Josh expected the worst when he saw Stefne in her usual hands-on-hips position on the bow of Lil' Darlin', but she smiled, threw down the line, and asked innocently, "Well, how was the hunt, you two?"
Josh saw the mischievous glint in his daughter's eyes, and warning bells sounded. She helped Grant up and waved a hand in front of her own face. "You smell terrible. Did you have fun?"
Josh pulled himself up to the deck and spoke before Grant could respond. "Huntin' isn't 'fun,' it's work."
Stefne ignored him and said to Grant, "I cooked too much dinner for just Dad and me. Why don't you go home and clean up and come back over and join us? I'd like to hear what Dad does from a woman's perspective."
Grant said she'd love to and would be back in forty-five minutes. As she strode for the pier, Josh's warning bells were clanging so loudly he had to shake his head.
Josh faced his daughter. "What's this about cooking too much? You've never cooked too much in your life."
Stefne avoided his eyes and ducked into the passageway, calling over her shoulder, "I picked up a few things for you.
They're on the bed."
Josh felt uncomfortable in the new shirt and slacks as he listened to the two women laugh and talk. He wondered if his daughter thought he really was dumb enough not to know she had set him up.
"Well?" Stefne said, looking at him.
Josh had not heard the question. "Well, what?"
"Is it true Glenn jumped in the water?"
Josh nodded. "Yep, she left me all alone to fight off the water moccasins."
"Whoa, Josh. You said they were water snakes."
" 'Water moccasins' sounds better," Josh replied with a wink.
Stefne glanced at her watch and pushed back her chair.
"Sorry, but I have to get to the library. You two talk and relax a while. Dad, Bob said he would take the shift tonight to give you more time to rest up. See ya."
Josh had to laugh. Stef had set the whole thing up like the Hawkins she was-perfectly. He admired her attempt and liked Grant's company, so he figured he'd just go with it. It would keep his mind off Shaduzup for a little while.
Grant saw his distant gaze. "You're still tired, aren't you?" she asked, misreading him.
He smiled tiredly. "Kinda. How about we go up on deck and enjoy the evening for a while?"
Grant picked up her wine and pushed back her chair.
"Lead on, 'best turtle catcher on the Potomac.' "
Josh winced. "It kinds just slipped out today. Don't tell another living soul I said that, okay?"
She patted his back as he led. "My lips are sealed."
In the cockpit they sat on deck chairs facing the channel.
They sat in silence for a long time, just taking in the beauty and gentle rocking of the boat. Then Grant chuckled lightly.
"I think your daughter is trying to set us up."
Totally relaxed, Josh nodded, keeping his eyes on the channel's tranquil waters. "It was a little obvious. She means well. I guess she's worried about me."
"You're lucky you have someone who cares that much.
She's sweet."
"Sweet," repeated Josh, rolling his eyes toward her.
" 'Sweet' is not Stef. 'Determined' is a much better description."
Grant lifted an eyebrow. " 'Sweet' was pushing it. You're right."
"Thanks for being a good sport tonight, and today on the hunt. You were 'sweet,' " Josh said sincerely.
Grant took the compliment with a slight nod. "I enjoyed your company." She tilted her head to look at him. "I understand now why you didn't want to help. You've managed to escape by creating your own little world here on the river. I like it, it's warm and homey."
"Are you making fun of me, Grant?" Josh asked, looking into her eyes.
"No. In fact, I envy you. Can you always keep it this way?"
Josh slowly shifted his eyes back to the channel. "I'm trying."
She reached out and touched his hand. "Is there room for a Louisiana crayfisher to visit your world now and then? I'd like to be a part of it. It reminds me of home."
Josh lifted his beer as if in a toast to her and winked.
"Welcome to the world of Joshua Hawkins-and his dream."
Grant raised an eyebrow. "What's the dream?"
"That it never changes," Josh said quietly.
Grant finished her third wine cooler and stood. "I guess I'd better go. It's getting late. I have some reading to do to get ready for the drug conference, and I know you're still beat from the trip."
Josh got up, yawned, and took her arm. "I'll walk you. I was gonna check in with Bob anyway."
"That's nice, thank you. It's been a long time since a man walked me home."
Josh smiled tiredly, feeling the effects of the beer and jet lag. "If you didn't live across the street I'd let you take your chances. Come on, before I change my mind."
Josh found himself enjoying the walk, for she stayed close to him. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to feel a woman beside him, especially one who honored his silence.
Their steps became slower, and several times they stopped just to look at the gifts above them. Upon reaching the entrance to her high-rise building, they paused but knew it wasn't over. Grant pushed in the code on the security lock and took his hand. "You're going to love the view from my balcony."
The elevator ride and walk down the hallway were just blurs to Josh, for he was floating in her fragrance and closeness. Her apartment was somehow what he had expected. It was warm and filled with things that were important to her-an old oak rolltop desk her father had given her, a painting from a close friend, the Oriental carpet picked up from a dealer in Turkey who had charged her too much, but whom she had liked because he lied so well. It was Glenn Grant, things with meaning, each with a story, a face, each a memory to treasure but no one to share them with. They sat on the balcony, and she talked of her home, her brother, her dreams.
At last, Grant got up from her patio chair and stood watching the sleeping man. She gently took the wineglass from his hand and smiled as she bent over and kissed his cheek. "Good night, Josh. Thank you for letting me in for a while." Leaving the balcony, she walked into the living room and got an afghan her mother had knitted, then returned to spread it over him. With a last, lingering look at her sleeping guest, she walked back into the apartment.
.
8:05 P. M., Seattle.
Bone-tired, Stephen placed the last bag of heroin on the scale and made the final entry in his ledger book. Chigger glanced at the weight, picked up the bag, and tossed it to his assistant. "That's a wrap. Be ready to roll as soon as we finish the business." He quickly marked his book and threw his arm around Stephen's shoulders. "Get your book and let's wrap this deal. You're a righteous dude, my man. I like you.
Have a good flight home."
Stephen smiled as he put the ledger under his arm. "You have been a fine teacher of American food, U Chigger. I wish you a good journey as well."
The two men walked into the foreman's office, where Colonel Po and Lassen were waiting. Taking the ledger book from Chigger, Lassen turned to the last page and took a calculator from his pocket. He punched in numbers while Po did the same thing with his own calculator and Stephen's book.
Lassen grinned and announced, "We acknowledge the receipt of forty-eight American tons of product in this last shipment."
Po glanced at his calculator screen and said with a smile, "Our numbers agree."
Lassen took a cellular phone from his sport jacket pocket and punched in a number. He looked at Po and winked. "One ringy dingy ... two ring ... Hey, this is Lassen. The transaction is complete and everything is in order. The number is confirmed at forty-eight. . . . Yes, he's sitting across from me."
Lassen handed the phone over to Po, who put the receiver to his ear. "This is U Po.... Yes, we are calling now." He handed the phone back to Lassen and picked up the briefcase at his feet. Unlocking the case, he took out an account code book and a
cellular phone. He motioned for Stephen to sit down beside him and handed him the phone and code book.
Stephen quickly pushed in the Hong Kong Bank's number.
Within three minutes he had reached the special accounts bank officer, given him the coded account numbers, and received back the balances for each account. As he wrote out each balance, he tried to keep his hand from shaking.
"Well?" Lassen asked when Stephen had terminated the call and Po had totaled the numbers.
Po nodded. "The deal is complete."
Lassen spoke into his phone. "It's done." He immediately pushed the Terminate button to end the call and tossed the phone to Chigger. "We're out of here." He stood and shook hands with Po. "Nice doing business with you. I'd stick around and celebrate with you, but we've got to hit the road.
Have a safe trip home." Not waiting for a response, he headed for the door but stopped and reached inside his jacket pocket. He turned around and held out a folded note to Stephen. "Sony, I almost forgot. I was told to give you this note from an old school classmate of yours."
Stephen unfolded the stationery as Lassen walked out of the office.
Po stepped closer to Stephen and saw that the note was written in Chinese characters. "What does Ke Ping say?"
Stephen sighed tiredly as he read the lines aloud. "You must come see me once you complete your business and bid farewell to my wife, who adores you. She has a gift for you and your wife. We are at the Marriott two miles south of your location. Room 200. No excuses, old boy-it is a command performance. Ke Ping."
Po smiled and patted Stephen's back. "You cannot refuse an invitation from such a generous man who helped save our country. Go on, Shin will take you. We'll finish up here.
Come to my room once you return and pick up your tickets.
You are booked on the early-morning flight for home."
Stephen sighed in relief and said, "I won't be long." He looked at his watch and strode for the office door. "I'll be knocking on your door within two hours."
Po waited until Stephen had left the office before facing the two captains, who were standing against the wall. "Finish it once he returns to our hotel. I don't want to hear his knock."
Both men bowed their heads.
Sergeant Shin pulled into the driveway of the Marriott and was about to let Stephen out at the entrance when Chen stepped out, opened the front car door, and got in. Smiling, he told Shin to park in back. Looking over his shoulder at Stephen, he frowned. "There is a slight change of plans. My wife is with friends and will be finished in a few minutes.
How are you, old boy? I hope you didn't work too hard."
Shin pulled into a parking place and turned off the ignition as Stephen finished telling Chen that he was tired but happy to be going home.
Chen nodded as he reached inside his cashmere sport jacket. Turning suddenly, he withdrew a small silenced pistol and fired point-blank into Shin's startled face. Grabbing the dead sergeant's jacket, he pulled the limp upper body over onto the seat and pointed the pistol at Stephen. "Your joss has turned very bad, my old friend. I fear you are a dead man."
Stephen stared at his friend in disbelief. Chen sighed and tossed the weapon into Stephen's lap. "Just listen to me. I last saw my father two days ago. He is making me San of Washington, D. C. I flew back to make arrangements for the move ... and to warn you. While I was with my father he met with a senior Triad representative who had flown in from Hong Kong to discuss business and bring my father up to date on events. The representative had attended a meeting with your General Swei a day after your first shipment arrived. General Swei is a very good businessman; he understood that he had to inform us of his plans and was seeking our approval. It seems your general laid out a complete plan to take over your government once the last shipment arrived and the funds were all transferred. Swei explained that your current leader was too tainted by his past policies and that change was necessary for the rebuilding programs to succeed.
Your prime minister, most of his ministers, and all of the opposition leaders will be removed in a single quick strike operation. Then Swei will take control with the full support of the younger army leadership, who have pledged him their loyalty."
Chen glanced at his watch. "It is now noon in Rangoon, and they plan to strike in the early-morning hours tomorrow.
In less than sixteen hours your general's men will arrest the prime minister and army leaders, who will become scapegoats for all of the wrongdoing in the past. Swei will announce the coup and his vision for a new Burma on radio; within days he will announce the new loan guarantees and begin the rebuilding and economic programs. His plan calls for opening the borders and letting Western companies in.
With the Triad's help he will make your country the new Hong Kong."
"Impossible!" Stephen exclaimed. "There are too many who know of his past involvements. The Sawbaws, minority leaders, and incorruptible Burmese won't let that happen."
"Swei saw to all of them in the past week. They are all dead or imprisoned. All threats have been eliminated ... except you. Stephen, you know too much. I'm sure you are on their list. Po is going to have you killed before--"
Stephen's eyes suddenly widened. "Mya! My son! What have they done to the families?"
Chen lowered his head. "I don't know, but I'm sure they would be considered a threat as well. Swei can take no risk of anyone speaking out against him. I'm sorry, my friend.
You have been used by men who will do anything to attain their goals. The pistol is my gift to you, but it's not much. Po and his men will try to kill you. Then, if you kill Colonel Po, you will become a threat to us as well. We will find you, for there is no place you can go and no place you can hide. I'm offering you a Shan death, Stephen--for our friendship I owe you that. But once I leave you, I become Ke Ping. If it comes to it, I will order you hunted down. You are a threat to the Triad and a threat to the Circle, for you know far too much.
Good-bye, my friend. I will remember our days together always."
Chen reached for the door handle but Stephen leaned forward and grabbed his shoulder. "Let us fight this together, Chen! We can defeat them with what you know!"
Chen smiled. "You are still the naive Sao of the mountains. A traitor's family is not spared-my son and daughter would die an unspeakable death over many days. Stephen, I have given you all that I can. May your god forgive us all."
Stephen closed his tearing eyes and released his grip. "He can't forgive those who are already in hell."
Stephen dumped Sergeant Shin's body on a back road and parked a block from the large Holiday Inn complex. He walked hurriedly to the parking lot, keeping in the shadows of the trees. Not seeing Po's white Mercedes or the matching black one that the security captains drove, he entered the back entrance of the Holidome and tried to act casual as he passed two boys splashing each other in the shallow end of the pool. Po's room curtains were still pulled and the lights were out, so he quickly retraced his steps back to the parking lot, knowing he had made it back before them. He scanned the partially lighted lot and chose a position in the shrubs next to the entrance they always used. Backing up against the brick wall, he kneeled behind a hedge of evergreens, pulled the pistol from his belt, and took a moment to familiarize himself with the small .22 semiautomatic. He pushed the magazine clip and saw it was only one bullet short, slapped it back into the butt of the weapon, and jacked a round into the chamber. The solid chuck-link sound of the working parts boosted his sagging confidence. He prayed they would hurry, for he knew there must still be a way to save his family.
After a minute the black Mercedes pulled into the lot.
Stephen thumbed the safety off as the car pulled into a space only twenty feet away from him. He looked toward the lot entrance but didn't see Po's car following. His luck was holding, he thought, until the driver's door opened and the interior light revealed only Captain Bwin.
The stocky officer got out and locked the door. He looked toward the lot entrance and p
aused before shrugging and turning toward the pool entrance. Reaching into his pocket for his room key, he lowered his head but suddenly looked up, hearing movement to his right. Stephen fired.
Bwin's head snapped back, his knees buckled, and he sank to the sidewalk, twitching. Stephen grabbed the officer's collar and pulled the body behind the hedge. As he returned quickly to the sidewalk, he picked up a handful of pine needles to throw on the pool of blood-but there wasn't one.
The small bullet had not exited. He tensed as another car entered the lot, but it was a station wagon. Then a second car pulled in-Po's white Mercedes.
Forged in Honor (1995) Page 27
