Little Girl Gone (A Logan Harper Thriller)

by Brett Battles

  Finally, Logan and Daeng reached the exit steps. They raced down into the courtyard, not even worrying about grabbing their shoes.

  “What about the generals’ men?” Logan asked. “One of them’s with Bell, but the others are going to get away.”

  “No,” Daeng said. “They’ve been taken care of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The monks.”

  “I thought you said they wouldn’t hold anyone by force.”

  “I said they wouldn’t hold her by force. Elyse’s mother has done nothing wrong.”

  Logan had a quick vision of the temple in Rangoon, and monks being beaten by the secret police. There would be no love lost here for those associated with that inhumane act.

  They reached the top of the long, dragon-lined staircase. Logan took two seconds to pull off his socks so he wouldn’t slip, then kept moving. The others were about two-thirds of the way down, and he could see they’d taken a moment to put on their shoes. Bell’s man was carrying Elyse over his shoulder. It would have been nice if that had slowed him down, but he was moving as quickly as the others.

  Daeng’s hand flew up, and he touched the Bluetooth receiver in his ear.

  “They have Sein…in a van,” he said, his voice punctuated by the steps and the rhythm of his breath. “It’s waiting at the bottom.”

  Bell was going to get away before they got there.

  No! Logan thought. No! No! No!

  He couldn’t fail again. He just couldn’t.

  He increased his speed, knowing he might end up tumbling all the way down, but he didn’t care.

  Not only was Elyse still in danger, her mother was in trouble, too. The only way to make this right was if he could get both women free.

  When he jumped off the final step, he estimated that the others had about a thirty second lead. With Daeng not far behind him, he sprinted down the looping path through the vending area, and toward the street.

  But as he took the final turn, he stumbled to a halt.

  He was too late.

  The same gray cargo van that had been parked by Bell’s building in the outskirts of the city was now pulling away from the curb.

  “No!” he yelled.

  He whipped his head around, looking up and down the road. There were several taxis parked off to the right, but a four-wheeled taxi wouldn’t do him any good. What he wanted was—

  —a motorcycle.

  It was parked at the side of the road. Its owner was sitting on the curb, eating. The guy wasn’t wearing one of the familiar orange vests, though, so it was a pretty good bet his ride wasn’t a motorcycle taxi.

  Logan sprinted over to him. “Speak English?”

  “Yeah,” the guy said. “I speak.”

  “I need to use your bike.”

  He laughed. “You kidding? No way.”

  Logan pulled out a thousand baht note and held it out to him. “You can drive.” With his other hand he pointed at the rapidly receding gray cargo van. “They took my friend!”

  The guy looked at the van, then back at Logan. “Serious?”

  “Yes.”

  As Logan got onto the back of his bike, Daeng ran up. “Let your friends at the bottom know we’re going to need them,” Logan said.

  He nodded, then pulled out his phone.

  “What’s you name?” Logan asked his new driver.

  “Kai.”

  “Okay, Kai. Let’s go!”

  42

  The road between Wat Doi Suthep and Chiang Mai followed the contours of the mountain down to the plateau where the city lay. The hillside was covered with tropical vegetation. With the exception of where there was a roadside business or home, the plants and trees came right up to the edge of the road, sometimes even creating a partial canopy over the top.

  It would have been beautiful if Logan had had time to pay attention, but his focus was on spotting the van that was somewhere ahead of them, not on the local flora. He kept his eyes glued over Kai’s shoulder at the asphalt ahead. If this had been a straight road through a flat countryside he would have seen them right away. But the curves severely shortened his visual range.

  Finally, after another sharp turn to the left, he saw the van, then pointed at it.

  Kai said something.

  “What?” Logan asked, unable to understand.

  “What you want do?” Kai yelled.

  “Go around him,” Logan said. “And keep going fast all the way to the bottom.”

  “Why bottom?”

  “I have friends waiting there.”

  “Okay.”

  Kai gunned the engine, and within seconds they were whipping past the van. Logan made sure not to look at it as they went by, so that those inside wouldn’t know he was interested in them. Soon the van disappeared behind them, swallowed up by the bends in the road.

  It had taken Logan and Daeng twenty minutes to climb the mountain to the temple earlier, but the trip down on Kai’s motorcycle took no more than five.

  “There,” Logan said, pointing to a wide spot on the side of the road that Daeng had described to him earlier.

  They pulled over, and Logan immediately hopped off. He then pulled out another thousand baht note from this pocket gave it to Kai.

  “Thanks,” Logan said.

  “You need more help?”

  Logan shook his head. “Trust me. You’ve done more than enough.”

  “Okay, if you sure. Good luck,” Kai said, then took off.

  Daeng had told Logan there would be five of his Burmese refugee contacts waiting at the wide spot if they ended up needing them. So Logan was a little surprised to find nine of them there. It seemed the only ones missing were the kids and a couple of the others.

  He pointed at the two cars parked nearby. “Yours?”

  “Yes,” one of the man said.

  “Who’s driving them?”

  He signaled for a couple of the other men to join them, and Logan quickly explained what he wanted to do. The main guy had to do a little translating for him, but they all got the gist of it.

  “You guys okay with this plan?” Logan asked when he was through.

  “Okay,” the main guy said. “No problem.”

  “Excellent. Then they should get ready. It’s almost time.”

  The two drivers got into their cars, and started their engines.

  “Just tell me when you want them to go,” the headman said.

  Logan nodded, then, after a moment, said, “Daeng said you might have a gun I can use.”

  “You sure you want?”

  “Better to have it than not.”

  The man retrieved a pistol from the back of the closest car, and gave it to Logan. “Police catch you, not good.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Logan said.

  He quickly found a good spot, then looked up the hill. Through the trees, he could see a small stretch of the road that was beyond the curve just up from their position. He kept his eye on it, waiting for the van to appear. Finally, the gray van moved by, then passed out of sight.

  Forty-five seconds, tops and they’d be here.

  “Now,” Logan said.

  The headman waved at the two parked cars. Instantly, they pulled into the street. Only instead of merging with traffic, they drove across the lanes, and halted, creating a roadblock. The lead car was all the way on the road, while the second car hung partially over the shoulder.

  Immediately cars slowed to a stop and began honking, but the Burmese drivers didn’t move.

  The van appeared around the curve only a few seconds later than Logan thought it would. A quick calculation told him that it was going to be about six cars back in the jam up. Other cars were still coming around the bend after it, so it would immediately be hemmed in.

  “Stay in the outside lane,” Logan whispered to himself, as he backed into the cover of the bushes. “Stay in the outside lane.”

  It did.

  Then, as it came down the final part of the hill, it slowed
to a crawl, and finally to a stop at the back of the traffic jam.

  “Okay,” he said to the headman, then pointed at the line of traffic. “Start them moving around.”

  The man nodded, then he and several of his men ran over to the car that was sitting halfway in the wide area. Together they pushed it all the way onto the road, as if it were stalled. Then the headman got the attention of the driver of the first car the outside lane, he moved his hand in an arc, directing the guy into the wide area so he could drive around the blockage.

  Soon the next car in line was following suit.

  Then the third. And the fourth. And the fifth.

  Finally it was the van’s turn.

  Logan gave the blockade driver a wave, and the guy acknowledged with a quick nod.

  The van turned cautiously off the road, rocking a little on the uneven shoulder, but not stopping. Then, just as it pulled abreast of the roadblock, the blockade car shot backwards, slamming into the van’s front wheel well.

  There was a crunch and a rip and an expulsion of air as the van’s tire went flat. It was better than Logan could have hoped.

  Quickly, he stepped out from the bushes and over to the back of the van.

  As he was sure would happen, someone on the inside turned the handle and pushed one of the back doors open. Logan slipped around the side, out of view, not worried about being seen in the side mirror. He could hear one of the Burmese men arguing with the van’s driver up front on the other side, keeping him busy.

  The van rocked, and three people step out. Whoever they were, they headed around to see the damage, and deal with the problem.

  If Logan hadn’t miscounted, the only ones left inside would be Bell, his Myanmar client, Elyse and Sein. There was also the driver, of course, if he had access to the back area. But he was currently preoccupied.

  On hands and knees Logan crawled past the open back door so as not to be seen. Once he was clear, he got up, and peeked around the other side. There were five of the refugees there now, one talking to the driver, while the other four talked with three men who’d gotten out to see what was going on.

  When Logan was sure the only people who were able to see him were the refugees, he took a step out, and gave them a quick wave. The one who saw him first said something to his friends.

  Suddenly there were guns in their hands pointed at Bell’s men. Logan held a finger to his mouth, reminding them they all had to stay quiet, then turned toward the back doors.

  Before he entered, he pulled out the small, palm-sized digital video camera. This would be the cherry on top of the other footage Daeng’s friends had taken. He turned the camera on, and stuck it in the front pocket of his pants so that only the portion with the lens and the microphone were exposed.

  He then took two deep breaths, gripped his gun, and jumped into the back of the van.

  43

  “Everyone stay where you are,” Logan said, sweeping the interior with the barrel of his gun.

  Immediately, he saw he’d made a miscalculation. Instead of the four people he expected to find, there were five.

  Sitting on the bench that ran along right were Bell, Elyse and the guy from Myanmar. On the bench to the left were Sein, and the man who’d been sent to kill Tooney.

  Tooney’s attacker stared at Logan, shocked.

  “Nice to know you remember me,” Logan said.

  “Remember you?” Bell asked. He looked at his man. “Who the hell is he?”

  But the guy seemed too stunned to speak, so Logan explained for him. “We met last week in a refrigerator in Cambria.”

  “Cambria? Wait. You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” He looked at his man sitting next to Sein. “This is the guy who screwed you up? What the hell’s he doing here?” He turned back to Logan. “Hey, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “All of you. Toss your weapons over here,” Logan told them.

  “I asked you a question,” Bell said.

  “And I gave you an order,” Logan told him.”

  Bell smiled and shook his head. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you? If I were you, I’d back right out that door, and get the hell out of here.”

  “Is that right? Well, I’ve recently been told I’m stubborn, so that’s probably not going to happen.”

  “If you’re still here when my men come back, I’m not going to be able to let you go. But I’ll tell you what. If you leave now, I’m willing to forget about it.”

  “You’d do that? You’re a real generous man, Mr. Andrews.” Logan paused, then said, “Oh, sorry. I should probably call you by your real name. Mr. Bell.”

  Bell’s smile faltered.

  “Yeah, I do know who I’m dealing with,” Logan told him. “I also know your friend here is with the Myanmar secret police. And, if I’m not mistaken, that you were planning on transferring these two ladies to him. Now, I’m not a lawyer, nor do I work for one like you do…what’s that firm’s name? Bracher Schwartz?…Anyway, this looks a lot like human trafficking to me.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Logan Harper.”

  “You are so out of your depth, Mr. Harper. This is not going to end well for you.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “How, exactly, do you think you’re going to pull that off?”

  “My reach is a hell of a lot longer than yours.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re the guy who makes things happen, aren’t you? Like this business deal? Sein, here, for Burmese offshore oil rights? I’m pretty sure LRB Oil’s shareholders aren’t going to be too happy when news of this transaction comes out.” That had been the connection Logan had found during his web search on Daeng’s Phone, a direct link between LRB Oil and Lyon Exploratory Research.

  Bell glanced at his man. “Perry, shoot him. Now.”

  Perry fumbled with his coat, then started pulling a gun out from under it.

  “Don’t do it, Perry,” Logan told him.

  But he didn’t listen. As soon as Logan saw the handle of the man’s pistol, he pulled his own trigger.

  Logan had killed two men before that moment, including the man who shot Carl. Perry was his third.

  In the distance, he could hear sirens. They weren’t the same rhythms and tones he was used to from the States, but there was no mistaking the police were on the way.

  “Either of you two armed?” he asked Bell and his client.

  Bell shook his head, while the Myanmar man reluctantly pulled a gun out of his pocket, and tossed it on the floor.

  “Good. So, shall we just sit and wait?” Logan asked.

  “Do something,” the man from the secret police said to Bell.

  “You can have the women,” Bell told Logan. “Just let us go.”

  “No!” the other man blurted out. “That woman is traitor to her country.” He shot up from the bench, and stepped towards Sein. “She commit crime against my government. She tell lies everywhere she go. She come with me.”

  As he reached out to grab her arm, Logan said, “You don’t want to touch her!”

  But he did it anyway, or at least he tried. As his fingers brushed against her arm Logan pulled his trigger again. The only difference this time was that he wanted this guy to live. The bullet hit the man just below his knee, and he collapsed screaming onto the floor of the truck.

  Bell, who had been keeping Elyse close to him, suddenly let her go. “She’s all yours. Please, I’m not going to do anything.”

  Sein immediately rushed over to her daughter, and threw her arms around her.

  “Take her outside,” Logan said. “And shut the door.”

  Sein looked at him for a moment, then nodded, and helped Elyse to her feet. As they passed, she whispered, “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. Just get her out.”

  As soon as the door was closed, Bell said, “What are you? Some kind of mercenary?”

  “No. A
uto mechanic.”

  Logan pulled the camera out of his pocket. He stopped the recording, then started it again so he’d have a new file, and then pointed it at Bell.

  “Let’s you and I have a little talk.”

  44

  To say it was a bit of a diplomatic mess was probably an understatement.

  The only way to stem the fallout on the U.S. side was to swiftly move to arrest those suspected of being involved in the “Kidnapping for Oil Scheme,” as it was soon labeled by cable news.

  Within 24 hours, Charles Bracher, Samuel Schwartz, David Lyons—the CEO of Lyon Exploratory Research and the “L” of LRB Oil—and several other employees of all three companies were behind bars. The government had also filed extradition papers for Scott Bell, Aaron Hughes, and the remaining members of Bell’s team with the Thai government.

  As for the secret police team from Myanmar, Logan was never really sure what happened to them. But he had a feeling that even if they were sent back to Burma, things weren’t going to go very well for them.

  He heard later there was a little bit of confusion when five Vietnam Vets showed up at the Federal Building in West Los Angeles with three people they claimed were connected to the matter. But it was soon cleared up, and Elyse’s former roommate Angie, along with a Mr. Williams and a Mr. Dean were turned over to the FBI.

  Logan was a big part of the mess. He had actually killed someone, and shot a member of the Myanmar secret police. For those reasons, it had been decided early on that his name wasn’t to be mentioned in connection at all with the case. Like what his father and the rest of the WAMO gang had decided about the attack on Tooney, Logan was apparently not involved in this incident either. That was okay with him. He wasn’t interested in the publicity.

  Still, the authorities didn’t know what to do with him, so he was detained for nearly a week, talking only to governmental representatives of the U.S. and Thailand.

  It was Sein who finally got him out.

  They were all in a room somewhere in Bangkok, Sein, two men from the U.S. embassy, three from the Thai government, and Logan. After they’d gone on for a half hour about how it was impossible for Logan to just walk away without paying some kind of price, Sein reached into her bag, and pulled out a laptop. Setting it on the table, she turned it so everyone could see the screen.