Rising Tiger

by Trevor Scott

  They went down to Pub Street and found a nice restaurant, soaking down the Khmer dish with two cheap Khmer Beers. Jake guessed that if Bill Remington had planned on retiring in Cambodia he could have done it on the cheap. Food and drink prices here were ridiculously low, which made some sense once Jake found out from the driver that the average income in Cambodia was just a thousand dollars a year. Yeah, Remington would have lived like a king. But now the man was dead, and there was much more to the story than Jake was made to believe.

  By the time nine p.m. rolled around, Jake had formed a plan of action. It wasn’t like he could just go to the general’s hotel, knock on the guy’s door, and start questioning the man about his plan for world domination. No, this might take a little more finesse.

  Jake and Alexandra went to the Khmer Now Bar as an Austrian couple curious about same same but different. The beer wasn’t as cheap here, since they had to pay for performers with needs, including breast implants. The first performer of the evening was a stunning woman with relatively huge breasts in a short blue dress with sequins. From this distance, a few tables in from the stage, Jake could see the same same, but the different wasn’t readily apparent.

  Between musical sets, where the next performers also looked like beautiful young Cambodian women, Jake finally switched from beer to the code drink, a Tom Collins. Jake was amazed that anyone still drank them, or that a bartender in Cambodia knew how to make one.

  Their normal waitress didn’t bring them their drinks, though. Instead, the first performer of the night, a same same but different lady boy, dropped off the drinks and sat down with them. Jake had to admit that he or she was stunning.

  “Not many people order these drinks,” the lady boy said. He had no discernible Adam’s apple, and his voice was accented and very lady-like.

  “It’s an oldie but a goodie,” Jake said, giving the proper phrase to ensure they were both on the same page.

  “My name is Chantrea,” she said, putting a French spin on the name. “It means moon in my language.”

  “I take it you have what we need,” Jake said.

  Chantrea got up and straightened her sequined dress over her narrow hips. She nodded for them to follow her, and then she wandered toward the restrooms, her hips swaying like a hooker trying to entice a client. Eventually they got to the far back, where two larger men stood watch over a door. Now Jake saw exactly what he wanted; bulges where normal security types kept their guns. This Chantrea had something worth protecting. And it was likely not just heroin.

  Inside the office, Chantrea wandered to the desk and sat against the front, her skirt lifting almost high enough to let them try to look for a dick and two balls tucked between the legs. She pointed for each of them to take a seat in fine leather chairs.

  Jake and Alexandra sat, giving them an even better view of the crotch area. Yeah, he was packing something. Nothing too serious, though.

  “Now, I know the two of you didn’t come here for heroin,” Chantrea said.

  “Why’s that?” Jake wanted to know.

  She laughed. “Because, honey, you’re not strung out enough.”

  “We all have to start somewhere,” Jake said. “Consider this the before picture. We’ll worry about the after picture later.”

  “Vibol said you were a funny man,” Chantrea said. “I see why he liked you.” Then he turned to Alexandra. “And you. He said you might have said two words all day.”

  “How do you know Vibol?” Jake asked.

  Chantrea shrugged. “He’s my cousin.”

  “Seriously?”

  “We’re all related in this town. Nothing happens without our knowledge.”

  Time to come clean. At least a little. “Okay, then tell me about General Wu Gang.”

  Chantrea looked shocked and amazed that Jake had just spoken that name. “Don’t even speak that Chinese bastard’s name in my establishment.”

  “You own this place?”

  “I own this whole block, from the tattoo parlor on one end to the foot fish shop on the other end, including both massage parlors and the chicken shack.”

  “And the heroin business.”

  “Hell no. I might deal some out to special clients, but my uncle runs that business in town.”

  Jake stared into the business owner’s eyes. Something told him to trust this person. “I don’t really need heroin,” he admitted.

  “No kidding.”

  “I need a couple of guns.”

  Chantrea laughed. “Honey, that’s a totally different drink. Why didn’t you say that from the beginning?”

  “You don’t want to know why I need the guns?” he asked.

  “Only if you think you can rob me.”

  “Is that the major crime in Cambodia?”

  “Yes, sir. Robbery murder. They’ll rob you for your damn Vespa around here. But the weapon of choice is the knife or the machete. Not guns.”

  “What about General Wu Gang?” Alexandra finally said.

  “She can speak,” Chantrea said. “By the way, I love your attempt at a German accent.”

  “She’s Austrian,” Jake assured her.

  “Same same.”

  “But different.” Jake smiled.

  “Different in a different way.” Chantrea considered Jake more seriously now. “What’s your fascination with the Chinese general?”

  How much should Jake say? Only as much as needed to reach his goal. “The general murdered a friend of mine.” It was a close enough lie to be credible.

  “And the two of you want guns so you can go kill him?” Chantrea gave Jake a curious smirk. “You look like you could kill that general with your bare hands.”

  “Only if I can get close enough,” Jake agreed. “And sometimes that requires guns. Besides, I just want to talk with the man.”

  “The gun laws in Cambodia are not favorable to foreigners. If you get caught with them, you might as well start learning the language soon. Because you will never get out of our jails. Plus, the food sucks. There’s no air con. Huge rats. And they will want to have their way with you. Your girlfriend will be raped multiple times before she even gets her prison clothes issued.”

  Jake waved his hand. “That’s no concern of yours. Can you get me a couple of guns? Preferably Glock nines with extra magazines.”

  “Not the forty cal versions?”

  “No. I’ll go for the extra rounds and make each shot count. Besides, like I said, it’s only for insurance.”

  She reached over on her desk and then stood up and fixed her dress down her hips again.

  When the door opened, the two men entered and closed the door behind them.

  “What if I told you my uncle works for the general?” Chantrea asked.

  Jake and Alexandra got to their feet. He shifted his head toward the men at the door. “That would mean you also work for the general.”

  “You should have sold us the guns,” Alexandra said to Chantrea.

  “Why is that?” Chantrea asked.

  Jake casually started to leave, moving in close to the two guards. When they didn’t part for him, Jake went through a quick progression of kicks and punches and elbows and knees, taking out both of the Cambodian guards without either man landing a single blow to Jake.

  Chantrea started to reach for something behind her desk, but Alexandra was too fast, grabbing and twisting her arm behind the performer’s nice blue dress.

  “This is a big mistake,” Chantrea said.

  By now Jake had gotten both guns and four extra magazines from the guards. “Gen four Glock 17s,” Jake said to Alexandra.

  “Nice. Now, can we get the hell out of here?”

  Jake started for the door, but he stopped and turned toward Chantrea. “You didn’t seem to like the general. Why do you care what happens to him?”

  “Because my other uncle happens to run the police department.”

  Great. Now this same same but different lady boy would have both sides of the law after him.

&
nbsp; Alexandra punched Chantrea in the mouth, knocking her out and probably keeping her from performing for a while until the bruise sank.

  Then Jake and Alexandra walked out with purpose, catching a tuk tuk out front. When the driver asked for a direction, Jake had the man go to their current hotel. They grabbed their bags in a hurry and jumped into another tuk tuk. They did this, changing tuk tuks, a few times until they finally got out and walked the last two blocks to the only five-star hotel in Siem Reap.

  21

  Jake and Alexandra checked into the five-star hotel along a quiet river on the road to Angkor Wat. He used a Eurocard that matched his Austrian passport, linked to a bogus Innsbruck address that would have been right in the middle of the Inn River.

  When they got to their room, Jake pulled everything out of his backpack and assessed the value of every item. Not a single item could not be easily replaced. The electronics were tools with no real value to him. He had already uploaded everything from his laptop to his secure server and then scrubbed the hard drive. The machine was now nothing more than a boat anchor. But instead of leaving it intact, he smashed it against the tile floor. Then he filled the bathtub. As it filled, he ripped the cord from a lamp and brought it to the bathroom. Then he threw all of his electronics, except for his secure cell phone, into the bath water. Alexandra had done the same thing with all of her electrical equipment. Then Jake plugged the old lamp cord into and outlet and threw the hot wire into the bathtub, bringing a nice display of sparks as the electrical boards fried.

  The two of them went back into the bedroom area and looked over their clothes, most of which were dirty. They both found remaining black items and put them on.

  “I hate to leave these shoes behind,” Alexandra said to Jake as she clutched a pair of nice black pumps.

  “When this is done, I’ll buy you anything you want,” he said. “Jenkins will pay the expense.”

  She smiled. “He might think you’ve become the same same but different.”

  “Ha, ha.” Jake checked over his Glock and made sure it had a round in the chamber. Then he counted the rounds in the two extra magazines. Back in the day he wasn’t a big fan of the Glock, but over time he had gotten used to the boxy look over their practical usefulness. The Glock was nearly thought-proof. And they came out of the box firing small groups. With no safety, they were simply point and shoot.

  Alexandra had done an equal assessment of her own Glock.

  “Together we have over a hundred rounds,” Jake said.

  “We might need every one,” she reasoned. “Did you catch the two guys in the lobby?”

  “Three,” he corrected. “The third guy sat at the bar with his back to the front desk, checking us out in the mirror behind the alcohol.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. A lefty, though. Carries his gun on his left hip.”

  “Nice catch. Okay, so that’s three that we know about. There has to be more up on the penthouse floor.”

  Jake guessed the same thing. “Right. And the hotel elevator requires a special key card to get up there.”

  Alexandra shoved her gun into an inside-the-pants holster on her right hip and covered that with a black cotton shirt. Everything else she planned to bring with her was stuffed into multiple pockets on her black cargo pants. “So what’s the plan?”

  “We need this guy alive,” Jake declared.

  “That makes it much harder.”

  “I know. But we need to clear up the motivation behind Remington. Something just isn’t right with how everything went down.”

  She nodded agreement.

  Jake had insisted at the front desk that they be assigned the highest floor in the hotel. He specifically requested the penthouse, but that was already taken—which he guessed to be the case. So the desk clerk had offered a suite on the floor just below the penthouse.

  “Do you suppose they have fire codes in Cambodia?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, but the stairwell will probably be locked to the top floor. They can get out, but we can’t get in.”

  Jake smiled as he closed in on her. He released a button from her blouse, exposing a nice cleavage. “This should unlock a door or two.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said, “especially after the same same but different club tonight. Maybe you should show off your chest. They might like that more here.”

  He shook his head. “No, that’s a niche club. I’ve been watching how the locals look at you. Most still want what you have to offer.”

  She ran her fingers up to the side of his short hair and scratched at his temple. “And you?”

  “You know how I feel about you.”

  “Do I?”

  Jake had a terminal problem verbalizing his feelings. He liked to think he showed those he loved through his actions, but he knew this was a flaw that had kept him single for all these years. Well, that and the fact that he never stayed in one place long enough to really establish and solidify a relationship.

  “It’s hard for me,” he had to admit to her.

  “I know. We all thought you would get back together with Toni. But now she’s gone.”

  “And she died before she could tell me about my son.”

  “Have you been able to spend any time with him?”

  Jake shook his head. “No. We met for five minutes. I have since run a background check on him. He seems like a fine young man.”

  “You’ll have time to catch up after we’re done here,” she assured Jake.

  “Assuming we don’t get killed.”

  “There’s always that.”

  “Come on. Let’s show off that nice chest of yours.”

  They both looked over the room one last time to make sure they could live with what they left behind. Then they headed out toward the stairwell. Jake checked out the security cameras at the end of the hallway and hoped they weren’t being actively monitored.

  Getting up through the stairwell to the top floor, Jake checked the door. It was locked. He pulled his gun and stepped behind where the door would open.

  Alexandra adjusted her breasts to expose more flesh. Then she started to knock on the metal fire door. Not too loud, but noisy enough to get some attention from an alert security guard.

  When Jake heard footsteps coming, he grasped the door handle with his left hand and kept his Glock along his right leg.

  As the door opened and Alexandra could see who it was, she pled to the man in German, saying she was running from her husband and needed help.

  Before the security guard could say a word, Jake opened the door and shoved his gun at the man’s face. The guard ran, yelling something in Chinese.

  Jake rushed into the private hallway, his gun pointing his way ahead. Alexandra was right behind him.

  The first bullets whizzed by Jake, striking the window at the end of the hallway. Jake narrowed his signature with a one-hand hold on his Glock, firing three times at the two men ahead. Both men scurried behind a service cart.

  Jake took that as a sign to rush forward, closing the distance in a dead run. When the men poked their heads out, Alexandra, who was prone on the low carpet, shot four times, dropping the man on the right side of the cart.

  With a final push, Jake slammed his right foot into the metal cart, crashing it into the one who had answered the door.

  As the man hit the floor on his back, Jake was on the guy in a second, kicking the guy in the face and knocking him out.

  Turning to see Alexandra approaching, Jake raised his gun toward her. She hit the floor a second before Jake shot twice at a man behind her, dropping him in a crumpled ball onto the floor. It was one of the men from the lobby.

  Alexandra shook her head as she got up and walked toward Jake. “That was close,” she whispered. “Is that one dead?”

  “No.”

  Just then the elevator bell dinged and the light above the door lit up.

  “Crap,” Jake yelled. He looked at the penthouse door and realized they were trapp
ed. The other man from the lobby would show up either in the elevator or the staircase.

  When the elevator door opened, Jake was ready with his gun. Bullets struck the wall next to his head, but he just ducked and fired three times, hitting nothing. Jake pulled himself out of view across from the penthouse door. Then with a rush he flung himself at the double wooden doors, hitting the structure right next to the handles. He hit the floor with a thud, the wind nearly taken from him.

  Alexandra covered for Jake, shooting toward the elevator.

  Recovered now, Jake got up and slammed his left shoulder against the door. It gave but didn’t collapse all the way.

  Now Alexandra turned and shot twice more toward the stairwell emergency exit. “One more time, big guy,” she yelled in German.

  Jake backed up, his gun ready to fire, and he hit the door one last time with his shoulder. The door collapsed and crashed inward. Jake rushed in, his gun aimed at anything that could be a target.

  Alexandra was right behind him, taking a position at the door.

  Hurrying through the large penthouse, Jake cleared every room while Alexandra kept firing.

  “I hear sirens,” Alexandra yelled. This time in English.

  Jake came back to the front door and said, “The place is empty.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Nodding, Jake said, “Yeah. I checked everywhere.”

  “Probably out at the same same but different bar,” she joked.

  Not answering, Jake went out to the hallway and shot twice toward the exit and twice toward the elevator. Then he grasped the security guard he had knocked out and dragged the man back into the room.

  “Hold them back for a minute,” Jake said.

  “You got it, boss,” she quipped.

  Before Alexandra could shoot again, gunfire erupted out by the stairwell, the blasts echoing through the building.

  “We’ve got more company,” she yelled.

  “Police?”