Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel

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Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel Page 30

by Bethany Maines


  Staggering up the dock, she took stock of where she was. It was nowhere she knew. But looking along the shoreline, she guessed that she had drifted around a short bend in the river, and the fastest way to get back to anywhere was a long walk in the generally forward direction.

  She had gone only a few steps when a headlight swept into view, pinning her in its glare. She raised her hand against the light, but knew that she was toast, history, done for. Instead of the sound of a gun or Val’s angry voice, she heard a voluble stream of Thai.

  “Bad men!” her tuk-tuk driver said, emerging from the vehicle. He grasped her by the arm and pushed her toward the back of the cab. “I look for you! Bad men!”

  “Bad men!” he said again, and Nikki nodded her agreement. “Stupid girl!” he said, shaking his finger at her.

  Nikki nodded again. “Stupid girl,” she agreed. And he frowned, as he helped her into the tuk-tuk.

  “You don’t have to help me,” she said plaintively, but not wanting him to stop, as he drove toward her hotel.

  “Must help,” he said, eyeing her in the rearview mirror, and then turning back to look at her as he paused at a red light. “Karma.”

  Nikki wondered what he’d done in a past life that could possibly have merited her. The night air of Bangkok flowed over her. It carried a hot, torpid smell of a city at rest, layered with car exhaust and the scent of fresh jasmine that tried to remind everyone of the sweetness of life, but could never quite compete with the cacophony that was Bangkok.

  Her cell phone rang. Nikki eyeballed it suspiciously, not recognizing the phone number.

  “Yeah?” said Nikki.

  “Nikki, it’s Jane.”

  “Jane?”

  “I don’t have a lot of time, but I need to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Don’t call in.”

  “What?” Nikki was confused.

  “Don’t call in. Don’t e-mail. Dr. Hastings is going to call you back to California.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t, either. I think it’s political. I talked to Mrs. Merrivel, and I’m . . . Yes! I’ll be right there!” Jane was bellowing at someone else, but Nikki’s head jerked back at the noise. “I have to go now. Don’t call in. I’ll contact you in twelve hours.”

  “Twelve hours? Jane . . .” But the line had already gone dead. “Shit,” said Nikki, staring at her phone.

  THAILAND XIV

  After Shot

  They pulled up to the front of the hotel, and Nikki exited slowly, wincing at every movement.

  “Thank you,” she said to the tuk-tuk driver. She wanted to say more, but a language barrier and pain stopped her attempts to utter anything but the most basic of emotions. The driver smiled and shrugged, and Nikki shook her head.

  “Why did you come looking for me?” she asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “We must embrace the road,” he said, gesturing out before him to indicate the path before them all. “Just not too hard,” he added, and poked at one of her bruises. Nikki smiled painfully, and he drove off with a wave. She thought about not going inside, but realized that Val thought she was dead. The hotel was probably, the safest place to be.

  Once inside her room, she stripped off her clothes, trying to keep what little momentum she had left, and examined the damage.

  Her right hip had a raw gouge and a bruise that radiated out from it in a yellowish puffiness. Her back was laced with scrapes and scratches, and her legs also had their share of scrapes. But her rib cage showed the real damage, with three quarter-size welts that were already starting to spread and turn purple.

  Nikki limped to the bathroom, waiting until the steam began to rise before stepping into the shower and pulling the curtain closed. Leaning against the cool tile, she felt each cut and scratch send up a painful wail as the water hit it. After a few minutes everything had settled back down again, and she began to take comfort in the steam.

  The heat of the shower finally began to seem oppressive and her fingers were beginning to prune. She held out for a few more minutes, breathing in the warm, damp air and enjoying the torturous heat for the sake of the fact that the air-conditioned room would now seem cold.

  She dried herself and applied Band-Aids on a need and reach basis. After spending a futile five minutes trying to reach a spot on her back, she reclassified it as “can’t reach” and gave up. She delicately fastened on a sports bra and pulled on sweats. The sweats were junkable, but she didn’t have any shirts she could afford to get blood spots on.

  She was about to choose her least favorite shirt when she heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway and the click of Val’s door being unlocked. She froze for a moment and then ran to her makeup kit. Pulling out the handgun and electronic lock pick, she went out to the hall. Through a crack under the door she saw lights go on in Val’s room and a shadow pass back and forth. She quietly unlocked the door, put her hand on the knob, and took a deep breath.

  Throwing open the door, she dove into the room, shoulder-rolled, and came up with a perfect target on the occupant of the room—who happened to be a small Japanese man. He held up his hands, his eyes wide. Nikki looked around the room in confusion. She could see none of Val’s belongings.

  “Very sorry,” she said, getting up and lowering the gun. She took a glance in the bathroom, hoping to see a bevy of gold butterflies, but found only men’s shaving products. “Wrong room.” She smiled awkwardly and backed toward the door. The man hadn’t moved. His hands were still up. Nikki reached for the door with one hand and waved goodbye with the other, realizing too late that she was waving with the gun hand.

  “Very sorry,” she muttered again, and jumped out of the room, slamming his door shut. After a moment she heard the lock click shut on his side. She walked quickly back to her room and shut the door.

  “Well, that was embarrassing,” she said to herself. Val must have cleaned out her room while Nikki was pulling herself out of the river. Nikki leaned against the door and thought about going down to the bar and getting blind, stinking drunk. It was a good plan. For one thing, it had clear, actionable steps. Pour shot, drink, repeat. Everything else seemed out of her capability. She couldn’t even begin to list the problems she had right now, let alone form a plan for how to solve them.

  She had just made up her mind to go with getting drunk when there was a knock on the door behind her head. She flinched and then took a firmer grip on her gun.

  She opened the door and put the .45 in Lawan’s face. Lawan didn’t move.

  “What?” Nikki said.

  Lawan stared her down, ignoring the gun. “I came to ask for help,” she said at last.

  Nikki felt the bruises on her rib cage and the cuts on her back with a searing clarity. She couldn’t even help herself. “You may wish to reconsider that,” she said, lowering the gun.

  “I hope not,” said Lawan, brushing past her. “Because I need you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nikki asked, shutting the door.

  “I thought I could take Sarkassian on my own, but . . . he’s got my daughter and I’m not any closer than I was two weeks ago. Laura called me. She said you found out about how Sarkassian’s been using the clinic. I went to meet her at the clinic tonight—it was on fire.”

  “Laura . . .” Nikki said, picturing the worst.

  “She wasn’t inside. She got everyone out in time. But it’s just the latest . . .” Lawan paused, clearly trying to maintain control. “He’s going to take everything from me. I can’t let him do that. Laura said you could help. I’m hoping she’s right.”

  “Why’d you disappear?” Nikki asked, stalling and looking for a few answers.

  “I thought that if they couldn’t find me, they couldn’t threaten me, and they’d have to wait until I turned up to make demands. Only, I guess they’ve learned from their mistakes. While I was talking to Laura, a child rode up on a bike and gave me a cell phone. Sarkassian says no waiting. A
straight trade. Me for her.”

  “Wait, back up,” said Nikki. “Just what the hell happened to you?”

  “Bangkok happened,” said Lawan with a shrug.

  “Don’t give me that crap,” said Nikki harshly. “Don’t shovel that ‘it’s a big city, mysterious East, you’re a foreigner, you wouldn’t understand’ line of horse pucky because I’m not buying it! What happened? You were investigating the port, weren’t you? Because of the antiterrorist bill.”

  Lawan made an impatient gesture that ended as she sank down onto the bed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “That’s where it started. I didn’t give a crap about terrorists. I mean, sure, crack down on them, but really . . . it’s about slavery. Women and children are being sold into slavery and shipped out through the ports. The problem has only gotten worse since the tsunami—so many children lost parents and support systems. They are even more vulnerable now than they used to be. I figured if they passed the antiterrorist bill that they’d catch more slavers. Two-for-one special, as it were.” She gave a hollow laugh. “So I was looking into it. Trying to find the biggest offenders and the most efficient ways of catching them. I didn’t expect to catch one selling people out of my clinic.” Her eyes sparkled in anger, her fist thumping on the bed.

  “What happened after you found out?” Nikki sat down beside Lawan, wanting to hug her, but not brave enough to actually reach out.

  “I tried to stop it. I couldn’t wait for the police. I had to save the girls now. And that’s when they took my daughter.”

  “How’d they get her?” Nikki asked.

  “Airport. They tried to get me, but I fought them off. Then they took Lindawati.”

  “Laura said she called Lindawati’s school after you disappeared, but the school wouldn’t confirm that you’d been there.”

  Lawan nodded. “I pay them a lot of money not to answer questions from inquiring strangers, but, yes, I went to get her. With Sarkassian’s international contacts I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t be able to get to her. I was taking her to Saman’s relatives, up in the hills. Once up there, I knew she’d be safe. But we never made it that far. Ever since then, I’ve been moving around the city, never in one place for more than twenty-four hours. I thought I could figure out a way to take him down, but he’s got too many people and too much money. I can’t trust the police. And now he’s offering a trade—her for me. I have to risk it for my daughter’s sake.”

  “He’s not going to let either of you live,” said Nikki.

  “I know that,” Lawan said. “That’s why I’m here. You’re my last hope. Laura says you help women in trouble—that you can’t be bribed or bought or scared off.”

  Nikki stared into the mirror above the desk. Her skin, always pale, had taken on a greenish cast and her eyes looked shadowed and frightened. Her hair formed a sort of golden-red nimbus around her face. She looked like a candle flame and she felt just as easy to extinguish—as if all anyone had to do was blow hard enough and she’d dissipate like smoke.

  “I . . ., ” she began. What could she do? She was alone. She had already failed. Her phone rang. Numbly, she reached for it.

  “Hi,” Jenny said. “Guess where we are?”

  “What?” Nikki couldn’t form a coherent thought. “Guess, what?”

  “Nikki? Nikki, are you all right?” Jenny sounded irritated, like she always did when she was worried.

  “No,” Nikki said flatly.

  “Where are you?” Jenny demanded. “We just landed here. We’ll come and get you.”

  “Who’s we?” Nikki asked, trying to keep up. “Where’s here?”

  “Ellen and me. In Bangkok. We came to help. Where are you?”

  Nikki took a deep breath and felt her lungs expand with relief. Things were going to be OK. She wasn’t alone.

  “I’m at the hotel. What’d you bring with you?”

  “Just the basic equipment,” answered Jenny.

  “Guns,” said Nikki. “You need guns, and I wouldn’t mind having a helicopter.”

  “I can get you a helicopter,” Lawan said.

  “What time is the exchange?” Nikki asked, looking at Lawan.

  “Ten,” she answered.

  Nikki checked her watch. There was less than three hours to go.

  “What’s the location?”

  “They’re going to call a half hour ahead of time and let me know.”

  Nikki nodded. That was smart of them.

  “Nikki?” Jenny’s plaintive voice sounded from the phone.

  “Forget the hotel,” said Nikki. “We don’t have time.” She gave directions to Jenny and hung up the phone. “Were you serious about the helicopter?” she asked Lawan.

  “Yeah, it’s just a little commuter chopper, but it’s a helicopter. My friend uses it for tours and to chauffeur rich people around.”

  “How does he feel about maybe getting shot at?”

  Lawan looked thoughtful. “Probably OK. Some of his clients are drug dealers.”

  “Great,” said Nikki. “Then we’ve got a chance.”

  THAILAND XV

  Second Gear,

  Hang on Tight

  It had taken a few minutes to get dressed and get Lawan committed to the plan. And a couple more minutes to convince Lawan to lend her a motorcycle, but eventually Nikki found herself staring through dirty windows at elephants, with their perennial layers of dust, at the antiques store where she and Val had purchased the guns.

  She slipped down the back alley to survey the back of the shop. It wasn’t any cleaner, but it did at least have the appearance of use. Using a conveniently placed drainpipe, she climbed up onto the second-story balcony of the neighboring building and then onto the roof. There was a small roof garden and a few sun-bleached wooden chairs. Nikki took out her gun and tried the handle of the flimsy door that led to the inside of the shop. It was locked, which surprised but didn’t deter her.

  Her phone rang, buzzing in her pocket.

  “Hey, Ellen,” she said, flipping it open.

  “We’re here,” said Ellen. “I think. Elephants in the window, right?”

  “That’s the place. I’m going in through the back. Give me . . .” She checked her watch and eyeballed the door. “One minute twenty and come in the front.”

  “Got it,” said Ellen. “Starting the clock now.”

  “Yup,” agreed Nikki, and she hung up.

  A firm stomp from Nikki’s foot ended the door’s resistance. No one came running, so she continued her journey down the stairs.

  The stairway from the roof was a narrow, dark place with low ceilings. She crept out of the stairway and into a second story filled with large wooden crates. A quick peek in the crates revealed stack after stack of guns, in all shapes and sizes. A foldaway cot and small electric range burner, along with various other living items, told her that this floor was used for more than storage.

  She ignored it all and opened the door to the first floor. Downstairs she could hear Kovit yelling loudly into his phone. He switched frequently from Thai to English, and it was difficult to follow the conversation. He hung up the phone and threw it across the room.

  “Jeez, Kovit, that’s no way to treat the hardware,” Nikki said, strolling down the stairs, her gun leveled at his chest. He spun around and swallowed hard. He made a sort of jerking motion toward the desk, but Nikki beat him to it and then cracked him across the face as he ran toward her. She removed his gun from the drawer and leaned against the desk, trying to look cool. Her free hand was beginning to shake, so she stuffed it into her pants pocket. She’d never questioned anyone before.

  “What do you want?” asked Kovit, wiping blood out of his eyes.

  “Mrs. Robinson,” Nikki said.

  Kovit laughed. “Do you know who her boyfriend is? Do you know who my main supplier is?”

  “Jirair Sarkassian,” said Nikki. “I want him, too.”

  “And Victor, too, I suppose,” Kovit said bitterly.

  “Nope, he’s t
aken care of.”

  “I suppose you’ve got him tucked away somewhere, while Sarkassian scours the city?” He was slowly edging toward the door to his showroom. She wondered if he thought she was too stupid to notice. There was a wide filing cabinet by the door, and she guessed there was a gun hidden in that general area.

  “Not exactly, but let’s just say Victor is out of the way. Why don’t you give me Sarkassian and Val, and we’ll make it a clean sweep?”

  “Well, aren’t you smart?” he said bitterly.

  “Smarter than you,” she said, as he dove for the door.

  There was the sharp smacking sound of fist on flesh, and Jenny dragged Kovit back into the room.

  “Hi,” said Jenny.

  “Hey,” Nikki said.

  “There’s more of you?” Kovit sounded furious.

  “There’s a whole freaking army, sweet pea,” Jenny said, patting him on the side of the face with a soft slapping sound.

  “Hi, honey,” Ellen said, coming in. “What do you need us to do?”

  “Clean him out,” Nikki said. “The guns are upstairs. Take whatever you need.”

  “What?” yelled Kovit, lunging forward. Jenny yanked him back by his hair. “You can’t do that. That’s my merchandise.”

  “Not anymore,” Nikki said. Ellen marched upstairs, taking a couple of duffel bags with her.

  “Mrs. Robinson is going to kill you,” he said sullenly.

  “She already tried that,” said Nikki, ignoring Jenny’s startled look. “It didn’t take. But wouldn’t you like her to have a second try?”

  “Yes,” he said, squirming under the pressure of Jenny’s hand.

  “Then tell me where they’re meeting this morning,” said Nikki reasonably.

  “I don’t know,” he answered, watching her with angry eyes.

  “But you know people,” Nikki pointed out. “You can find out.”

  “They’ll kill me,” he said.

  “Hell, son,” Jenny said. “I’m going to kill you way before they do.”

  Kovit looked from Jenny to Nikki as if trying to assess how serious they were.

 

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