Chapter 24
Thailand
The brightly colored songthaew—a Toyota pickup truck fixed with two bench seats and a roof, like an open-air school bus—squealed to a halt.
Mark Murphy unspooled his long frame from his cramped seat, trying desperately not to step on any toes or bump his head against the metal roof as he made his way to the back of the truck.
The ultra-polite locals all smiled and giggled as the gangly American finally exited with an awkward bounce of the shock absorbers.
The truck beeped its horn and sputtered away, leaving Murph alone by the side of the sandy road, shouldering a small backpack.
He’d seen the blue waters of the Andaman Sea off and on as he’d made his way down the coast from Bangkok in the back of the songthaew.
But it was only after the chattering passengers, squawking chickens, and sputtering engine had departed that he could hear the gentle rush of waves brushing up into the fine sand a few hundred yards away.
He smelled the salty tang of the sea and even the hint of pine.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
The temperature wasn’t bad at this time of day, but a short downpour a few minutes ago had turned the humidity index up to infinity.
He glanced around and spotted a handwritten sign nailed to a palm tree that read in Thai and English “Sunset Bar” with an arrow pointing toward the beach.
He didn’t bother to double-check his phone for instructions.
He’d read and reread Linlin’s follow-up coded text message a hundred times if he’d read it once, searching for an emotional subtext beneath the words, but found none.
He knew he was in the right location, at least physically.
Emotionally he felt adrift, like a ship without a rudder in a hard wind.
He thought he’d gotten over the Asian beauty.
But the closer he got to seeing her again, the more he realized he’d only buried his feelings all these years.
He had to play it cool.
He checked his watch. He’d timed his arrival perfectly.
Murph made his way through a patch of coconut palms. Closer to the beach the trees turned to pines.
When he finally cleared the tree line he stood on a wide and nearly deserted stretch of golden-white sand.
He was greeted by a spattering breeze and the fiery red orb of the sun plunging into the far horizon—real postcard stuff.
The lone structure on the beach was the proverbial thatched-roof surf bar.
A couple of empty fishing skiffs were pulled up on the shore some hundred yards away.
The setting sun threw long shadows across the sand as the notes of an acoustic guitar wavered in the air.
As he plodded forward, he counted nine local patrons and noted the bartender behind the bar.
Murph bounded up the rickety steps. The handsome, well-built bartender smiled and nodded at him as he polished a glass.
Murph looked around. There were two dozen tables, but only three were occupied.
The best table in the house was wide-open, perched on the corner of the open-air restaurant with an unobstructed view of the sunset. Murph was concerned.
Where was Linlin?
He spun around to face the ocean.
And there she was. Her hair danced around her face, jostled by the wind. The last rays of the setting sun cast an ethereal glow behind her lithe figure, darkening her face.
The bar’s automated dusk-to-dawn lights popped on, lighting her up.
She smiled demurely.
Murph’s hands quavered as he finally managed a raspy “Linlin.”
“Hey, Shaggy.”
Murphy smiled. She once told him he looked a little like Scooby-Doo’s best friend. Shaggy was her pet name for him. Nobody ever called him that except for her.
Linlin stepped off the beach and onto the stairs. She was barefoot and her toes were caked with fine sand. Her shoes dangled from her overstuffed day pack.
“You made it,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. Murph’s heart raced as he pulled her close to his chest and felt her breathe a deep sigh of relief.
She glanced up into his face. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Are you kidding? Of course I came.”
She stood back a step and studied him, pinching his biceps.
“Wow, you’ve changed. You’re all buff now.”
Murph blushed. “Sort of a gym rat these days. You look pretty great yourself.” In fact, she looked bone-weary, he thought.
Linlin tucked a length of unwashed hair behind her ear. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat and we can talk.”
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
Linlin headed for the premium table at the corner end of the bar, set her pack down, and grabbed a seat. Murph pulled off his pack and fell into the chair next to her just as the bartender approached with menus.
“Something to drink before you order?”
“A couple of Singhas,” Murph said. He turned to Linlin. “Beer still okay with you?”
“Sounds great.”
“Be right back.”
Murph waited for the bartender to get out of earshot. He leaned in close and whispered, “So what’s this ‘I don’t want to die’ stuff all about?”
“It’s a long story, and I’m sorry I’ve pulled you into it.”
“No problem.”
“Of course it is. You haven’t heard from me in years and now suddenly I’ve dragged you halfway around the world.”
“How do you know where I came from?”
“I assume anywhere you came from is at least half a world away from this faraway place.”
Murph chuckled. “Yeah, and then some.”
“And I never stayed in touch. I’m very sorry about that. I left suddenly, my parents got sick, and I just…” Her voice drifted off.
“How are your parents?”
Linlin dropped her gaze to her lap.
“They both passed.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a bad time. I just, well. I’m just sorry things worked out the way they did.”
“I get it.”
“And you? How have you been?”
“Great. But we’re not here to talk about me. What’s going on?”
Before Linlin could answer, the bartender was back with a couple of cold bottles of beer and glasses. He poured them at the table.
“Decide on dinner yet?”
“Couple of the house specials,” Mark said. “Extra-spicy.”
The bartender grinned. “You sure about that?”
Murph glanced at Linlin. She smiled.
“Yup.”
The barkeep finished his pours. “Two specials, extra-spicy. Coming right up.”
Murph watched him disappear through the swinging kitchen doors shouting orders in Thai, then swept the room with his peripheral vision the way Eddie Seng had taught him, taking everything in but not being too obvious.
The other tables were occupied by locals.
Three men sat together at one table with two women, and two men were at another several feet away.
A husband and wife—judging by their whispering intimacy—sat farthest away.
All were between thirty and fifty years of age.
They were eating, talking, and laughing convivially. None carried weapons.
“Everything okay?” Linlin asked.
“Yeah, sure.” He lifted his glass. So did she. They toasted carefully.
“Old times,” Murph said.
“Good times.” She offered a winsome smile.
Murph’s heart skipped a beat. They both took a sip.
“So, what’s the story?”
“The Chinese government thinks I’m a traitor, and they’ve put me on a kill list.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve been working for Zephyron Dynamics for the last five years. I’m a senior project manager for their AGI program.”
“I’ve heard of them. Impressive.”
“Not really. The Germans are lagging badly.”
“I take it your government doesn’t approve of you working there?”
“Just the opposite. The CCP owns a secret share of the corporation. They mask it through a shell company.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The Ministry of State Security has placed several agents in the company, and I’ve been closely scrutinized. I’ve even found bugs in my apartment.”
“With your credentials, I’m surprised the MSS never recruited you directly.”
“They tried, but I resisted until they threatened to pull my passport. So I began feeding them small pieces of worthless information. They finally figured out what I was doing.”
“And they called it counterespionage or something, right?”
“Exactly. I—” Linlin’s eyes widened. She grabbed Murphy’s arm and pointed at the shoreline. “Mark—”
Murphy turned in his seat. The overhead lights beneath the thatched canopy dulled his vision, but he thought he could make out the forms of three men emerging from the surf, running in a low crouch—
Bang!
An ear-crushing explosion and flash of blinding light erupted near the couple at the far table, tossing the two of them aside like rag dolls. A woman’s scream and the frantic shouts of men added to the confusion.
Murph’s ringing ears and blurred eyesight told him a flash-bang had gone off. He could still make out the blazing rifle barrels storming up from the beach.
He snatched up his backpack and grabbed Linlin’s hand and yanked her out of her chair. “Let’s go!”
He dragged her toward the rear of the joint just as the chest of the barkeeper flowered bloody red and he toppled to the floor behind the bar.
“There!” Linlin shouted as she pulled on her pack, pointing at a Yamaha motorcycle parked in the rear.
The two of them dashed for the sporty bike as more bodies hit the floor.
Murph prayed the driver had left the keys in the ignition or somewhere nearby as automatic gunfire ripped in the air behind them.
He had a pistol in his pack, but even if he could draw it in time he stood no chance against a team of commandos armed with automatic rifles.
Keys! Miraculously still in the ignition.
Murph leaped onto the beast and hit the electric starter as Linlin jumped on the seat behind him.
Murph cranked the throttle. The rear tire fishtailed in the sand before it finally got purchase and moments later the two of them rocketed away through the trees, Linlin holding on to Murphy’s rock-hard torso for dear life.
Murph navigated the bike with ease, his body flush with adrenaline and testosterone. The front wheel finally found the frontage road and he maneuvered onto it. He kicked the bike into high gear, the sound of gunfire fading away.
“What are we going to do?” Linlin shouted from behind.
“No worries,” Murph called over his shoulder. “I know a safe place. The safest place on earth.”
★
Colonel Shi Chang watched the Yamaha race away through the tree line as he thundered up the stairs, his wetsuit dripping on the restaurant floorboards.
He smiled.
The Chinese special forces operator clicked his molar mic and called out to the rest of his team.
“All clear.”
Instantly, the bartender stood up from behind the bar, a wide grin on his handsome face. His shirt was soaked in fake blood and torn apart by the small explosions from the special effects squibs.
The other “wounded” members of the team climbed to their feet with nervous laughter.
The married couple had the hardest time.
The reduced-power flash-bang that exploded near their table still managed to bloody their noses and ring their heads like dinner bells.
Two other members helped them to their feet as a third broke out a medical kit.
Chang’s number two, Sergeant Xuanyi, ambled up to him.
“That couldn’t have gone any better. I was worried that guilao was going to pull his peashooter.” A tail reported the tall American had previously entered an English-owned dive shop with known ties to Western agencies, where he was given a black-market pistol.
“I doubt the fool knew how to use it,” Chang said.
“Think she’ll be okay?”
“We’ve done our part to sell it. Agent Zhang’s fate is in her own hands now.”