The Worth of Souls

by T. Martin O’Neil

  “Yes, I want it. And no, we did not discuss any price,” responded Fang. “The information will be worth what I decide it is worth. If we continue to have these little differences of opinion, the price will go down since I’ll feel you really don’t have what I need.” He motioned with his head towards the writhing bouncer on the dirty floor.

  The pimp motioned for Fang to follow him to the back of the bar. Here he had sort of an office. He motioned for the bar maid to bring them two more “unopened Perriers.”

  Through the beaded curtain so typical of such establishments was a small table attended by three young Oriental girls in outfits so skimpy that there was nothing left to the imagination. Even Victoria had a secret. These girls’ secret was more on display than any underwear models.

  The pimp motioned for the girls to leave and go make some money instead of wasting valuable time on nothing. He sat down. Left on the table was a glass with a liquid that appeared to be some sort of rot-gut booze.

  The Perriers arrived and Fang opened both. He handed Mei-Li one and took a drink out of the other.

  “Now tell me,” started Fang. “What was so worthless that your friend almost got killed for it?”

  “He’s only a stupid fool,” replied the pimp. “As I said last night, I do not know a Lian-Na who works the streets here. There was such a girl several years ago, and she was so much in demand that she was moved. The man you are looking for was Quyen Phuc. He has a home near Sattahip. No one bothers him and for your own health and well-being, I would recommend you do the same.”

  Fang looked quickly at Mei-Li. This name had surfaced before at Mohamed Rayyan’s home. Both knew the implications and the consequences.

  “I need to verify your sources. Who was her pimp here in Bangkok?” queried Fang.

  “His name Apinya,” came the reply quickly and without hesitation. “He got into dispute with Quyen Phuc and now no more. Quyen Phuc control all activity in Thailand. Him big operator.”

  “Who is Rian Mar?” snapped Fang.

  “He try to take operation from Quyen Phuc. He also no more,” came the reply. “Quyen Phuc a very bad man.”

  Fang doled out $200 worth of American greenbacks. If this pans out, there will be another $300 coming your way.

  “The safest way out is out the back and turn left. Not use front,” the pimp smiled a wan smile. “Ulon not like you. Kill you.”

  Chapter 24

  Employer Justice

  1240, Near Satahip, Thailand

  Bee looked incredulously at the Citroen that had pulled up to the gate. In it were three people besides the driver. Fang and Mei-Li plus another who obviously had the fear and respect of the guards.

  “What the hell is going on?” quietly queried Bee to Spoke. “What are they doing here? Are they prisoners too?” The guards had abject fear instilled in them at the arrival of the car. Now things were coming together. They appeared to be guests of the third man.

  “Wait until dark and we’ll pay them a visit. Maybe their search is overlapping ours,” Bee thought more out loud than he’d intended. Could it all be that simple? Maybe Lian-Na was one of the overseers. Would that make it simpler or harder? Until they could move back into the jungle more, they just had to maintain continued mute vigilance and work their plan.

  Senior Chief moved toward them from his vantage point. “Isn’t that Fang?” he uttered incredulously.

  A silent nod from Bee brought up their binoculars simultaneously as if on cue. Everyone watched.

  Mei-Li looked preoccupied with things around them. Fang appeared more focused on the compound as if he were mentally preparing an escape route. Spoke recognized his friend’s intent immediately. They were there not entirely of their own doing.

  The last man out of the car exuded an air of ownership and demanded absolute obedience just by his presence. His very appearance caused all the other individuals to immediately shrink from him. It appeared this was the scum-sucking Quyen Phuc.

  Bee made a quick decision. He motioned to Senior Chief.

  “Senior,” Bee whispered. “Pull everyone back except you and Obermeyer. You two will watch the compound. We need to form a new plan. We’ll come back and run it by you.” Obermeyer was the best of the sniper-qualified shooters and was usually chosen to provide “over-watch” duties.

  Senior Chief nodded and moved to contact the other five men. Then, he and Obermeyer watched closely for any change to the status quo. Bee, Spoke and the other four moved back into the jungle to their hide.

  Five minutes later, the two shots were clearly audible. A scream from a hysterical woman followed. Bee and Spoke moved quickly back to where the Senior Chief lay.

  “Someone is really pissed off down there,” whispered the Senior Chief. “At first, we thought we’d been spotted and they were shooting at us, but then the woman came running from the cook shack with her sarong half torn off. I think someone must have gotten his talleywhacker caught in his zipper.”

  All four watched as the body of a man was drug from behind the cook shack and out through the main gate. Next, his wrists and ankles were lashed to two poles; his body spread-eagle forming an X between the two poles. Then, four other men lifted the still alive body vertical with him dangling.

  The man who had accompanied Fang and Mei-Li and seemed to be Quyen Phuc, stepped forward and with a deft move disemboweled him with a machete-sized knife that had a wretched-looking sharpened hook-blade on the end. No audible sounds were heard except for the simpering, anguished cries of the recipient.

  It was clear. This man had become an example of what not to do. He then turned to the woman who’d run screaming into the compound.

  Quyen walked over to her prone body and raised her up with the hook-shaped point of the knife. He then gently let the weight of the blade slide through the red silk fabric. It was sharp. Her sarong fell away exposing her breasts and stomach. He then raised the flat of the blade to her throat. It was apparent she was getting a full dosage of fear from the man. His body language indicated he was in complete control of her and her future existence. She fell to her knees and appeared to worship him. Placated, he stepped back from her and turned away.

  She ran to the prisoner hut. All in the compound watched. There was no doubt from the stiffened poses of the individuals that they were in abject fear of him.

  Movement at one of the windows in the large plantation-style house implied that the “guests” of Quyen Phuc also watched the drama and its execution of punishment.

  Several men grabbed the frame holding the still squirming, disemboweled man and carried it to two obviously well-used holes by the front gate. This faced the approach road. Here they dropped it into the holes in the ground. The dogs stayed their distance as if to signal that they knew when they would get their chance. Then the men left the body for the consumption of the dogs and any local fauna if any was left over. Most of these creatures would come out at night and consume what they could before being discovered. Truly the Law of Tooth and Fang.

  Fang and Mei-Li watched in horror from the window of Quyen Phuc’s home as the drama unfolded. No wonder the individuals were so fearful of this man. He was as ruthlessly evil as any they’d ever seen. Fang thought that he’d known a lot of evil men in his professional experience, but this man was more cold-blooded than any he’d ever come across.

  Quyen entered the entry corridor. He appeared to have virtually no conscience or concern for the act he’d just committed.

  “Please pardon my housekeeping issues. Seems so hard to get good employees these days,” he intoned. “His governing master was his sex-drive, not his obedience to the rules of the house.”

  Fang questioned, “Do you have many issues with workers disobeying your rules?”

  “Fortunately, no,” was the reply. “Most of my employees know the way to remain on the correct side of the master. This one was a new employee and apparently had his eye on one of my other employees. This makes for a difficult working relationship and not
a happy workplace.” Quyen smiled a wan smile. “Now our world will not have any unsavory issues,” he paused for effect, “for a while.”

  Fang thought to himself that it certainly was an effective method of employer/employee discussions of workforce rule obedience. His thoughts flashed to his own workplace. Perhaps this was the way he should take care of office problems and office politics at home. That included Kao Myan Cho his junior inspector at home. He could do it all in one swipe. He did not smile.

  Mei-Li sat next to Fang on the multi-embroidered tan French Baroque couch. Fang felt her closeness and realized she truly knew he was her protector.

  As if on que, lemonade suddenly arrived. It was truly refreshing. In this heat and humidity, a drink of this nature was much more ideal than anything else. It seemed to have a slight hint of papaya in it. The taste was interesting, sweetness set-apart by the tartness of the lemons.

  Quyen looked at his glass. He smiled, “I see you also admire the blessing of natural flavors accenting the tartness of the lemon. We feel it expresses the saying that we can make ‘lemonade from lemons’ but still keep the bitter from our lips.” Again, he smiled at his own cleverness at the turn of a phrase.

  “You made it clear to my employee that you desired to talk of a young lady named Lian-Na?” he continued.

  “Yes,” the reply was short and to the point. Fang continued, “We have need of information of a girl from Hong Kong by that name. This would have been almost 10 years ago.”

  “Why do you seek her?” Quyen asked.

  “She is the daughter of a member of the French Consulate,” Fang continued. “My wife and I were coming to Thailand for a vacation and thought to do some work on this cold case while we were here.”

  Mei-Li remained quiet and forced a look of subservience to her face. She was anything but subservient at this point. She wanted to know, and know now, how this scum would enter her life and enrage her life by his actions. She wanted to wretch just looking at him. His smugness. His air of superiority. She wondered what he’d look like at the muzzle end of her husband’s revolver. She also wondered what he’d think the last milliseconds before meeting his maker. It gave her a base mentally to build her ability to remain outwardly calm.

  “Are you a policeman then?” he asked.

  “Yes, I work for one of the many agencies employed by the French,” Fang responded but laid the groundwork for a possible cover adjustment.

  “Yes, I see,” Quyen quietly said. “Is this girl related to your beautiful wife?”

  He clearly saw the interest and family resemblance Mei-Li had. Even though nothing was previously said to anyone about her presence with Fang, the subterfuge associated with “a work vacation” was now very much out of the bag.

  Mei-Li barely moved, but the hair on her neck stood on end as she now feared her very presence might cause real problems in finding her sister. Fang had been right when he’d done his best to dissuade her from coming. She recognized she seemed to be forcing them into significant danger.

  “Yes,” Fang responded. “They are sisters.”

  “And the part about the French Consulate? Is that true?” Quyen continued evenly.

  “Yes,” Fang tried to remain as calm and detached as Quyen seemed to be. “There is no crime or criminal punishment associated with this information, just closure to what is left of a small, close family.”

  “I see,” Quyen said. “And how may I assist you in this quest?”

  “Many people told me that if I wanted to find a person of unique background, you were one that had great knowledge of such people,” replied Fang. His inquiry was now one of a detached law enforcement officer instead of a concerned brother-in-law.

  “You are gracious,” responded Quyen. “What kind of person would have a background that I, a low and humble servant, would have?”

  “Many have said you might be familiar with a girl who had a name like Lian-Na.” Fang waited to see if there was any indication of recognition at the name.

  Quyen might be pretty good at hiding his emotions, but it was obvious this name struck a chord in his mind, perhaps even in his heart.

  “I do remember a girl such as you mention,” whispered Quyen. His look was far away in another day and time.

  Fang persisted. “Was she one of the women you knew personally?” Fang realized Mei-Li was going to have to hear this even though he was trying to be gentle. “How did you know her?”

  Quyen sat for a number of quiet, reflective minutes. It was painfully obvious Lian-Na was someone who was not only close, but possibly intimate with him. He started to speak but measured his response very guardedly. “Yes….. I knew her well….. She became my wife….. Often she sat where you are sitting and would look blankly at that painting….. It was if she knew the place and wanted to be there.”

  The painting he was referring to was a beautiful, hand-painted rain-scape of what could be any Far Eastern city, but did have similarities to the busy shopping districts of Hong Kong. He knew her background, but never associated the painting with her early growing up years until some five years later. She told him one evening about her mother and sister that she missed terribly and that the painting reminded her of them.

  Mei-Li lost her poise. She started to sob with a body-wracking, quiet sob that said more than could be said in words.

  Quyen looked away and seemed to lose his composure as well. The quiet remained for some five minutes or so. Finally, he told of the last days of her life. She’d developed a disease that had been passed from one of the clientele she had in Sattahip. She’d struggled for months decreasing with life signs until one day, she never awakened. This was about a year ago. She had been buried on the seaward side of the compound. It was a place she often liked to go. It was peaceful and allowed her to take trips in her mind and heart.

  The doctor they had for their business, could rarely help her with the pain. Finally, he knew she would not respond further to medications or pain-decreasing substances. He feared Quyen would take the death out on him. He could not have helped her, nor would he allow himself to be tortured, and one day was found in his apartment hanging from a beam. He’d taken his own life.

  Acting on his law enforcement agent instincts, Fang felt Quyen was vulnerable enough that he might reveal other information, he simply asked, “Do you currently have a young American by the name Patty Stephens?”

  Quyen responded simply, “Yes.” The sound of his voice was almost detached from his body. Here was this man who dealt in human misery daily and had just killed another only minutes before, openly admitting to essentially killing these little children.

  “May we take her home to her family?” Fang was racing from thought to thought. He had touched the heart-strings of one of the world’s most evil men and he wasn’t going to give up now.

  Quyen realized that he’d admitted to a world-class criminal act – an act so despicable that getting any kind of show of mercy from Fang would be impossible. He could not even hope to bargain for the lives of these children much less expect there would be any mercy from their families. Governments could be bribed, but parents affected by the loss of a child would show no mercy.

  Fang continued. “There are several others here. Will you permit me to take these children to their homes?” The request sounded hollow, but Fang and Mei-Li realized it was sincere. Perhaps Lian-Na had died for a reason, to allow these girls to go home and not suffer the horror she’d gone through.

  Fang now thought that the best move had been to bring Mei-Li with him. True, if things had been a little different, she could have compromised the entire mission, but now, that was only a dislocated, removed possibility. They’d discovered what had happened to Lian-Na and had found Patty Stephens. Wait until Spoke found this out. The previously cemented bonds of friendship would become permanent bonds of brotherhood.

  He thought for a moment, mission accomplished.

  Chapter 25

  The Escape

  1430, Near Sattahip
, Thailand

  Obermeyer saw movement near the house. Three people came out on to the veranda and walked to the stairs. They headed toward the outlying hut where the prisoners were being held.

  “Psssst. Senior Chief! There are three heading for the prison hut,” he whispered.

  The Senior Chief moved over to look. Sure enough, the three were moving to the hut everyone had begun calling the prison hut.

  “Go get the Skipper,” he whispered. “I’ll watch to see if they go anywhere else.”

  Obermeyer quickly and quietly moved back from the edge of the jungle to the temporary camp.

  “Sir, it looks like there is to be some movement around the prison hut,” he reported, excitement exuding from his voice. “We can’t tell, but Fang and Mei-Li were being led to the hut a few minutes ago. We couldn’t tell if they were prisoners or not. Senior Chief is watching. We’d better get there soon.”

  Everyone saddled up and headed behind Bee and Spoke to the oversight location.

  They moved quickly to where the Senior Chief watched intently. Quyen walked out of the hut followed by the blue sarong prison matron. Then Fang and Mei-Li came out followed by 7 young girls including one who was very much a strawberry blond as well as a light brunette who appeared western in genetics. Lastly the prison matron who had been the object of the unpleasantness only an hour before. She’d taken off her tattered red sarong and replaced it with a flowered one.

  With all the activity in the compound, the SEAL’s could have had a marching band on the hill and no one would have moved or realized they were even there. The guards appeared transfixed by very presence of Quyen, the focus of their attention centered on him.

  Fang and Mei-Li gathered the girls like chicks to a mother hen. It was then that both Spoke and Bee realized the op may be over. No one was yelling or shooting and the girls were crying the cry of relief not pain or angst.

  1600

  The SEAL Magnaphone (MX2020P) was carefully aimed and tuned to an available satellite and the dispatch sent – “Chicken in nest. Chicken in nest. Request transportation to henhouse. Out.”