Chasing the White Lion

by James R. Hannibal

“Who did your purse snatchers rob? The Pope?”

  Val set her coffee down and stretched, giving her a sleepy laugh. “The purse snatchers haven’t struck yet. Most of our money came from Jafet. Eddie and I have been moving it around from account to account to create false deals. What do you think?”

  “I think I’m a dead woman the next time I head out into the maze.”

  But Talia hadn’t looked at the scoreboard purely to check Val’s work. If the silhouette she saw had killed Atan, his line would be red and empty. It wasn’t.

  The slate buzzed. “We have a message from Atan.”

  “When we came back to the room, you said he was dead.”

  “I think I jumped to a conclusion. Either that, or this is a trap.” Talia clicked on the message box.

  ROUND 3

  ROOM DIRECTIONS ARE ACTIVE – ALL PLAYERS TO ALL ROOMS

  WE SHOULD MEET

  I HAVE A DEAL FOR YOU

  Val sat beside her on the couch. “Do we answer?”

  “Do we have a choice? Time is running short. We have to risk this.” Talia typed in a response.

  OUR PLACE OR YOURS?

  The answer came back immediately.

  YOU COME HERE

  NOT LEAVING MY ROOM

  SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL ME

  P.S. BRING YOUR BAVARIAN MERCHANDISE

  Talia and Val struck out into the maze together. The outer windows were still polarized, but sunlight filtered in from the Atrium. The colors had changed to blue and green. With the better lighting, Talia saw a moving wall had changed their hallway to a four-foot ledge, open on one side to a forty-foot drop. In the darkness hours before, she could have easily fallen.

  Atan the Hyena was in his room. The leopards, Bi Fan and Rudenko, and the unknown Scandinavian panther were still out there, all potential killers, all with slates now able to lead them to any other player’s room. Talia and Val were prime targets, and the heavy duffels they carried made them slow.

  Talia let Val handle the directions, while she kept watch, eyes moving. “Where are they all?”

  “In their rooms? Setting up at the bazaar?” Val gestured with the slate and the two turned left into a stairwell. “Who cares? As long as they’re not here.”

  Three floors down and a few turns later, they came within sight of Atan’s door. His room, like theirs, sat along a ledge, a few steps past an intersection with a blacked-out hallway.

  An Asian woman stood at the door in a white dress and black apron. A device strapped to her wrist showed a green flashing arrow. She held a tray with a covered room service platter.

  Val let out a nervous laugh. “You think Atan ordered hors d’oeuvres for our meeting?”

  The woman kept her body angled slightly away from them. Maybe she hadn’t heard them coming, or maybe she was hiding her face.

  Talia stopped, catching Val’s forearm. “There’s no drink.”

  “What?”

  “On the tray. There’s no drink. Who orders food with no drinks?”

  At Talia’s declaration, the woman looked their way, wearing a pleasant smile.

  She had a scar on her chin and a cut on the bridge of her nose.

  Talia shouldered Val aside and heaved her duffel up as a shield. A ceramic stiletto stuck in the canvas. The hacker had thrown it sidelong from under the tray, all while holding her pleasant smile. Talia charged. The tray clattered to the floor. Bi Fan dodged, but not far enough. Talia clipped her against the wall, swept the back of her knees with a kick, and dropped the duffel full of fake gold on her as she fell.

  She pulled the stiletto free and pitched it over the ledge. “You should have learned your lesson after I popped you in the—”

  A strained cry from behind cut her short. Eddie shouted into the comms. “Ambush! Val’s in trouble!”

  “Ambush?” She turned to see Val, caught in a choke hold and fighting to keep her attacker’s knife hand at bay. The Scandinavian. He must have been hiding in the dark hallway, waiting for them to pass. Val had a death grip on his wrist, but the duffel was dragging her down.

  Talia leveled her gun, walking toward them. “Drop the knife!”

  He sneered at the command and fought the blade closer to Val’s neck.

  What did he see that Talia didn’t?

  Bi Fan. She glanced back in time to see the hacker coming, but not in time to shoot. Bi Fan knocked the gun out of her hand and the two spun in a standing grapple, each squeezing the other’s throat.

  The hacker let go and yanked Talia’s hair, pulling her head to the side.

  Talia punched her in the ribs. She asked a question with each shot. “Really? The hair? Again?”

  In her peripheral vision, she saw Val elbow the Scandinavian in the gut. He answered with an “Oof!” and pushed her away.

  She reeled back, off balance because of the duffel.

  He flipped his knife around for a throw.

  “Val, duck!”

  Talia gave Bi Fan another swift kick to the knee and turned the hacker’s back to the oncoming blade. The knife flew. Val ducked. Bi Fan’s eyes widened in pain, and her grip on Talia’s hair went slack. She slipped to the floor with the blade embedded in her spine.

  Neither Talia nor Val wasted the moment.

  Talia dove for her gun and fired.

  Val got control of the duffel and came up swinging.

  Two P3Q rounds hit their attacker square in the chest. He grunted and winced, but he didn’t go down—until Val’s duffel full of coins hit him in the shoulder. The Scandinavian teetered, lost his footing, and pitched headlong over the ledge. He bounced off another ledge two floors down and landed with an ugly thud at the bottom of the maze.

  Talia stared at Val in shock. “What did we just do?”

  The door next to her opened. Atan stuck his head out and looked up and down the hall. “Is it over?”

  “You,” Talia growled. She pushed him back with the barrel of her gun and stormed inside.

  CHAPTER

  SIXTY-

  NINE

  WESTERN TOWER

  TWIN TIGERS COMPLEX

  BANGKOK, THAILAND

  ATAN FELL BACK ON HIS REAR END, staring down the barrel of Talia’s gun. “Don’t shoot!”

  “Why not? You lured us into an ambush.”

  “No!” He scooted backward on his haunches. “I swear. I have no idea how those two knew about our meeting.”

  “He’s not lying.” Val dragged both duffels into the room and shut the door. She showed Talia a gray smartphone-size device. “Remember this? Looks like Bi Fan cracked Boyd’s system.”

  “She knew we were coming?”

  “She knew you were coming. She intercepted the private messages. And she invited the Scandinavian in for some fun.” Val scrolled through the data on the hacker’s device. “His name was Gunnar Larson. Panther Seven Five. Bi Fan offered him 60 percent of your winnings if she could take the merchant bay at the Grand Bazaar.” She laughed. “What a deal.”

  Talia grabbed Atan’s lapel and hauled him to his feet. “You may not have set us up, but you left us out there to die. You could’ve helped. A third fighter would have made all the difference.”

  “And get stabbed in the process? No thank you.” The Albanian flopped back onto his couch, eyes closed. He laid a hand across his forehead. “So stressful. It is like this every year.”

  “Then why do you come?” Talia asked, tucking the gun into her waistband.

  “Because I make sooo much money.” He raised his head. “Seriously. The top two contenders will make more than forty million in a single day. Look at the board.”

  He wasn’t exaggerating. Rudenko had generated forty-one million in pre-bazaar deals. If he made no other profits, he’d be taking home more than thirty million after the White Lion claimed his 25 percent.

  “And what about you?” Atan made a face. “The Macciano Sisters. Bah. You used me to get into the syndicate, then ditched me with your little coup at Jafet’s place. They say you’re Don Mar
co’s girls. Is it true?”

  Neither answered.

  “So it is true. And you.” He pointed at Val. “What happened to your beautiful New York accent? It was so attractive.”

  “Shut up.”

  His head fell back again and he thrust his hands toward the ceiling. “Was nothing real?”

  Two chimes sounded, drawing Talia’s eyes back to the board. The lines marked Panther Seven Five and Clouded Leopard turned red and dropped the ten-million-dollar minimum. Seven million from Bi Fan moved to Panther Eight Two, and nineteen million from the Scandinavian moved to Panther Eight One. Then the two lines balanced out, giving them totals of thirty-nine million each.

  Val let out a mirthless laugh. “Two more voted off the island.”

  The White Lion had fifty-two million. Talia shook her head. “We’re closer, but still not within striking distance, and we’re running out of time.”

  The clock on the board read 11:15. Less than ten hours remained. Talia tried to get them back on track. “Mr. Atan, how did you know we brought the gold?” She knew the answer, but Val had taught her to use knowns, rather than unknowns, to steer a mark.

  “The airport. I saw your sister fighting with the big black bag at the taxi stand. I thought to myself, these women are not stupid enough to pass fake gold at the White Lion’s Frenzy. Ergo, the gold is real. This is how you passed the test at my office. You have the real horde.”

  Val gave Talia a subtle nod, an affirmation that the mark was showing trust.

  Talia kept pushing. “What if we do have the real thalers? That’s our affair. Our product. We’ll auction them off at the Grand Bazaar.”

  “For a few million. At most.” Atan sat up, rolling his neck and stretching his shoulders as if he’d been part of the fight. He locked eyes with Talia. “With my connections, I can bring in local buyers who will pay five times as much. You know this. My Asian contacts are the reason you targeted me in Prague.”

  Tyler came up on the comms, coaching. “He’s hooked, but don’t rush it. Make him fight the line. Keep working him for information.”

  “Okay. We can be reasonable. Let’s work out a percentage.”

  “A percentage?” Atan snorted. “I want the gold. I will give you ten million. You could quit the game right now. Hole up in your room and most likely go home, each with a leopard position.”

  “We’re doing well enough on our own.”

  “Too well. Keep going and the lion will think you’re attempting a coup, as with Jafet. You won’t be safe.”

  “Safe? We haven’t been safe since we entered the maze.” Talia would circle back to that question. She needed to close the deal. “Okay. Ten million US for our Bavarian Thalers. Transferred immediately. Deal?” She offered him a hand.

  He didn’t take it. “One moment.” Atan left the couch for the desk and drew an instrument from a small brown case—his XRF scanner. “Fool me once,” he said, leaving them to fill in the rest.

  The Albanian pulled as many pouches from each duffel as he could carry and dumped piles of gold on the couch. He scanned each pile, spread the coins around, and scanned them again. Atan gasped, as if hardly able to contain his joy. “They are real.”

  Over the comms, Talia heard Finn’s Melbourne accent. “Redemption.”

  What the thief had failed to accomplish in Prague, he had managed at the Bangkok airport. While Tyler was plotting and Eddie was buying tech, the burglar had worked his way into the baggage system of Bangkok’s airport and intercepted Atan’s bag. He had swapped Atan’s XRF reader for Eddie’s fake.

  Talia hid her smile and touched Atan’s shoulder. “I said, ‘Do we have a deal?’”

  “Yes, yes.” He shook her hand, unable to take his eyes off the coins. “We have a deal.”

  Val coughed into her hand.

  “Oh. Yes. Your payment.” Atan returned to the desk and worked the touchscreen panels. Talia’s slate buzzed. A digital transaction came up, and she hit accept. On the scoreboard, ten million appeared in her account and five filtered into Val’s. They were now at over forty-four million each, tied for the number two ranking.

  “There,” Atan said, returning to his gold. “It is done. Now I suggest you go back to your rooms and hide for the remainder of the competition.”

  “Why?” Val asked. “We’ve already been attacked. What else should we fear?”

  “Do the accent and I will tell you. Please, for old time’s sake.”

  She drew her gun.

  “Okay. Okay. Listen. The Frenzy is not a competition for rankings in the Jungle syndicate.”

  Talia narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t it?”

  “This is what the White Lion wants you to think. But in truth, he is culling the pride, like a real lion, taking out his strongest rivals. The White Lion uses the Frenzy to identify and eliminate his most ambitious players. Get too close, and you will wind up like Riku Ishimoto.”

  “We won’t. Trust me.” Talia didn’t explain, but Val and Eddie had nearly exhausted Jafet’s reserves. They only had a few more million to shift around for fake deals. The Macciano Sisters didn’t have a big enough war chest to threaten Boyd.

  Atan walked his guests to the door, and the two stepped out into the maze. The hacker’s body was gone, cleared away by the world’s creepiest maid staff.

  “One more thing.” Talia stopped the door before he could close it. “Other than the White Lion, who here are you most afraid of?”

  He pulled his chin close to his neck. “Are you serious?” His pupils shifted from Talia to Val and back again. “You. According to the message boards, you beat up the Clouded Leopard at the bazaar. Now you’ve killed her, along with Panther Seven Five. You two are terrifying.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Atan glanced up and down the hall. Clearly he did not like hanging out with his door open to the maze. “The Snow Leopard. The graceful name does not suit him, nor his dirty business.”

  How dirty could Rudenko’s business be? Talia huffed. “You’re mistaken. He sells artifacts.”

  “No, my dear. The Snow Leopard’s smuggling business is a veil, a façade for the Ukrainian authorities. He pays them off. Everyone is happy. No one cares about a few black-market trinkets. No one looks deeper. But at last year’s Frenzy, he showed his true spots. His real business is selling children.” Atan removed her hand from the door and shut it in her face.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTY

  WESTERN TOWER

  TWIN TIGERS COMPLEX

  BANGKOK, THAILAND

  “RUDENKO’S OUR MAN.” Talia let the arrow steer her and Val through the maze, aware she wasn’t paying enough attention to the threat from the remaining players. She no longer cared. “How did we miss this?”

  “You mean how did I miss this?” The pout in Eddie’s voice was palpable.

  “Sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “But it’s true. I’m the one who did the research. Rudenko’s got a solid cover—layers within layers. My computers aren’t all knowing. They can only work from the data they’re fed.”

  This sounded like a sore point. Talia had to wonder if Eddie was simultaneously taking grief from Tyler off air. She softened her tone. “Fair point. But now we know, so how do we figure out where he’s keeping the children?”

  Tyler answered for him, posing another question. “The device Val lifted from the hacker’s body. How deep into Boyd’s system does it go?”

  “Deep.” Val matched Talia’s steps and held the device in front of Talia’s glasses-cam for Eddie to see. “Looks like she had access to every Frenzy communication and transaction. She siphoned a little off each deal. The others were moving so fast they didn’t notice.”

  “What about delivery schedules. Did she hack those?”

  “Can’t say yet. We’ll need some help finding out.”

  After Talia and Val reached the room, Eddie coached them through a search of the device’s functions and data.

  “Got it.” Talia
selected an entry on the device, bringing up times and registry numbers. “Rudenko has a delivery arriving this evening, coming in on two freight trucks.”

  “Which means train,” Tyler said.

  “No, I said trucks.”

  “And Tyler said train.” Val took the device out of her hand and set it on the desk. “Bangkok is a packed metropolis with ten times more traffic than its roads can support. Moving freight trucks through this mess by train is more efficient. It’s called piggybacking.”

  “Okay.” Talia squinted at Val. “Let’s say you’re right, and our trucks are coming through the city by rail in a couple of hours. Where does that leave us?”

  “With something I’ve always wanted to try,” Tyler said. “An old-fashioned train robbery.”

  WITH THE REST OF THE TEAM preparing to hit the train and nothing left in the Frenzy but the Grand Bazaar, Talia and Val could do nothing but sit tight. Sitting was not in Talia’s nature. Pacing was more her style—pacing and praying.

  Dear God, place your hands as a shield around Tyler and the team. Help me find the children, and help us bring them safely home to their parents.

  “Are you falling asleep on your feet over there?” Val asked from the kitchen.

  “Praying.”

  “Right. I should’ve guessed. Say one for me, will you?”

  The sincerity in the request made Talia open her eyes. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” Val attempted to pour a cup of coffee, but the pitcher rattled against the cup. She set both on the counter and lowered her head. “No.”

  Her hands were shaking. Talia left her pacing track and went to her. “Val, what’s wrong?”

  “Weren’t you paying attention? Rudenko kidnaps and sells children. By stealing artifacts for him, aiding his cover business and financing, I’ve been helping him.”

  In the months Talia had known her, Val kept up a callous veneer. Always shielded. Always arm’s length from real emotion. With Don Marco’s decision to turn himself in, her veneer had cracked. Now the news about Rudenko had wedged in a crowbar. Talia had two ways to play this—remove the crowbar and add some quick platitude spackling, or tear the fissure wide open.