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

emanated from the machine’s massive base, as if the whole thing might topple over and crush them all. And then it began the slow crawl to the other end.

Ten minutes later, the operator lifted the first container into view. Eddie pointed. “See the red blotch? Still dripping. There are your weapons. My operator will now load them onto your ship at G-Four.”

Once all three containers were on the ship, Eddie sent his new friends off with a sniffle and a hardy handshake, making sure the dock cameras caught the whole pantomime. He activated his earpiece. “It’s done, boss. You think they bought it?”

“I hope so.” Tyler had abandoned the garbled Greek of his Santini-the-Crane-Operator role. “Check the accounts.”

Eddie unlocked his tablet in time to see the warlord’s funds coming in. Fifty million dollars to a fake TACRON Cayman fund Eddie had created, with five million immediately rerouted into a separate numbered account at a bank in Djibouti, all for Aku. “Yeah. They bought it.”

CHAPTER

FIFTY

MAE SURIN JUNGLE

MAE HONG SON PROVINCE, THAILAND

FINNPLOWEDHISHEELS into the wet grass and let his rear end fall into the mud, the only way to stop in a clearing no wider than the height of the surrounding trees.

No one shot him. Good deal.

He jerked his quick-release rip cord and rose to a knee, leveling his gun. The TacLiTe torch fixed to the barrel illuminated the trees. He panned it along the perimeter.

No one.

Ninety degrees to his right, Finn heard a rustling in the underbrush. He swung the weapon and its light toward the sound. “Hands! Let me see them!”

A pair of Thai men stepped out of the trees, hands high, squinting against the beam. One wore a blue T-shirt and tattered gray slacks. The other wore western jeans and a mud-stained button-down. They were unarmed. The man in jeans held a radio.

Finn put two and two together. “Ewan . . . Ferguson?”

The man lowered the radio far enough to shield his eyes from the light. “Yes. It’s confusing. Little Thai guy with a big Scottish name. My dad was a missionary. Would you mind lowering that gun?”

The other man muttered something, eyeing the weapon.

Ewan translated. “This is Po, the father of one of the missing boys. He says he’s glad to see an American commando, but he doesn’t want a firefight when we find the children.”

“I’m Australian, not American. And I’m no commando.” Finn let the weapon hang from its sling. “This gun is nonlethal. Without getting too technical, the rounds are mini flashbangs filled with pepper spray. All the same, mate, it’s best to be prepared.” He reached to his back and drew Matilda from his pack. “Sometimes firefights come along whether we want them or not.”

Ewan translated. The other nodded in understanding. The man had seen his share of war and ugliness, Finn could tell. The three converged in the clearing and shook hands. “If you’re not a commando, what are you?”

“I’m a thief.”

Ewan stared at him for a long moment, then started for the trees. “Great. Follow us.”

The jungle turned thick a few meters into the trees. Ewan stumbled along with his torch, a step ahead of Finn. Occasionally, he let a branch snap back to hit the thief in the chest or face. “Sorry,” he said every time. “Sorry about that.”

In contrast, Po moved through the vines and foliage like a ghost, rarely raising a hand to fend off a branch—rarely needing to.

“Is this area dangerous?” Finn asked, blocking a flying branch with his gun.

“You mean in terms of animals or militia?”

“Take your pick.”

“A few of the snakes can kill you, so watch your step.”

Finn shined his light directly at his own boots. He couldn’t see the soil beneath them, let alone any snakes. “Smashing.”

“Militia shouldn’t be a problem other than the kidnappers. In this region our biggest danger is bandits.” Ewan looked back over his shoulder. “You know. Thieves.”

Finn didn’t laugh. “How much farther?”

“At least another half kilometer.” As he spoke, Ewan bumped into Po. The refugee grumbled and said something harsh in Thai.

“What did he say?” Finn asked. “Why did he stop?”

“Um . . . We’re here.”

Po led them in a wide misshapen circle, tracking a five-foot-tall fence of barbed wire strung from tree to tree. He spoke in a low monotone, detached, as if all his emotion were already spent.

“Po believes this is a pen. Not for animals, but for people.”

“You mean children.” Finn found a loose wire and lifted it with the barrel of his weapon.

Po met his eye as he ducked under. “Yes, Thief. Children.” That bit of English, he knew.

They spread out, each with a light, and searched the area. Po held up a foil wrapper with a green and yellow logo—packaging from some kind of junk food. Finn gave him a nod and continued tromping through bushes. Most were tamped down, possibly by animals.

Finn needed better evidence. “Po thinks this was the kidnappers’ first stop with the kids, right?”

“No. The second stop.” Ewan seemed confused that Finn did not already know this information, a hazard of dealing with a communication chain that crossed multiple groups, continents, and languages. “Po found the first one a few days ago. From there he searched in a wide arc and discovered this one.”

“Rightio. You’ve made more progress than I thought.” Finn blinked at the light shining in his eyes. “Lower your torch a bit, would you?” As Ewan complied, he threw out a hand. “Wait. Stop there.”

“What is it? What did you find?”

Finn plucked a brass cylinder from a clump of grass. “Shell casing.” He searched the immediate area for more, but found something else—something that made his stomach turn. “And blood, mate. Smears of blood.”

CHAPTER

FIFTY-

ONE

CLUB STYX

MILOS, GREEK ISLES

10:57 PM

TALIAWATCHED VALAND AKUSHAKEHANDS, then searched for Darcy. She found her a quarter of the way around the third-level balcony, moving in on their mark.

On all nine levels of Club Styx, Jafet’s men stood watch. Those who worked the main chamber, standing in obsidian alcoves, wore black suits trimmed