Tiger by the Tail (12 page)

“Of course, sir, but I doubt all of that will take two days. What can I get started on in the meantime?” Jace asked.

“If you’re that eager, why don’t you review the in-country briefings that are going to be distributed to the Keldara for their details and accuracy? You can coordinate with Patrick and the girls on those as well. Also, what do you know about the black markets in the region?” Mike asked.

“I’m most current on Singapore and China in general, particularly Hong Kong, but I know people who know people. Tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

“We’re supposed to be meeting with an ‘Arun Than’ in Hong Kong. I’d really like to know everything about him before we reach port,” Mike replied.

“Understood. I’m on it.”

“Good, I look forward to the briefing. Patrick, when you see Adams, send him my way and tell him the position’s been filled.”

“I will, but he’ll probably find you first. Said his guy wasn’t available, but he had something else you’d want to know about. If we see him, I’ll boot him in your direction.”

“All righty.” Mike stood up and nodded at both of them. “Time to go talk like a pirate. Or at least to one.”

Jace and Vanner both stood as well. Once the Kildar had left the room, Jace turned to Vanner.

“Hey, did I put a foot in it by mentioning Russia? I mean, that footage that made the Internet was almost as unbelievable as your story about the Keldara.”

“That op was a hard one,” Vanner said with a shrug. “We lost a lot of good people on it. Don’t worry about it—you couldn’t have known.”

“Acknowledged. Either way, I have the feeling that life is going to get a lot more interesting.”

“You don’t know the half of it. So what’s up with you? Not happy transferring back to First CivDiv?”

“Yes and no. It’s the old saying all over again: when you’re in the shit, all you want to do is complete the mission and get out, and when you’re out, all you think about is when can you go back in.”

“Spoken like a true leatherneck. Come on, let’s head below and get your 782 gear,” Vanner said.

“It’ll be good to get my hands on an MEU again. Maybe you guys even have a Kimber model for me. Think we’ll be needing anything heavier?”

“Hard to say at the moment. You prefer an M4?”

“You know I can use it, but I prefer a shotgun with a mixed load for anything in the bush. Benelli’s fine, or a Mossberg or Remington if that’s not available.”

“Let’s go see what we got. On the way, I can tell you the bad news about most of the girls . . .”

* * *

Vanel was walking down to the impromptu mess hall that had been set up for the Keldara, intending to get his meal and eat up on the main deck. Along the way, he passed Vanner talking to a tall man with jet-black, shoulder-length hair and dark blue eyes.

“And here’s one of them now. Vanel Kulcyanov, this is Jace Morgan. Jace will be working with us while we’re in the region.”

Vanel shook the taller man’s hand.

“Is pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“You too, Vanel.” The two men continued on their way, and Vanel continued on his. His next surprise, however, almost took his breath away—literally.

“Hello, Vanel,” a soft voice said on his right as he entered the mess hall.

“Xatia?” Vanel stared the small girl for a few seconds before closing his gaping mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Sergeant Vanner requested more intel girls to come here. When volunteers were asked for, I said yes.”

“Oh . . . of course.” Vanel tried to get himself under control. He’d known other girls were inbound, but not why, although he should have put two and two together. He certainly hadn’t expected Xatia to be one of them.

“Is something wrong?” the girl’s lush lips compressed in the cutest pout he’d ever seen. “You do not seem happy to see me.”

“No! I mean, no—I am, uh, very pleased that you are here. It is, um, very good to see you . . .” Aware that he was babbling, Vanel jerked his head toward the mess hall. “I am going to get something to eat. Would—would you care to join me?”

“I cannot, Gretznya is going over current operations with us—oh no, I should have already been there! Do not worry, I won’t tell anyone you were the reason why I was late!” Before he could reply, the short, shapely girl turned and ran down the hall, leaving a dumbfounded Vanel staring after her.

“That is quite all right! You could tell anyone you wanted . . .” His words trailed off, and Vanel felt a blush heat his cheeks. He glanced around, hoping no one had seen him just make a complete fool of himself. His heart pounded, and blood rushed through his ears. The feeling was as just as intense as combat, but for a completely different reason.

Vanel had had a crush on Xatia Mahona ever since he had first laid eyes on her, when she was five and he was six. From that moment on, he hadn’t looked at another girl. They had grown up together, and for the past year he had been working up his nerve to begin the request for her betrothal. Two things stood in his way; first, he had wanted to pass his first test of combat. The farming he knew like the back of his hand, but he had wanted to face and conquer the test of blood.

The second one was much more difficult; facing Xatia’s parents, particularly Mother Mahona. With any luck, his parents would talk to hers, and he wouldn’t even have to be present. That was how it had been done for generations, and who was he to mess around with tradition?

Shaking his head, Vanel walked into the mess hall to find two other members of his team, Yosif and Marko, sitting before full plates. While the Keldara families often ate together, the Kildar had mandated that while on operations, especially ones with a flexible timetable, food should be available at all times for team members. And the chef that had come with the
Big Fish
was very adaptable. Although many of the Keldara were open to trying new foods, they also appreciated a taste of home—even if it wasn’t anything close to what their own Mothers could cook up.

“Glad to see you could leave your cover long enough to join us, new fish,” Marko teased. Yosif’s and his encounter with the shack wall was already fodder among the teams, with them already suffering a good amount of ribbing.

Vanel simply shrugged as he joined them.

“Was not our fault reinforcements were too slow to help us to finish the sweep. We simply made ourselves comfortable while waiting for you.”

Marko snorted, while Yosif smiled at the comeback.

“Have you heard the news?” the team leader asked.

Having just taken a large bite of his
golubtsy
, or stuffed cabbage roll, Vanel shook his head.

“We are to stay in this area for at least ten days, maybe even a fortnight.” Yosif looked around to make sure no one else was listening. “I even heard from Daria that we are heading to Hong Kong.”

“Where’s that?” Vanel asked.

“Former British colony city that was ‘given’ back to China in 1997. Check the e-mail on your tablet, it’s all in the summary the girls worked up. Also, there is a new officer on board—”

“Yes, a Jace Morgan,” Vanel said. “I was introduced to him in the hallway by Sergeant Vanner.” He tried not to look too pleased by the surprised expressions on his teammates’ faces. Instead, he took another bite of the cabbage roll.
Not even close to Mother’s,
he thought.

“
You
met him?”

Vanel swallowed his food and nodded.

“I am sure the sergeant was simply being polite.”

“Anyway, you are supposed to please review the data and let me know if you have questions. You can also follow up on your iPad if you wish.”

“Of course.” The other two kept talking, but Vanel’s mind was whirling with the possibilities.
Ten to fourteen days more on boat . . . with Xatia!

A broad smile spread across his face as he took another bite of the cabbage roll, suddenly not minding its taste in the least.

* * *

Wiping blood from his fingers with a towel, Mike handed the wet cloth to Dmitri as he left Yeung Tony’s room, his blood boiling.

Usually interrogations were pretty easy. Since the subject only had to live long enough to give up the necessary information, there were no restraints on how far Mike could go to extract said information. The Albanians and Russians had been pushovers—a couple of shots to a knee or elbow with a sledgehammer or pistol, and they cracked like walnuts.

But Yeung Tony was proving to be another story. Unfortunately, Mike did need him alive for now, since it would be impossible to set up a meeting with Arun Than by himself. Without Tony to vouch for him, they’d get nowhere. Unfortunately, the Malay also seemed to have figured that out, and was being as difficult as possible without getting himself killed.

Mike had been working on the pirate for the last hour, trying to make him more cooperative, but after a soldering iron applied to several areas, improvised tooth extraction, and several other persuasion techniques, the fuckhead was still resisting. He’d given up everything—
except
how to contact Than.

Taking a break, Mike stalked down the corridor of the yacht, figuring he’d go visit Tony’s whore. Maybe she would see reason where her boyfriend did not—and even if she didn’t, he would have a hell of a time trying to convince her.

As Mike walked through the corridors of the opulent yacht, greeting various Keldara as they passed, he began cooling down. To the point where he decided a change of plan was in order. He called the kitchen to get an update on a very specific dinner for two he’d ordered earlier that afternoon. Then he went to his stateroom, shit, showered, and shaved, and threw on tan linen slacks, a black silk button-down shirt, and woven deck shoes.

When he received word that the meal was ready, Mike told them where to deliver it, and strolled down to where Soon Yi was being held.

Oleg was on duty there, and stiffened to attention as Mike approached.

“Oleg.”

“Kildar.”

A rattle made Mike look down the corridor, where a crewmember, pushing a wheeled cart, approached. “Right on time. I am going inside to interrogate the prisoner.”

The big man was already unlocking the door. The service person stopped at the two men. “Everything is here as ordered, sir.”

Mike nodded. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

A frown crossed Oleg’s face as he took in the place settings, covered dishes, and bottle of wine chilling in a bucket of ice. “. . . Kildar?”

“Yes, Oleg?”

“All this is necessary to interrogate the prisoner?”

“There’s a saying back in the States; if you can’t dazzle ’em with brilliance, then baffle them with bullshit.”

A blond eyebrow raised at the phrase. “Surely that is not what you are serving to her—”

Mike chuckled. “Hardly.” He lifted the largest cover to reveal a succulent roast duck in orange sauce, with Chinese five-spice added for a bit of kick. “Katya told me she didn’t touch any of the food or drink we gave her earlier. Simply put, yesterday we tried hard, now I’m trying a—softer approach.”

“Very well, Kildar.” Oleg opened the door for him.

“Thank you.” Mike paused in the darkened doorway. “There will be no need to open this door unless I specifically order you to, understood?”

Oleg nodded.

“Yes, Kildar.”

He slipped inside and closed the door, hearing the huge Keldara lock it from the outside. Mike stood with his back to the entrance for a moment, letting his senses adjust to the room. Shapes began to materialize in the gloom—a sheet-covered form in a corner of the bed, a chair in the middle of the room. Sounds came to him as well—the most important one being the steady breathing of the person in the bed.

Mike was ninety percent sure she was faking it.

Anyone who lived on the streets developed a subconscious awareness of their surroundings almost immediately. Those who didn’t, died—it was that simple. Soon Yi had been around the block, and Mike was sure she had awakened the moment the door had opened. The big question now was would she come at him soft or hard. If he’d broken her with the waterboarding, she would be soft. If not, she’d come at him hard. If Mike had been a betting man, he’d have said hard.

Time to remove the option,
he thought. Mike hit the lights and wheeled the cart into the center of the room. He saw the sheet tremble a bit, but she didn’t move.

“I know you’re awake under there, so you might as well come out. I brought dinner.” Mike removed the cover again, letting the heavenly fragrance of roast duck waft over to her. Smaller dishes held saffron rice and an array of fresh tropical fruit.

Slowly, Soon Yi’s head emerged from underneath the sheet. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to eat. Why don’t you join me? There’s plenty here, and you must be starving by now.” Grabbing the wine from the ice, Mike examined the gewürztraminer with a cocked eyebrow. He would have preferred a beer, but the chef had politely but firmly insisted on pairing the wine with their meal. He checked underneath the table. There, as instructed, was a second bucket filled with iced bottles of Mountain Tiger. With a shrug, he tore the foil off the bottle, then began uncorking it.

“No . . . I mean, why are you doing this?” she asked.

“Because I’m hungry.” Freeing the cork with a
pop
, Mike filled both wine glasses. He set the bottle back down in the bucket and grabbed the chair from the makeup desk. Setting it down, he picked up the carving knife and fork and pointed with the knife at the edge of the bed across the tray from him. “Come. Sit. Eat.”

Without waiting for her to move, he began expertly carving the duck breast. It was quite easy, since the meat was falling off the bone. “Maybe I will keep the chef onboard a while longer,” he muttered.

Even while carving, Mike was aware of the woman as she slowly crawled to the edge of the bed. She was wearing a short, dark blue silk robe that had been among the clothes they had supplied her with. He heard her pick up the butter knife that was part of her place setting, exchange it for the fork, then exchange that for a pair of chopsticks.

“Wise decision.” He looked up, making her flinch, and smiled. “Shall I serve?”