Cargo: A Leine Basso Thriller (6 page)

A few minutes later her phone rang. Caller ID indicated it was Kavi.

“The meeting is at five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I have received confirmation that an American girl is part of Wang’s next shipment, although I am not certain it is the woman you’re looking for.”

“When does the shipment leave Bangkok?”

“Late tomorrow night, so timing is critical. You will meet Wang’s associate at the Import Emporium Number Sixty Three in Chinatown, and he will take you to him. You’re to come alone, and I suggest you be unarmed. Weapons tend to make these people nervous.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for setting this up. I owe you a Singha.”

“You will owe me much more than that if the meeting is successful.”

“You know I’m good for it.”

“Of course. I will monitor your progress, but do forgive me if I remain many miles distant.”

Guilt from the reminder of his predecessor’s demise carved into her gut. “As you wish, Kavi. Like I said, I owe you.”

“Good luck,” Kavi replied. “I will say a prayer for you.”

“Thank you. I will do the same for you.”

Leine ended the call and slid the phone back into her pocket. It was a fifty-fifty chance that Kylie would be on that ship, although the timing certainly worked. Either way, Leine was closer to finding her. She’d have preferred to meet with Wang that evening but knew from experience he would need time to check her credentials, bogus though they may be. The name on the passport Kavi had provided, Claire Sanborn, had a history in this part of the world. The gap in activity wouldn’t raise alarms—many times, criminals would either drop from sight after being arrested or would go to ground if incarceration was imminent. The six or seven years between Claire’s trips wouldn’t be viewed with suspicion.

Leine picked up the phone and ordered an early dinner, opting not to deal with the energy-sapping humidity of late afternoon Bangkok.

There’d be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

Leine arrived in
Chinatown at a quarter of four and made her way through the narrow streets of Sampeng Market, searching for the Import Emporium. The brutal humidity promised a singularly sodden and energy-depleting evening ahead, and the crush of shoppers didn’t make progress easy. The store’s black and red sign blended well with the rest, and it took her a couple of passes to find it.

She ordered tea from a vendor a few stalls away and sipped it while monitoring activity in and out of the store. An older man wearing dreads shot through with gray and what looked like a bone necklace swept the sidewalk in front of the establishment, his attention riveted to his task. Wiry and tall, he wore sandals and a vibrantly colored tunic over loose, flowing pants, and had an energy about him that seemed unusual given the weather.

The man finished his task and went back into the building. Occasionally a customer would disappear through the doorway, then reappear several minutes later carrying a small paper bag. Curious, Leine finished her tea and crossed the narrow street, dodging pushcarts and the occasional motorbike.

Inside was cool, dark, and musty. Hundreds of ivory statues depicting Buddhist and Hindu gods, lotus flowers, elephants, horses, and dragons crowded glass shelves, vying for space in the small store. Chinese coins tied with red ribbons hung from the ceiling, along with other good-fortune amulets. There was no one in front. A curtain of multi-colored plastic beads hung behind the register, leading to a back room.

She walked over to one of the shelves to examine the figurines. Most were supposedly made of legal ivory, indicated by a written explanation, paper yellow with age and taped multiple times to the shelf. Leine would bet most of her 401K that the “legal” ivory had been smuggled from East Africa into Thailand, probably by Wang or an associate.

“Good afternoon, madam. I am Abraham. May I help you?”

Leine turned as the man with the dreads appeared in the doorway at the back of the store. The cascading tinkle of plastic beads accompanied his entrance.

“Good afternoon. I’m curious about the price of your statues.” She held up a large likeness of the Buddha with gold accents on the deity’s head and hands. “And if they truly are legal ivory, as your sign says.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I see you have fine taste, madam.” He joined her but kept a respectful distance. He pointed to the old sign on the shelf. “I personally guarantee the origin of each and every piece of ivory in this shop. Should you decide to buy, I will ensure you are able to bring your statue through customs with no ill effects. As for price,” he frowned and tapped his finger to his lips. “Since you are one of my last customers of the day, I will give you a reduction.”

Leine smiled and placed the Buddha back on the shelf. “Let me think about it. I’m not sure I’ll have room in my suitcase.” Her gaze drifted to the piece of jewelry she’d noticed earlier. “That’s an interesting necklace.”

“Do you like it?” He stroked the largest of what turned out to be teeth. “It is from a male lion, my talisman. There is much protection and good luck for those who wear them.”

“I see,” she murmured, and stopped herself from making a sarcastic remark about how unlucky the lion must have found them. She moved on to another shelf.

“Is this your first visit to Bangkok?” he asked, continuing to stand a respectful distance away, his hands clasped behind his back.

“No. I visited several years ago,” Leine said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here in a little while, but thought I’d come early, get some ideas for souvenirs to buy before I return home.”

“And where is home?” Abraham’s increased interest in Leine was palpable, although the shift in his stance was small.

“Riyadh. I’m here on a buying trip for my employer.”

Abraham raised his eyebrows. “Ah. May I inquire as to who your employer might be?”

Leine smiled and continued looking at the statues. “A prince.”

“I see.” The man visibly perked up at the mention of Saudi royalty. “Then may I interest you in something even rarer than an ivory figurine? Some even say it has magical powers.”

Leine put down the statue she was holding. “I might be interested.”

Abraham disappeared into the back room. Leine checked her watch to gauge the time until her contact arrived. A few moments later, he reappeared holding an opaque glass bottle. He set it on the counter and Leine moved closer.

“What is this?” Leine asked, studying the label.

“Tiger bone wine,” he answered in a hushed voice. “Very rare. Your prince will be quite pleased.”

Leine leaned closer. “I’ve heard it has medicinal qualities, but that the claims can’t be proven.”

“You have received bad information.” Abraham straightened and emphatically shook his head. “A few drops in your prince’s tea, and he will be able to last through the night. It also cures paralysis and other maladies.”

“Wow. An aphrodisiac
and
a cure for paralysis?”

“On my honor.” Abraham laid his hand across his heart.

“How is it made, may I ask?”

The man smiled and turned on the charm, likely thinking he was closing in on a sale. “Wild tiger bones from throughout Asia—never the lower-quality farmed ones, of course—are steeped for months in a mixture of powerful herbs and rice wine, and then bottled when it is most potent.” He brought up his thumb and forefinger, indicating a small amount. “You need but a few drops.”

“Just how much do you charge for this rare thing?” she asked, working to keep a neutral expression.

Abraham leaned in, a calculating look on his face. “This quality usually goes for more than a thousand dollars per vial, but I will let you have the entire bottle for a fraction of its worth.”

At that moment, someone walked into the shop, cutting short Leine’s comment on the efficacy of human bone wine. Namely his.

Detach, Leine. You won’t win this fight.

Abraham straightened and palmed the tiger bone wine, the bottle disappearing into the folds of his clothing.

The younger man in the doorway sported a shaved head except for a ponytail that fell past his shoulders. Dressed head to toe in dark clothing, he didn’t remove his sunglasses. On his neck was the tattoo of the triad from Kavi’s briefing. Leine turned to Abraham.

“It appears the person I’m to meet is here. Perhaps we can continue this conversation later?”

***

Leine followed the young man out the back door of the shop and into a waiting limousine. He closed the door and the driver edged into traffic, the other vehicles on the street stopping short so the larger car could merge. Expensive cars appeared to be rare in the district, and theirs was given pride of place on the road.

The driver had the same mark on his neck as the man who sat beside her. Leine turned her attention toward her seatmate, who stared out the window.

“How far to the meeting?” she asked.

“Not far.” His clipped reply told her he wasn’t much for conversation. Leine leaned back in her seat and watched the crush of neon chaos fight with the late afternoon shadows. The congestion of the old neighborhood slowly gave way to sleek modernity and manicured landscaping, the spidery nest of electrical lines above them changing to a more straightforward design.

The limo stopped at an impossibly white building with graceful spears of potted bamboo flanking the glass double doors. Leine and her escort exited the car and walked into the cool, sophisticated lobby with white marble floors and muted silk walls. Ponytail boy moved to the elevators and pressed the button while she took in the huge modern paintings hung throughout the large, airy space. A minute later, the elevator door opened and they stepped inside. He pressed the button for the twenty-sixth floor, and then motioned for her to raise her arms to the side and face away from him. He patted her down and then stepped back, clasping his hands in front of him.

The elevator stopped at their destination and the door slid open to reveal a large foyer.

The entry table held a low stone vase with one delicate pink orchid. A carefully directed spotlight illuminated the perfect flower. Chinese tapestries decorated a section of the massive wall behind her; another wall was faced with an exotic dark wood.

An Asian man of medium height wearing sharply creased tan slacks and a black silk shirt emerged from a doorway on her left. Leine pegged him as early forties.

“Welcome. I am Victor Wang,” he said. “Please, come in.”

Leine followed him into an open living area. Ponytail boy trailed them, keeping a discreet distance. A sleek bar took up most of the back wall with built-in cabinets made of the same exotic wood as the entrance. Several pieces of black and red lacquer furniture had been grouped in the center of the room. An expensive-looking settee and matching chairs with bright orange and yellow cushions had been grouped together in conversation areas. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto a generous balcony the length of the apartment and wrapped around a corner of the building with a sweeping view of the Chao Phraya River. A built-in cooking area and sleek outdoor furniture with matching cushions shaded by market umbrellas completed the magazine-worthy picture.

“May I offer you something to eat? To drink?”

“Some tea, perhaps.”

“Of course,” Wang said. He turned to an open doorway where a young Thai woman dressed in a blue and green silk sarong had appeared. “Sarai, some tea,” he ordered. Sarai bowed and disappeared as silently as she had come. Wang turned back to Leine.

“Shall we sit?”

Leine followed him onto the balcony and picked a chair near a table without an umbrella. Wang had a seat across from her. Muted traffic noises floated up from the street below.

“And how have you found Bangkok, Miss…”

“Claire Sanborn.”

“Miss Sanborn. My source tells me you have been to the city before.”

“I came here on a business trip several years ago and always meant to return.” Leine had to remind herself that small talk and personal stories were the Asian way of doing business, unlike getting straight to the point like most westerners. “The city still enchants, I’m happy to say.”

Wang smiled and nodded. “Yes. There is something quite magical about Thailand in general, is there not? I trust you have sampled many of the temples in Bangkok?”

And on it went. Wang asked her questions about her stay and what she’d experienced, and Leine answered in glowing terms, pausing only when Sarai served the tea and a small plate of sweets. Wang asked about her family and Leine told him that work kept her from establishing a more formal arrangement. He nodded in commiseration and switched seamlessly to questions about her employer, which Leine fielded from a memorized script.

After the tea had been exhausted, Leine sensed a shift in tactics. Wang leaned back in his chair, evidently convinced she was trustworthy, and said, “And now, to business. My contact advised me that your employer is interested in hiring several of our domestics for his palace, is this correct?”

“Yes. He’s particularly interested in a specific type. I’m sure our mutual friend discussed this with you prior to my arrival?”

Wang nodded. “He did. I am prepared to offer your prince his choice of our newly recruited candidates. Most are from the United States and Canada, with a few from Eastern Europe. I assume he prefers women of the Muslim persuasion?”

“Not really. He isn’t averse to such leanings, of course, but considers himself an equal opportunity employer.”

Wang nodded and leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “I see. What is your employer’s timeframe? Will he want to interview the candidates, or will photographs suffice?”

“The prince trusts me implicitly. I’m prepared to conduct the interviews this evening, if possible.”

Wang acted as though taken aback by the idea of rushing things, but his expression told her he was secretly pleased to be able to conclude the business transaction so quickly.

“I will have to ensure enough are available, but yes, I believe what you wish can be arranged.”

“Will you be able to secure transportation to the Middle East?”

“Yes. There are several options. If he chooses, your prince may provide his own, such as his private jet. Or, if time isn’t critical, there is a boat scheduled to leave for Dammam later next week.”

“The prince doesn’t use his private jet for domestics.” Leine’s voice turned icy and Wang’s reaction was immediate.

“Of course. I understand. I was merely suggesting this option in case the prince was in a hurry.”

Leine smiled coldly. “You guarantee your product?”

“One hundred percent.”

“May I see the ship? My employer is quite particular about your transportation methods. It would be a shame to run afoul of the port authorities.”

Wang’s eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid that would be impossible. The ship is not yet in port.”

“Then I’ll need to make a phone call to see how or if he wants to continue with the transaction.”

“There is a comparable ship leaving tonight. Although it is destined for Dar es Salaam, the accommodations will be similar.”