Redback

by Lindy Cameron

  ‘Oh yeah, does not look good,’ Coop replied, in her head.

  ‘I’m on it, but get ready to back me up.’ Gideon got to her feet. Jana did likewise.

  Bob just looked from one hot woman to the other, knowing full well that Bryn was not asking him for back-up, but wondering why they were both suddenly on high alert.

  ‘Jana, sit,’ Gideon said.

  Never one to be talked to like a dog, Jana behaved like a bad puppy instead. She followed Gideon across the road.

  The three men from the songthaew taxi, meanwhile, had approached Alan’s table. The redheaded westerner dropped to a squat between Alan and his commando, while the Thai guys assumed prime intimidation poses nearby. Gideon loitered with some drunken Germans, as close as she could get without announcing her presence, and near enough to see that Alan’s drinking pal was mighty pissed off at being disturbed.

  No, not disturbed - found. And the body language between the two soldiers unmistakably indicated that the squatting one had a weapon to the other’s guts; either to make him ‘stay quiet’ or ‘come quietly’.

  Gideon could tell that Alan’s commando was primed for the danger that had just joined them; but could also see that the idiot reporter clearly had no idea that something else was now going down; and that life could go pear shaped any second.

  The commando and the redhead stood up together. The fact that Alan did so too was either stupidity on his part or…

  Nope, prize fuckwit at work again. Gideon could now see the gun pushed into the commando’s back.

  ‘Are we going somewhere now?’ Alan asked Steve.

  ‘No, Alan. In fact you just stay here and have another drink, I’ll be right back.’

  I kinda doubt that. Gideon edged closer.

  ‘Are you sure, Steve?’ Alan asked. ‘All we have to do is make a time for our, you know, official chat.’ He wasn’t stupid. Despite the casual clothes and the lesser-build, it was quite obvious to Alan that Steve’s friend was also a soldier. That meant he and Steve probably had commando things to do, and Alan did not want to be sitting around this bar all night waiting for nothing. He was keen to wrap things up for now and go Sophie hunting.

  ‘Who is this guy?’ the redhead asked Steve.

  ‘Alan Wagner, from Sydney, Australia,’ Alan said. ‘I’m…’

  ‘Alan’s an accountant,’ Steve said, ‘here for a big conference.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said the redhead, cheerily. ‘Guess that makes me the taxman then doesn’t it? Steve.’

  An imposing man pushed his way into the space beside Alan and grabbed his arm.

  ‘What the hell? Let me go,’ Alan began, until he saw the look on Steve’s face. It was only then he realised that the Thai bloke hanging onto him was one of two; and that they were with Steve’s friend, who suddenly didn’t seem to be very friendly.

  Alan was about to yell for help, when it registered that the bloke bruising his arm in a giant hand-vice, wasn’t poking him in the ribs with his other hand. Not unless he had very sharp and pointy fingernails.

  The hard cold fact of a mean-looking knife jabbing into his ribs flipped Alan from almost defiant to two notches above completely limp. As his blood sped freezing through the inside of his body, a warm trickle of sweat slid down the outside. No, not sweat. He looked down again.

  The b-bastard stabbed me, Alan thought, looking down at himself in astonishment. Before he even knew it was happening, he and Steve were being escorted from the premises.

  Gideon pushed through the other patrons towards the road. ‘Situation uncontained, guys. Redhead had a gun, there was nothing I could do without risking civilians.’

  ‘What happened, Bryn?’ Coop asked. ‘They obviously only wanted Wagner’s contact.’

  ‘Wagner happened,’ Gideon replied. If only the fool had stayed seated and quiet; but no, not when it counted. Not until now, when he’d obviously been given a very strong message to ‘shut the fuck up or die’. She watched as Alan Wagner, a clenched smile stuck on his face, allowed himself to be bundled into the back of the songthaew by the local muscle. ‘We’ll have to follow them. Triko, you ready?’

  ‘Yes Boss, just pulling up ahead of them.’

  ‘Good. You guys take the lead,’ Gideon said, as she watched Coop jump on the back of Triko’s motorbike and take off just ahead of the songthaew.

  ‘I’ll bring up the rear,’ she added, hailing a tuk-tuk that had pulled into the kerb beside her. She climbed into the little vehicle but discovered, to her mild annoyance, that she was not alone.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chiang Mai, Thailand

  Sunday 9.45 pm

  Gideon spoke to her driver in Thai, and he launched the tuk-tuk out into the traffic, narrowly avoiding a fruit vendor and several tourists. She turned to the other passenger.

  ‘Jana. Next stop, you get out.’ ‘Bryn. No way.’

  Gideon gave a fair dinkum growl. Jana simply raised her eyebrows and tried not to smile.

  ‘Coop, where are you?’

  ‘Just took a left into Sri Donchai Road. We let the songthaew overtake us, so it’s not obvious we’re following. Which we weren’t, but we are now. By the way, there are three bruisers in the back with our guy and his guy. The Doc’s redhead is in the front. Catch up and take the rear, so we can switch places.’

  ‘Will do,’ Gideon said, and gave the driver new instructions. ‘Why are you here?’

  Jana, hanging tightly to the side of the tuk-tuk as it turned left on two of its three wheels, pointed helpfully ahead when the songthaew that held Alan captive came into view. Their own driver overtook two of the vehicles in front, leaving another two cars and a motorbike between them and the target vehicle.

  The small songthaew taxi-trucks, with bench seats that ran the length of the roofed tray, were normally open sided. The kidnap taxi, however, had side tarps and a half back-flap that all but hid the occupants. Jana could guess, from his motionless and sneakered feet, that Alan was pinned up against the backrest of the left-hand bench. The boots of the other man, scuffled between two pairs of thonged feet. Alan’s drinking buddy was not going as quietly.

  ‘Jana,’ Gideon snapped. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were talking to me that time.’

  Gideon flipped her hands in frustration but confused the issue again by saying, ‘Triko, get ready to pass them again as soon as they choose a direction at the T-intersection before the river.’

  The songthaew turned right a moment later and, as Triko pulled out to pass it, Gideon asked their driver to overtake one of the cars in front of them. ‘Well?’

  ‘Me again?’ said Jana, verifying it was her turn to talk. ‘I’m here for work.’

  Gideon frowned. ‘I don’t care why you’re in Chiang Mai, Jana. Why are you in my tuk-tuk?’

  ‘Oh. Part of me wants to watch those guys throw Alan into the Ping River. But mostly, I want to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Are you mad? These guys are, are,’ Gideon waggled her hand.

  ‘Serious?’ Jana finished for her.

  ‘Yes, they’re bloody serious.’

  ‘Who are they?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Jana laughed. ‘So they’re anonymously serious. Are you kidding?’

  ‘No, I’m not. We don’t know who they are. That’s why we’re following them. Triko, left indicator, they’re taking the bridge.’

  Triko hung a quick left ahead then slowed to let the songthaew pass again. As he dropped back, this time behind the tuk-tuk, Jana discovered just where Bryn’s Redbacks were. She’d assumed they were in the car in front, until Coop grinned at her from the back of the motorbike. She turned and watched with amusement as he removed his beige jacket, turned it inside dark-side out, and put it back on. As soon as he switched the beanie on Triko’s head for a baseball cap, the bike sped up and pulled alongside.

  ‘Okay guys,’ Gideon said, ‘Sheraton Hotel is the next decider, when you’re ready Tr
iko.’

  The songthaew continued straight on through the intersection, and into the narrower street on the other side, so Triko throttled-up and zipped the motorbike into the gap behind it. A car, another songthaew, two tuk-tuks and an elephant suddenly had to jostle for space, when all forward motion was reduced to a crawl around a procession of monks. The latter were heading down the middle of the street to a big and festive happening at the wat on the corner.

  ‘Bryn, do you have any idea how unbelievably coincidental it is that Alan and his contact, and you and your Redbacks are all here in Chiang Mai at the same time as me and the mystery soldier?’

  Gideon shrugged. ‘I don’t believe in coincidences, Jana.’

  ‘Well what on earth would you call this?’

  ‘Bad luck?’

  ‘We’re on the move, Boss.’

  Jana opened her mouth again, so Gideon pointed to her ear, and asked, ‘Which way, Triko?’

  ‘Left at the Buddhist temple…and now third right, down a laneway.’

  Gideon repeated the directions to their driver who grinned and nodded and drew a circle with his finger to indicate he’d go around the other way.

  ‘They’ve stopped at a gate,’ Triko said. ‘They’re going inside, songthaew and all.’

  ‘Be there in a mo.’ Four minutes later Gideon paid their driver, gave him a bonus 300 baht and watched him drive away - alone. She then pinned her stalker up against the wall. ‘If you get in the way, Jana Rossi, I will throw you in the Ping River. Okay?’

  Jana nodded vigorously, thought of saluting, then thought better of it. She couldn’t, however, resist a Vulcan gesture.

  Gideon narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s of course, if I don’t shoot you first.’ She strode away down the alley, to where her Redbacks had propped the motorbike.

  Triko was nowhere to be seen, but Coop said, ‘Hey Doc.’

  ‘Hi Coop,’ Jana said, half-covering her mouth.

  ‘Why are you whispering?’ he asked.

  ‘Because Bryn told me to shut up or else.’

  ‘Ooh, and her ‘or-else’ is so scary,’ Coop said. ‘I mean it’s not like we can be heard.’ He waved his hands to draw their attention to the racket filling the night. The usual cacophony of traffic, car horns, barking dogs and deep-tolling bells was competing for airtime with a hell of a lot of shouting, cheering and a doof-doof beat.

  Coop slapped the wall he was leaning on. ‘Night club. And,’ he cupped his right ear, ‘wait for it.’

  An itchy-shiver scarpered up Jana’s back and into her brain as a truly frightful noise, like 20 wailing cats on heat, came over the opposite wall.

  ‘Is that where they went?’ Gideon returned Coop’s grin.

  ‘Yep, and Triko’s already in. There’s a pedestrian entrance further down,’ Coop pointed; and then re-pointed, ‘but the songthaew went in those gates. It is the same place, we climbed on the bike to scope the joint.’

  ‘What’s in there?’ Jana queried.

  ‘Blood and biffo,’ Coop said excitedly.

  ‘Muay Thai,’ Gideon added.’

  Jana threw up her hands - none the wiser.

  ‘Thai kickboxing,’ Gideon explained.

  Coop made things clearer for Jana with a jab-jab, right cross, spinning back-kick. ‘It’s our idea of a perfect night out in Thailand, though maybe not tonight.’

  ‘But what the hell is that noise?’

  ‘The four-man orchestra,’ Coop explained. ‘There’s the Ching, which is a little pair of cymbals, a pipe that looks like a clarinet but sounds like a strung-out snake charmer, and two drums.’

  ‘Triko?’ said Gideon.

  ‘Come in and play, kids. I’ve got my eye on where the bad guys have taken our boy.’

  ‘Is it a neighbourhood ring?’

  ‘Yep, it’s a training camp but it’s packed. Patrons are mostly Thais, but there are enough westerners for cover.’

  It cost the tourist rate of 250 baht each to get in to the monthly competition of the Dragon Blue Muay Thai Training Camp. Gideon savoured the buzz of a couple of hundred spectators - men, women, Thais and farang, of all ages - cheering the barefoot boxers in the full size fight ring. It was often said that Thai culture was defined by the double of religion and monarchy, but it was the martial art of Muay Thai that formed the national trifecta. And it wasn’t just a spectator sport, because it was so much more than mere kickboxing. Originally a style of close combat, using the entire body as a weapon, it had literally saved the kingdom from conquest more than once over the centuries. The fighting skills gradually moved beyond the military, first becoming a required art form for royalty and the upper classes, and eventually a popular style of self-defence for some, and a way of life for many.

  Gideon looked around. Dragon Blue was a very large training compound. Out around the edges, amongst the trees, were a number of bungalows, dorm buildings and a mess hall. Closer in, the waiting contenders were warming up in the open-air gyms by punching bags or slamming their shins into kick pads over and over again. Regular training, which obviously didn’t stop for the show, tonight involved about 20 kids and teenagers working out on pads, weights and each other.

  Gideon rolled her shoulders through the almost tangible adrenalin in the humid night air and wished they could forget about Alan bloody Wagner and watch the fights instead. She also knew she should lose Jana in the crowd, to keep her out of danger. Of course that could lead to its own kind of trouble, although, right now, the Doc had apparently been silenced by the splendid spectacle of two super-fit athletes going for it, with all their weapons - fists, feet, shins, knees and elbows.

  Enthralled or not, Gideon couldn’t really leave her on her own so she clasped Jana’s forearm and led the way towards Triko’s stake-out point about 30 metres away.

  Jana had felt like a roo transfixed in headlights, unable to take her eyes off the sheer brutality of two men beating the life out of each other while a crowd of blood-sport spectators chanted from the safety of their terraced seats. She happily let herself be dragged elsewhere, until she saw how the next generation was already learning how to kick the stuffing out of overstuffed bags. She stopped dead, forcing Gideon to do likewise and causing Coop to walk into them both.

  ‘They’re just children,’ she pointed.

  Gideon nodded. ‘Yeah. Thai fighters usually start training at about six-years-old and have their first official fights a couple of years later. By their early twenties - like the two guys back in the main ring - they’ve probably won or lost a good 140 fights. In terms of fitness, stamina and skill they put most western boxers and many athletes to shame. They train full-on for eight or more hours a day, every single day, and fight about once a month.’

  Jana shook her head. ‘Just for the thrill of it?’

  Gideon waggled her hand yes and no, and began walking again, weaving through the milling spectators. ‘Mostly they train and fight to support their families, if you can call a pittance - equal to about 100 bucks a month - a liveable wage. If they’re lucky or really good, though, they’ll get big fights at Lumpinee Stadium in Bangkok, or score an invitation to the King of Thailand’s Birthday Tournament.’

  ‘Okay, but why do you seem so excited by it all?’ Jana frowned.

  ‘Because it’s exciting,’ Gideon shrugged. ‘There’s no better test of a finely turned mind and body than several rounds in a ring against an evenly matched opponent. And it gets the juices flowing, the blood pumping.’

  ‘What yours?’ Jana smiled, ‘From watching it?’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Coop grinned. He slowed in front of a hot food vendor just long enough to swap some baht for a savoury pastry. ‘But like anything, you appreciate something even more if it’s a sport you also take part in.’

  Jana glanced up at the good looking Shane Cooper, with his straight nose and unblemished face. He seemed to have all his teeth too. ‘You do this stuff, Coop?’

  ‘We all do,’ Gideon said over her shoulder, oddly irritated that Jana would assum
e it was a guy thing. ‘Muay Thai is the best kind of aerobic, flexibility and endurance workout there is.’

  ‘Not to mention perfect unarmed combat training for us Redbacks,’ Coop added softly.

  ‘Oh, yeah, of course,’ Jana said. Despite knowing why the Redbacks were in this pugilistic circus tonight, she kept forgetting that Bryn and Coop were soldiers. Their touristy clothes, casual chitchat and lack of urgency had a lot to do with that though.

  ‘Are you saying you don’t feel the rush in the air, Jana?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I feel, Bryn. But the atmosphere here is such an alien environment: all shouting men, ear-piercing music and smacking sounds, swamped by the smell of liniment, sweat and testosterone.’

  Gideon and Coop stopped walking, grinned at each other and then at Jana. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Hi Dr Rossi,’ Triko said as he stepped from behind the nearest tree.

  ‘Hello Triko. That was impressive riding back there.’

  ‘Why thank you.’

  ‘Is Wanker, I mean Wagner still alive?’ Coop asked.

  ‘They’re all in there,’ Triko pointed to the only structure in the vicinity that had walls. It was built on a larger concrete slab, and had several louver windows with drawn-down cane blinds. ‘I haven’t heard any screaming or gunshots, so I assume there are still five men standing. One of the Thai guys and the songthaew driver pissed off to watch the fights.’

  ‘Couldn’t we do that too,’ Coop asked. ‘After all, Wanker did walk into this all by himself. We don’t have to rescue him.’

  Gideon ignored him. ‘Triko, you got your T-dart?’

  ‘Locked and loaded, Bryn.’

  ‘Okay, you take an open window on the north-west side with the best sight line. Coop, you take the north-east and cover any other exits. I’ll take this side and the door. We go in together if possible, or act as one on my usual command. If I decide to go in solo, as a distraction, then the usual joining rules apply. ‘

  ‘Where do I go?’

  Gideon looked down at Jana.

  ‘And don’t you dare say away,’ Jana added.

  Gideon tried not to smile. ‘See that crate near the empty boxing ring over there? Go sit on it. You’ll be close enough to watch us - which you plan to do, no matter what I say - but will be out of harm’s way. Okay.’