
Fighting the Dragon Part Two
by Beowulf
Later as we lay sweating on the single sheet that covered the bed I
thought about the contract and what I would require. I’d need to give
her the information before I left. She was massaging my legs and stomach
and not saying anything so I could think. The daughter of a major
defense contractor on vacation had been picked up by the local police
acting on a tip from a local informant in a bar on Walking Street in
Pattaya with over 100 yaba tablets. She claimed someone planted them
there but she was quickly sentenced to a death sentence and she was
being kept at the Lard Yao women’s prison until the next Friday when the
sentence would be carried out. This happened so fast that it was obvious
that someone in the government was pulling the strings.
Shortly after her conviction the defense contractor executive was
approached by an agent and told if he shipped their latest satellite
communication encryption system to a local address then his daughter
would be released. This was the NSA’s latest system and highly
classified. Using his entire savings he approached Blackwater USA to
free her and Blackwater USA had taken it upon themselves to contact the
NSA in hope they’d provide support and more financing. This is where my
name came up as the NSA and I had a not so happy past. However, they
knew I was living in Bangkok and could do the job so here I was being
bonked to death in a massage parlor by a CIA agent on secondment to the
NSA. What a web this was.
I was to have any resources I requested as long as I liberated the lady
from the prison and delivered her unnoticed to the JUSMAGTHAI compound
alive and well. Secondary egress points were still to be planned. My
paid for two hours were almost up so as we reached for each other for
the fifth time I gently climbed on top and during long strokes lowered
my face next to her ear and whispered my requirements in detail. Her
muscles tensed under me as I finished and her breathing came in large
pants as her body shook in spasms and she whispered in my ear that all
would be done. After a brief shower we dressed and I didn’t see ‘Plato”
again. On the way home I stopped at an internet café and using my USB
flash memory dongle uploaded an encrypted message to Marco, a very
trusted friend from my prior life. I knew he’d come, it was the code and
obligation we all lived by until the day we died.
Snapping to attention I was almost too lost in my memories to notice the
large black Benz E500 pulling into the parking area, almost. A large
Chinese man with a huge gut exited the car and went inside Mom Tri’s
Boathouse. As planned that was our cue and Marco and I approached the
beach and laid in the mild surf checking to make sure the beach was
clear. Grabbing our wet sacks and my Starlight case we casually
approached the first of the Fortuners and opened the rear hatch and
quickly desposited the rebreather, mask and fins, and other gear. Inside
one of the wet sacks was a change of dry clothes and we quickly changed
into them before anyone could notice us. Reaching inside the wet sack I
pulled a small bag with a .9mm Glock 17 with a FOBUS IWB holster, a
magazine holder with two extra 19 round mags, a Randall Guardian boot
knife, a small transceiver with a belt clip and throat mics, several
large wire ties and a roll of duct tape. Looking over I could see Marco
doing the same. We finished at the same time and turned our attention to
the water and making sure the beach was clear we hit the keychain fob
locking the SUV whiched blinking the parking lights giving them the
signal to exit the water and join us. They changed very quickly and
slipped off to take up their positions around the parking area.
We didn’t have to wait long, something must not have made our mark
happy. Marco had already used the set of factory computer security
chipped keys left for us to open the Benz and had climbed into the rear
seat. As the big man drove off we could see Marco rise from behind the
rear seat and put his knife behind his ear as we heard over our ear buds
him telling the man to relax and drive home and for us to tuck in behind
him. We got in the SUVs and followed a few hundred meters behind. I rode
alone and the three hires in the other Fortuner. A few nights before I’d
reviewed their records and I knew they’d worked together before and were
loyal to their main employer and frankly that was a worry to me.
On the bright side I was pleased to notice both Fortuners were equipped
with the Garmin Nuvi 310 GPS devices loaded with Thailand maps with the
requested addresses programmed into memory. Calling up our marks home
address I could see we were almost there. Soon his Benz pulled into the
drive and into the parking space under his house and the car stopped but
no one got out. I parked my Fortuner 100 meters down the soi and walked
back to his home and straight to the drivers door where through the
window I could see him sweating like a pig from fear. He had no idea why
we were here. Looking around to make sure no neighbors were watching I
opened the car door and greeted him in soft Mandarin and asked him if he
wanted to die or to become rich.
Inside the house our mark was tied to a stout chair naked and gagged
with duct tape. Sweat dripped down pooling on the floor and he gave off
a foul odor that reminded me of old gym clothes forgotten in the locker
for the summer. His eyes were wild with fear and looking everywhere at
once. Marco retrieved a small black case from his wet sack and opened it
to reveal a medical instrument resembling a pneumatic vaccine injector.
Lined up in very small glass tubes were little pellets smaller than the
size of a peppercorn. Looking at our mark he carefully loaded six of
these pellets into the injector and then donned latex gloves. By now our
mark was really squirming and making whining noises. I silently hoped
his heart didn’t give out during the next step.
To be continued...
Stickman's thoughts:
This is a nice start.
The author of this
article cannot be contacted.
The author of this website, NOT this article, can be contacted at: stickmanbangkok@gmail.com.