Stickman Readers' Submissions March 5th, 2007

Fighting the Dragon Part Two

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.

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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.

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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…

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Stickman's thoughts:

This is a nice start.

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