‘Yes. This card,’ Doug passed over a small envelope with a fifty-dollar bill. ‘I’d like it delivered to a lady and her brother staying at the hotel.’
‘Of course, sir. And this is for Miss..?’
‘Her name is O’Sullivan. I’d like flowers and champagne delivered to her brother’s room for seven o’clock tonight. Charged to my room of course.’ The note was whisked from the envelope into the concierge’s pocket as Doug continued. ‘I’d like to join them for a drink before dinner, but I seem to have forgotten their room numbers.’
‘That’s a problem, sir.’ The concierge flashed his widest Thai smile, wrote on a slip of paper before sliding it across to Doug, and said, loud enough for other customers loitering nearby to hear, ‘We are unable to divulge room numbers, but I’ll make sure the lady gets your message with the flowers and champagne.’
‘Thank you.’ As Doug crossed the lobby he checked the room numbers the concierge had written before crumpling and discarding the note. Dollars. The second language of Thailand.
***
‘Mac, the gooks are clueless. The Director sent us here to wet nurse the useless sons of bitches.’
‘Mmm, but let’s see what their chief has to say, huh? He trained with the British in Hong Kong’
Lee stood framed by the door leading to Simm’s balcony, his right palm thudding against his thigh as he spoke. ‘Now, this clueless gook would like to know what the hell you think you are doing in his sealed crime scene.’
‘I’m sorry? Detective..?’ Mac, the slightly older of the two representatives of America’s finest, spoke. Not a trace of embarrassment or genuine apology in his voice. After all, it was an American who had been murdered in this very room.
‘Police Major General Lee. Chief of the Royal Thai Police, Santi Buri District. Now, step away from the railings, gentlemen. Then we’ll talk.’
Joe and Mac had been admiring the view, chewing the fat on the latest in a line of bullshit assignments they had been given. They were leaning on the railings looking out to sea when Lee returned from his hurried conversation with the concierge.
The agents looked at each other and stepped forward. ‘Police Chief Lee. Looks like we got off on the wrong foot, sir. I’m Special Agent Joe Johnson and this is Special Agent Mackenzie. We’re with the United States Central Intelligence Agency.’ Johnson offered his hand.
Lee ignored it.
‘Tell me, Agent Johnson of the United States Central Intelligence Agency, what makes you think you can just stroll on to the scene of a crime in a foreign land without even the grace to speak to the officer in charge first?’ Lee’s brown cheeks had darkened. He jabbed a finger at the agent’s chest and poked the man above the heart as he finished speaking.
‘Your office said you were here. The door to your sealed crime scene was open when we arrived. We thought it best to wait for you here.’ Johnson pushed Lee’s hand to one side and stepped forward. He was six foot four and used his bulk to crowd the slight oriental.
Agent Mackenzie put a hand on his colleague’s arm and tried to take some heat out of the exchange. ‘Chief Lee, perhaps we should explain why we’re here.’ Mac’s attempt at pacification did nothing to ease things.
‘I know why you’re here, Agent Mackenzie. I’m a useless son of a bitch and you are my wet nurse. I’d suggest you leave before I get angry.’ Lee was about one hundred and sixty pounds. Both US agents were substantially more, but they were unable to intimidate the slighter man. ‘Perhaps we can discuss matters at my office later. I don’t feel much like it now. Please leave.’
Lee stepped aside and gestured to the door.
‘We’ll come by your office lunchtime, sir.’
With that, having opened diplomatic discourse with the Royal Thai Police, Special Agents Johnson and Mackenzie left.
***
Johnny was fapping when he heard the murmur of American accents from the terrace below. His new computer was on the end of the bed and he stood, pumping his hips at his hand, eyes glued to the video clip parading across the screen. His face was screwed tight in such fierce concentration that, if anyone had been able to see him, they would have thought he was in great pain.
Kate was still by the pool and Johnny had told her, ‘I need a dump. Just off to my room for a few minutes.’ The sight of so many naked breasts lounging by the pool had set his balls aching. He had tried to impress the brunette sitting a few seats from Kate, but nothing seemed to work. In fact she had looked positively pissed when Johnny’s dive-bomb accidentally soaked her things.
Johnny reached orgasm and, after he had ‘dumped’ his load on the lush pile carpet, he cleaned up by scuffing it with his foot. He then wiped his member on the curtain before pulling on his gaudy Hawaiian style shorts, proudly purchased from the hotel shop that morning.
The murmur of conversation reached his ears and he recognised the accent. He went to the balcony, keen to introduce himself to yet more of his countrymen, was about to yell ‘Hi guys’ at the backs of their heads as they stood below him, gazing out to sea, when he heard something that stopped his exuberant tongue as if someone had slashed it off.
‘...the Skunkworks Kindergarten’s supposed to be trying to track the guy. Some sort of genius they say, but they would, they’re just like him.’
The Skunkworks Kindergarten was the nickname the rest of the CIA gave to Cody’s team of ex-hackers based at Langley, and Johnny stepped back from the balcony as he heard the words. He had been coerced into working there until he and Kate had escaped and fled to the UK.
His heart rate, already elevated from his moments of exertion with the porno movie, galloped like a frightened stallion. He was always a highly-strung kid, and suffered instant surges of acid in the stomach when seriously stressed. He clutched his midriff, bent over to relieve the pain. The muscles in his bowels also cramped and he started to shake.
They’ve found me! They’ve found me! The panic whistled in his head at light speed and as quickly evaporated as he heard the CIA agent’s reply.
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing originated from Cody’s team. Some pissed off hacker nerd trying to screw us around.’
Within seconds Johnny started to get back to normal. Relief at what he had heard triggered an immediate reversal of the cramps. All he needed now was some buttered popcorn to reduce the stabbing sensation in his gut, it always helped keep his acid levels down.
They can’t find me – they haven’t got a clue, man! I really must be a genius!
‘I think we’re crazy to trust ’em. They should just lock the fuckers up.’ The man spat over the balcony.
‘Yeah. This is such a bullshit assignment. The Director must have his head up his ass thinking the President’s gonna get up and tell the world he’s best of chums with a paedophile. Even a suspected paedophile. If Simm turned out to be Jesus on the fuckin cross the President would disown him with all the shit that’s gone down!’
‘I dunno Joe, some say they were friends. I heard there was a cover up before, involving Simm and the President when he was just a congressman. You never know do you? But I tell you, there’s no way we should be on this assignment, we’re not international policemen. The Feds should be on this, not us.’
‘Mac, the gooks are clueless. The Director sent us here to wet nurse…’
Johnny continued listening as Chief Lee arrived and threw the two agents out of the room. Then an idea came to him. It could be dangerous but he knew he would not be able to resist. Johnny’s dimpled grin danced across his face as he sat with his new tablet.
***
Joy arrived at Pop’s home on his moped a little before lunchtime. The trail of blue smoke hung in the air as he puttered up the drive to the American ranch style chalet nestling in the hills at the north end of the bay. The spectacular view took in the sweeping expanse of the turquoise sea and the rich vegetation of the coconut plantations on the slope undulating down to the beach.
Pop lived in what the lo
cals referred to as their own Beverly Hills. To buy one of these modern, glass fronted homes an average Thai farm worker would need to save for one thousand years, without spending any of their wages in all that time.
Joy propped the rusted Honda on its stand and pressed the doorbell. He was impressed. He knew Pop lived in the Hills but Joy had never been invited to his boss’s home, had never been to the Hills even. The area was way beyond any expectation, any dream Joy could comprehend.
He waited a few minutes then walked round to the rear of the house. He was stunned to see the panorama spread before him, a splendid backdrop to the vast swimming pool and jacuzzi.
The sliding doors were open and Joy entered the wonderland that was Pop’s home, calling out his boss’s name.
The scale of the house was breathtaking to the simple man. Joy slept on the floor in his home, a two hundred square foot apartment he shared with his ancient mother and six siblings. Yet his boss apparently lived in luxury.
Pop’s furnishings were exquisite, with hide sofas dotted around the lounge, Chinese rugs on the floor and sumptuous silk tapestries on the walls.
Joy forgot the reason for his being in this Aladdin’s Cave, and wandered through the rooms marvelling at the wealth his boss, the humble servant of God, had amassed as the Principal of a charitable organisation.
He climbed the stairs, one hand trailing the teak banister, his eyes roving over the ornate carvings and works of art lining the stairwell.
Upstairs he found the master bedroom with its enormous circular bed, the room larger than Joy’s entire apartment. He walked through to the en suite bathroom as if drawn by a magnet.
He stood, wide-eyed in the doorway, then turned and ran to the galleried landing, dropped to his knees, and vomited on to the expensive silken tapestries the fish soup and rice he had eaten for lunch moments before.
Joy had found his boss.
***
‘How is he, Doctor?’
The little boy was lying in the hospital in a private room surrounded by monitors and other medical equipment. He had a drip in his arm.
‘I’m afraid I can’t say, Mr Brown. His brain shows no neurological damage, but with something like this only time will tell. Do you know who he is or where he came from?’ The doctor took the thermometer from the child’s armpit, scribbled on a chart and hooked it on the end of the bed. He studied his fellow countryman, his questions making clear how surprised he was that this tourist should care.
‘No doctor, I found him on the sidewalk at around four this morning. I thought he was asleep until I realised his eyes were staring. I wondered if he had been hit by a car and tried to rouse him but couldn’t, so I brought him straight here. It seemed the best place for him.’ Doug stroked the boy’s forehead, felt the sweat despite the air conditioning in the room.
‘He may come round in a day or two, but if not?’
‘Just look after him, okay? The fees are not a problem.’
Doug had actually found Lek, the little boy whose plight had started the whole Simm saga, at Pop’s home. Apparently Pop had told his staff he was taking the boy to hospital, but took him instead to his Beverly Hills mansion.
Doug had arrived as Pop was about to administer an injection that would ensure Lek would not incur any medical expenses. Instead, forged hospital bills would divert orphanage money to the Principal’s private account, as had occurred on numerous occasions before.
Except this time the Hunter had intervened and terminated Pop’s plans.
***
‘Kate! Kate!’ Johnny’s whispered tones exploded into Kate’s ear.
She had been reclining on her sun-lounger, in the half dream world of almost sleep. He startled her out of her reverie. ‘Jeez Johnny! Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I’m trying to relax. I’ve got my interview in,’ she looked at her watch, ‘shit! Less than an hour. I’d better get my ass in gear!’
Kate started packing her towel as Johnny went on.
‘This place is crawling with CIA agents, Sis! Two of them just got slung out of Simm’s room by the police chief! He is so, so pissed off!’
Kate peered at her brother over her glasses. ‘How do you know that?’ A story started forming in her mind, Kate’s brain fresh from her nap.
‘We’re right above Simm’s room! I could drop down into there – it’s so cool! Two of those dickhead CIA agents were bad mouthing the Thai police and guess who walked in!’ Johnny could barely contain himself. ‘Chief Lee himself! I nearly pissed my pants laughing!’
Kate realised this could give her a new angle for her story and said, slightly ironically, ‘You really are a great researcher Johnny.’
‘Nah! I’m just a bit of a wanker really.’
Kate thought he was talking about the play-acting by the pool.
‘You’re okay, kid brother.’ She ruffled his hair and started walking to her room, Johnny an excited puppy bounding beside her.
‘Listen!’ He whispered, bursting to tell her the news. ‘They really think I’m a genius!’
‘What?’ Kate stopped dead. ‘They were talking about you?’ The klaxon in Kate’s mind, always ready to signal danger, was winding up, ready to go to full alert.
‘Not me. Well, yeah, me. I mean they don’t know me. Don’t have a clue who I am.’
‘You sure, Johnny?’ Kate’s forehead furrowed. ‘What did they say?’
‘I’m trying to tell you!’ His expression turned exasperated, impatient. ‘They think it’s the Skunkworks that hacked the report on Simm’s death!’ He was bubbling, laughing hard. ‘And they call themselves the Central Intelligence Agency!’
Kate started moving towards her room again, deep in thought. Johnny really had excelled himself with his ‘mask’. He had defeated the best of the best, hidden himself from view as he stole their secrets. Pride mixed with a tingle of fear for her little brother.
She stood outside her door. ‘Now listen to me. These men are not playing.’ She was as stern as she could be with the dimple-grinning maniac staring at her, unable to keep his arms or feet still. ‘I’m really proud of you. I was worried when you hacked into that report and wasn’t sure your mask was as good as you said.’
‘It’s well fat, Kate, and it’s even better now! I could get you anything!’
‘No! No way! Don’t go there, Johnny. You promise me now. No more hacking US intelligence or military systems. Okay?’ She had her finger almost touching his nose, pointing, as if by sheer willpower she could stop the spinning top inside his head.
‘You gotta listen. Please Sis. You’re crazy...’ Johnny’s limbs were no longer flapping, the motion instead transferred to his head which was flicking from side to side as he continually checked to see if the corridor was still clear. ‘I could get you stuff every month. Every week. Every day. Think about it. Please!’
‘Johnny, I’ve thought about it. When you almost started World War Three by trying to launch a missile, our lives changed. I had to drop out of college. We had to run and hide. We can’t go back to the US.’ Kate put her hands on his cheeks, stopping the motion, fixed his eyes to hers. ‘And I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. You hear me? You do not need to do this for me. Do not do it. Okay?’
‘Don’t worry. Nothings gonna happen to me.’ Johnny, calmer now, grabbed her hands, kissed her forehead. ‘It’s foolproof Kate, but if it makes you feel better I promise right now... I will not hack US intelligence and stuff for you. Unless you say. Okay?’ A serious tone at last.
Kate smiled, reassured, unlocked her door and said, ‘That’s good enough for me. Now, I gotta go. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but be careful okay? We don’t know what those agents are doing here!’ She kissed her fingers, touched them to his cheek and went in.
Johnny would keep his promise. He never did hack into the CIA again for his sister.
***
The concierge was having a good day. After the horrifying events of the last sixty hours or so, the gruesom
e murder, the beating from Chief Lee’s men and then pissing himself in front of the great man, things were looking up.
The two British gentlemen had checked in and asked about the O’Sullivan’s. The men claimed to be friends and wanted to confirm the brother and sister were staying at the hotel as they planned to surprise them.
As usual, hotel policy should prevent the concierge divulging room numbers. However, in Thailand money talks. In fact, while the mighty dollar roars, the pound sterling yaps alongside.
Two crisp twenty pound notes were settled neatly in the concierge’s back pocket.
***
While Kate readied herself for her meeting with the police chief, Britain was yawning over its cornflakes, preparing itself for the new day.
Gary Knight, acting MD of SimmpleTravel, finished shaving and dressed for work. He had not slept well, the demons digging furiously into that deep dark place where every man hides his self-doubt.
His charmed life had come to an abrupt end the previous day, less than twenty-four hours before, with the newspaper article Kate O’Sullivan and Charles Tandy had concocted. The Board meeting had savaged his handling of the company in the short period since his boss’s death. The share price had fallen to half its value compared to Monday morning, and now the customers were staying away from his shop window, the SimmpleTravel.com website.
As he tossed and turned that night, barely entering the peace of sleep-state, he was fighting the demons, telling them he was up to the job, telling them he could handle a crisis, shouting at them that he would rescue George’s company. In the end, daylight intervened and declared the fight a draw.
Gary patted his cheeks with Boss aftershave, strapped on his Rolex, glanced at himself in the full length mirror to make sure he was still as gorgeous as he knew himself to be, and left for the office.
The Hack Page 16
