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

boss. If you want me to do this job right, you have to get me quality equipment.”

“And I told you, this is Bangkok. You can get gear fast or get gear that’s high quality. You can’t do both.”

“We should have held back one of the TACRON spider drones from Milos.”

“We didn’t know. How many times do I have to say ‘fluid plan’?” Tyler took his eyes off the road long enough to check on the drone, keeping pace fifty feet above. “You see the train yet?”

“Coming in from the west at thirty-five miles per hour. She’ll turn to follow the new line paralleling the bridge right on time. You might want to step it up.”

Tyler couldn’t believe the geek had added that last bit. “You might want to hide when Finn and I get back.”

The Siam Rail Transport Company had joined its new southern city line to the existing superstructure of the Mega Bridge, putting the tops of any piggybacking freight trucks three feet below the western bridge rail and six feet over. The bridge was the perfect launching point for the heist.

Almost.

The bikes cleared the last building and sped up the ramp of the southern span. As Finn came up on his rear quarter, Tyler made an exaggerated nod toward the forest of support cables. “Those are only ten meters apart. Are you sure you can make this jump?”

“Are you, old man?”

Tyler laughed. “So it’s like that, is it? I was pulling stunts like this when you were still in diapers”—he popped a wheelie and let the front wheel bounce on the pavement—“driving uphill, in the snow, and firing MP5s with both hands.”

Finn didn’t answer.

Tyler glanced over his shoulder at the Aussie. “Finn?”

“Sorry. I zoned out at while you were still in diapers.”

“You’re both hilarious,” Eddie said. “Here comes the train.”

Thai traffic, when following any rules whatsoever, drove on the left. Tyler surged forward between the cars and the left railing. Approaching the second span, the train sped in from the west and turned north beside the bridge. It took the lead, but that was okay. Tyler and Finn wanted to land on the freight trucks, not the diesel engine up front. There’d be no one to hear their bodies slam onto the trailers. During transport, the truck drivers rode up front with the rail company’s security guards.

“Ready, Finn?”

“Ready.”

They’d have to jump simultaneously to avoid either bike crashing into the other with a rider still on board. Tyler stood on his seat and checked to see Finn do the same. “On my count. Three, two—”

A horn blared. A car swerved to avoid another and smashed into the rail, blocking Tyler’s path. He dropped to his seat and steered away. “Finn, go!”

Tyler heard the bike crash behind, followed by angry honking. Through the comm link, he heard the Oomph! as Finn landed.

“I’m on.”

Parallel to the bridge, the thief hopped to his feet, riding the piggybacking freight truck like an urban surfer. Tyler gave him a salute.

The Aussie saluted back. “You coming?”

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a sec.” He gunned the bike past two more cars and swerved back to the railing. The last towering spire passed over him. Ahead, the diesel engine turned under the bridge to follow the northern shoreline. A ten-foot-wide pylon topped with the sculpture of a lotus blossom marked the curve. Tyler made a snap calculation.

“I’m not going to make it.”

TALIA POUNDED ON VAL’S BEDROOM DOOR. “Val, come out. Let’s talk this through.” She’d chosen the harder path, but she might have been a little too abrupt about it. The grifter had locked herself away. “Val?”

“Complete honesty isn’t always the best policy, you know. A little empathy wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fair point.” She had Val talking again. A good start. Talia rested a shoulder against the door. “I can be harsh. I get it. Eddie reminds me all the time. But I thought you’d want the truth rather than a regurgitation of the same con you’ve been running on yourself.”

Silence.

“This is not new, Val. People have been running this con for years—millennia, even. I call it the . . . the As Wrong Anyway gag.”

The door opened, forcing Talia to catch the frame to keep from falling through. Val cocked her head. “You just made that up.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t make As Wrong Anyway any less of a thing.” Val never shared much about her hobbies, but Talia knew she loved grifting lore—the cons, the clever names—made up or not. “Want to hear more?”

“You’re playing me.”

“Yes I am.”

“Fine. I’ll bite.” Val walked past her and pulled up a stool at the kitchen counter. “Lay out this alleged scam. How’s it work?”

“Easy.” They both set their earpieces on the counter, and Talia grabbed the coffeepot and two cups. “As Wrong Anyway is a value con like . . .” She racked her memory, searching through all the gags and games Tyler and Val had taught her. “. . . like the Old Violin.”

“In which the framer sets the story by decrying his hard times and lamenting the need to sell some dear dilapidated item, and the shill shows up to convince the mark the item is priceless.”

“Except As Wrong Anyway works in reverse. It down-values the merchandise, and—”

“And the framer, the shill, and the mark are all the same person.” Val accepted her cup and took a sip, eyeing Talia over the rim. “Correct?”

“Nailed it. But keep following.” Talia added some milk and sugar to her own cup and stirred it in. “In As Wrong Anyway, the grifter-slash-mark sells herself on doing something wrong by convincing herself this dastardly deed is not as wrong as some other crime.”

“Variations?”

“Endless.” Talia grinned. A moment before, she’d been desperate to get Val talking. Now the two were having fun. “The Wiley Accountant. ‘I can cheat on my taxes because it’s not as wrong as stealing, and the government takes too much money anyway.’”

“I like that one,” Val said. “I kind of live that one.”

“Lots of people do. Then there’s The Frenemy. ‘Spreading gossip about Mary is not as wrong as