Chasing the White Lion

by James R. Hannibal

  Most of the children in Thet Ye’s building were boys. They slept on the dirt floor. They ate whatever the soldiers threw at them. They drank from a pail of water left in the corner each morning.

  Early in their stay, when the soldiers left them alone, a few whispered of escape. Aung Thu’s friend Su Chat even tried to sneak a look through the curtain covering the door. Soe Htun, the leader with the burn scars, caught him. The yelling—the slapping and kicking—was more than Thet Ye could watch. Afterward Thet Ye had gone to Su Chat, but the boy crawled away to hide in the corner. No one spoke of escape from then on.

  Thet Ye knew how to pray. Teacher Rocha had shown him, and he liked to pray out loud whenever she asked for a student volunteer. “Prayer is not a list of desires and requests,” she would say. “Prayer should be a conversation. We begin with praise and thankfulness because God deserves it, even when we’re sad.”

  In the doldrums of surviving, prayer had become Thet Ye’s constant companion. And once he got started, he’d been surprised how easy thankfulness came. He waited in line to scoop a handful of water from the pail, then bowed his head for another. “Thank you, God, that we are alive. Thank you for sending Pastor Nakor and Teacher Rocha with us. Thank you for the food and water we have.”

  Shouting outside interrupted him, followed by the rat-a-tat report of a machine gun. The boys closest to the curtain door scooted backward into the room, pressing against the others—a learned response. Activity meant someone was coming, and no one wanted to be in a soldier’s path when he came through.

  More shouting.

  A long silence.

  About the time Thet Ye and the others dared to breathe again, the teenage soldier staggered through the curtain. His weapon hung from its strap, bouncing against his legs. He didn’t seem to notice the children. He kept walking, and they stumbled over one another trying to get out of his way. He stopped in the middle of the room.

  They watched.

  An older soldier came in next. “What are you doing? I told you to get them lined up!”

  Shaken from his stupor, the teen tried to obey. He took up his gun and yelled, “You heard him. Get up! Get moving!” But he walked backward as he spoke and tripped over poor Aung Thu.

  The teenager toppled into a pack of terrified boys. His hands never left the machine gun. His finger never left the trigger. When his shoulder hit the floor, the gun went off.

  This did not go well for anyone.

  The bullets etched a line in the cinder blocks above the older soldier’s head. The whites of his eyes grew two sizes. He stormed past scrambling children and put the barrel of his gun under the teenager’s chin, lifting him to his feet. “I should kill you. I should kill you right now as I killed Soe Htun. Give me a reason not to!”

  The same terror that paralyzed the children around him, paralyzed the teen. The older soldier growled, then flipped the rifle around and smashed the butt into his forehead.

  The teen crumpled, crying.

  In that moment, Thet Ye knew for certain Pastor Nakor had spoken truth. The teen soldier was a captive child like the rest of them, a captive child with a gun.

  Blinking in the sunlight, the children from both buildings lined up on either side of the road. Hla Meh was there. Thet Ye tried to call to her but found his voice almost gone. It came out as a hoarse whisper.

  She didn’t hear him.

  “Hurry up. Get them organized.” The soldier who’d hit the teenager barked the orders. Had he killed Soe Htun as he claimed? Had he taken over? Something had clearly changed. One of the trucks waited in the road, engine idling. They were being moved again.

  The soldiers pulled boys and girls out of each line. Children shuffled across the road with armed escorts in a strange trading game until Thet Ye’s line was all boys, and Hla Meh’s all girls. He saw no sign of Teacher Rocha or Pastor Nakor.

  The new man in charge pounded the side of the truck to get his soldiers’ attention. “Good. Now, load up the girls. New boss. New orders.”

  The men shouted and shoved. Most of the girls complied. The implications did not sink in for Thet Ye until the first of them climbed onto the tailgate.

  One truck.

  Girls only.

  They were taking Hla Meh, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

  A few girls failed to move, too dazed to understand. Hla Meh was among them.

  “Round up the stragglers. We have a schedule to keep.”

  Perhaps to make up for his previous failure, the teen soldier moved in to help. He grabbed Hla Meh by the wrist. “Move it!”

  At the force of his jerking, her eyes found focus—and Thet Ye. He saw no blame, only a cry for help. With her free hand, she reached for him. “Thet Ye!”

  He needed no other call.

  Thet Ye bolted from the line to catch her hand. Their fingers were a hair’s breadth apart when the teen soldier punched him in the chest and sent him sprawling back.

  He lay there in the gravel, unable to breathe, unable to speak, watching them drag his best friend kicking through the dirt. “Thet Ye! Don’t let them take me!”

  In seconds, she had disappeared into the darkness beneath the canvas. As the teen soldier slammed the gate into place, the air returned to Thet Ye’s lungs. “I’ll find you,” he called in his hoarse whisper, feeling tears on his cheeks for the first time in days. “I promise, I’ll find you.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTY

  MILOS NATIONAL AIRPORT

  MILOS, GREEK ISLES

  THE AIRFIELD’S ONLY TUG OPERATOR took his sweet time towing the AS2 out of the hangar. He was working on a Greek island clock, which seemed to match the pace of island clocks Talia had experienced in other parts of the world.

  Without Mac, Tyler was forced to take the helm of the AS2. “Run the briefing,” he called as he taxied the jet toward the runway. “I’m listening.”

  “Copy.” Eddie saluted, even though Tyler wasn’t looking. “First item is the new White Lion message.”

  Seated beside him, Talia blocked his finger to keep him from touching PLAY. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  Pell laughed at her from across the aisle. “You do know that we’re still on the ground, right? What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “You weren’t here for the last one.”

  Her tone cowed the chameleon.

  “It’s fine.” Eddie moved his tablet out of her reach and his fingers flashed over the digital keyboard. “I brought this message in before we boarded, and it’s clean. Worms, Trojans, polymorphs—I’ve scanned for every malicious file you can imagine, and a few you can’t. Besides”—he finished typing, and the laughing lion materialized in three dimensions over a black ring resting on one of the jet’s oak tables—“I’m no longer using the aircraft display system.”

  “You brought your holographic generator,” Talia said.

  Eddie grinned.

  The laughing faded, and the word Congratulations floated around the lion in gold metallic print. Bubbling champagne glasses appeared. “Well done, panther. You’ve reached the top of the food chain. Now you have a new challenge.” The bubbling champagne, the floating text—everything on the screen but the lion—turned blood red. “The Frenzy.”

  Val pushed a strand of hair back over her ear, and Talia saw a tissue concealed in her hand. Marco’s departure seemed to have hit her hard. She hid it well, a cavalier frown on her lips. “Last time, Boyd told us to kill someone. Let’s see what he says now.”

  The whole team fell back against their seats as Tyler pushed the throttles up for takeoff. The AS2 left the runway within seconds, and the video played on.

  “How good are you, panther? Time to find out. Take your shot at one of the Jungle’s top five positions.” The lion’s whiskered snout contorted into a smirk. “Even mine.”

  The video changed to an aerial shot of Bangkok. The camera flew between a pair of ultra-skyscrapers Eddie had shown the group before. “This year’s location is the
Twin Tigers complex in Bangkok. As always, anonymity holds primacy. Bring no phones or computers. Be warned. The Frenzy competition is as cutthroat as it gets. Opt out, if you wish. Join us at your peril.”

  Voices whispered in the background. Law of the Jungle. Kill or be killed.

  “Eat or be eaten.” The camera turned, and the video settled on the towers and the white marble square below. “Once you set foot in my lair,” the lion said, appearing as a ghost before them, “you are committed. That is all.” The image faded to black.

  “All?” Pell stared at the empty space in the holographic sphere. “He didn’t tell us a thing. How does the Frenzy work? What are the rules?”

  “Eat or be eaten, yes?” Darcy said. “And somehow, I do not think this is a métaphore.”

  “Hang on.” Eddie held up a finger. “The message has a text component. Val and Talia, now Panthers Eight One and Eight Two, are to report to the lobby of the western tower tomorrow night—Val at eight p.m., Talia at eight oh five.”

  “What else does it say?” Tyler stood in the narrow hallway between the cabin and the flight deck. Concern creased his brow. He waved off a question from Pell before the chameleon could get the words out. “The autopilot’s doing fine, Pell. Trust me.” As he spoke, the AS2 leveled out on its own. The engines throttled back for cruise.

  Eddie shook his head. “Nothing. They each have a seven-digit number. I assume they’re entry codes.”

  Talia read the worry on Tyler’s face. Their adversary had given them too little to go on.

  Val echoed the same concern. “How do we run the last con if we won’t know the rules of Boyd’s game?”

  “We remain flexible,” Tyler said. “We keep the plan fluid and focus on knowns instead of unknowns.”

  Pell raised a hand. “We know the time and place, right? And you’ve got contacts. Have the Thai police storm the towers. End of story.”

  “Too risky. Bangkok cops are notoriously corrupt. They’ll tip Boyd off. And the tower chopper pads make for an easy getaway. If we want to go in hard, we use the military, and we wait until the last second.” Tyler glanced around at his crew. “Other ideas?”

  Eddie brought up the holographic image of the towers. “We can expect comm jamming. The lion said no phones or computers. He can enforce that rule with jammers on the upper floors without blocking signals in the city below.”

  “Good catch. Solution?”

  “I’ll put Franklin on it. Right now. ”

  Talia watched him open a messaging app on his tablet, then looked to Tyler and shrugged. “We also know Boyd himself, right? He’s rich. He’s a sociopath.”

  “Narcissist, actually,” Val said, tapping her chin. “There’s a difference. But you’re on to something. Knowing the identity of the White Lion tells us volumes. We have Livingston Boyd, the young energy stock and real estate mogul, and the White Lion, the bloodthirsty crime boss.”

  “Both sides of his personality,” Pell said. “Put them together, and we have a complete picture of the man—a sort of ‘What’s a diabolical criminal mastermind when he’s at home’ profile.”

  Val rocked forward to rest her elbows on the oak table, as if her mind had suddenly gone to work and her hands were looking to follow. “Eddie, show me the layout of the western tower.”

  “I don’t have much.” The skyscrapers reappeared in the hologram, and a blueprint overlaid the twisting structure. Most of the floors were blank. “One of Boyd’s shell companies handled the development. Whatever he’s done with the upper floors is a big secret.”

  Val walked to the display and used her hands to expand the blueprint, examining a large, open chamber near the tower’s top. “What about this? The rest of the building is one-way glass, but these are clear. The video shows greenery inside.”

  Eddie shrugged. “The blueprint calls it an atrium—actually the Atrium.”

  Tyler pushed himself off the wall, watching her. “What’ve you got, Val?”

  “The difference between a narcissist and a sociopath is the need for validation. Both manipulate others, and both presume they are better and smarter, but a narcissist needs to be told he’s better.” She spun the chamber within the hologram. “A jungle environment, high above the world. Boyd built this to show off, like a throne room. If we pique his interest during the Frenzy, he’ll bring us here. This is where we’ll get him.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTY-

  ONE

  AERION AS2

  ANDAMAN SEA

  TWENTY-EIGHT THOUSAND FEET

  DESCENDING INTO BANGKOK

  THREE AND A HALF HOURS after Eddie played the White Lion’s message, Talia dropped into the AS2’s copilot seat, careful not to disturb the side-mounted flight control stick inches from her armrest. “Finn called. He had news.”

  Tyler worked a touchscreen panel on the console between them. “Good or bad?” he asked without looking up.

  “Good. I think. His canvassing northwest of Bangkok paid off. A street-market water dealer remembered seeing the trucks. She was adamant they were the ones he and Mac are looking for.”

  “So we know the trucks passed through her village.”

  “Not exactly.” Talia did her best to rein in the hope in her voice. “The shop owner spotted the trucks on her way into town. Parked. She saw them at an isolated facility a good distance from the road.”

  “And the trucks are still there?”

  She shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean the kids aren’t. I told Finn to sit tight. He and Mac will keep watch until we arrive.”

  A radio call interrupted them. Tyler turned a dial on the dash to set a target altitude of fifteen thousand and pressed the dial in to signal the autopilot. The AS2 pitched down a few degrees. He glanced at her sideways. “You committed the team without consulting me?”

  “Rescuing those kids is the only thing that matters.”

  “Rescuing those kids is important, and right, but it is not the only thing, Talia. Our best shot at saving them is to go after the source. Boyd. And we’re short on time.”

  “What if we’re wrong. What if the kidnapping has nothing to do with the Frenzy, and this is our last shot before those children are dispersed into the trafficking networks?”

  Tyler sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he pointed to a digital map display on the center console. “The place we call Bangkok is really a dense urban metropolis of interlocking cities. It is broad. It is packed. And traffic is a nightmare like you’ve never experienced. If we land downtown, we’ll never reach Finn.”

  She couldn’t read the subtext in his statement. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we need to find another airfield. We’ll play it your way. We’ll rendezvous with Finn and check out the site.”

  TYLER LANDED THE AS2 AT A THAI MILITARY FIELD. When the controller challenged him on his request for an approach, Tyler asked to speak to General Ta Maew. No general came on the radio. The controller immediately cleared him to land. He also offered up a military jeep.

  The rendezvous point was an orchard filled with giant spiny fruit. Talia poked at a trio of them. “What do you call these, Ewan?”

  “They are Mong Thong, meaning golden pillow.”

  She pressed the tips of the spines. They were hard enough to leave impressions in her fingertips. “Not my kind of pillow.”

  “Look more like medieval weapons,” Mac said. “We could stick ’em on pikes and swing ’em at the kidnappers.”

  “Or we could use guns.” Tyler lifted a pair of machine guns from the back of the jeep. He had brought a case of them from the jet.

  “P3Q?” Talia asked as he tossed her one.

  “What else?”

  Tyler brought out extra magazines for Mac and Finn as well, and the team set to work. Grifter, chemist, wheelman, burglar, and spy—everyone but Eddie the hacker—inspected and readied their weapons like a professional hit team.

  Po laughed and said something in Thai. Ewan laughed
as well.

  “What are you two on about?” Finn asked, stuffing his spare mag into his khakis.

  “Po has invented a new word. He says you are not commandos or thieves. You are commando-thieves.”

  When no one laughed, he frowned and bobbled his head. “Sounds funnier in Thai.”

  A scan of the compound through a high-powered scope revealed no activity. The trucks were gone. Not one soul moved between the two cinder-block buildings.

  Tyler slid in behind the wheel of the jeep. “Let’s go see what we see.”

  On the way, Finn traded his place in the truck with Darcy so he could ride with Talia in the jeep. “How’s your head?” he asked, notably failing to add princess or your highness.

  Talia smiled. “Better. Thanks for asking.” She touched the spot and winced. “One of Jafet’s men left a pretty good bump back there, but the headaches and nausea are gone.”

  The area surrounding the target compound offered no cover besides a random hill in the otherwise flat plain, terraced for rice. Mac and Tyler parked the pickup and jeep behind the hill, but the team still had to cover a hundred meters of open ground.

  Tyler tapped his ear. “Comms on. Spread out. Eddie, grab the scope and hang here. Call out movers and weapons as you see them.” He set off from the north end of the hill with Finn and Talia. Val, Mac, and Darcy set off from the south.

  Ewan and Po followed Finn, and the thief glanced back, scrunching up his brow. “Where are you two going?”

  Po shrugged. Ewan nodded toward the compound. “With you.”

  “Not on your life. Stay put. Eddie will tell you when it’s safe.”

  A hundred yards was a long distance to cover over a flat, muddy plain, especially when facing armed militiamen. The team fanned out, and Talia kept her eyes moving, senses on full alert.

  Finn, however, seemed bored by the whole procedure. “Commando. Thieves . . . Hmm . . . Commando-thieves.”