Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (best free e book reader .TXT) 📗

“I’m in a coffee shop. Relaxing. You told me to take the day off, remember?” That earned her a thumbs-up. Tyler crumpled up the note and tossed it into the library wastebasket for two points. She wanted to punch him in the nose. “Um . . . What happened to your lunch with the senator?”

“I’ll make it. But my people are my priority. You should know that.”

The next note read, GETINTEL.

Talia scrunched her nose at him in the universal sign for No kidding. “I’m fine. I promise. Tell me about this attack.”

Silence. Now they were playing a game. “If you weren’t involved, I probably shouldn’t share details. This will become an FBI matter.” Jordan had moved her next piece, an attempt to block.

“But I’m so bored out here on my mandatory vacation, and I’m only an hour in. Besides. If the Bratva are shooting up cars in McLean, I should be kept in the loop, right?”

More silence. “Okay. Route 123. The stoplight at Dolley Madison and Churchill. Our witness saw the suspect use his hatchback to block a late-model Honda Civic. He then stepped out of his car and let loose with a machine gun.”

“Any cameras?” Talia remembered this time. She hoped Jordan was proud.

“The traffic cams on half the route were down for maintenance.”

Whoa. “Quite a coincidence.” Talia couldn’t stop herself from saying it. They both knew coincidences like cameras going down right before a hit didn’t exist, and the Bratva, the Russian mob, didn’t have that kind of pull. “What about your suspect? Is he talking?”

“Our witness was fuzzy on the details, but she thought the would-be victim ran the suspect down during the escape. Seems she was right. The cops caught him doubled over in his vehicle two blocks away but failed to respect the severity of his internal injuries. He died in holding.”

The blood drained from Talia’s cheeks. Finn had used a nonlethal round. Talia had bounced the hitman with his own car, but she hadn’t hit him hard enough to do lasting damage. Had Jordan or one of her people silenced the guy?

Tyler scribbled furiously on his notepad. SUSPECTISDEAD, RIGHT?

She snatched the paper away, crumpled it, and threw it at the wastebasket. She missed.

He frowned and scribbled again. HANGUP.

She nodded. “Oops. Looks like my coffee’s ready. I have to go.”

“Okay, Talia.” Jordan clearly wasn’t buying it. She paused, so silent Talia could hear her own heartbeat. “I’ll be in touch.”

Smugness. Triumph. These were the things Talia expected from Tyler as she put the phone away. But he gave her none of those. He pushed himself off the desk and let out a long breath. “Usually I like being right, but not this time. I’m sorry, Talia. I know you looked up to Jordan. But I’m convinced. She’s trying to kill you.”

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

BAN DOI HENGA REFUGEE CAMP

THAI/BURMA BORDER

MAE HONG SON PROVINCE, THAILAND

THET YEHADTOLDNOONE about the uniformed men in the jungle. He couldn’t say the same for Hla Meh.

“I warned you.” Aung Thu slid close to Thet Ye on a bench beneath the school’s pavilion. The older boy closed his mouth as the teacher neared. She handed each of them their graded assignments from the day, then moved on. “This is what comes of having a girl for a best friend.” He poked Thet Ye in the arm with a bony elbow. “Hey, you hear me? She wanted to be your wife. You said no. Now she wants nothing to do with you.”

Thet Ye refused to look at him. He watched Hla Meh, who sat with her gaze buried in her lap at the other corner of the pavilion, as far from him as possible. “You don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me why she’s angry.”

“I can’t.”

If Thet Ye told Aung Thu, by nightfall everyone in the camp would know of the men in the jungle—except Aung Thu would be at the center, confronting a whole platoon. No one would believe him, but Thet Ye could not take the risk. The teachers might get in trouble, and the school might close.

Hla Meh did not seem to care.

After confessing her fears to Thet Ye, Hla Meh had gone straight home and told her mother, who assured her that the uniformed men were part of the Thai military, there to keep them safe.

The following day, Hla Meh had dragged Thet Ye home with her. “Thet Ye saw the men too,” Hla Meh told her mother. “He saw the militiamen.” She grabbed him by the hand and jerked him forward. “Tell her!”

What was he supposed to do? Thet Ye kicked at the dusty floor of the hut, unable to meet the woman’s eyes. “I saw uniforms. The men spoke Thai. That’s all.”

Hla Meh’s mother ushered him out into the mud alleyway, apologizing for the tearful shouting that followed. Since that day, Hla Meh had not spoken to him.

Under the school pavilion with Aung Thu, Thet Ye finally tore his gaze from Hla Meh. “I guess I need a new best friend.”

But Aung Thu was no longer paying him any attention. The bitter scent of scorched bamboo hit Thet Ye’s nostrils.

His friend jumped up from the bench, waving his arms. “Fire!”

Teacher Rocha saw the flames too. “Everyone, move to the back of the pavilion. Form a line.”

The flames spread quickly, leaping from hut to hut. Within seconds, the thatched roof of the pavilion ignited.

The teacher’s calm crumpled. “Back, children.” She spread her arms and moved the whole line sideways. “Into the yard. Quickly.”

The girl beside Thet Ye tripped and fell. As he lifted her up, the thought occurred to him. He had forgotten about Hla Meh.

“Hla Meh!”

She didn’t answer.

Embers swirled and spun on a growing wind of pure heat. Thet Ye shielded his face. “Hla Meh, where are you?”

The teacher shouted over the roar. Thet Ye did not understand her.

The little girl he had helped to her feet a moment before tugged at his elbow. “Teacher says run to the church.”

The line broke. The students raced across the