Tiger by the Tail (25 page)

“Accomp’ished my miss’n, sir!” Adams managed.

“And how—” Mike’s dressing down of Adams was interrupted by a strange noise. “What is that noise, Master Chief?”

“Thas—my phone—jus’ a minit . . .” Adams groped for his side pocket and dragged out his smartphone, which looked just as bad as its owner.

“I knew getting him the shock and liquid-proof case would come in handy,” Vanner said.

“See! Miss’n . . . accomp’ished! Goddamn Chinese beer, like screwin’ inna canoe . . .” Adams said. Still swaying, he held the phone out to Mike, who grabbed it and read the screen.

“What did Master Chief mean by that last part?” Greznya asked.

“He meant it is fucking close to water,” Vanner replied with a straight face. “What’s the word, Kildar?”

Mike read everything on the screen, then thumbed up to the top and read it again. “If I wasn’t seeing it right here, I wouldn’t believe it. Listen to fucking this: ‘
Dear Mr. Adams: We were very impressed by the materials you had given Mr. Lau regarding the Mountain Tiger Brewery. The follow-up meeting with you last night was also very remarkable—’”

“Given what he looks like, I’m surprised anyone even remembered there
was
a meeting last night,” Vanner said.

“Wait, there’s more.” Mike continued reading: “‘
We look forward to further discussions, and to entering into a mutually beneficial business partnership between your company and ours. Sincerely, Mr. Liu Chen, Vice-President of European Imports, Xìngfú Distribution International.’
Got his goddamn business card attached to the e-mail and everything.”

Mike raised his head to stare at Adams. “You told me it was a meeting with your buddy, in and out. Just who the hell else did you meet with in Hong Kong?”

“There was . . . lotta singin’ . . . karaoke . . .” Adams slurred. “Lotsa beer and wha’d they call it . . . bye-joo?”

“Oh, shit. No wonder he’s been flat on his ass ever since he got back,” Jace said. “Russians have vodka, Irish have whiskey, and the Chinese have
bái jiǔ
. It’s an alcoholic drink distilled from rice in the south, and from sorghum, wheat, or Job’s tears in the north. It starts at eighty proof, and goes up to one-twenty, although I’ve heard rumors of a one-forty-proof variety that can strip skin off your tongue and paint off a car. Since he was an honored guest, I’m sure they served him the more potent varieties, as those have the least impurities.”

“Now
that
I would have paid to see,” Vanner muttered.

“Well, despite his deplorable condition, I cannot argue with results,” Mike said. “In light of this new evidence, all charges are hereby dropped.” He tossed the phone to Vanner. “Forward all of this information to Mother Mahona, have her secure a translator from Jace’s recommendations, and begin negotiations on the contract.”

“I would advise retaining an Asian law firm for the contract as well, sir. It will make things much easier in the long run.”

“Do it.” Mike turned back to Adams, who was still swaying back and forth, despite the fact that they were at a full stop on a calm sea. “Master Chief Adams, get the hell off what was my nice, clean deck and clean yourself up!”

“Yes, sirrr . . .” Adams came to attention, saluted . . . and pitched headlong toward that same deck. He would have broken his nose if not for Mike grabbing him and shoving him back into the waiting arms of Oleg and Vil.

“Get him cleaned up and racked out. I want him ready to go when we reach Phuket.” Mike shook his head. “If even half of what I’ve heard is true, I am going to have to put him in a straight-jacket when we go ashore.”

* * *

That night, Vanel couldn’t sleep. The Kildar’s training regimen didn’t slack off while in the field (it included cross-overs
under
the stationary yacht). That, combined with four-hour duty watches, prep for upcoming missions,
and
a shift learning how to pilot and navigate the boat itself, meant he should have been lights out as soon as he hit the mattress, but something was keeping him awake.

It wasn’t the action they had seen already, or the near guarantee of more to come in the next few days. Indeed, he was looking forward to the next time he would enter combat and win more honor for his house and himself.

Vanel had also received praise in his AARs from both Adams and Yosif. The side mission assisting the Chinese police out of their sinking vehicle had gone very well. He’d even overheard the Kildar himself mention his name in the same sentence as the term “a natural” while talking to the master chief. It wasn’t any of that at all.

And it wasn’t their destination that was keeping him up either. So far, the landfalls they had made had either been large cities or jungle-filled islands. They were about twenty hours away from Phuket, and had just entered the Strait of Malacca again.

The truth was, Vanel did not know why he couldn’t sleep. He just knew he wasn’t. After tossing and turning for long minutes, he rose from his bed and padded to the door. He was almost outside when a throat quietly cleared on his left.

Freezing in place, Vanel slowly looked over to see Yosif staring at him from his bed. “Going somewhere, Inara Four?”

“I—cannot sleep. I thought a walk on deck might help.”

“Five minutes, then you return.”

Vanel nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Before his team leader’s head hit the pillow, the Keldara was asleep again.

With an envious grin, Vanel headed topside. Walking into the balmy, rainy night, he took a deep breath of the salty air and immediately started to feel better.

Even the rain here is opposite from our homeland
, he thought, raising his face into the warm drops as he walked to the railing. Back home, the rain was almost always cold, even in summer. Instinctively he looked left and right for the floating guards that made their irregular rounds, but could scarely make them out in the darkness. They, however, wouldn’t have the same problem, as they’d be wearing night-vision goggles.

A shadow fell across him, and he turned, expecting to be challenged by the night guard. Instead, one of the last people in the world he expected to see out here at this hour appeared.

“Kildar!” Vanel stiffened to attention as his leader stood before him, a bottle of Mountain Tiger in his hand.

“At ease, Vanel. The regular rotation is still on. I’m just out for a stroll.”

“Yes, Kildar, as am I.”

“Can’t sleep?”

Vanel shrugged. “Yes—I thought fresh air might help.”

“What do you think of our trip so far?”

Vanel’s tongue was momentarily paralyzed. He hadn’t had a lot of one-on-one time with the Kildar, although Oleg had said the man was like this; utterly dedicated while on mission, and pretty laid-back when off. “It is very enjoyable.”

“Oh? Which part have you liked the best?”

“The underwater parts, sir.”

The Kildar chuckled. “Half-fish, just like Yosif and the rest. Let me guess, you’ve been so busy with mission prep and other duties that you haven’t had time to get to the sundeck?”

If a Keldara elder—or, All Father forbid—a Mother had asked that question, the right answer would have been, “What sundeck?” Of course, the elders wouldn’t have allowed the existence of the sundeck in the first place. However, when the elders were away, the children would play. The girls had all discovered the pleasures of lying out on the upper deck for hours—after enduring a lecture from Greznya regarding sunscreen, of course.

It had already become a game among the various teams to manufacture the best excuse to show up there during shift change. The winner so far had been Marko, who’d stayed there for two hours during the trip to Hong Kong, claiming he’d been instructed to test the lotion the girls were using to make sure it was the proper “SOF.” The fact that he’d gotten the acronym wrong hadn’t lessened his victory in the slightest.

Vanel had not had a chance to go yet, but he was working on a damn good reason to get himself up there. Therefore, his reply was confident. “I have heard of the place, but have not been there myself, of course.” The “
yet
” was added only in his head.

“Of course you haven’t.” The Kildar grinned as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work, Vanel. And don’t stay too late out here. My Inaras have to be rested and ready for whatever Thailand might throw at us.”

“Yes, sir.” Vanel watched the man head down the middle staircase below deck. He exhaled only when he was sure the Kildar was gone. Still, now he felt a hundred times better than when he had first come topside. Humming quietly, he decided to take one lap around the huge boat, then head back down.

Rounding the stern of the
Big Fish
, he had just started down the port side when he heard an odd noise. Vanel stopped in place, then soundlessly crept to the nearest wall, disappearing into the shadows there. He snuck forward, one step at a time, moving heel-toe, heel-toe as he had been trained. Hearing the noise again—almost like a muffled sob—Vanel peeked around the corner, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Xatia?”

Hearing her name spoken from three feet away made the tiny girl squeak and jump into the air, whirling around to glare at him with tear-streaked eyes. “Vanel! Are you trying to scare me to death?” she hissed, smacking him on his broad chest.

“I—I am sorry to have disturbed you.” Even in his embarrassment, he couldn’t help noticing that she filled out her two-piece bikini—which was soaking wet—extremely well. Although she was short, her lush curves were straining the bright scraps of cloth. Along with his sympathy, Vanel felt something else stirring a bit further south, and shifted his weight so he could adjust himself and make sure she didn’t notice.

“What is the matter?” he asked, to keep her attention from wandering as well.

The small girl shook her head miserably. “I—oh, this is so embarrassing, I mean, I have just arrived here, but I am homesick already!” She waved her hand at the endless ocean. “The ship is great, and the girls are fun too, but I simply cannot take all this water!”

Before he knew it, she had thrown herself into his arms. Even with the very pleasant sensation of all that female skin on his, Vanel still glanced around to ensure no one else was observing them. No matter what the circumstances, the elders would
not
look upon this at all kindly.

He patted her back awkwardly while clearing his throat. “There, there—”

She looked up at him, and although he tried to fight it, he stared back into her eyes. “I feel ever so much better now that you are here, Vanel.”

“Uhh . . .” Even almost losing himself in her deep brown eyes, and with those lush, pouty lips mere inches away from his own, Vanel was still able to retain his situational awareness. Therefore, instead of kissing her, which he wanted very much to do, he clamped a hand over her mouth and drew her into the shadows with him.

“Shh,” he hissed into her ear. To her credit, Xatia didn’t squirm, squeal, or try to bite his hand. Instead, she waited for his next words.

For a long moment, the two Keldara just stood there, waiting. Then Vanel heard the noise that had put him on alert again.

A faint
clink
that could only come from an anchor chain. But it shouldn’t be making any noise, as they were up and secured fast. Which could only mean . . .

“Find the nearest guard and let him know there are tangos incoming on the port bow.” Releasing Xatia, Vanel didn’t check to make sure she was going to do what he had told her to do. He was already heading forward to intercept whoever was stupid enough to try to sneak aboard a Keldara vessel.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

These guys are crazy
, Somchai Chaisukkasem thought as he guided the small skiff across the ocean water toward the majestic yacht.
No way am I going up there
.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. A former fisherman, he had turned to rice farming five years ago, but the floods in his native land had wiped out his crop, so he had no choice but to return to the ocean and try to catch enough to sell again.

Since then, his days had been filled with nothing but water, water, and more water, starting before dawn and ending after dusk. The fish he caught was barely keeping his family fed, and Somchai found he had to go farther and farther out to catch them every day.

So, when a man he had never seen before walked up to his boat and offered him a month’s earnings to take five men out onto the Gulf of Thailand for one night, Somchai had not thought too hard before agreeing. He figured they were probably criminals, but by that point he was too tired and desperate to care. They had paid the half of the outrageous price up front, and he had made sure his wife and three children had received it before he left. They had also brought a brand-new electric motor for his boat, which they said he could keep after the job was done. Somchai had his doubts that he’d ever see land again, but he was still willing to take the risk.

Now, however, he was having second thoughts about the whole thing. The night had started with him coming down to the pier to see a half-dozen masked men with wicked looking guns waiting for him. The forty-foot cigarette boat they rode in for the first thirty miles with his fishing boat lashed to the stern was the next clue.

When he saw exactly what they were asking him to do, however, he almost backed out right then and there. But the only way out now was with a bullet to the back of his head. Therefore, Somchai had aimed his boat through the rain toward the fast-moving white yacht in the distance, concentrating very hard on the masked man’s insistence that they approach the
bow
of the immense pleasure craft. Fortunately, the electric motor worked perfectly, propelling his eighteen-foot skiff toward the superyacht in near silence. The plan had been to have the cigarette boat distract any one who might be on deck with a pass to the rear, making sure to show up on their radar, while the skiff approached the bow and allowed the boarding party to come aboard.

“You will have only one chance,” he said when they were less than a minute out. “I will pass in front of the yacht only once. How you get aboard is your problem. I won’t be coming back for anyone.”