“Yes, I sure,” the teen said. “They come maybe two hour ago. You want room?”
“No, I want to find my friends. We separated back in Phnom Penh.”
The teen frowned.
“I got lost.”
“Oh, okay. You want go to room?”
“Are they there now?”
“I think so. Man come for food. He take away but I not see lady. Him also tell me not bother them.”
Mdivani chewed his lower lip as he weighed his options—wait until they vacate the room or confront them now? “Do you have an extra room?”
The teen nodded. “Fifteen dollar.”
Mdivani agreed to the price, and the boy took him upstairs to the second floor. “Your friends in this room.”
Mdivani grabbed hold of the teen’s arm just before he was about to knock on the door. “I want to surprise my friends, okay?”
The teen shrugged and led Mdivani to the room next door.
“Okay, thank you,” Mdivani said “What time does the restaurant close?”
“Ten thirty,” the teen replied.
Mdivani closed the door and pressed his ear against it, listening until he heard the teen’s rubber flip-flips clomping down the stairs. He hurried over to the wall he shared with Akil and Sei’s room and pressed his ear against it. He heard nothing but the distant sound of running water. He couldn’t readily determine if it was coming from inside their room, perhaps a sink or a shower, or if it were simply the pipes in the wall. He moved over to the window, opened it, and looked outside. The alley was dark; there didn’t appear to be any lights on in their room. Maybe they’re sleeping.
Mdivani closed the window. He removed his gun and checked his ammo count—four bullets left with one in the chamber. He switched out the mag with a fully loaded one from his knapsack. He then screwed the sound suppressor onto the Beretta.
Once again, he pressed his ear against the wall—still just the sound of running water. Mdivani couldn’t wait any longer. He had to make a move and know for sure if they were there or if this was all a ruse, an attempt to cover their tracks.
He peeked out into the empty hall. The clanking of the metal spatulas against the woks traveled up the stairs, but he heard no footsteps. He held his weapon close to his body at chest height and stepped quietly over to Akil and Sei’s room. Thoughts that he might have fallen for their simple trick began to populate in his head. He could feel the beats of his heart increase, fueling the boil of his blood and the throbbing in his neck.
He stepped back and fired twice at the deadbolt lock before kicking the door open and bursting into the room, weapon out in front.
He swiveled left, right, and left again before heading toward the bathroom door. He checked the knob; it was unlocked. Mdivani took a step back and kicked his boot against the door, sending it flying inward.
He stood still with his feet apart, knees bent, arms out front, peering down the barrel of his gun. Sitting on the toilet was Akil. The aiming sights of Mdivani’s gun were positioned in the center of his chest, only Akil didn’t move—not even a flinch. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Mdivani understood why. A large wooden stake protruding from Akil’s chest had finished the job for him.
Chapter 55
Sei!
Mdivani placed two fingers on Akil’s neck, then moved his head from side to side. Warm. Pliable. She killed him recently. He flipped on the light switch and saw a pile of blood-stained towels in the corner of the bathroom. Akil’s shirt soaked up much of the fluid that leaked out of him before it coagulated. He turned the light off and stepped out of the bathroom.
Even with the lights off, he could see there wasn’t any blood on the bed. He removed a pen light from his knapsack, bent down, and scanned the floor. He found a thin red streak. She killed him here, moved him into the bathroom and then cleaned. She wanted a head start.
Mdivani figured Sei must have retrieved the information she needed from him. Either that, or she got tired of babysitting, which was a real possibility, but he had his money on the first scenario. It was logical, since both of them were alive not too long ago. If Sei no longer thought Akil was an asset, then neither did Mdivani. There wouldn’t be any reason to keep Akil alive, and he wasn’t in breach of the Wolf’s directive. He whipped out his phone and snapped a photo of Akil on the toilet. The Wolf will like this.
Mdivani tucked his weapon back into the waistband of his jeans. He then closed the bathroom door and exited the room. Downstairs he ran into the same teen boy, who was busy refilling the condiment containers on a table.
“You come to eat? We close soon,” he said.
There were two diners still eating but aside from them, the restaurant was empty. The kitchen crew had already begun to clean their workspace.
“No, I’m fine. I ate with my friends.” Mdivani said as he mimicked forking food into his mouth. He then removed his wallet from his back pocket. “I’ll pay for one more night. Me and my friends.”
The boy took the money.
“You keep the change.” Mdivani smiled.
“Thank you,” the boy mumbled before returning to his duties.
Mdivani exited the restaurant and headed to the taxi he stole earlier. Most of the residents of the village seemed to be in bed. A couple of motorbikes zoomed by, but foot traffic was non-existent. He saw only a few lit windows in the nearby apartment buildings, and apart from the twenty-four-hour convenience store farther down the road, all of the shops were closed.
He continued driving west on Highway 4. He wasn’t necessarily worried about picking up Sei’s trail. He knew enough to conclude that someone who was at the clinic that day was located in Thailand, most likely Bangkok. What he wasn’t sure of was whether Sei knew exactly where this person was. Mdivani pressed the pedal harder, and the taxi picked up speed. Okay, Sei. Let’s see who reaches the golden prize first.
Chapter 56
“Amina!” The shrill voice penetrated the thin door. “When will dinner be ready?”
Amina sat quietly on the toilet, trying to savior the few minutes of peace she could have while at home, but the voice rang out again, pecking at her to answer. She let out a soft breath, finished her business, and flushed.
She exited the tiny bathroom/shower space into a room that wasn’t really that much bigger. The small apartment was composed of a single room with two beds pushed up against the wall, a flat-screen television on a stand, a short dresser with a mirror attached, and a standing closet next to it. A bevy of small plastic storage containers holding clothes, food, and other necessities were spread out over the floor.
There wasn’t much space to maneuver in the room; it seemed like something or someone occupied every inch of floor. The room was no bigger than thirty-five square meters, and six people lived there: three adults and three small children. It was impossible for two people to walk in the room at the same time without turning their bodies sideways and brushing against each other.
A woman sat on the bed with her back up against the wall, her snug shirt tucked into the multiple rolls along her stomach. Her name was Houda, a distant relative from Amina’s father’s side.
“Amina, everybody is hungry. What is taking so long?” she asked, letting out a disappointed breath as she cycled through the channels on the TV with the remote. Sitting on either side of her were two little girls, twins. Their names were Nada and Amira, and they were five years old. Nada stuck her tongue out at Amina.
“I’m sorry,” Amina said, keeping her head down. “I still have to chop the vegetables.”
She stepped over the other child, Josef, who was three. He lay on the floor making growling noises as he played with two plastic toy dinosaurs. Sleeping on the other bed was Houda’s husband, Dadi. Sleeping seemed to be all he ever did. He never had reliable work, and when he did, he always managed to get himself fired. Houda ran a small coffee stand outside their building in the morning, but aside from that, she kept her behind attached to the bed as well.
&nbs
p; Amina was the only one in the household who had a full-time job. She worked twelve-hour shifts, six days a week as a nurse. On top of that, she was also responsible for doing all the cooking, cleaning, and shopping, and on her day off, there was always something that Houda needed her to do. In return for her all of her contributions, Amina was allowed to sleep on a thin mattress on the floor.
That night she had to work an extra hour at the hospital and didn’t arrive home until seven p.m. Instead of getting dinner started, Houda sat in her usual spot and waited for Amina, only to complain non-stop from the moment she set foot in the room.
“We are doing you a favor by letting you stay here. You should appreciate our kindness,” she barked.
“I do,” Amina replied softly.
She noticed that Houda hadn’t bothered to bathe the kids yet. So amid preparing dinner, Amina had to ensure that each child was bathed. By the time she finished her duties, it was always nearing eleven p.m. The three kids were usually fast asleep on one bed, and Houda and Dadi were snoring on the other. Amina would take that opportunity to escape to the rooftop of the five-story apartment building located in the On Nut district of Bangkok.
It was only on the rooftop that she felt she could relax and enjoy what little time she had to herself before going to bed. Her shift at the hospital started at six a.m., which required waking up at four thirty.
Amina took a seat in her favorite place, a molded plastic chair between two elevated steel water reservoirs. It was far enough from the hum of the air vents to be quiet, and she was hidden from sight, which she preferred. From there she had a clear view of the night sky, unfettered by the clotheslines strung across the other half of the rooftop.
She removed a plastic bag from the waistband of her pants. Inside was a bottle of peach-flavored iced tea. The drink had warmed by then, but Amina didn’t care. She had to keep it hidden from the children or they would ask to have some. Houda always demanded that Amina share whatever food or drink she brought home. That usually meant turning it over to the ungrateful little ones. It was not that Amina didn’t want to share with the children; it was just that, when she first moved in, she always gave what little she had, but there was never any reciprocation. So she stopped.
Amina unscrewed the plastic cap and savored the first sip as she gazed at the stars above. The sky was exceptionally clear. The Southern Cross constellation shone bright that night, as did the mighty Leo, the Cancer crab, and the serpent Hydra. Amina loved gazing at the stars while dreaming of better days ahead. She longed for a life of her own, to be free from the demands of Houda and her family.
Moving to Thailand was the first step to escaping her troubled past. She thought immigrating to France from Tunisia would provide her with a fulfilling and comfortable life, but it had turned out to be exactly the opposite.
From living a meager existence in the crime-ridden La Cite and working grueling hours at a hospital for low pay, her life was worse in France than in Tunisia. Amina felt like a shoe stuck in the mud with no solid ground in sight. She barely made enough to keep a roof over her head, let alone able to put money aside to carve a better life. Schooling seemed out of reach, even within France’s generous socialist system. Moving to another country cost money, which she lacked, plus the bevy of problems faced by illegal immigrants would only add to the weight on her shoulders. She at least had legal immigrant status in France.
So when the job offer to help deliver a baby presented itself, Amina jumped at the opportunity to make extra cash on the side. Payment was ten thousand euros—unheard of, but Amina didn’t question. She didn’t want to appear problematic and lose the opportunity.
Accepting that job should have given her life a much-needed lift, but it ended up burying her further. The burden of having unknowingly partaken in a kidnapping scheme was too much for her to bear—that, and the threat made to her from the man in charge to keep her mouth shut or he would make sure she never saw another day. With money in hand, Amina made the decision to create a new life, in a new country.
While things weren’t grand at the tiny room in the old building on Soi 20, Amina kept dreaming and pushing herself forward. Since her first paycheck from the hospital, she had been saving a little every week in a bank account hidden from Houda. Small steps, she told herself. One day, I’ll be free.
Chapter 57
By the off chance we were being followed, I decided not to take the car after exiting the room through the window. Instead, for fifty euros, I hitched a ride with a trucker passing through the village Akil and I had stopped in. I half expected trouble from him, but he kept his thoughts to himself and his hands on the steering wheel. He lived to haul another load.
Crossing the Koh Kong border was uneventful, given the time of night. The set up was similar to when we’d crossed the Vietnam/Cambodia border: stamped out of one country and stamped into the next. Not many people needed or wanted to cross at that hour. The entire process took fifteen minutes, not that I kept track. I traveled on a French passport, which afforded me visa-exempt status. As a tourist, I was allowed thirty days in the Kingdom of Thailand.
On the Thai side of the border there were a few food vendors selling noodles, skewered grilled meats, and a papaya salad called som tum. I grabbed two skewers and a bottle of water before negotiating a fee with one of the taxi drivers.
We arrived in Bangkok a little after nine in the morning. The drive wasn’t terrible. We made one bathroom stop, and much like the trucker, the taxi driver paid me no attention. It was a significant departure from my last long drive, with Kostas; the only time he had stopped talking was to draw a breath.
Since I had no idea where Amina lived or worked, I studied Google Maps on my phone and determined the Asoke Skytrain terminal was a good central location. I checked into the Westin, only a few steps away. Once in my room, I took a shower, ordered breakfast from room service, and got to work.
Amina Jelassi was a nurse working and living in Bangkok. That was the information I had to go on. I also had Kostas run her name. I couldn’t be certain if it would lead to anything, but I didn’t want to rule out that possibility.
I logged on to the Wi-Fi service with my smartphone and began compiling a list of all the major hospitals in Bangkok. I left out any hospital in the outer-lying districts and all of the small clinics—there were too many of them. I could systematically begin to target them if my original approach turned up empty, but I hoped it would not come to that.
My plan forward was simple in nature. I intended to visit each hospital and ask the staff if Amina worked there. It would be time consuming, but it would give me a decent shot at locating her. She was new to the city, had recently started a job, and was of Tunisian descent; surely those characteristics ticked the box for sticking out.
I didn’t take long to draw up a list. There were nine hospitals in central Bangkok, and the one that made the most sense to me was an international hospital located not far from my hotel. I had already determined that I would pose as a local insurance agent who needed to speak with Amina regarding a medical procedure she had previously been involved with. I figured the average staff member wouldn’t question that kind of inquiry. After I finished my list, I popped downstairs and bought a cream pantsuit and suitable shoes from the department store attached to the hotel. By the time I headed out, it was near noon.
Bumrungrad International Hospital was a ten-minute ride away by motorbike taxi. Upon my arrival, I immediately saw that the hospital was spread out over three separate buildings, with an endless supply of medical tourists, mostly from Arab and Western countries, flowing in and out of the entrances.
I headed inside the building nearest me, and the first thought that popped into my head was that I had entered the lobby of a Hyatt. There were high ceilings, leather seating, white marble flooring, art on the walls, and vases adorning every table. The only thing missing was an atrium and a decorative fountain. I understood why it was considered the premier international hospital in all
of South Asia.
I searched the large directory set in granite. Obstetrics was located on the sixteenth floor. Since Amina assisted in the delivery of my baby, I assumed this was where I would find her.
The elevator chimed and the doors opened to a carpeted foyer complete with a large flower arrangement, mood lighting, and soft classical music. Straight ahead, sitting behind a reception desk, was the smiling face of nurse dressed in a white uniform with a throwback nurse’s cap on her head. I didn’t think those working in the medical profession wore anything but blue or gray scrubs these days.
The seating area was occupied by women in various stages of pregnancy, some with their husbands or their mothers, a few by themselves. To the rear of the seats were two counters: one to pay for services, the other to pick up prescriptions.
“English?” I asked the nurse.
“Yes, of course,” she said with a pleasant smile.
“My name is Amanda Shin. I work for Siam Medical Insurance. I need to speak with a nurse by the name of Amina Jelassi. The phone we have on file appears to be disconnected, and I’ve had to resort to finding her through other means,” I said, making a walking motion with my fingers. “Could you tell me if she’s on the schedule today?”
The nurse gave me an inquisitive look at first but conceded. “Could you please repeat the name?”
“Amina Jelassi.”
“It doesn’t sound familiar. Are you sure she works at this hospital and in obstetrics?”
“This was the employment information she had given us.”
She typed briefly on her keyboard and then scrolled while looking at her monitor. “I don’t see that name in our department. Sorry. If she did work here, it wasn’t for very long.”
I nodded my agreement. “Yes, it appears that’s the case.” I rolled my eyes. “This is going to be a long day.”
The nurse smiled once more and wished me luck.
Contract: Sicko (Sei Assassin Thriller Book 2) Page 16
