by Angus McLean
In the next second Travis had discarded the can and the match and slammed the head of the broom down across the snake’s neck, pinning it to the floor with all his strength. He snatched the knife from his teeth and stabbed downwards, missing with his first strike. The snake writhed in agony, flicking its tail wildly and trying to break free, but to no avail.
Travis’ second strike drove the vegetable knife through the top of the snake’s skull and he twisted savagely, wrenching the knife around to do ultimate damage. The blade pierced the floorboard and stayed there, keeping the snake in place as it continued to twitch in its death throes.
Travis straightened up, breathing heavily, staring down at his beaten foe.
Susie took her hand away from her mouth and started to get down, but Travis held up a hand.
‘Wait there,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll clear the room first.’
She stood on the chair, shivering despite the heat, while he first checked his bag then under the bed. He armed himself with his K-Bar knife and the big stainless revolver – he’d told her it was called a Python, and the irony was not lost on her. He then methodically checked every nook and cranny of the villa. Finally he announced it was clear and went back to the snake. He scooped it into the rubbish bin and tied the bag off, then helped Susie down from the chair. Her legs were wobbly beneath her.
‘What the bloody hell was that doing in here?’ she said, her eyes still wide with fear.
Travis’ eyes were dark and focussed. ‘Good question.’
It took them only a minute to get dressed and tuck Travis’ weapons away again, and two minutes for a porter to arrive at the villa. Faced with a dead snake and two indignant guests, he summoned the duty manager. Travis explained how they had found the snake and managed to kill it, and made a point in front of Susie of playing it down. The manager opened the bag and examined the snake.
‘I know it was probably over the top,’ Travis said, ‘but even though it’s probably only a harmless grass snake, I wanted to play safe. Now, we’ll be needing a new room…’
‘Oh no sir,’ the duty manager said, shaking his head vigorously and pointing at the dead snake in the bin. ‘That is not grass snake. That is viper.’
Susie’s hand shot to her mouth again. ‘A viper?’
‘Yes ma’am.’
‘Is it poisonous then?’
‘Oh yes ma’am, very bad snake. Very much poison.’ He nodded vigorously again. ‘It bite you, it will kill you. Dead,’ he added, as if concerned she didn’t understand.
‘It’s okay,’ she replied, feeling a shudder deep within her, ‘I got it the first time thanks.’
Travis took her elbow and steered her inside.
‘You didn’t really think it was a grass snake, did you?’ Susie said.
Travis gave a slight shrug. ‘Na. But there was no point alarming you even more. You don’t like snakes?’
Susie pulled a face and shook her head. ‘They’re horrible. I’m with Indy on that one.’
Travis frowned quizzically. ‘Indy?’
‘Indiana Jones.’ She adopted a man’s voice. ‘”I hate snakes”? No idea?’
Travis grinned and grabbed his bag. ‘I obviously need to get out more.’
He glanced at the blood stain on the floor while he packed, and had a flash of revulsion as he relived the incident. Death by snake bite would be a horrendous way to go, and he knew they were lucky to have escaped this time. Maybe next time they wouldn’t see it coming. If they had been in bed instead of on the floor the viper would have naturally been attracted to their body heat, and once that happened a bite was almost inevitable.
One thing was clear above all else; this was no accident. Somebody had put that viper in their room, and their intention was clear. But who? Major Dang? The Pastor? Somebody they hadn’t yet identified?
Right now it was too much to try and figure out. The priority was to get settled in another room and keep safe until morning, when they could begin to try and unravel the web they had found themselves in.
Chapter Twenty Three
Johnny Mitchell had been pounding the streets of Bangkok at 11pm when the phone in his fanny pack started chirping. He eased to a stop and grabbed it out, breathing hard. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat and his heart was up around 145 bpm. He had about another half hour to go and disliked being interrupted. Chambers’ name appeared on the screen.
‘Yeah boss.’
‘Johnny, I’ve made a mistake.’ Chambers’ voice sounded strained. ‘I need your help.’
‘Okay, I’m just…’
‘Now. Come to my place.’
Mitchell let out his breath and silently cursed, but kept his tone civil. ‘Will do.’
Heading back towards his apartment, Mitchell had a feeling of foreboding. He instinctively knew what was coming. Richard Chambers had very unusual tastes in sexual partners, and it turned Mitchell’s gut to think about it. He knew there had been an incident a while back, just before Mitchell linked in with Chambers, involving a transvestite prostitute. The problem had been made to go away that time but Chambers hadn’t learned his lesson, and Mitchell had been needed to fix a couple of problems since then. His gut told him this one was going to be worse.
Mitchell had always thought that even though the Englishman was a weird dude he paid well, and his eccentricities were tolerable. He was starting to wonder if that assessment still held.
Forty minutes later when Mitchell got to Chambers’ luxurious penthouse suite, his faith in his instincts was justified. Chambers met him at the door, his face pink with excitement. He wore a short silk robe that kept flapping open at the front. It was obvious he had nothing on underneath.
Chambers let him in and shut the door behind him. He took Mitchell through to the stark white kitchen where he sloshed gin from a bottle into a tumbler on the bench, spilling some over the side. He took a decent slug and sucked his teeth.
Mitchell waited.
Chambers put the tumbler down with a clunk. ‘In there,’ he said vaguely, waving towards his bedroom.
Mitchell walked to the open door and surveyed the scene. A semi-naked Thai lady boy lay sprawled on the king size bed, his face turned sideways and staring towards the door in a grotesque mask of death. His tongue was partially poking out and his face had a bluish tinge under his makeup.
He wore a red suspender belt and a white feather boa. By the tightness of the boa around his neck, Mitchell judged that to the instrument of death.
Mitchell returned to the kitchen, where Chambers was half way through his gin.
‘What d’you think?’ Chambers asked, already slurring his words.
‘Well he’s dead,’ Mitchell said flatly.
‘I know that,’ Chambers spat, ‘I fucking killed the little prick, didn’t I? I know that.’ He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. ‘For fuck’s sake, I can’t believe it…what a fucking mess.’
Mitchell took a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching his boss. The more he looked the more he saw a pathetic but psychotically dangerous old man. In the back of his mind, it clicked with Mitchell that this was the end of the road.
‘Nothing we can’t fix,’ he said carefully.
Chambers met his gaze and studied his face, seeming to assess him for several moments. ‘Good,’ he said finally, ‘you’re a good man, Johnny.’ He managed a weak smile. ‘This is the last time, I swear.’
‘You said that last time,’ Mitchell blurted without thinking.
A flash of anger crossed Chambers’ face and his eyes became two small black beads that bored into Mitchell’s head. Gone was any trace of a sexually dysfunctional old man.
‘You don’t speak to me like that, Johnny,’ he hissed through clenched teeth. His knuckles were white on the tumbler. ‘You don’t ever speak to me like that again.’
Mitchell held his tongue and felt a flutter of disquiet in his chest. ‘Sorry boss,’ he said as soothingly as he could manage. ‘That wasn’t fair.’
Cha
mbers still eyeballed him, and Mitchell could feel the rage generating off him. He waited.
Finally Chambers took another slurp of his gin and let out a heavy sigh. The tip of his pink tongue flickered across his thin lips.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘let’s just get this mess cleaned up. And after that, I think I might need to move, lay low for a while.’
Mitchell glanced at him again, and the older man gave a firm nod.
‘To the island.’
The DC3 was met on the tarmac by a pair of white Land Cruisers with several Thai men standing around it.
Jonah Jones eyed them as he descended the stairs, his gut telling him they were cops. Not cops like what he was used to though.
Major Dang met the two bikers at the foot of the stairs. He wore mirrored shades and a blank face.
Jonah put out his hand, figuring he should be friendly. The Major ignored it and simply studied him silently for a long moment before speaking.
‘Come,’ he said simply, turning on his heel.
The two men followed him to the first Land Cruiser. One of the men there opened the rear door. Another stepped forward with his hands out to take their bags.
Jonah shook his head and made to get in the back, keeping his bag with him. The man insisted, reaching for the bag. Kruger made a growling noise in his throat and reached out a paw.
There was a blur of movement and the man whipped a pistol from beneath his shirt, pointing it at Jonah’s head. A hammer clicked behind him and Kruger felt the pressure of a gun barrel against his ear as Sergeant Mookjai stepped in from the side, his Colt up and ready to go.
The bikie enforcer was so much bigger than the sergeant that if Mookjai had fired he would have taken the top of Kruger’s head off.
‘Our turf,’ he said firmly, ‘our rules.’
Jonah eased back from the Land Cruiser, holding his bag out at arms’ length. Kruger reluctantly dropped his own bag.
‘Your weapons, too,’ Mookjai said.
‘We’re unarmed,’ Jonah said.
Mookjai snorted. ‘Don’t play me for a fool.’ He jabbed Kruger’s ear with the Colt. ‘Take out your pistol with two fingers and hold it out.’
Kruger lifted his shirt and carefully withdrew the Auto Mag, passing it to one of the other cops. Jonah was similarly relieved of his Glock, and Major Dang stepped forward.
‘Let us start again,’ he said calmly. ‘We know who and what you are, gentlemen. Do not think you can come to our country and call the shots, as they say.’ His expressionless gaze shifted between them. ‘If you think we are fools, or can be bullied, then you must think again. If you don’t play the game by our rules, we will kill you.’ A mirthless smile cracked his lips. ‘If you do as we say, then we will get along…swimmingly. Do we understand each other?’
Jonah nodded. Kruger just stared at the older man like he wanted to rip his head off and take a dump in the cavity.
‘Good.’ Dang nodded again. ‘Then let us go.’
Kenny and Hammond watched the display with amusement from the aircraft door. Kenny shot a wave to the departing vehicles and turned to his co-pilot.
‘Righto, that’s that mate,’ he grinned. ‘No flights booked. Let’s get fucked up.’
Hammond grinned and said something unintelligible.
Kenny grinned. ‘Sweet as mate, sounds good.’ He began to descend the stairs.
Hammond shook his head and followed. He’d just told Kenny that he had a sore gut and didn’t feel like a drink.
Didn’t that Aussie fucker even speak English?
Chapter Twenty Four
Brad arrived on Koh Samui later the same morning and with his bags in tow he made his way out into the sunshine to hail a cab. He noticed a Thai couple in their thirties hanging around with just shoulder bags, looking very much like cops pretending to be locals. They saw him see them and they both immediately looked away.
He ignored them and grabbed the first cab that appeared, opening the door to speak to the driver.
A Thai man in a smart suit appeared at Brad’s side with a broad smile and an extended hand.
‘If you would like to come with me sir, your shuttle is over here,’ the man said, gesturing towards a white Land Cruiser nearby.
Brad looked at him. ‘And who are you?’
‘I am your driver, sir.’ The man smiled wider. ‘It has been arranged for you.’
‘By who?’ As far as Brad knew, nobody but Jack and Susie knew he was coming.
‘It has been arranged,’ the man repeated, gesturing again towards the Land Cruiser.
‘Not by me it hasn’t,’ Brad told him bluntly.
‘Please sir, if you would like to come with me…’
‘No,’ Brad said, ‘I wouldn’t.’ He turned back to the cab driver, and heard a short burst of Thai from the smiling man behind him.
The cab drivers’ face fell and he put the car in gear, moving off quickly. Brad turned to the smiling man with a scowl.
‘Who the hell are you?’ he rasped.
‘I am your driver, sir. Please…’ The smile never faltered, and the man gestured again towards the Land Cruiser.
‘What’s my name?’ Brad asked him.
The man paused before returning to his refrain. ‘Please sir, if you would…’
‘No,’ Brad snapped, ‘I wouldn’t.’
He grabbed up his bags and started to walk away.
‘You won’t find another cab, sir,’ the smiling man said behind him.
Brad stopped and turned to look at him. ‘What?’
‘There are no cabs available for you, sir.’
Brad tossed his head towards the taxi rank, where drivers waited for a fare.
‘Then what are these, an optical fuckin’ illusion?’
The man still smiled. ‘They are not available for you, sir. Please, if you would…’
Recognising a brick wall when he saw it, Brad relented. He followed the man to the Land Cruiser and as he put his bags in the back, a second Land Cruiser slid to a stop beside them.
Another Thai man alighted and took the bags from him, carrying them to the second vehicle.
‘What the fuck is this about?’ Brad growled at the smiling man.
‘Nothing to be concerned about, sir. Please take a seat and enjoy the ride to your resort.’
Brad figured he may as well roll with it and see what happened. The second Land Cruiser tucked in behind them for the journey, and Brad could see a second man in the vehicle with the guy who’d taken his bags.
The driver played some kind of techno pop on the radio throughout the drive, which did nothing to lighten Brad’s mood. Finally they arrived at the resort and he was let out at Reception.
One of the men from the second vehicle dumped his bags on the step and the smiling man accompanied Brad to them.
‘Obviously my bags have been searched,’ Brad said, ‘even though I’m travelling on a diplomatic passport. Is this how you treat all your guests?’
The smile disappeared. ‘Consider yourself lucky you are allowed here. Check in with your colleagues and heed my advice; stay out of trouble.’ The man smiled coldly. ‘And watch out for the snakes in this area. They can be murder.’
Brad scowled. He reached down and scooped up his bags. Turning his back on the driver, he tossed an aside over his shoulder.
‘Thanks for the ride, Major.’
Major Dang watched him go, scowling to himself. He glanced over to Mookjai, waiting by the second Land Cruiser. The sergeant gave a nod to confirm he had completed his task.
Dang nodded back. ‘Let’s go.’
Brad found Travis and Susie by the pool, relaxing on loungers with drinks close at hand. Susie had a glossy magazine open beside her and was people watching. Travis appeared to be asleep with a paperback open on his lap.
Brad ran an approving eye over Susie’s figure, clad in a red bikini.
‘Good flight?’ Travis asked, sitting up and sliding his dark glasses down his nose.
‘Fine. Got a welcoming committee from your mate, gave me a free ride.’
‘Two Land Cruisers? Took your bags separately?’
Brad gave a tilt of the chin.
‘May as well go unpack and settle in. De-bug while you’re there,’ Susie advised.
Brad flicked his chin again and moved away.
‘Man of few words,’ Susie observed wryly and picked up her magazine.
‘Uh-huh.’ Travis nodded.
Susie glanced at him sideways. ‘Obviously runs in the family...’
Chapter Twenty Five
Kablan and his three men had settled into a hotel in Nathon, taking two rooms to share. They travelled on Nigerian passports and encountered no problems on the way.
They were met at the hotel by a diminutive Thai man, aged somewhere in his sixties. Kablan had never met him before but the man had had dealings with Ashkir and arrangements had been made.
The man carried a small rucksack with him, and was searched by one of Kablan’s men before being allowed into Kablan’s room.
The door was closed and two of the men stood guard while Kablan and his second, Gobey, spoke to the man. They sat on the floor facing each other.
The man handed over the rucksack, and Gobey checked it. Inside were four Chinese Type 54 pistols, variants of the Russian Tokarev TT-33. Gobey checked them and gave Kablan a nod.
‘They’ll do,’ he said.
‘What about rifles?’ Kablan said. ‘I don’t see any rifles in there, old man.’
The old man didn’t flinch. He withdrew a set of car keys from his pocket and passed them over.
‘Downstairs,’ he said, ‘in car.’
Kablan tossed the keys to Gobey and jerked his thumb towards the door.
The room remained silent until Gobey returned a couple of minutes later. Kablan looked up questioningly as he entered.
‘Chinese AKs,’ the wiry Somali said.
‘Bullets?’
‘Enough.’
Kablan turned back to the old Thai man. ‘You can go,’ he said dismissively.