Another city appeared, this one not so sprawling.
“This is Thaton, located down the coast a ways from Yangon. You’ll remember the circus name on the crates was the Suwarnabhumi Circus. It turns out that Suwarnabhumi was a semi-mythical kingdom of the Mon, which is believed to be the present-day Thaton. So we decided to search here. You’d think that a warehouse filled with crates should be immensely difficult to find. Next slide, please.”
The next image was a truck bearing the logo of the same circus that had been painted on the crates. The quality of the photo was poor and it appeared to be taken from a low angle.
“One of our assets provided this photo twelve hours ago. He was able to follow it to a warehouse. Next slide.”
An overhead of a huge building with several outbuildings flashed on the screen. The resolution was magnificent. Soldiers with AK-47s patrolled the perimeter. Several trucks with the same logos painted on their roofs were parked near what was probably a loading dock.
“Why does a circus need a warehouse?” Walker asked.
“Bingo.” Musso grinned. “Anything else seem out of place?”
“Why did they paint the logo on the roofs?” Yaya asked.
“Double bingo. This whole thing is a lure. Let’s go back to the Chinese tech smuggler. I think we’ve been led to this location since we got the original lead to take down the sweatshop. The cargo ship in Macau was in a secluded location with only a few persons on board. It was too easy.”
“Easy?” Laws sat up as anger suffused his face. “We lost one of our own. That wasn’t easy.”
Musso held out a hand. “I meant no offense. I was just pointing out that if their intent had been to attack the U.S., they would have provided a more serious defense against possible intrusion. No one could have anticipated the ferocity of the chimera. Not you and certainly not Fratolilio.”
Musso waited to see if his words had a mollifying effect. Walker watched Laws sit back. The fire had left his eyes, but his face still burned red.
“Continue,” Holmes commanded.
“The ship provided us the logo, which we in turn sent to all of our assets. This circus has never had a show. It’s never pitched a tent. It’s never had a single flyer pasted to a Third World shithole telephone pole. This circus exists for one reason.”
“To lure us in.”
Ruiz rubbed his face. “Let me get this straight. They want us to come get them?”
“They want us to attack the Myanmar government. Look at the soldiers on guard outside the warehouse. They’re wearing official military uniforms. The ships are present in Yangon Harbor. They want us to recognize the affiliation with the government.”
“They want us to take down their military so that they can rule,” Walker said slowly, as he worked it out. “So what are we going to do?”
The door opened and Billings strode in. “You’re going to go in there and find out what’s going on.” Seeing their expressions, she added, “I’ve been on face phone with Senator Brunson and the vice president. They’re aware of the new information, but they’re not convinced that this is a lure. As long as there’s a potential threat to the United States, they want us to go in and see what we can see.”
“Sounds pretty clear to me,” Holmes said, looking at his team. “We have a mission. Transportation is standing by. We can leave in two hours.” He turned to Musso. “Do you have a target package ready for us?”
“I do. I’ll download it to your tablets.”
“There’s still the bit about Chi Long,” Laws pointed out. “How does he fit into this?”
“And the tattoo skin suits?” Walker asked.
Yaya nodded his head slowly. “My bet is that you’ll find them linked in some way. This Thuza Tun character is probably the mystery guy walking around wearing one of the suits. My guess is that we’ll find the truth at the end of the trail of circus breadcrumbs, so we need to be prepared.”
Walker nodded, but wondered how they were expected to be prepared for something they had absolutely no information about.
45
After two hours of discussing the targeting parameters, the other SEALs, including Hoover, curled up next to their gear for some shuteye. But Walker couldn’t sleep. He’d tried, but had immediately plunged into a memory of when he was possessed. As if from a third person, he saw himself chewing off the heads of roasted rats, sucking out their eyeballs, and spooning their brains into his mouth with the crook of a little finger.
Laws and Holmes both believed that the skin suits could be used to protect someone from a powerful spirit, the idea being that the spiritual residue of all the people who made up the suit would keep the wearer safe from the demon he or she was channeling. How anyone could ask to be possessed, or channel a demon, was beyond his ability to comprehend. Clearly the lust for power was stronger than the need for self-preservation.
He’d been an American boy in the Philippines possessed by a Hantu Kabor from Malaysian mythology, a grave demon. If people weren’t buried properly according to Malay custom, the demon would crawl through the graves and eat the souls of the dead. The Hantu was a collector of sorts. It had many souls within it. Walker remembered them and how at times they would scream at him, and whisper to him, an apartment building full of souls in a small boy’s head.
During screening and selection they’d asked him how he’d known that he’d been possessed—what was the first sign? Walker had to think back on it, because he hadn’t known he was possessed until it was too late. But as he delved into the memories he so desperately wished he didn’t have, he realized that it had been the whispers. Whether he was walking down the street or alone in a room, he’d begun to hear the susurrations of faraway voices. It was like someone saying something right on the edge of his hearing. He remembered being infuriated that he couldn’t understand, so he’d listened harder. By the time he did understand them, he realized that all along they’d been telling him to run. He just hadn’t understood until it was too late.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He rolled over to where Laws was snoring gently. When he got next to him, the snoring ceased and Laws opened one eye. “What the hell, Walker?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“So you thought you’d share that affliction?”
“Sorry, it’s just that … Never mind. Go back to sleep.”
Laws sat up and grabbed a liter of water. “No. It’s okay. Ask away.”
“Okay, then. How are we going to take down Chi Long?” Seeing the judgmental look in Laws’s eyes, he hastily added, “I know how to kill a man a hundred ways. I can disable anything mechanical. There’s very little I don’t know how to do because of the training we’ve received. But neither A school nor BUD/S provided me with even an infinitesimal crumb of information regarding ghosts, goblins, or ghouls.”
Laws nodded grudgingly as he screwed the top back on the bottle. “Well said. Here’s what we know. A suit of tattooed skin was sent to the Karen. Historically, there’s only been one use for such a suit. Each piece of skin still holds an echo of the soul it once enclosed. Each piece of ink still holds an echo of the idea and thought someone put into it. When people get a tattoo, they usually expend a lot of mental energy planning it. Each one has its own special meaning. The wearer continuously looks at the tattoo and remembers why it was so important. This is akin to worship and imbues the ink with power. The combination of the pieces of skin and ink presents a problem set for a demon who was called to inhabit that body. Under normal circumstances, a demon’s soul would quickly burn out a person who hasn’t found a way to prepare him- or herself. And when I say burn out, that’s exactly what I mean. Suits of skin are one way to allow the wearer to survive the internal forces exerted by the demonic soul, the power shared by all the echoed souls who so recently owned each piece of skin.”