Tiger by the Tail (28 page)

However, Chal looked anything but comfortable at the intrusion. The old man sat stiffly in his chair, hands on the table, glaring at the invaders with steely black eyes that had been warm and inviting just a minute ago.
Either he’s a hell of an actor, or he’s not in on it
, Jace thought.

Satisfied for the moment, he turned back to their assailants. Two men were covering the group from a distance, one at the back door, and one at the front entrance. Three of the other four ringed the table, all of them holding weapons on the group. They all looked like low-level street trash, each one showing signs of some kind of addiction to something or another, most likely heroin or meth. The entire group was thin, pale, and sweating, with dark circles under their eyes and armpits and stained, rotting teeth behind chapped lips.

The sweating ringleader had strutted over to Chal and stuck his pistol in the old man’s face while talking rapidly. The old man shook his head and muttered something, which made the leader smack him hard in the face with the barrel of his gun. Chal glared at him, making no move to wipe the blood off his split lip.

“What’s going on?” Mike whispered.

“Looks like a rival gang’s making their move . . . they want Chal’s territory . . . they’re gonna kill him and all of us . . . make it look like a deal gone bad.”

“Yeah, like that’s going to happen—” Mike began.

A pistol muzzle was placed to Mike’s temple, and a guttural voice snarled. “Shut mouth,
yet mae
!”

Mike slowly raised his hands, making eye contact with Jace and Adams and indicating their targets. Adams caught Jace’s eye and pointed to Than, who was sitting calmly with his hands on the table. Jace got the message and gave him the barest nod of confirmation.

“What’d he just call me?” Mike asked through clenched teeth.

“Motherfucker,” Jace replied.

“Oh, hell no!”

* * *

In most armed confrontations, the longer the assailants think they have the upper hand, the sloppier they tend to become. This is particularly true if the gunmen are poorly trained. They think simply holding a gun gives them all the power, and that that their hostages are either shocked or scared into not retaliating.

Against highly trained, professional operators, this is a deadly miscalculation, even taking into account the potential hazard of getting shot by a nervous or high gunman. This group was about to find out just how wrong they were in trying to take Chal down on this particular night.

While it is true that no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy, there are several measures that can be taken to ensure that a plan is executed as well as possible before things go to hell. The importance of gaining the element of surprise and a coordinated first strike by all participants cannot be understated in such a situation.

In the few seconds before Mike moved, he, Adams and Jace had roughed out their plan to kill all six of their attackers without losing Than or Chal.

All they needed was the go signal. That came when Mike grabbed the pistol of the thug standing next to him, pushed it over, and pressed the man’s trigger finger, shooting the ringleader in the stomach.

At the same time, Jace and Adams drew their pistols and took out the two men closest to them. Adams put two shots into his man, hitting him in the throat and face. The angle of his bullet coming out of the top of the thug’s skull made a geyser of blood spatter against the ceiling and the blades of the lazily turning fan overhead.

Jace double tapped his nearest target in the center of the chest, the .40 caliber rounds shattering his sternum and destroying the man’s heart in a second. Before the man hit the floor, Jace slid to a crouch behind Than’s chair and fired twice at the man covering the front door. The man shot his pistol uselessly into the ground as he tried to staunch the bleeding from the four bullet holes that had appeared in his chest. Glancing over, Jace saw Adams with his pistol also aimed at the door guard.

As quickly as the violence had exploded, it stopped. The three men fanned out to clear and check their victims. There was one more gunshot from the back of the room, which Adams and Jace both recognized as Mike’s .45.

“Back clear!” Mike said.

“Left clear!” Adams said.

“Right clear!” Jace said. His ears were ringing from the shots, and the room was hazy with smoke and thick with the odor of blood, but all of that was far more preferable to taking a bullet.

“Check Than and Chal!” Mike said.

Jace had already come back to the two men, who were still sitting at the table. While he was there, he took a look at the Kildar’s handiwork. Adams’ and his own work had been impressive, but Mike had taken out half of the invaders by himself. After shooting the leader, he’d disarmed the man beside him and used him as a human shield. Then he had killed the man at the back door, eliminated his protection, and finished off the leader with a shot to the head—all in under three seconds.

Eyebrows raised in admiration, Jace talked to both men, who nodded in answer to his query. Chal bowed deeply to all three. “He is very grateful for our saving his life tonight, and thinks we should adjourn to more comfortable quarters to discuss what will happen next,” Than said.

Mike exchanged puzzled glances with Adams and Jace. “If he insists,” the Kildar replied.

* * *

After confirming that his own security had been killed by their assailants on the way in, Chal had called in more of his own people for protection. He accompanied the four men to a modern, two-story house surrounded by a landscaped yard and garden in a planned complex. Although they could see security guards, they drove into a private entrance to Chal’s house. The white and tan home was airy and inviting, with a red, tile roof, bright, tiled floors, and a large, second-story outdoor balcony overlooking an artificial lake.

Chal had Jace park the rented SUV around back. As they walked back toward the house, Adams remarked, “Not exactly where I expected a crime lord to live.”

Than shook his head. “Don’t be fooled. Chal owns the entire neighborhood. He likes living here because no one has any idea who he really is or what he does. They just think he’s a retired businessman. Plus, the neighborhood security keeps the undesirables out.”

“Not including us, obviously,” Jace said with a smile.

Than nodded. “Not at all. You have all impressed him greatly for him to invite you into this home. Other than myself and now you gentlemen, I can count the number of people who are aware of it on one hand.”

Chal met them at the door and brought them into the open living room. “Please, gentleman, as my honored guests, I insist that you have a drink with me. I have a full bar, and my man can make virtually anything you require.”

Mike requested Elijah Craig if it was available, or Maker’s Mark if not, straight. Adams joined him, while Jace asked for Mekhong, a native Thai liquor distilled from sugarcane and molasses, over ice. Than requested a Sabai Sabai, otherwise known as the Thai Welcome Drink.

As the drinks were being made, Jace walked over to Than. “Is there going to be any trouble with the police?”

Than shook his head and chuckled. “Chal’s arrangement with the local constabulary has existed for more than thirty years, back to the current chief’s father. If we do have a visit from them, it will be to inform Chal of the unfortunate accident that occurred on his property, that’s all.”

Once their drinks had been brought over, with Chal apologizing for only having the twelve-year small-batch Elijah Craig on hand, the old man raised his glass. “To the gentlemen who saved this aged one’s life tonight.
Chon
!”

The other men raised their glasses as well and drank. Chal set his glass of Samuel Adams Infinium down and regarded Than and the three Americans.

“Due to this evening’s events, I find myself in an unusual position. You see, I recognized the leader of the men who tried to kill us. He was the nephew of my former business partner, who recently passed away—from natural causes, I assure you,” Chal added at seeing Adams’ raised eyebrows. “Unfortunately, his nephew is associated with some less-than-reputable characters. More than likely he convinced them that they could muscle in on the territory of a feeble, old man . . . me.”

Chal sipped his beer as he regarded Mike, Adams, and Jace. “Thanks to you gentlemen—” he raised his glass again, “—that is no longer an issue . . . for now. However, I cannot suffer the rest of these
hua quay
to live. If word was to get out that I did not retaliate against them, my reputation would suffer, and then it would be nothing but work, work, work all the time again. That is where you come in.”

Mike sipped his bourbon. “I’m listening.”

“Before we go any further, I must clear my already-incurred debt with you, as we cannot have that clouding these discussions. I will increase my payment for the gems to an even four million U.S. dollars. It seems a small price to pay, considering that I still breathe this evening, but I trust that it will be satisfactory.”

Mike appeared to give it some thought, while Jace leaned close to him. “This offer is
extremely
unusual, and it would be bad form to try to negotiate a higher price now,” he whispered.

“I’m sure it would be—however, I can’t just give the impression that I’m willing to take what he’s offering right away, now, can I?” Mike let the silence drag out for a few more seconds before nodding. “Tell him his generosity is appreciated.”

Jace did so, inwardly sighing with relief. He followed that up with, “And as to the matter regarding these insolent devils?”

Chal nodded, his dark eyes sparkling. “I wish that they be removed from this earth—tonight. Unfortunately, I cannot use any of my men to move against them. Although the police and I do have an arrangement regarding my business interests, I cannot simply have my people executing others in the street. The reason I have thrived for so long on my island is that I keep a low profile. That is where you gentlemen come in.”

“I thought this was sounding like some kind of sales pitch,” Adams muttered into his drink.

“I know where their headquarters is, and can provide you with suitable weapons, equipment, and vehicles to eliminate them, and will do so at no cost. In return for removing this thorn in my side, I offer three things. First, anything you find at their headquarters—and you should find quite a bit—is yours, provided you can remove it from the island. Second, when you begin your operation, my people will provide a suitable distraction for the police, to ensure that none of them cause you any trouble as you’re going about your business.”

“And the third thing?” Mike asked.

“Word of the package that you gentlemen are assisting Khun Arun with has reached me. I can smooth the way for you into Myanmar, as well as provide a personal recommendation to the gentleman who is moving that particular package. I think he will be very interested in doing more business with you. You see, he has been assembling a large shipment of weapons for transport into the north country, and will be looking for men with your particular talents to escort it. With my word accompanying you, the job is as good as yours.”

Jace exchanged an incredulous look with Mike, who shrugged.
Everything falling into place? What is he, a mind reader?

The Kildar locked eyes with the old Thai crime lord for long seconds, then abruptly nodded. “All right. You’ve got a deal.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“God
damn!
This place is like a one-stop crime shop!” Adams exclaimed.

After accepting the job of eliminating Chal’s competition, Mike had contacted the ship and requested Teams Jayne and Inara, along with Lasko, to come ashore with an urban combat load-out. While waiting for the Keldara, Adams, Jace, and he had borrowed a battered, rusty Toyota 4Runner and driven over to the target site for a preliminary recon.

Adams’ comment wasn’t too far off the mark, either. The gang was one of many urban ones that existed in every major city: groups of disenfranchised, poor, and uneducated youths banding together to survive. This gang was called
Mạngkr dả
, the Black Dragons, and resembled many other street gangs all over the world.

Their HQ was an old, three-story brick building in a section of town where every standing wall was covered by graffiti and gang signs, and garbage littered the dirt street. The structure, probably a tin factory or some kind of manufacturing facility in the previous century, took up the entire block. The gang also looked to have taken over the area as well, with their headquarters the center of all crimes occurring throughout the neighborhood.

Scantily clad women with heavy make-up and effeminate boys in short-shorts and tank tops strolled up and down the street. The main entrance had two young gang members serving as de facto doormen and protection for the hookers. A steady stream of men, women, and children arrived and left; running numbers, drugs, stolen goods, whatever anyone was willing to buy or sell. Prostitution was also a thriving market, with the girls and boys flagging down every passing car or propositioning any man—or woman—that walked by. However, this part of town didn’t get a lot of accidental traffic—the people who stopped by did so for one thing.

Mike, Adams, and Jace were parked a block up the street, checking the scene out through a pair of pocket binoculars Chal had supplied. After a briefing by Mike on what was happening, Vanner and the girls were downloading maps of the area along with whatever history they could find on the building itself.

“Certainly an active target zone,” Mike said, while peering through the glasses.

“Active? You’ve got unknown tangos inside, multiple entry points, unknown armaments and who knows what kind of defenses in there.” Adams said. “Don’t know ’bout either of you, but I have no desire to waltz in and find myself staring down the barrels of another Quad .50.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Mike said.

At the same time, Jace asked, “When was that?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Adams said, then looked sidelong at Mike, along with Jace. “What do you mean, ‘we’ won’t?”