Madman's Monster

  Lei looked into my eyes. Honestly, at that moment I was at my limit, if she pressed me any more I would have taken her right then and there in the bloodied earth around her kill. Thankfully, the mischievous twinkle left her eyes and her body relaxed against mine.

  "They're still gonna get a show," she smiled as she disengaged her body from mine.

  "Oh?" I asked.

  "Yep. I'm completely covered in blood. I'd better change out of my wet T-shirt."

  There was no passion in her voice as she said it and, despite her ability to get back in business mode, I still balked.

  "Um...you didn't bring any..."

  Lei looked pointedly at me, "What do you think will have the worst effect on them? The sight of me in my underwear, or in these blood-soaked, see through clothes I’m wearing."

  I looked at her skeptically, "you don't wear underwear."

  "Semantics."

  Crap, I thought, and then helped Lei out of the ruined clothes.

  It used to unnerve me how comfortable Lei was in her skin. She wears naked as if it were a suit of armor, and carries herself with even more confidence in that particular state then she does when clad from head to toe. I have always been and am still marveled by her ability even now, and the effect is no less profound than when we first met. Lei had stripped out of her clothes until all she was wearing was the black sports bra, which was also wet with blood and her boots. I tried to take her by the hand but she strode powerfully in front of me as if both hoping and daring everyone to look at her.

  When we walked through the front door I had expected bugged eyes and frayed nerves from the soldiers, but I didn't get it. They looked up, held their gazes for a brief moment and then went back to collecting and packing gear. Rogers didn't look up from his efforts when he said softly, "There are some clean clothes in the armoire upstairs. See if some will work for you."

  Lei looked at me and then walked right past the two men and climbed the stairs to the loft that served as a bedroom. Once she was upstairs both soldiers looked at me and waited. I wasn't sure what they wanted me to do or say under their respective gazes, so I just opened the door for the elephant in the room.

  "What?" I asked simply, letting each man decide what it was they wanted to ask.

  They were silent for a time, and then Larson said, "Rogers knows how to find the Madame at the Pink Pussy Club. She's particularly bad news and treats her girls like property, more than like human beings. The girls only work for her because they are under contract. A contract that is enforced by the police as if it were legal. They'd be working the clubs in any case but she gives them only enough money to survive on until their time with her is up, which usually is the majority of their youth. It's rumored that if the girls get too out of line, or are caught stealing then they'll be sold to the organ grinders."

  I swallowed, such indifference to life was a foreign thing for me to stomach.

  Rogers saw how uncomfortable that made me and chuffed sarcastically. Larson scowled at him then said,” At least that's the threat they live under, I don't know if it's true."

  I nodded, "So we’re going to pay her a visit?"

  The soldiers looked worried, but Larson said, "Rogers and I will be paying her a visit. You and the girl should stay out of it."

  My attitude turned icy, "Are you trying to cut us off?"

  Larson didn't move, hold up a hand or attempt to make any gesture in supplication, instead he just looked up from what he was doing and said calmly, "I'm going to say this one time and after which, I'll expect you to remember who the experts are in this operation. When your investigative skills are needed I will give you the lead, until then you follow my orders or we go our separate ways now. Understood?"

  I didn't nod as much as I inclined my head in a gesture that said I understood his words, even if I didn't completely agree with them. He continued, "The girl clearly has an issue with the particular scenario we will be walking into and I believe it best to keep her out of any situation that might be compromised by an emotional response."

  Well crap, I thought, that did make a whole lot of sense especially after Lei had reacted the way she initially had regarding the girl’s contract.

  Larson continued, "You have your agenda Jacobs, and I have mine, which is to find Zach."

  I nodded. It was true we needed to find Larson's man in order to locate Whelan...or at least that was what we were hoping. However, the odds were good that Zach and Whelan were going to be in the same location, and as capable as Larson and his friends might be as soldiers, he wasn't an investigator. He was going to need my help at some point to help put the pieces together and he knew it. He wasn't sure how, why or when that was going to happen, and neither did I exactly, but we both knew that it would happen in time.

  I turned to walk to the stairs to check on Lei when Larson called out after me, "That is the last time I am going to explain myself to you. Clear?"

  I stopped as the amount of pride I could internalize reached it's maximum. I tried, I really did try, to just nod my head and make my way up the stairs. My body and mouth had other ideas.

  "I hear you loud and clear. Now let me make something clear to you. Lei and I are professional investigators who have been finding people, some of whom were exceptionally skilled in not being found, for more years than you would care to know or believe. We have, as you have now seen firsthand, more than enough skills to take care of ourselves and plenty of money to hire the best of any particular skill set we don't possess. You may be experts in the art of soldiering, but this is a very different type of battlefield and, when you really break it down, Lei and I are the people who matter here, not you. So, if we were to part ways now, then I'd imagine you and your buddy over there would make the trip to the Pink Pussy bar and ask some questions. Who knows, maybe you'd even get some answers, but in the end the two of you would be wandering around the streets of Bangkok not knowing which way to turn."

  I let all of that sink in as Larson's face turned slightly red as he quietly fumed.

  I didn't let up, "Your little speech back home was valid as far as getting us out of the country quickly, and without having to go through customs when we arrived, but we are here now, so let's not pretend who needs who more."

  Larson stood up and I thought he might come at me, but I still didn't back down.

  "Now, for the record I agree with your line of thinking regarding the bar and Lei, but if in the future I ask you to explain yourself, then you will do it, and you will do it happily, because there may be something in those details that will give me some insight in how to better find your friend and our target."

  Larson quickly walked up to me and stood with his face less than six inches from mine. He wasn't used to having his authority questioned or countered, but I wasn't a soldier...or at least, I wasn't one of his men.

  We stared at each other for a second before I said, "Now, are we clear?"

  His eyes squinted slightly, but beyond the rage that appeared to be boiling on the surface, I thought just for an instant I saw the corners of his mouth stretch upward as if resisting a smile.

  Larson's face and body relaxed, "Crystal," was all he said before turning his back on me and heading over to Rogers. Rogers face was a mask of unrestrained surprise and he urgently whispered his disapproval to Larson, or so it seemed to me.

  Larson answered him quietly, but not so quiet that I couldn't hear, "He's right Pat. We need them, and despite everything else, they are clearly capable."

  Rogers' emotions were getting the better of him, "I told you what the girl did out there! I mean, what the hell man?!"

  Larson's tone grew impatient, "What exactly is the problem Captain? Did she take out the well dug-in gunman in a way you found objectionable? You'd have felt it was more respectable to have blown his head clean off his shoulders with your AK?"

  Rogers face dropped, but he still wasn't done, "It isn't the killing that's bothering me. I think you know that."

  Larson took in a d
eep breath and let it out before putting a hand on Rogers' shoulder, "I do know it Pat." Larson barely turned his head to see if I were listening in on the conversation. I was, of course, and I think Larson knew it too, yet despite that he said, "If it becomes something we have to deal with, then let's do it after we find Zach."

  I think Larson was trying to covertly pass along a message to me. In short, he'd make sure we were all on the same team until we found Zach and in that we could count on his full support and cooperation. After that, his loyalty to us was over and if we hadn't earned his trust by then, well, we might just find ourselves on opposite sides.

  I started up the stairs as three words filled my head with regards to our Navy SEAL companions...

  “Bring it, Frogmen.”

  Chapter 22

  "Sir, we found him."

  The guard was dressed the same as all the others in camp. Black combat gear that looked to be made of the latest breathable athletic wear, with a Kevlar flak jacket worn like a vest covering his torso, and black fatigue pants that fed into his black boots. He was sporting an MP-5 semi-automatic rifle that was equipped with a night vision scope. His face was painted in greasy black streaks of camouflage face paint, and he wore a black recon cap on his head.

  The man called Timberland, who was also the security commander, sat at his makeshift desk and looked up from the maps he had been studying.

  "Where?"

  "He's at the village."

  Timberland turned and looked at the clock on the wall and then back at his team member.

  "That village is nearly five miles from the camp."

  "Yes sir."

  "Are you telling me that he made it through THAT jungle and to the village in less than five hours without a map, a compass, or any kind of directional gauge?"

  The mercenary soldier looked uneasy, "Sir, I know it seems incredible, but we witnessed the target being taken inside one of the sheds. The natives appear to be caring for him."

  "And you didn't think to take him?"

  The mercenary didn't hesitate, "There were only two of us, and the village appeared to be protecting him. We'd have needed to open fire on the people of the village, and I didn't want to risk that without at least checking in first."

  Timberland was, as a rule impatient, but he knew the soldier had made the right decision.

  "Well consider yourself checked in and take however many men you need and get him back, before the doctor decides to take out his frustration on the rest of us."

  The phone rang on the folding table that served as a desk, cutting off Timberland's rant. He answered it, "Yes?"

  Timberland's face turned from angry to grave.

  "How long ago?" Timberland's face grew concerned, "How many did they take out?" His face lost some of its color, "All of them? How could they...?"

  There was a long pause and, not wanting to appear out of control in front of one of his subordinates, Timberland waved the guard away. The guard nodded and walked from the room as Timberland listened to what was being said on the other end of the line. Then things seemed to turn crazy, "What was that? What?!?...Did they have a combat dog or...?" Timberland rubbed his eyes, "Okay, keep that part to yourself and get your job done."

  Timberland hung up the phone as his eyes stared into the distance before pulling a cellular phone out of his pocket. He tapped the screen a couple of times to enable the encryption code to scramble the call he was about to make and, when the phone indicated the secure channel had been established, he dialed the number.

  "It's Timberland. Have there been any reports of any of our kind currently active in the area?" Timberland waited as the voice on the other end of the line responded. "I see. I only ask because a small group in our employ engaged the agent that was sent to replace Dr. Whelan's subject...They were killed...No sir, I meant our agents were killed...Yes sir, and the report is that one member was done "old world" style...No, I haven't seen the body myself but the police we've been paying say..." the voice on the other end suddenly erupted causing Timberland to cringe in much the same way that his subordinate had moments ago. "Yes sir. I understand. I'll see to the body immediately...I've already alerted the pack and we will be going to the location as fast as possible, but I feel there's very little chance of the target or targets still being there...Yes sir, of course we'll do as you say."

  The line disconnected with Timberland still holding the phone to his ear. He gently placed it on the folding table as a knock came from his door.

  "Come," Timberland called out and the door opened as the man who had just left the room returned with ten others, all of whom were clad in similar black outfits and carrying MP-5 assault rifles. They were comprised of eight men and two women.

  Timberland smiled as he looked over the group, "Change of plans. We may have a new threat in the area. We will need to recover a body from the morgue and check the wounds. After that we will be checking up on the local constabulary that we have been so graciously paying all this time. If they are incapable of doing the tasks we have asked of them we are to end our relationship with them."

  The group began milling about the room as Timberland spoke. This was not the restless professionalism of trained mercenaries, instead it seemed that the mood in the room was devolving into something primitive and feral. Slight guttural sounds were humming from unspecified throats and Timberland began to feel the tell tale shiver of adrenaline run through his body as he fed off the energy in the room.

  Timberland raised his assault rifle over his head from its shoulder slung position, and set it gently on the table in front of him. Everyone in the room froze and watched with far more interest than the maneuver would have appeared to warrant. Then he put his hand on his K-bar tactical knife and pulled it from it's sheath. He flipped the blackened seven-inch blade over in his hand and then slammed it down on the table top while keeping his hand on the grip. The sound of the wood splintering as it stabbed into the wood was like the report of a gun, and when the room went silent again all of the mercenary soldiers were breathing hard.

  Slowly, cautiously the first mercenary approached the table and set his weapon gingerly next to Timberland's before pulling his own knife from it's sheath and slammed it home into the tabletop as well. After that it was a near frenzy as assault rifles were set aside and edged weapons of all makes and models were plunged into the plywood until every merc member of the team was holding on to the handle of their own impaled blade.

  "Tonight," Timberland spoke to the group with his own breath coming in ragged succession, "we find out who, or what, we are dealing with and then, once we have their scent, we hunt."

  On that last word the group let out a collective, anticipatory sound that was more than a simple acknowledgement of their agreement. It was a call to a time that was millennia ago. A time of hunters, prey, the chase… and tonight they would follow the call in their blood.

  Tonight they would be the pack that they needed to be, and they were going to find their harmony together.

  Tonight the wolves would hunt.

  Chapter 23

  Larson looked more than a little uncomfortable as he watched the collections of bikini clad girls dancing on the makeshift floor of the outdoor bar in front of the Pink Pussy Nightclub. As I watched him I couldn't help but wonder how it was that a soldier who had seen the kind of "blood and guts" that a SEAL team veteran must have witnessed could still be caught off guard by the enticement of the fairer sex... Or maybe he was just putting on an act for the benefit of any eyes that might have been watching the bar. After all, his demeanor hadn't changed when he had first seen Lei and she could run circles around these girls in the seduction category.

  Lei and I were watching our hastily cobbled plan unfold from across the street. Lei was wearing a pair of baggy velour sweat pants with the waist rolled down to a ridiculous level that allowed the top of her G-string to show. The matching, sheer, lacy bra was all she wore for a semblance of a covering for her breasts, and the pose she struck ga
ve the impression that she was just another working girl, putting the moves on a "John." I was, of course, playing at being the tourist wearing a typical island style shirt, and just to make me stand out even more, my jeans and boots.

  We hadn't counted on the local talent hassling us when the working girls of Soy 6 seemed to be more populous than the tourists, but we drew their attention in any case. One bribe led to another and to another, until I was starting to feel like an ATM machine. Finally I decided enough was enough and refused to pay a particularly vocal little...pimp? I guess he was a pimp, but the second I stood up to him it was as if the entire area now realized they had pushed me too far. We weren't bothered again, and we had secured our little corner on the street.

  Larson seemed to set his sights on a particular girl, but made a scene of being embarrassed or shy about approaching her. The idea was that as soon as he "worked up" the confidence to talk to her, Rogers would bully his way in and try to take her away. The two would argue and then the issue of who would be able to pay the "long time" fee to the bar would require the Madame to negotiate the deal and determine the winner. This would hopefully require a discussion inside a private office where they could corner the Madame away from the majority of her security force. At that point I hoped all that would be required would be a further bribe. I wasn't short on cash, and was willing to use it all to get answers about the little girl and her sale to the man I had come to know as Zach.

  It wasn't long before Rogers walked up to the entrance of the bar and passed Larson without acknowledging him. Larson was good and he went about his business outside the club as the girls luridly beckoned him to come in. Overt gestures such as bending over provocatively while pointing at him and then to the small patches of fabric between their legs was comical, but apparently effective. Several other men who had been watching immediately succumbed and walked up to the entrance to be escorted by one girl or another. Larson continued to make a scene of watching the one particular girl for a little longer as she called out every Asian prostitute cliché' from the movie "Full Metal Jacket."