The Noble Path: A relentless standalone thriller from the #1 bestseller by Peter May (electronic book reader .TXT) 📗

had never called her by her name before, yet the whisper of it was familiar. She rose and moved quietly to the doorway and found herself looking into the dark face of a young boy. A face she knew from somewhere in her past. But still it took her a moment to recognize it.

‘Hau!’ Her brother’s name slipped involuntarily from her lips, and though whispered, seemed loud in the quiet of the night.

‘Shhhh!’ He put a finger to his lips and signalled for her to follow. She slipped quickly down the steps behind him, and in the shadow of the hut they embraced. She held him tightly, never wanting to let go, emotion choking her. How often she had known the heat of his body when he had slipped into her bed on cold nights and snuggled up to her for warmth. But how was it possible? She held him at arm’s length to look at him and brush the hair from his eyes.

‘Hau, what are you doing here?’

He still had the face of a boy, but his eyes were much, much older and he spoke quickly and with quiet authority. ‘Ny, they are sending me away.’

‘Away? Away where?’

‘To Phnom Penh. They say the Vietnamese might attack, and they want more soldiers to defend the city in case of invasion.’

Ny was stunned. It was the first she had heard of it. A Vietnamese invasion! Perhaps, then, there was still hope. For surely the Khmer Rouge could not withstand the might of the Vietnamese army. But her heart froze with the same thought. They were sending her brother to fight. And the fanatics of the Khmer Rouge would urge their troops to fight to the last, and shoot those who refused. ‘Oh, Hau,’ she whispered. ‘You must not go.’

‘I have no choice,’ he said. ‘But I will not fight. I will run away.’

‘They will kill you.’

‘I will take the chance,’ he said simply.

‘I will get Mother.’ She turned towards the steps, but he stopped her.

‘No. I cannot face my mother.’ And there was a look of shame in his eyes. ‘I have done things,’ he said. ‘They made me do things . . .’ And he could not even face his sister.

Ny took him again in her arms. ‘Oh, Hau.’ When she looked once more into his face she saw that he was crying. He brushed away the tears, ashamed of them too.

‘Tell her,’ he said, ‘that I will go and hide at our house in the city. If our country is freed then she must look for me there.’

Ny looked at him with pain in her heart. She knew it was impossible. They heard footsteps and drew back further into the shadows. Ny saw the young cadre approach the hut and climb the steps. ‘You must go,’ she whispered urgently to Hau. She kissed him. ‘We will look for you.’ And she hurried out to the foot of the steps as the cadre climbed back down. He looked at her suspiciously.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was waiting for you.’

He seemed surprised, then smiled. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘I have not much time tonight.’ And he led her quickly away through the stilts. She glanced back and saw the shadow of Hau darting away between the huts, and she wondered if she would ever see her brother again.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A crystal chandelier hung overhead, tinkling gently in the breeze of the air conditioning. The air was cool rising from the cold marble floor. Elliot and Slattery stood uncomfortably in the opulence of their surroundings. A beautiful Thai girl in a long pink silk skirt and white blouse had let them in, asking them to wait. She had then tiptoed away into the depths of the house. Somewhere, they had heard a bell ring twice, followed by a deep silence. Slattery scuffed his heels impatiently, hard leather on marble echoing around this grand entrance hall. Erotic Greek statues stood on plinths, a chaise longue against one wall beneath a painting of a Renaissance nude, white and plump with blue-veined breasts. Velvet curtains were drawn on tall windows.

‘I thought you might like to see some of my acquisitions before we go back to the house.’ La Mère Grace’s voice echoed off marble. They looked up to see her descending the broad staircase, elegant and beautiful, bearing herself with a poise that comes only with age. Her white dress buttoned up to a high collar at the neck, and clung to her contours in an elegant sweep to her ankles. It was split up one side, almost to the top of her thigh, allowing her to move freely and reveal glimpses of a long, shapely leg with each step. Her black hair was piled high to show off her fine-boned features and small, perfect ears. Her smile was radiant, betraying a hint of ironic amusement. ‘My car is waiting,’ she said.

The car was large, black and American, with smoked windows. It was driven by a girl in a chauffeur’s uniform and peaked cap who drove them smoothly, and with assurance, through the night traffic of Bangkok to a nightclub for members only. A small waiter in a perfectly fitting dinner suit bowed, led them to a reserved table and brought them drinks. The hostesses – they were not bar girls here – were discreet and extremely beautiful, all in white like their mentor, but without her poise. A band played soft seductive American jazz, and, through an archway, wealthy men dined with elegant women. Subdued lighting was concealed above red velvet drapes and the drinks, served from a long polished mahogany bar, were expensive. But they paid for nothing.

‘Here we cater for Bangkok’s elite,’ Grace said. ‘Government ministers, high-ranking civil servants and army generals, the captains of Thai industry. The Prime Minister himself dines here on occasion. But it is, I think, not quite your style. As I told you, we cater for all tastes.’ She pushed her glass languidly away. ‘Drink up, gentlemen, and we