He didn’t know, then. About the judo, about her being a cop. They hadn’t kept tabs since she’d left Llewellyn. They’d look at her as just a slightly older version of that scared, helpless little girl.
That was her play. Maybe her only play. To foster that impression. Make them underestimate her. An instructor had once told her that when you recognize someone is dangerous, it automatically makes him less dangerous.
But the opposite was also true.
“So, Livia, this is what you’re going to do. First, I want you to slowly lower that bag to the floor. And just by the way? If you think I’d be afraid to shoot you because of the noise, you’d be wrong. The Orient has the thickest walls in Bangkok. You could set off a fucking suitcase nuke in one of these rooms, and no one would even be disturbed in his slumber. On top of which, for security, the senator always takes both adjacent rooms and the one below. We clear on that?”
She did as he said. She still had the Boker, but she didn’t think he would be stupid enough not to search her. His tactics so far had been sound.
She heard him pick up the bag. “What do we have in here? Oh, pepper spray. Well, that would have hurt. And I guess you were going to hit me with this Kuboton after that? What, did you take some kind of self-defense class? What is this? What are you trying to do?”
She said nothing.
“And what’s this? Some sort of cell phone tracker?”
The modified Gossamer. Again she said nothing.
“How’d you get hold of something like this?”
“I bought it.”
“Where?”
“Here. In Bangkok.”
“How’d you get the senator’s cell phone number?”
“Private detective.”
“That’s a pretty good private detective. What’s his name?”
He had the interrogation instincts of a cop. Time to change the dynamic. “I’m not saying anything else,” she said. “Not until you tell me what happened to my sister.”
“Is that was this is about? After all these years, that?”
“Where is she?”
“That’s up to the senator. Maybe if you’re good, really good, he’ll tell you.”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, now, that kind of decision is above my pay grade. We’ll talk to him, though. I told you, I have a feeling he’s going to be happy to see you. But first, I want you to put your palms against the wall next to that interior door. At about, oh, say, tit level. Then I want you to step back and spread your legs until your elbows and knees are straight and your weight is on those palms. You with me? I’m going to pat you down. Make sure whatever you brought with you was limited to your purse.”
She recognized the commands. She’d patted down countless suspects from the same position precisely because it made sudden aggressive action so difficult. She’d been hoping he would take her so lightly that he’d be sloppy, but no, so far he was being careful.
She did as he said.
“More, Livia. Feet farther apart. And farther from the wall.”
Again, she complied. On the other side of the door, she heard… was that a scream? Something high and plaintive, like a child in pain. It was so muffled she wasn’t sure.
She heard Redcroft move up close. Felt his hand along her back-his left, she thought. Not that it mattered which. She sensed his gun hand was well retracted, and regardless, a disarm from this position was damn near impossible.
He ran his hand up her left side, then her right. He stepped in close, between her legs, his crotch against her ass.
“You don’t have anything in there, do you, Livia?” He rubbed himself against her. “I don’t have to search you in there, do I?”
Positioning himself between her legs was his first deviation from sound tactics. He was underestimating her. Not enough to create the opportunity she needed. But it was encouraging. She reminded herself to project fear. Helplessness.
He reached around and felt her breasts. “Oooh, these are nice. Grew a little since the last time we saw each other, didn’t they? And oh, what do we have here?”
He’d touched the Boker, as she’d known he would. She felt the muzzle of the gun press hard into her kidney. Again, a deviation from sound tactics-the closer he was, the better her chances at a disarm-but not quite the opportunity she needed. Still, if he kept this up, an opening would present itself. She just had to be patient.
He reached under her blouse and pulled free the Boker. “Jesus, Livia, you’re a regular fucking Rambo, you know that? So, what was the plan, tie the senator up, get him to talk, something like that, hmmm?” She heard the Boker hit the carpet with a quiet thud somewhere behind them. Then he reached around again and squeezed her breasts. “Was that it? Was that the plan? Come on, you can tell me. Come on.”
His voice had gone husky and he was getting hard where he was pressed against her. She felt rage begin to smolder inside her. The dragon, stirring awake.
No. Not now. Not now.
“You like that, Livia? My cock against you like that? You like it?”
“Where’s my sister?” she said, and was pleased that her tone was fearful, almost childlike.
“Oh, your sister again. All right, we really should get you to the senator. Damn, and here we were just starting to have fun, right?”
He felt her belly, then ran his hand up and down her legs, finishing by rubbing her ass, and then her crotch. Then he yanked off the wig and tossed it aside.
“That’s good,” he said. “I think the senator will like you better like this. And let’s lose those glasses, too.” He pulled them off and dropped them.
He stepped back. “Okay, Livia, why don’t you open that door for me. Just unbolt it and pull it open. Give it a good tug, it’s heavy and fits pretty snugly in the frame.”
She did as he said. He was right, the door was heavy-at least two inches of what looked like solid mahogany. There was another like it on the other side, presumably bolted from inside the suite. She’d been wrong about kicking this in. It would have taken a battering ram.
She heard that plaintive sound again. Still faint, but through the single door it was unmistakable. A child’s wail. What was happening in there? She felt the rage rising again and fought to push it back.
“Yeah, I was afraid of this, we’re interrupting the great man at play. Well, that’s another reason he pays me the big bucks-command decisions. I’m pretty sure he’ll be happy to switch up once he sees it’s you. So just go ahead and knock on the door. Hard, with your knuckles, so they’ll hear you.”
They’ll. Lone, and who else? The child she thought she heard screaming?
She knocked. A moment later, she heard a muffled voice on the other side. “What is it?”
The voice sounded weirdly familiar. And was that a Thai accent?
“It’s me. Open up, Chanchai, the senator will want to see this.”
“Can it wait?”
“Trust me. He won’t want to wait.”
Livia heard the bolt draw back. The door opened.
It was Skull Face.
62-NOW
She stared at him, suddenly seething. For an instant, all her years of training deserted her, and all she could imagine was launching herself at him, knocking him down, ripping his face apart with her teeth and her nails.
No. Scared. You are scared.
Skull Face looked almost exactly as she remembered him. The hair, the face, everything. Like Redcroft, he was wearing a suit, though on the boat he had always been either bare-chested or in a dirty tee shirt. Beyond that, the only thing different was a black eye patch. She wanted to tear it off his head and jam her thumb all the way into whatever was behind it.
Scared. You are scared.
Skull Face was looking at her intently. In confusion, at first. And then with slowly dawning recognition. He looked to Redcroft, then back to Livia, then to Redcroft again.