It had been years since he had been in this part of a ship, but it still seemed familiar. The steady hum of the auxiliary engine, the smell of oil, that strange lighting and how the rows of pipes seemed to run on forever. Ships were different now, all that computer crap making it impossible for a ship to disappear. He had had some good years in the eighties, before every ship worth stealing installed a GPS system. The best was that freighter out of Oman. That had set it all up for him, allowed him to move into Phuket, take over, even allowing him to get out of the piracy game altogether. Just in time, too.
His men were moving ahead, two checking the stairwell, the third on his phone, getting directions to the bridge, when Jarin saw the boy. He was squeezed in between a pair of standpipes, pulled back into the shadows, and Jarin would have missed him if the yellow cap of a stun gun hadn’t given him away. Jarin stopped and the guards moved back toward him, but he waved them off. Still, they kept their weapons trained on the gap. Jarin bent down and looked at the boy. “Sawatdee krup,” he said, bringing his palms together around the butt of his pistol, giving his head a slight nod. He felt himself smiling, and it surprised him.
“Sawatdee krup,” Ngern said. He bowed his head but kept his eyes and the stun gun on Jarin.
“You’re what, ten years old?” Jarin said. “I have a daughter your age. Her name is Jaa.”
“I am Ngern and I am eight and a half years old.”
“Really? You look older. Tell me, Ngern, why do you have that gun?”
The boy wet his lips but didn’t say anything.
“If you are going to carry a gun like that you should learn how to use it. You have the safety on so it won’t shoot. There, just above your thumb,” Jarin tapped the spot on his own pistol to show him. “You need to flick that little lever up.”
Ngern tilted the gun to look. “This?”
“Yes, just push it up. There, it is armed,” Jarin said, not knowing if it was or it wasn’t, just knowing that the boy now trusted him. “If we see any pirates, you will need to zap them, all right? Come on, get out of there before you get stuck.”
Ngern turned his shoulders and stepped out, lowering his arms. Jarin patted his shoulder. He let him keep the gun. “Are you a member of the crew?” Jarin said, and off to the side he could see that that made one of his men smile.
“No, uncle. I am on a trip with my aunt and her friends. They are from America.”
Jarin’s eyes narrowed. “From America? What are their names?”
“My aunt’s name is Prisana but we call her Pim. There is also Mr. Mark and Miss Robin. They are the Americans.”
“You are Pim’s nephew,” Jarin said, and grunted once. “I did not know you were so young.”
“My great-grandfather was with us too, but my aunt’s husband, Mr. Shawn, he killed him.” Ngern looked down at the gun in his hand, then back up at Jarin. “I don’t like Mr. Shawn.”
“Me either,” Jarin said.
“Can we go see my aunt now? Please?”
He looked at the boy—at his big puppy dog eyes—and sighed. “Yes,” he said, standing, “it’s time we get this over.”
***
“Stop looking at me like that,” Robin said.
Smiling, Pim reached over and brushed a stray hair out of Robin’s face, Robin slapping her hand away.
“What do you expect? You saved her life,” Mark said.
“Yeah, keep reminding me.”
They were on the floor of the dining hall, Robin lying down, her feet up on a chair to keep from going into shock, Pim sitting on one side, Mark on the other. Two men leaned against the wall on either side of the door, their weapons lowered but their fingers still on the triggers, a third pacing the room, a cell phone held to his ear. The man had a deep voice for a Thai, and by the way he waved his free hand—angling up flights of stairs and hooking left and right at each turn—it was obvious he was giving directions. In a dark corner of the dining hall, under an overturned table riddled with bullet holes, one of the pirates stared out at Mark, a look of surprise frozen on his lifeless face.
“How you feeling?” Mark asked Robin.
“Like I want to puke. And a little cold.”
Pim slid her hand under Robin’s shoulder, holding her fingers behind Robin’s head to show Mark the blood.
“I will get you a blanket,” Pim said and stood, the two guards snapping their weapons up to their shoulders, shouting at her in Thai as Jarin entered the room. He raised his hand and they fell silent, lowering their weapons.
“Excuse me, sir,” Ngern said in Thai, squeezing around Jarin’s legs, pushing the stun gun into the man’s fat hand before running into Pim’s outstretched arms. For a moment no one said a word.
Jarin cleared his throat. “Congratulations, Mr. Mark Rohr. Your UN mission is a success.”
“UN mission?” Robin said, leaning up on her good arm.
“I’ll explain later,” Mark said to her as he slowly rose, the guards’ guns rising with him.
“Oh, I suppose that any minute your men will be swarming over the ship, helicopters in the air. Perhaps even a submarine?”
“Everything I told you about Shawn’s plan was true. Ask your men about the pirates or get one of the crew members up here, they’ll confirm what I said.”
“All of this,” Jarin waved his pistol as he spoke, “it all started when Mr. Shawn lied to me. His lies cost me one hundred and eighty thousand US dollars. Now you lie to me. What new problems will this bring for me?”
“None,” Mark said. “It’s over. Shawn is dead.”
Jarin stepped closer, the guards stepping in with him. “And I am still owed the money. Who will pay for that? You?”
“The terrorists will pay you. They’re coming at daybreak, just a small group of them. And they’re bringing the money. More than enough to cover the debt.”
Jarin’s smile disappeared. “You are a proven liar, Mr. Mark Rohr,” he said, wagging the barrel of the pistol like an accusing finger. “But you picked a good time to tell the truth. My men learned about the payment from some of the pirates they…questioned. We do not have much time to prepare, but I am certain we can give them a warm reception when they arrive.”
Mark nodded. “We can put a few men—”
“We will do nothing. You are leaving.”
“I’m not going anywhere without my friends.”
Jarin glanced down at Robin, Pim, and Ngern. “They are your problem now,” he said, walking away, the guards backing out with him. He stopped at the door, turned back and pointed the pistol at Mark’s chest, the guards stepping aside. “I will ask you a question. You will tell me the truth.”
Here it comes, thought Mark.
“Do you follow any rules?”
Mark stepped forward, moving away from the others, Jarin’s pistol following him, a clear shot now if that’s what he wanted. “What kind of rules?”
“Rules to live by. Do you have any?”
He was ten feet away from the end of the barrel, impossible to miss. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, clearing his mind. Ready now, he looked at Jarin. “I have a couple left.”
“Then allow me to give you one more. It is called Rule Number Ten,” he said, lowering the gun. “Every dog has its day. This is your day, Mr. Mark Rohr. Make the most of it.”
Chapter Thirty five
“How’s your squid omelet?” JJ pulled the fat curls of his dreadlocks behind his ears.
“Different,” Mark said between rubbery chews.
“See? That’s why this place could be a gold mine. It’s got everything.” JJ held up his hand and counted off. “One. Great location. It’s the closest restaurant to the beach and it’s surrounded by all these nice, inexpensive hotels that tourists love.”
“And if they’re lookin
g for something different,” Frankie Corynn said, “there’s always the Phuket Inn by the Sea.”
“Exactly. Okay, two. Unique menu.”
Mark looked down at the stubby tentacles that poked out of a mound of scrambled eggs. In the five mornings he had eaten here it was the most recognizable meal so far. “No argument there.”
“Three. You can not beat the view,” JJ said, gesturing toward a trio of Australian tourists in matching bikinis who sashayed down the beach, past the spot where Pim and Ngern played in the surf, Ngern’s laughter louder than the waves.
“Beautiful,” Mark said.
“Yeah…” JJ said, his eyes glazing over as he stared, snapping back when a scooter roared past. “And Patong is safe, too.”
Frankie shook her head, which made her frizzy red hair bounce. “That’s not what I heard, JJ.”
“What are you talking about? It’s a hell of a lot safer than Phuket City.”
“Maybe,” Frankie said. “But according to the scuttlebutt, the police found the bodies of some suspected terrorists on this drifting long-tail a couple days ago.”
Mark sipped his pineapple juice.
“Oh that,” JJ said, waving it off. “That’s different. I’m telling you, this is the closest I’ll get to paradise.”
“That’s true for all of us,” Frankie said.
“Pim says we can get a good price on the lease on this café, that way we can offer package deals, like stay the night at the inn and get breakfast or something. She’s smart,” JJ said tapping a finger to the side of his head. “Got all sorts of ideas.”
“Watch it, you’ll be working for her before you know it.”
“If I’m lucky. Hey,” he said, raising his voice. “Don’t look now, here comes trouble.” He pushed out a metal chair with his foot and Robin sat down, setting her stuffed backpack by her feet. Her eyes were red, her hair was still wet from the shower and there were green and yellow tints to the fierce bruises around her bandaged shoulder, yet somehow she was still more attractive than the models trolling the beach. “How you doing this morning, sweetheart?”
“Hung over,” she moaned. “What was in those drinks?”
JJ held up his hands. “I warned you that Frankie mixes a mean Mai Tai, but no, you didn’t listen. Look at Mark here, you didn’t see him slamming down the drinks, getting all crazy.”
“I didn’t get crazy,” Robin said.
“Relatively speaking.”
Mark took a bite of his eggs. “You find an internet place?”
She nodded. “I checked in online. Up to Bangkok, anyway. Oh, and I found this, too.” She pulled a folded paper from the back pocket of her shorts and tossed it on the table. “It’s a list of arrivals at the port in Chennai. The Morning Star docked yesterday, delayed due to engine problems off Phuket.”
“So what time’s your flight?” Mark said.
“One o’clock. Which reminds me.” She bent over and unzipped a side pocket of her backpack. “Here’s your return ticket. It’s an open booking, you just let them know a few days in advance when you want to leave. And then there’s this.” She held out a plain white envelope. “It’s only eleven hundred. I’ll send the rest to you when I get back to Ohio. It’ll take a couple months, but I’ll get it to you.”
Mark took the envelope and opened it, pulling out five twenties before handing it back. “That’s plenty. You’ll need it more than me. I’m all set here.”
JJ laughed. “You’re not staying at the inn if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“And I hope you’re not thinking you can get that bouncer job back,” Frankie said.
“No,” Mark said, finishing off the last tentacle, “I’m heading south. Koh Lanta. I’ve got to tell a Canadian woman that she and I are the new owners of F and A Divers.”
Robin looked at JJ and Frankie and they all looked back at Mark. “You? A business owner? In Thailand?”
Mark smiled and raised his empty juice glass. “Would I lie to you?”
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Noble Lies Page 25