by Arno Joubert
“What’s this?”
“A copy of all the intel I’ve managed to gather regarding your little operation. Airport surveillance camera footage. You travel extensively. Transcripts from the recorded conversations my bug picked up. Everything.” Laiveaux studied his nails. “If I don’t phone my secretary in fifteen minutes, she has instructions to mail copies to all division heads in Interpol.”
He saw Wattana hesitate. “If that is all, Doctor, I best be on my way. And I would like to assure you that your secrets are safe with me.” He clapped Wattana on the shoulder. “You’ve secured my retirement, I owe you that much.”
He spun around on his heel and greeted Gigantor, who followed him with an accusing gaze. He made his way out of the office and hailed a tuk-tuk in the busy street, then he switched on his cell phone as the tuk-tuk whined away. Five missed calls and text messages from Alexa. She had probably figured out that he had been in Slander's Peak. He punched her number into his phone. There was a slight delay before it started ringing and was answered immediately.
“General. Where are you?”
“In Pattaya.”
“Why? The receptionist at the Blue Whale said you had a young girl with you.”
“All right, Captain, listen to me. Time is of the essence. The girl’s life is at stake. I’ve implanted a silicon transceiver in the hem of her dress that we’re able to track. Use Bruce’s GLD to find the signal. Is he there with you?”
“Affirmative, General”
“Tracking code is Yankee fiver Echo three. Tell him now.”
“He’s setting up his laptop, he needs a couple of minutes.”
“OK, that’s fine.”
“Where did you take the girl?”
“To Wattana. For now she’s safe.”
“Wattana? But why? What does he have to do with all this—”
“Alexa, not now. I’ll explain everything to you in a while. Now we need to make sure that the girl comes to no harm.”
He disconnected the call, unfolded a small tablet then switched it on. A blinking red dot appeared on a map. “There you are.”
Jake looked up from his magazine as his phone vibrated on the side table. He turned the volume down on his hi-fi, picked up the phone, and slid his thumb over the screen. “What the hell?” He bolted upright and opened the message. It was from Alida.
His heart pounded and he was short of breath as the e-mail attachment downloaded. It was a video recording. How was this possible? He pressed play. He got a lump in his throat when he saw her lovely face. She was sitting in a dark place holding a flashlight up to her face, the other hand holding the camera that was recording the message.
Alida smiled then waved the flashlight. “Hi, Jake.” The flashlight threw deep shadows over her pretty face, contorting her features into something grotesque and scary. She changed the camera angle to show someone sitting next to her. “This is Yumi. Yumi, wave ‘hi’ to Jake.”
The little girl was sitting cross-legged. She wore a tattered and dirty white dress, and she had brown smudge marks on her face. She was sucking her thumb. The little girl smiled and waved. “Hello, Jake,” she said with a funny accent, pronouncing his name as “Jack.”
The focus returned back to Alida’s face. It felt like he was watching The Blair Witch Project. ”If you’re watching this, it probably means that they’ve captured me.”
She smiled eerily.
“Yumi is six years old. By now you’ve probably heard that they found a container filled with bodies. Yumi was in the container, but she managed to escape. She was very lucky. I found her close to True Point while I was kayaking; the rip took her and washed her down shore.” She smiled and waved the flashlight. “I know this is probably very confusing, but I need you to know that people’s lives are at stake, and Yumi is the key to this whole mess. She is a very special girl. And I must warn you that you are not safe either, Jake. Please believe me. I’m not dramatizing; this is like some wild nightmare that I cannot escape from.”
She closed her eyes, as if she was thinking of what to say, then opened them again. “Look, Jake, the reason why I’m sending you this email is to warn you that something weird is going on down at the PEP plant. I’m going to leave my favorite poem in my satchel; hopefully you’ll find it OK. On the back of the poem is something that Yumi wrote that I didn’t understand.”
She was talking faster, the way she always did whenever she got excited. “I contacted the Asian University in Thailand to find out what it means. The librarian managed to translate it for me. It means ‘We are one thousand’ in Thai, Jake. Yumi said that they’re testing new drugs on girls in Thailand and that she and fifty other kids were being experimented on. But there’s one thing that’s weird, Jake. She knows your father, Dr. Petzer. You need to be careful, Jake. Something weird is going on. I’ll post more messages as soon as I find out more. The signal isn’t too great in the mountains, so it’ll take me a while to post this video. I’m going to schedule this video to be sent exactly two weeks after I’ve recorded it, which will give me enough time to work this out. I don’t want to implicate your family in any of this, but I need to find out the truth.”
He saw Alida’s head turn sideways. “What is it?”
Yumi jumped up.
She stood up hastily. “Jake, someone’s outside. Run, Yumi.”
Yumi bolted out of the frame and Alida started gathering things into a bag. She fiddled with the cell phone then focused it on her face again. “I love you, Jake.” The image went black.
“What the hell?”
Jake shuffled through papers and CD covers in his drawer, then he dug out Alexa’s card. He dialed the number on his cell phone and nervously waited for her to answer. “Hello, Inspector Guerra? This is Jake Petzer. I have something that I need to show you.”
Laiveaux commanded the tuk-tuk driver to stop, paid the man, then jumped off. A black Toyota Camry drew up next to him a couple of seconds later and he climbed into the backseat. “Head downtown, Lieutenant.”
Reg Voelkner nodded and sped away.
Laiveaux’s phone rang. It was Alexa. “General, we’re up and running. Are you following them?”
“I am. They’re heading downtown. My people are standing by to intercept the girl once we know where their base is.”
“OK, they’ve taken the Suvarnabhumi International turnoff.”
Laiveaux nodded. “Head toward the airport, Voelkner.” He spoke into a two-way radio. “Team Alpha Charlie, stay put. They could change their minds and head back to town. Mike Yankee, keep tailing the car.” He heard two sharp clicks on the two-way to confirm that the teams understood their instructions.
Twenty minutes later they drove into the terminal buildings. The blip was now on the runway; they were going to fly the girl somewhere. He spoke into the two-way. “All teams stand down, stand down now. Hostage is on runway D8, international departures. Voelkner, get me on the runway, now.”
Voelkner made a sharp right turn into oncoming traffic then jumped an island between the lanes and sped toward an access gate next to the runway. He flashed his badge at the security guard, and the boom gate opened.
Laiveaux craned his neck out of the window. “Hangar bissotwo pantafive octoeight, find it. Voelkner, you got that? Two fiver eight, that’s where she is right now.”
Voelkner pointed. “There.”
A Gulfstream G650 private jet was taxiing forward, ready for takeoff. The engines whined, and the jet shuddered forward then picked up speed as it howled past them.
Laiveaux sighed as the jet lifted into the air. His radio hissed and crackled. “General, do you have visuals?”
He pressed the button on the two-way. “Affirmative. A Gulfstream G650, heading west. Registration Lima niner four seven seven.”
Voelkner whistled. “What’s the range on those jets, General? Ten thousand? They could be heading anywhere.”
“Thirteen thousand kilometers.” Laiveaux rubbed his eyes. “And I think I know where th
ey’re heading.” He dialed Alexa’s number.
She answered immediately. “General?”
“We had to stand down, my girl. They’re in a jet, and they’re heading your way.”
Alexa bit her lower lip as she watched the footage. They were at their temporary office, the Howling Moon Pub. Jake, Petzer’s gangly kid, had met her there. The questions were bubbling in her head, questions that needed answers. Why did Laiveaux grab the girl, Yumi, who had been hiding in the cave with Alida? And why on earth would he take the girl back to Wattana, if he had anything to do with all of this? Who were the people outside the cave that Alida was so afraid of?
All questions that Laiveaux could probably answer. Damn him, why was he always so secretive? She swore then punched a number into her phone. “Lieutenant Latorre? Captain Guerra,” she said impatiently.
“Good day, Captain, a pleasure to hear your voice.”
“I need some help with a couple of documents that I’m going to send to you.” She flipped through the police docket. It contained the original letter that Alida had written as well as the photo and letter that Mitsu had received. “I need all tests done: fingerprints, carbon analysis, anything you can think of. I’m sending it via speed courier. There’s some other bits and bobs that I need analyzed as well. I need you to start working on it immediately.”
“Will do, Captain. I’ll phone you as soon as I receive the results.”
“Sit on those assholes backs at forensics. You know how they can drag things out, and I simply don’t have the time.”
“Don’t worry, Captain Guerra. You can count on me.”
Alexa disconnected the call then looked up. “Neil, get me the number of the library of the Asian University in Pattaya. That’s where Dr. Wattana is heading the research department, right?”
“Yep.” Neil stood up and started typing a number on his cell phone.
She turned to Jake. “When did you receive this?”
“This morning. Right before I phoned you.”
Alexa tapped her lip with a forefinger. That was an hour ago.
Her phone rang again; it was Laiveaux. “Captain, it seems as if they’re definitely heading your way. They’re over the Indian Ocean. At their current speed, I suspect they’ll be landing somewhere in South Africa during the next ten to twelve hours.”
Alexa nodded. She was following the red dot on Bruce’s antiquated laptop as well. The Geo Location Device, or GLD, plugged into the serial port was old technology, developed by her biological father, Zachary Cohen. It was the forebearer to the current GPS system that the US Military perfected, but it still worked well. Veterans like Bruce and Laiveaux trusted the stuff they were trained on, Alexa guessed. “I know, General, I’m monitoring it now.”
“OK then, I’ll phone when I land. We’re a hundred nautical miles behind Wattana.”
“Affirmative, General,” Alexa said. “General, I have a young man called Jake Petzer who handed me an interesting video made by Alida de Vos.”
“A video?”
“Yes, it was shot in a cave up at Mueller's Dam. She has a young girl named Yumi with her.”
“Send it to me.”
“General, why did you take that girl to Wattana?”
“Send me the video,” Laiveaux said and disconnected the call.
Shit.
Neil returned and handed Alexa a slip of paper. “The head librarian. Her name is Miko Prada something.”
Alexa looked at the name. “Pradchapet.” She punched the number into her phone. “Hi, is this Miss Pradchapet?”
“Mrs. Pradchapet, yes. How may I help?” an older voice said.
Alexa took a chance. “Hi, Mrs. Pradchapet. This is Alida de Vos, I sent you the Thai writing.”
“Oh, Alida, yes. Your voice sounds different over the phone. Yes, I remember, the ‘We Are One Thousand’ message. Quite strange indeed.”
“I was wondering if you have any information on Dr. Thak Wattana. I believe he is a fellow at the University.”
The lady chuckled. “Oh, yes, yes. He’s a bit of a celebrity, really. He gets all kinds of fan mail.”
“Have you chatted with him recently?”
“As a matter of fact I have, about your call and the strange message. He found it quite interesting, especially when I mentioned that it was all the way from South Africa.”
Alexa disconnected the call. “She told Wattana about the message.”
“What does that mean?”
“A message in Thai, something that he probably understood the meaning of. He must have figured that someone knows about what was going on up at the mountains. So he sent people to find her.”
“So he’s somehow involved in all of this?”
Alexa shrugged. “I guess so.”
Eben de Vos shuffled the papers on his desk, trying to get some work done but not managing to at all. His life had changed in so many ways. Mitsu said that he didn’t have any ambition left, that he was not the man he was all those years ago.
In his previous life he had been commander of the naval base at Slander's Bay. He started the diving school, the first in South Africa. He visited France to purchase scuba equipment, rubbed shoulders with Jacques Cousteau. They went hunting for the selecant, a fish thought to have been extinct for millions of years, all along the west coast of South Africa. They found it, but not in the water; a fisherman snagged one in his net.
When word spread of his prowess as a deep-sea diver and his discovery, he became an overnight celebrity. Renowned scientists from all over the world lined up at his doorstep. He hosted them all at his home, never at a hotel.
When South Africa regained its democracy and the apartheid government was ousted, all naval commanders became the new mayors, which was a logical thing to do. Small towns—which naval bases usually were—didn’t have the infrastructure to elect a new mayor immediately. That would only happen after the government elections. So since 1994 he had been mayor, and he had been reelected every year since then, probably because no one else wanted the job.
Ah, the good old days. He stood up and sauntered to the window. The view over the ocean was terrific. The sun was out, and the waves crashed onto the large boulders on the shore. Petrels were pecking at pieces of flotsam that had washed ashore. He loved it here. Alida used to love it here as well.
They’d had a memorial service for Alida earlier, and he was still hurting. He missed her so much. He thought Mitsu took it worse than he did. She didn’t shed a single tear; she was bottling up her emotions, which couldn’t be good. Lately she was leaving town for longer stretches and more often. She was never home. He was certain she was having an affair. Not that he blamed her. She was alone. Their daughter had hardly spoken to her. Alida had spent most of her time here at the base, with him. She would sit at the desk in the corner, doing homework or reading, listening to that racket she called music on her phone. He smiled. His naughty, pretty, clever baby girl.
In the past, when he had finished his official duties for the day, they would go out kayaking or fishing or hiking in the mountains. It was an advantage to live in a town where the sun only set at 9:00 p.m.; there was lots of time for extracurricular activities. He swallowed. Not anymore. He didn’t feel like doing anything these days.
He didn’t blame Mitsu for having an affair. She only had the company of the two boys. She was beautiful. She just seemed so distant. Ever since Alida became a teenager, Mitsu had changed. They hadn’t made love in years. That was probably his own fault; a woman needed the attention. It didn’t bother him that much. He wasn’t a young man anymore.
Well, he gave most of his attention to Alida. He missed her dearly. They would talk for hours. She had such a diverse range of interests, and Eben loved telling her everything he knew about the ocean and the bush and his maritime experience.
One day she asked him a strange question. “Why don’t you leave mom and let’s leave this town, go live somewhere else?” He was shocked. “I love your mom with all my heart
, Alida. I would rather die than leave her,” he answered.
She smiled her lovely smile, exactly like her mom’s, then said. “Just checking.”
He chuckled as the memories flooded back. Like that one time they went swimming with the newly-recruited divers. There were long-distance swimming champs, underwater-polo players, fit and strong guys, macho, all there because they wanted to become navy divers.
So Eben would take them all out to sea, including Alida, and drop them two nautical miles off the coast. They would laugh and jeer and crack jokes and say that they weren’t going to babysit a twelve-year-old girl in the middle of the ocean. If she drowned it was Eben’s fault. And then they would start swimming, battling their way against the riptide that he knew was there. And Alida would lie on her back and go with the flow, so to speak. One by one the macho men lifted their hands and were picked up by the boats, too exhausted to continue. And Alida would float with the riptide and be washed out fourteen kilometers down the coast, at True Point, and hit a sandbank and walk out. Eben made sure there was a driver waiting to take her back to base.
He always laughed at the look on the men’s faces when they arrived back at base and Alida was already there, waiting for them.
Come to think of it, most of the sneakers had washed up at True Point as well.
He swallowed. He missed his daughter. He packed some documents that needed signing into his satchel and made up his mind. It was time to patch things up with Mitsu. Affair or no affair.
Dr. Thak Wattana increased the volume on his iPod as he jogged. His private jet had landed an hour ago on the airstrip at the PEP plant, and he was still feeling slightly jet-lagged. A lot needed to be done, and he needed a clear head.
“The sun may rise in the east, but at least it settles in its final location . . .”
“Yeah, right,” he thought. “The East owns the West.” And soon it would own not only the bonds and the markets but the biotech as well. Bush and Clinton were idiots, banning embryonic stem cell research. The USA was a decade behind, if not more, and he, Dr. Thak Wattana, was at the forefront, a pioneer in his field.
