electrical wires and two large, clear cylinders taped together. Each cylinder was filled with a yellowish, crumbled powder. A red LED light attached to one of the wires was flashing.
"What the hell is--" she began, but Guenther grabbed her arm.
"Sarah, shut up and run!"
Sarah scooped up the screaming girl and ran. She'd gone only a few steps when suddenly everything she could see, hear, or feel was blotted out in a giant ball of orange fire.
She screamed, but the sound was silenced by the explosion. She felt her body move and had just enough time
to realize she was not running. She was flying through the air. Her skin was burning, but she felt no pain. Her eardrums and eyeballs ruptured from the shockwave, and blood cells in her lungs exploded as her body was torn apart.
As the pinpoint of white light that was her consciousness dimmed out, a dying thought flickered through her mind. This was true infinity... infinite blackness. Infinite darkness. Infinite possibilities reduced to an infinity of cold, black space.
CHAPTER TWO
A light but steady rain washed the grime and residue from the roofs of the go-go clubs and beer bars that lined either side of Soi Six, part of Pattaya's infamous red light district. It was early October, near the end of the rainy season for Thailand. Normally, the afternoon sun would have already heated the air to a stifling ninety degrees or more. Instead, the unending drizzle of rain cooled both the climate and the wallets of visiting tourists.
Today, once again, the rain had kept the crowds away. Only a few diehards, old men with beer guts stretching the seams of their cheap, local T-shirts, ventured out into the downpour. They meandered through the rivers of filthy water that rushed down either side of the street, occasionally stopping to haggle with bored-looking bar girls. Despite the lack of customers, the girls looked like they would rather go back to painting their nails.
The atmosphere in Ruby's Club, a beer bar towards the end of the street, mirrored the gloomy weather outside. Music blasted from the bar's speakers, but it seemed unable to drown out the sound of the falling rain. A beautiful bar girl dressed in a sexy school uniform danced on the center stage, spinning around a gleaming chrome pole, but the motley assortment of locals and regular customers paid her no attention.
The few customers in the place sipped lukewarm glasses of beer from the front patio bar and watched the rain falling into the street with quiet, detached reflection.
The sole exception was a lone man standing towards the center of the patio bar. He was of average height, but his arms and back rippled with muscle beneath his slim-fitting, black linen shirt. Everything about him seemed hard and angular. His hair was buzzed military short and worn in a Caesar cut. His nose was slim and hawk-like. His eyebrows were two dark slashes, cutting across his forehead. The only soft thing about his face were his eyes. They were large and almond-shaped. Delicate black lashes blinked, revealing bright, baby blue irises. His left eye had a lazy tic, and seemed to dart and roll towards the edge of his face.
Devil's Due: A Thomas Caine Thriller (The Thomas Caine Series Book 0) Page 1
