by Barry Eisler
“The FBI flew a team out there to investigate, did you know that?” he asked.
She was suddenly wary again. She said nothing.
“Oh, yes. A lot of people know it wasn’t a heart attack. What they don’t know, and never will, is who did it. Because a certain federal law-enforcement expert on Thai crime groups and police corruption fed them false information that led them in unhelpful directions.”
She looked at him. “And now I’m going to owe you for that?”
“You don’t owe me anything. I owe you.”
“Owe me? You used me.”
“If I used you, it was by giving you everything you wanted most in the world.”
“You could have—”
“No, Livia. You wouldn’t have believed me. This was the only way. And if you hadn’t wanted it, you would have walked away. Just like you can walk away now. I’ll keep your secrets either way. I told you. I owe you.”
She wondered if owe you meant own you. But somehow, it didn’t feel that way.
“All I’m asking,” he said, “is that you think about it. What we could do together. My intel. Your street smarts. Think of the people we could punish. And the children we could save.”
“It’s a lot.”
“I know.”
“I want to be left alone for a while. And however long ‘a while’ is, I need you to respect it.”
He gave her the big, sunny smile, the one she’d sensed at that first meeting he used to lull people. “Tough to the end. And yes, I will respect it. And I’ll always be hoping you’ll call.”
On her way back to her desk, Livia stopped by Strangeland’s office. The lieutenant would have known Little was in the building, as she seemed to know about everything that mattered. Better to initiate that conversation than make Strangeland come to her.
Livia tapped on the door window and, when Strangeland looked up from the paperwork in front of her and nodded, went in. She closed the door behind her and stood.
“What did he want?” Strangeland asked.
Livia smiled, not remotely surprised. “He’s still pitching me to be on his task force.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him . . . it wasn’t for me.” But the truth was, she wasn’t sure what she had told Little. Or what she wanted.
Strangeland nodded. “It’s good you faced your demons, then.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you exorcise them?”
For a moment, she remembered her last days in Bangkok. Waking up in Fallon’s apartment, Carl by her side, an IV in her arm. It turned out Fallon was a former marine corpsman, and a hell of a prepper. While she’d been out, he and Carl had thrown the Kawasaki in the back of the van, gotten her safe, and tended to her injuries.
She’d spent two days in bed. She slept a lot but wasn’t idle. Between Little’s files and new intel from Kanezaki, it was easy to track down the last two men who had been involved in her and Nason’s kidnapping—the one who had been in the van, and the one who had whipped that little boy, Kai, in the field. And as much as she hated to ask for help, in her condition she knew she couldn’t do it herself. So she asked Carl. He told her he’d see what might be done.
The next morning, he brought a canvas duffel to the bed and unzipped it. Inside was a sniper rifle. “Nothing better than having a man like Kanezaki in your debt,” he said. “Who else could deliver something like an RPA Rangemaster .50 cal with a Schmidt & Bender PMII tactical scope, practically wrapped in a red bow? The man’s a miracle worker, I’ve always said so.”
Like the others, the men were both cops. They worked in the countryside, in Chang Rai. Carl had driven her out in one of Fallon’s vans. He shot one from the top of an abandoned construction site. The other was from a slight rise in a rice paddy. Both were thousand-yard shots. It was a little bittersweet to let someone else pull the trigger. But she was glad she got to see his expression when he was behind a scope—relaxed and yet focused, as she had expected. And watching the men’s heads explode through a pair of binoculars had offered some satisfaction, too.
She shook Fallon’s hand when they said goodbye and thanked him. He waved it off. “I told you,” he said. “I was getting bored. I should thank you. Come back sometime. We’ll make some more trouble.”
Carl drove her to the airport. They parked and both stood at the curb. A traffic cop waved that Carl should move on, and Carl waved back and yelled, “Yes, sir. On my way right now, and thank you.”
He looked at the bag she’d placed on the ground. “You going to be all right with that?” he asked.
She looked at him and frowned. What she was carrying wasn’t much more than a purse. With her ribs and the bruised liver Fallon had diagnosed, she couldn’t handle a lot of weight. But still. “I think I’ll manage,” she said.
“Because if you’re looking for a porter, you know I’m available.”
She smiled at that. “You’re a lot more than a porter.”
“Well, I try.”
She wanted to get the goodbye over with. But there was something she wanted to ask.
“Hey,” she said. “What were you about to say, when Dillon had the drop on you? ‘Here’s the thing about women’ . . . ?”
He laughed. “I was so scared I barely remember. But I think it was probably something like ‘If I ever find the right one, I’m never going to let her go.’”
She was surprised at how much that hurt. “You’ll find her, Carl.”
He looked at her as though struggling for the right words. Then he said, “Labee? I think you are just beautiful. In every way.”
He hugged her then. And she hugged him back.
“Livia?”
She shook her head. Strangeland was looking at her.
“LT?”
“Your demons. Did you exorcise them?”
“Sorry. Yeah. I think so.”
Strangeland nodded slowly, presumably a little thrown by the way Livia had faded out for a second. “That’s good. We need you here, Livia. Seattle needs you. A lot of scumbags to put away.”
Livia nodded.
“Anyway. Glad you’re back.”
“Thanks, LT.” She turned and left.
It was good to be back, she had to admit. She was tired, but that was to be expected. The main thing was, she’d faced her demons, as she’d told Strangeland. And killed them. They were all dead now.
33
Dox flew to New York. Kanezaki had told him about a memorial service at the UN. For Vann.
It was a lot of important-looking people, and a few of them even made some okay speeches. But Dox got the feeling none of them had really known the man, or adequately appreciated him. They talked about his compassion, but he doubted they understood it. When the speeches were done, they’d go back to whatever they’d been doing and go on doing it just the same way.
Like you?
Well, that was fair. He’d have to think about it. He sure didn’t want to wind up like those burnouts in Pattaya. He wished old Vann were around so they could talk about it. He’d really been hoping for that philosophical conversation.
After the service, he and Kanezaki took a stroll. The day was humid and gray and drizzling.
“I like walking with you under these umbrellas in New York,” Dox said. “It satisfies my latent urge for more cloak and dagger in my life.”
Kanezaki laughed. “I think you might get a little break from all that. If you like.”
“How do you mean?”
“Dillon’s death is being dealt with quietly. And with Sorm and his network wiped out, you don’t have anyone else coming after you. At least not from that direction.”
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“On top of which, DIA is out of the human-trafficking business.”
“For now, anyway.”
Kanezaki nodded. “For now. With that much money in play, they’ll try to get back in. And others, too.”
“Maybe you can make that a little more difficul
t, what with the scales gone from your eyes and all.”
Kanezaki gave him an enigmatic smile.
Dox frowned. “What?”
“Vann. He really was a good man.”
“He was. How’d you know him, anyway?”
“He was a friend of my father’s.”
“Sounds like there’s a story there.”
“Maybe for another time.”
“You knew him well, then.”
This time, Kanezaki’s smile was more knowing than enigmatic. “Yes.”
Dox stopped. “Hey, man, what are you not telling me that’s making you look so smug?”
Kanezaki didn’t answer. He just kept smiling, though there was some sadness in his eyes, as well.
All at once, Dox realized. “You were working with him. That’s why you wouldn’t let me kill Sorm at first. Not because he was a DIA asset. You could give a shit about that. You wouldn’t let me because Vann wanted him alive and behind bars.”
Kanezaki nodded. “I actually thought you were going to figure it out sooner.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“Maybe a little. But in fairness, there was a hell of a lot going on. I guess you could use that as an excuse.”
Dox laughed. “Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m glad to know you were helping him, even if I should’ve seen it sooner. Really glad. But how?”
“Where do you think Vann was getting the intel on Sorm that led to the indictment in the first place?”
Dox grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, Kanezaki, you wily bastard, you. I really should have known.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. If you could have spotted it, it would mean others might have, also. And actually, I almost wish they had. It might have drawn some of the heat from Vann. Maybe they wouldn’t have gone after him. Or I could have—”
“That wasn’t your fault, son. I tried to warn him myself.”
Kanezaki nodded. “Well, we’ll never really know. And we’ll always have to live with the doubt. But yeah. I gave Vann everything the CIA ever had on Sorm. It was a lot. Do me a favor—don’t tell L. the specifics. Though maybe you could just mention to her that not all of us in the community get in bed with the Sorms of the world. Some of us are trying to stop them. Even if we have to break a few community rules along the way to do it.”
It was polite of Kanezaki to still call her L. Labee had told Dox who she really was, and he knew Kanezaki must have tracked down Seattle PD sex-crimes detective Livia Lone. But only Dox would know her as Labee.
“I’ll tell you, son, this is a dirty business we’re in and that’s never going to change. But I’m damn proud to know one of the few truly good guys.”
“Back at you.”
They started strolling again. “I really am sorry for doubting you after the late unpleasantness in Pattaya,” Dox said.
“I’m sorry for being so gullible about Dillon’s bullshit that I almost got you killed.”
“It was an honest mistake. And it all worked out in the end. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.”
Kanezaki stopped. “You want to make it up to me?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I have something new for you.”
Dox laughed. “Partner, I am taking a vacation. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”
“Don’t make me wait too long. I don’t know that many people I trust.”
Dox smiled and held out his hand. “Now that you mention it, I only know a few myself.”
34
There was so much to catch up on at headquarters that Livia didn’t get back to her loft until after dark. She took her shower, but cool this time rather than scalding. Her skin was still too raw.
She sat at her desk and caught up on paperwork while eating some rice-and-vegetable takeout she’d brought in. Between the shower, the meal, and the jet lag, she was suddenly exhausted.
She walked over to the shrine, knelt, and lit the candle and the incense. She remained still for a while. Then she said in Lahu, “I met a good man, Nason. A really good man. He helped me. He’s . . . a friend.”
Her eyes filled and she paused, then added, “I tried to save you, little bird. I tried so, so hard.”
She sobbed for a long time after that, just letting it pass through her, knowing eventually it would.
When it was done, she caught her breath and said, “I killed them, little bird. All of them. Square Head. Dirty Beard. The two other men who helped them. And a man called Sorm, who was behind the whole thing and so many others like it. They’re all gone now. Dead. All the men who hurt us. They’re dead. They’ll never hurt anyone again. It’s done. It’s over.”
She was so exhausted. Empty. She had to sleep. Yes, just sleep. Sleep.
She wiped her eyes and blew out the candle.
And in that darkness, knew the truth.
It wasn’t over. It wasn’t.
And no matter what she did, it never would be.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I made a few changes in the surroundings of the Srinakarin Rot Fai Night Market, chiefly placing a gas station and junkyard in the empty lot south of Sanam Golf Alley. Otherwise, the locations in this book are depicted, as always, as I found them.
NOTES
CHAPTER 1
Livia’s thoughts on how if you walk up and say a person’s full name three times, that person can’t help but smile are, if I remember correctly, from Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People. In my experience, Carnegie was right.
CHAPTER 3
For more on the concept of “forced teaming,” I recommend Gavin de Becker’s The Gift of Fear.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gift_of_Fear
“The answer is always no if you don’t ask” is wisdom courtesy of Madeline Duva.
CHAPTER 9
“Work is love made visible” is from a poem by Kahlil Gibran.
http://www.katsandogz.com/onwork.html
It’s possible Livia’s use of a cell-phone tracking device in Thailand wouldn’t be technically feasible. It’s hard to know, because Harris Corporation insists on draconian confidentiality agreements with the law-enforcement agencies that purchase its cell-phone monitoring products. Regardless, if it’s not feasible today, it will be tomorrow.
https://theintercept.com/2016/03/31/maryland-appellate-court-rebukes-police-for-concealing-use-of-stingrays/
http://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2013/09/meet-the-machines-that-steal-your-phones-data/1/
CHAPTER 11
Livia is right to be concerned about Agent Little monitoring her cell phone:
“Cellphone Data Spying: It’s Not Just the NSA” https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2013/12/08/cellphone-data-spying-nsa-police/3902809/
“This Is How Often Your Phone Company Hands Data Over to Law Enforcement” https://www.forbes.com/sites/kashmirhill/2013/12/10/this-is-how-often-your-phone-company-hands-data-over-to-law-enforcement
“The Problem with Mobile Phones” https://ssd.eff.org/en/module/problem-mobile-phones
CHAPTER 12
I stumbled across the airplane graveyard on a wonderful website called Renegade Travels. The Penis Shrine and Chinese Cemetery were also tempting locations, but in the end the airplanes won out.
https://www.renegadetravels.com/abandoned-747-airplane-bangkok-suburb/
CHAPTER 13
Beating thermal imaging is hard but not impossible, and I’m grateful to two former marines, David Rosa and Luisito Sugatan, for showing Livia how (though I won’t deny, a bit of luck was with her, as well).
http://www.askaprepper.com/how-to-hide-from-thermal-vision/
https://www.oathkeepers.org/defeating-drones-how-to-build-a-thermal-evasion-suit/
CHAPTER 14
Integrated image intensification and infrared isn’t widespread, but it’s coming.
http://www.foxnews.com/tech/2015/05/05/high-tech-military-goggles-combine-night-vision-thermal-imaging.html
> CHAPTER 16
A bit about the Naval Special Warfare Cold Weather Detachment training on Kodiak Island, Alaska, that Dox mentions. You can see why he was so fond of it.
https://gizmodo.com/how-the-navy-seals-prepare-for-extreme-cold-weather-sur-1737644998
CHAPTER 26
Everything you wanted to know but were afraid to ask about optical phased-array receivers and the coming micro-miniaturization of cameras.
https://www.economist.com/news/science-and-technology/21724796-future-photography-flat-cameras-are-about-get-lot-smaller
CHAPTER 29
If you think CIA complicity in drug trafficking is a conspiracy theory, this History Channel documentary will be eye opening.
https://theintercept.com/2017/06/18/the-history-channel-is-finally-telling-the-stunning-secret-story-of-the-war-on-drugs/
And don’t miss this Jeremy Scahill interview with historian Alfred McCoy, author of The Politics of Heroin: CIA Complicity in the Global Drug Trade.
https://theintercept.com/2017/07/22/donald-trump-and-the-coming-fall-of-american-empire/
The UN’s International Labour Organization estimates that human trafficking generates $150 billion a year globally.
http://www.ilo.org/global/about-the-ilo/newsroom/news/WCMS_243201/lang--en/index.htm
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Bill Moore, a.k.a. Bmaz, of Emptywheel, for background on grand juries and related matters.
Thanks to Randy Sutton for always answering my cop questions.
Thanks to Richard Lee and Christian Montiel of J&M Motorsports for taking the time to answer my embarrassingly remedial questions about how you can tell when someone is competent on a motorcycle.
To the extent I get violence right in my fiction, I have many great instructors to thank, including Massad Ayoob, Tony Blauer, Wim Demeere, Dave Grossman, Tim Larkin, Marc MacYoung, Rory Miller, and Peyton Quinn. I highly recommend their superb books and courses for anyone who wants to be safer in the world, or just to create more realistic violence on the page:
