Chapter 28 - Safe House

The British Embassy’s Safe House was a nondescript, two-story, four-unit, private residence in the heart of Meijing, facing a residential street in front, and a small plot of land and parking in the rear off an alley. The neighborhood was best described as densely urban, with plain architecture, flat roofs, and smooth exterior walls painted in the colorful monotony of beige, ecru, and pale blue. Sabriya was directed to the rear entrance, where she entered a passcode on a keypad next to a solid steel door. Hidden security cameras linked back to Landon’s Scorp, monitored the entrance. 

After entering the code, the door unlocked, and Sabriya and Anya entered a small, enclosed foyer with yet another solid steel door leading to the interior. Once the outer door was shut, Landon’s voice greeted the two women. “Glad you made it, Sabriya. Welcome, Anya. You’ll be safe here. Hannah should be there shortly. The house is currently empty. You’ll have access to the first floor’s two apartments. Please enter the first apartment on the left after I unlock the door.”

“Thanks, Landon.” Sabriya looked around but could not see the hidden closed-circuit camera Landon was using to see them. 

“Welcome again, Anya,” boomed Landon’s voice.

Anya appeared timid, even apprehensive, as if she was trading one enslavement for another. She clutched the papers she had brought from Pohan like she was clinging to hope. 

The inner door was remotely unlocked with a CLICK, and Sabriya swung the door open. But Anya didn’t move, seemingly paralyzed by fear. 

“Anya, you’re not a prisoner here. You’re free to go anytime,” said Sabriya. “The door is not locked from the inside. We’re offering you a safe place to live while you heal and decide where you want to go. Then we’ll help you get there.”

Anya still didn’t move. She just stared at Sabriya and the thick inner steel door before her.

Gesturing to the outer door’s crash bar, Sabriya said, “Try it.” Go ahead, push on the handle. The door will open. And see, this inner door is the same.” 

Anya surveyed the crash bars on both doors, offered a thin smile, and finally walked inside the door Sabriya held open.

Inside the apartment, Sabriya noticed recessed security cameras throughout. She pointed these out to Anya. “Anya, look. Just so you know. These are closed-circuit TV cameras. They allow our security force to monitor what happens here. If there’s danger, they’ll send help. The cameras’ purpose is not to scare or intimidate you. The house is secure, but it’s not private.”

Standing in the apartment’s living room, Anya looked around, trying to acclimate and feel comfortable. With wonder, she turned to Sabriya and asked, “Who are you? You’re not the police.”

It was then that Sabriya almost laughed, realizing she had never properly introduced herself, even though just an hour earlier, sandwiched together on her cycle, they had cheated death. “I’m sorry, Anya. My name is Sabriya Kensington. I’m the wife of the British ambassador to Pellagore. This house, although located in the city of Meijing, is owned by the British government, and everything inside it, including everyone in it, is protected by diplomatic immunity under the Vienna Convention. You are a guest of the British government, and, as long as you’re here, you are safe from traffickers and also from Pellagore’s law enforcement. Normally, when someone is here, as you are now, security personnel are present as well. Hannah Clark, my security attaché, will be here shortly to fulfill that role, relieve me, and help you.”

But Anya was confused, calling out the obvious. “You are Pellagorian, not British. I can tell by your accent. How are you married to a British man?”

Sabriya giggled. “That’s a long story, which we don’t have time to go into right now. But Hannah will tell you that story when she comes, since I have to go.”

“Can I go home?”

“Of course. Where is home?”

“Ko Samui, it’s an island in Thailand.”

“I thought you might be Thai.” Then, with a bit of humor, “I could tell by your accent.”

Anya laughed gently, Sabriya smiled broadly, and the ice was broken. 

Sabriya had never been in this safehouse before, so the two women explored it together. It was not large or luxurious, but it was practical and sufficient. There were two bedrooms with linens, each with a closet: one with a variety of men’s clothes, the other with a variety of women’s clothes. There was a game room with a TV and a shelf full of traditional games, books, and old magazines. There was one bathroom with a shower, a toilet, toiletries, and towels; a small living room; a kitchen and pantry with plenty of non-perishable food and drinks; a stacked washer/dryer for clothing; and an informal dining room.

Once oriented, Sabriya brewed some coffee, grabbed some snacks, and sat with Anya at the dining room table. “Anya, I need to get back on task and track down the traffickers who took my daughter and her friend. Please tell me how Dr. Shin was involved. Anything that might help me find the girls.”

Anya was slow to respond and shy when she did. At the same time, it was clear she wanted to talk. “I really don’t know much,” she said. “I don’t know where the two girls are or where they’re taking them. Dr. Shin provided examinations and drugs to several gangs.” Anya unfolded the papers she had brought and showed Sabriya. “This is their urinalysis, the girls’, that is, which I conducted from their soiled underwear. They were drugged with Rohypnol, or roofies.”

“What’s Rohypnol? What does it do?”

“It’s a sedative. It relaxes the muscles and makes it hard to remember anything that happens while you’re on the drug. Where your girls end up could be anywhere, inside or outside Pellagore, and they’ll likely remember nothing. They could be forced into prostitution, servitude, most likely in another country like I was, or …” Anya shuddered and looked down at the floor. “If they’re completely sedated, their organs are taken, and they are left to die.” 

Sabriya shuddered, too. “Organ harvesting.”

Anya nodded, and her eyes misted over.

“Any idea how I might find the girls? I suspect I have to act quickly.”

“You don’t have much time, maybe only a day or two at the most; then it will be all over. Maybe a brothel, but they’re a little young for that …”

“No, they’re not,” Sabriya said. “I’ve been there.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Anya, then stared at Sabriya for a moment, not fully understanding, and perhaps not wanting to, before continuing. “Some are given a stimulant like meth or cocaine to increase their willingness to engage in sex, or GHB if they’re going to get cut open. The drugs can change depending on their handler’s intention, intelligence, or lack of it. I did see your girls leave; it was in an expensive Land Cruiser. They were with two obnoxious men. They will try to catch up with a group that left us an hour before you came. If that’s the case, you want to look for a dark brown panel truck, you know, with tall doors in back.”

“Where was it headed?”

Anya shrugged, but added, “Maybe to Red Coast Harbor.”

“I know where that is. How could I tell it, the truck I mean, from another like it?”

Anya thought for a moment. “There were two round windows in the back doors, but they were painted black. And the truck was old-looking, with dents and scrapes, and the right bumper was bent up. It left us this morning, just an hour before your girls came. It’s a long trip, and they have to stop a couple of times for food, water, and a toilet. If they drive straight through, the girls can get sick and die.”

“At Red Coast, are they put on a boat?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“Where to?”

“Mostly to Russia, I think. I’ve heard the name Vladivostok. It’s a large port on the Pacific Ocean and a military base.”

About this time, Hannah arrived and was introduced. Sabriya was anxious to leave and follow up on her new lead, but Hannah stopped her.

“The Ambassador delayed me, about which I need to talk to you. But can I ask Anya something first?

“Sure, go ahead,” said Sabriya.

“Anya, how did you end up here? Were you kidnapped? I see the bruises. Were you beaten?”

“I wasn’t kidnapped. I came to Pellagore to get a good-paying job. A woman came to my island in Thailand. She said there were jobs here, and that I could work off my travel expense after I got the job. I came with her on a bus, along with several other women, all older like me. I’ve always been interested in medical things, and I didn’t have a boyfriend to marry, so I thought it was worth the chance. That was three years ago. But as soon as we crossed into Pellagore, we handed over our passports and other identification, and we never saw them again. At first, I thought it was normal and didn’t object. But then I was told I had to work for Dr. Shin or my parents would be beaten, and if I didn’t comply, I’d be arrested, thrown into a Pellagore prison, and tortured. That’s when I knew I was tricked. I was scared. I lived in the Pothecary, in a small room, and Dr. Shin trained me to be his sometime office manager and lab assistant. I never really got paid because I was working off my indebtedness, they said. I wasn’t pretty enough or young enough to be sent to a brothel, for which I’ve been thankful. But there’s no place for me to go, and I was beaten regularly, and Dr. Shin and others threatened to kill me if I didn’t obey them.”

“Hannah,” interrupted Sabriya, “I must leave. Anya has given me information I need to quickly follow up on. Jia may still be in the vicinity.”

“No, wait. We need to talk privately,” said Hannah. “Let’s go to a bedroom and let Anya raid the pantry for food.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d love to lie down and rest,” said Anya. “It’s been an exciting day. I’ll go to a bedroom. You two stay here.”

Once Anya had slipped out of the room, Hannah opened up. “As I was leaving the Embassy, the Ambassador took me aside and told me to order you to return immediately to the Embassy.”

“I work for you now?”

“Of course, not. I’m just the messenger, and your security detail, which I haven’t been able to exercise over the past day. That may be part of David’s concern.”

“The man can’t stand a little chaos? Two vehicles catching on fire is hardly an international incident.”

“Depends on how they caught fire.”

“Did the Palace call David?”

“There’s hardly been time for them to know anything. You’ve only been gone for a day. No, I think it was a couple of police reports, like an APB.” 

Sabriya grabbed the phone sitting on a side table and pulled it and the cord over to the table between them. “How do I use this to call David. The line is secure, isn’t it?”

“Punch 9-0, wait for the tone, then 7-2-6-7-7, or “SCORP.” Landon will answer, and he’ll patch you through. Use the speaker. David will want to know I’m here and delivered his message.”

Sabriya was riled. Bureaucracy, or was it diplomacy, was delaying her call to arms—finding and saving the lives of two young girls. She put the phone between them and punched in the codes. 

Chapter 27 - POHAN ESCAPE

Publication Note:

We are well into the copyediting and proofing stage of the completed novel, for Sabriya Hope. We've added a short Prologue to the novel that will appear before Chapter 1 and draws on a scene in Act 3. If you're interested, the link is above.

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Thursday, August 15, 2024 - 3:45 PM

Hearing the siren as she exited Shin’s Pohan Pothecary, Sabriya quickly pulled Anya through the front door. On the road’s shoulder, her SEC stood upright on its U-stand, ready to carry its riders away. Sabriya slid on her helmet, took Anya’s clutch of papers and stuffed them in the cycle’s seat-trunk, showed Anya how to sit astride the cycle, and to hold onto Sabriya’s waist with one arm, and the seat strap with the other. To the left, the road meandered into a clutter of settlement dwellings. A hundred meters to the right, the settlement road exited into Meijing proper. But when she looked in that direction, a police-branded Toyota Hilux with a siren blaring, a flashing light bar on the roof, and a gunner preparing to fire a machine gun mounted in the cargo bed, roared onto the settlement road and came directly for them.

Sabriya didn’t understand what was going on, but her fight-or-flight instinct told her that running away offered the best opportunity for a longer life. 

“He pays the police,” said Anya.

“Who?”

“Dr. Shin.”

“That explains some of it.” Corrupt cops, protecting traffickers. “Hold on tight. Things are going to get bumpy before they get safe.” 

The SEC jumped away from its parking spot, zoomed silently to the left away from the Hilux, and into the unknown labyrinth of settlement streets. A moment later, it was clear that the Hilux was after them, or rather, Sabriya. The machine gun mounted on the Toyota’s cargo platform fired short bursts of lead that struck the ground on either side of the fleeing SEC. The gunner’s poor aim was no doubt due to the undulating, rutted road. To Sabriya, it was amazing that the gunner could fire at all without falling out of the gyrating cargo bay. 

After several minutes of sustaining ruts, curves, hills, flying lead, and enduring both of Anya’s arms pulled tightly about her waist, Sabriya concluded the kidnapper had his claws deep into the Meijing police. 

Trying to predict where the settlement road would lead but not able to, Sabriya impulsively pulled sharply around a cluster of shacks, only to scatter residents who thought strolling in the middle of the street while dodging lead was the sociable thing to do. No doubt the Hilux’s siren, flashing lights, and the percussive bursts of slugs ricocheting off corrugated steel dwellings weren’t notice enough that trouble was just around the corner. Sabriya hoped no one got hit, least of all herself or her passenger. What to do? Could she double back and get on the main road? Of course, running before a machine gun on a smooth road could be a tad more dangerous—the gunner’s accuracy might improve if the Hilux wasn’t falling into a rut every few seconds. 

The turn around the cluster of shacks led the SEC onto a steep lane that blocked Sabriya’s view of what lay over the crest. Yet, she dared not slow down. The uphill dirt lane was smoother, allowing the gunner to improve his accuracy, and the occasional bursts of gunfire at their backs were closing in. She kept thinking, I just have to get over this hill. But what then? She still couldn’t see over the rise, and the possibility of getting hit by a burst heightened each time the roughrider behind her pulled his trigger. They were getting too close, thought Sabriya. She tugged on the accelerator grip just as the bike hit a bump, launching the SEC and its passengers into the air. Simultaneously, she heard the Hilux accelerate. 

Suddenly, she faced her destiny. While the bike was still in the air, it crested the hill, revealing that the lane ended in a T-intersection with the road immediately in front of the Pohan Pothecary. There was no time to turn without the bike sliding out from underneath them and causing serious injury. But then, a miracle. Directly in front of their flightpath was the narrow walking path along the side of the Pothecary. She had no choice but to aim for the narrow opening and hope that the SEC, her body, and Anya’s were skinny enough to fit through. 

With a nearly uncontrollable thump, the SEC landed, and although the bike began to tip, the gyroscopic force of the spinning wheels resisted and naturally steered the cycle back under their combined center of mass, and…ZIP…the bike and its passengers slipped unharmed through the walkway, dumping them safely into the alley and skidding to a stop.

At that very moment, she heard a loud explosion. They turned to look behind them. Like the SEC, the Hilux was going at such a high rate of speed up the hill that when it landed on the other side of the rise, it could neither turn from the Pothecary nor fit down the narrow walking path. Instead, the Hilux crashed into the front of the building and exploded into a fireball, engulfing the driver, passenger, and gunner, who were subjected to a hailstorm of secondary explosions of the gunner’s ammunition firing indiscriminately in every direction. Sabriya gunned the cycle and escaped down the alley with her cargo. 

It wasn’t necessary to trigger her comm channel. Landon’s voice was suddenly in her head. “SEC One, copy? What’s happening?”

Catching her breath and turning to see if Anya was still with her—she was with eyes wide open—Sabriya responded. “We’re okay. Just escaped a rogue police vehicle with a rear-mounted machine gun, shooting at us. Safe now. The police vehicle and gun crashed behind us and exploded into a ball of fire.”

“WHAT!? Another exploding vehicle. This is getting to be a habit.”

“Not really. I need three in a row for something to become habitual. But I promise to try harder. Although I had nothing to do with this one. They came after me. You’d have to have been here.”

“These were the police? The Meijing police?”

“That’s what was painted on the side. They were trying to kill us. What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll ask the Ambassador.” Landon’s sarcasm was thick.

“We’re safe now.”

“Who’s we? Did you find the girls?”

“Negative. I have a passenger.” Sabriya turned. “Anya, you all right?”

“I think so,” said Anya.

“Who’s Anya?” asked Landon. 

“A woman who seems to have been trafficked—a lab assistant at the Pothecary. I disabled the man running the place; Anya wanted out. So she’s with me. Both saw the girls an hour or so ago. Anya thinks she can help. But I need to get her to a safe house. Do we still have one in Meijing? Can you give me directions?”

“Ten-four on that. Glad you’re safe. I’ll tell David. He’ll be livid at the chaos, however. Directions coming. ETA?”

“Depends. Where’s it at?”

“I’m mapping now.” There was a pause. “You’re an hour away, to the southeast.”

“I’ll head in that direction.” 

“I’ll direct you. You need medical?”

“Not unless cremated, corrupt police need a doctor.”

Chapter 26 - Anya

Thursday, August 15, 2024 - 3:30 PM

It didn’t take Sabriya long to track down the Pohan pharmacy, or pothecary, as its proprietor called it, in the rubble of Meijing’s shack settlement. There, on the front, next to the nondescript door, which needed painting, was the mortar-and-pestle badge with the interlocking letters “PP” embossed on the side of the mortar, probably for Pohan Pothecary. Under the badge, a name plate, “Dr. Sanjay Shin, Chemist.”

The two windows facing the single-lane, crumbling-asphalt street had their shutters swung closed. The drug shop, or whatever you might call it, did not look open or inviting. 

Before removing her helmet, Sabriya confirmed with Landon that she had arrived, which he already knew. Dismounting her SEC, she checked that her P250’s safety was off, the chamber loaded, and a full clip was firmly seated into the grip. 

Although the settlement shacks were close, there was a narrow walking path to the rear of the Pothecary shack. She crept down the path and noted that a rear entrance had access to an alley. But wherever she looked, there were no vehicles or cycles present. Perhaps the proprietor lived on the premises, or he and any assistants walked to work. It was the same situation she encountered in Yung Fa Ho: no vehicles except the frog van, and suddenly, three goons showed up and attacked her. She had a sense the girls might be, would be, or had been here. For the first time, her lack of preparation became apparent. If she found both girls, she could only transport one on the back of her cycle, or perhaps the second would fit on her lap, but at what cost to steering? And if the girls were sedated, as they likely were, what then? They’d be rag dolls trying to ride a cycle astride. Wait! She thought. I’m overthinking this. I have to find the girls first. 

Back at the shack’s front, she found the entrance unlocked. She stepped inside, her P250 at the ready. A waiting area, half a dozen chairs all empty. A counter, but no receptionist. An inside door that led into the back was locked. Only one way forward. She sat on the counter, swung her legs through the reception opening, and dropped down on the other side. Stepping past a few file cabinets and a desk, she came through an open doorway to a larger, well-lit room that was surprisingly modern, and contrary to the place’s disarming outward appearance. The room appeared to be a chemistry lab—apparatus, shelving, a couple of workbench stations with microscopes, and on a metal workbench, a lit Bunsen burner sat under a glass flask on a stand, boiling colorless liquid. Ten meters away, a stocky man in a white lab coat, his back to Sabriya, was bent over a humming machine that was printing out a strip of paper. Apparently, Dr. Shin was all alone in the building.

Sabriya decided to announce her presence. She navigated between workbenches and approached the man. At a lab table next to her, she slammed a partially open drawer shut. Shin turned suddenly and faced the woman five meters away in military fatigues with a Sig Sauer P250 aimed directly and confidently at his midsection. He was shocked, of course, but also very angry, or was that how he looked all the time? His recessed, baggy eyes were dark and a bit bloodshot. Was he on a stimulant? She didn’t know, but if he was, his reactions could be a lot faster than hers. Better anticipate.

“Sanjay Shin?” she demanded, the pistol held at her waist pointed at his gut.

“Who are you?” he asked without answering.

“I’m looking for two young girls, 12-years-old. One’s my daughter. Have you seen them?”

That got the man’s attention. He jerked slightly. He has seen them, she thought. His eyes shifted, and his body followed, as if he considered running through the door behind and to his left. Who’s there? she wondered. Suddenly, a slightly overweight, short, unarmed woman stepped into the doorway. Sabriya slightly panned her gun’s barrel at the woman, who immediately ducked back into the room out of sight. Better be prepared if she shows up again with artillery, Sabriya mused, pivoting her P250 back at Shin. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. 

But he did. His tone was a ruse, a ploy, a cryptic attempt at distraction. The feminine gatecrasher in camouflage with a gun was polite. “Where are they? Here?”

“No. Gone an hour ago.” The honest answer, after the lie, was a mistake.

Sabriya was not a crack shot, but the 9mm round that suddenly escaped her P250’s muzzle and shattered a beaker of liquid, a meter to Shin’s left, was enough.

His reactions, for a heavy man dressed for church in a shirt and tie but for the lab coat, were nimble. A quick step to his right, he grabbed a corked glass bottle and side-armed it at Sabriya with extraordinary speed and precision.

Sabriya casually stepped aside as the bottle of Hydrogen Fluoride acid flew past and crashed on the metal workbench behind her. Reacting with the metal benchtop, the acid effervesced, producing a cloud of flammable colorless gas that, when it reached the open flame of the Bunsen burner, exploded. The explosion was a distraction to the man, but not to the mother searching for her daughter. Frantic, the white-capped proprietor grabbed a meter-long steel clamp stand and swung it wildly at the intruder. But Sabriya, not wanting to shoot and kill the man who had information she wanted, instinctively holstered her pistol and parkoured onto a workbench, jumping over Shin’s vicious swings at her shins. At the right moment, she roundhoused her left foot at the man’s head and connected with a thump. Shin’s face went blank, his eyeballs rolled back in their sockets, his outstretched arms flailed in circles for a moment, and then his body went stiff and fell back onto the floor with a thud. Looking down from her perch at the unconscious chemist lying on the floor, Sabriya realized he was as useless as if he had been shot. 

All was quiet for a minute when a shy feminine voice spoke up from the doorway to the adjacent room. “Ma’am, can I help you?”

Sabriya turned to see the woman who had appeared earlier. Was she a lab assistant? She looked frightened … not of Sabriya but of something greater. Sabriya jumped off the bench, stepped toward the woman, who had tears in her eyes and bruises on her face and neck, then turned the tables. “How can I help you?” 

The woman glanced at the man lying on the floor, shuddered, and stepped closer to Sabriya as if seeking protection. Sabriya took the woman’s shaking hands to comfort her and gazed into her eyes, but the woman looked down and away, having learned to avoid eye contact with those in authority over her. Sabriya, although a bit taller, was much younger. 

“Do you want to get away…to a safe place?” Sabriya asked.

The woman dared to look Sabriya in the eyes, unwilling to believe the offer.

“What’s your name?” Sabriya asked softly, trying again to break through.

The woman inched closer and whispered, “Anya.”

“Is anyone else in the building or nearby … that you fear?”

Anya, again, glanced at the man, then slowly shook her head.

“Were two young girls here earlier today?”

Anya nodded and asked, “Are you looking for your daughter?”

Sabriya’s heart skipped a beat—the trail was fresh. “Yes, 12-years-old, with a friend, same age.”

Anya nodded again, with greater confidence. “Maybe I can help you.”

“Are they here now?” 

Anya shook her head.

“Where are they?”

Anya shrugged her shoulders.

“Can I take you someplace safe?”

Anya nodded as tears filled her eyes with hope.

“Did they force you to take medicine, drugs, or inject you?”

Anya shook her head vigorously. “No, I learned that beatings were far better than druggings. They also needed my brain to do the work I do. My bruises will heal. I eat well.”

“Okay, let’s get out of here.”

Sabriya quickly looked around the lab and guided Anya toward the front door. But Anya suddenly broke away and trotted toward the side room she had come from. Sabriya started to follow her, but Anya quickly returned, clutching some papers, and looked toward the front. Sabriya took Anya’s hand, and the two women literally ran out of the building. 

But as they did, Sabriya heard an approaching siren—a police siren.

Chapter 25A - Pohan Pothecary

Thursday, August  15, 2024 - 1:30 PM

Sarsak drove the Tank, a heavily customized Toyota Land Cruiser, with four-wheel drive, armor plating, a turbocharged engine, and a rear compartment that was sealed off like a trunk, for cargo, in this case, two 12-year-old girls, tied up and drugged. 

Sapp rode shotgun with a flip phone plastered to his ear. “YOU STUPID MORONS. How does a tiny bitch…no, no, shut up and listen. I don’t care if she’s a TENTH-degree black belt; you’d all have to be drunk to let her get away. For god’s sake... THERE WERE THREE, no FOUR OF YOU….okay, so one was naked and gutless….yeah, yeah, DaRik is a certified douchebag. I’ll deal with him later. But, Marco, can’t you do anything right? Do I have to hold your hand like a baby? I can’t believe what you’re telling me. Where do you think she went?” Sapp listened. “So we get a second chance….yeah, yeah … Sully blabbed what? … Yeah, she’ll find Shin’s shack.”

Sapp took a deep breath, dropped the phone from his face, and turned to Sarsak, “Marco and his idiots let the bitch escape. She’s on her way to Pohan. Have we heard from V.J. ‘bout this?”

Sarsak shook his head.

“I wonder why?” Sapptoso mumbled. He put the phone back to his face, listening to Marco blathering on about something. “No, I don’t want you in Pohan. One screwing a day is all I can take. Listen, clean up Sully’s place before the good cops get there. Better still, clean up Sully; he’s useless to us now…yes, that’s what I mean.” Sapp listened, but his frustration grew. “Do I have to spell everything out to you? Hear me on this: After you clean up, send Phillip and DaRik back to Mannu. I’m expecting another shipment from Dreggs, and they can take care of it.  Tell ‘em to give Dreggs a Southern Veil welcome….NO! Don’t kill him. What are you stupid? Tell him I’ll pay him when I get back. In the meantime, you stay in touch with Sveno; he’s the one communicating with V.J., who can tell you where the bitch is. You can be close enough to her to intervene if needed. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to deal with her. Yeah. Yeah! Okay. Bye.” 

Closing his phone, Sapptoso stared ahead at the road that curved and dipped so much it made him dizzy.  “Go faster!”

“You realize there’s no guard rail?”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Just thinking of your health.” 

“Go faster. I’m trying to think.”

Sarsak jabbed the accelerator a little, so that Sapp felt the Tank surge ahead, left, and right, after which Sarsak imperceptibly let up on the gas. He didn’t mind being an asshole. He just didn’t want to be dead. 

2:35 PM

Sapptoso doubted Dr. Sanjay Shin was a real doctor, but the expat Indian—he was wanted for something back in New Delhi—knew his chemistry, how to deliver the goods, and how to stay under the radar. If only his domicile were in a more domestic locality. How the man managed to have indoor plumbing and electricity in the midst of a shantytown on the outskirts of a metropolis like Meijing was a mystery. There was a public entrance in front, but no signage except a wood-carved badge of a mortar and pestle, suggesting the entity within might be involved in mixing spices and herbs to make medicinal remedies.  At least there was a rear entrance, although it was more like a dirty alley. Perhaps that was the secret; no proper person would suspect an underground chemist to inhabit such a run-down-looking exterior. Inside was a different story. Spotless clean tiles, walls, and countertops, with the requisite lab equipment and medical gadgets; refrigerated cabinets and organized shelving with a variety of labeled drugs, and a well-lit, stainless examination table against a sidewall of the lab. 

Just before the Tank turned into the alley, Sapp checked his money clutch. Shin's Pothecary, as he called it, was strictly a cash-only proposition. 

Sapp didn’t like coming to the Pothecary in the middle of the afternoon, especially with cargo to attend to, though in the rear, off the alley, there was a parking slot between dwellings where unloading the cargo wasn’t out in the open. After backing into the slot, Sapp and Sarsak carried the barely conscious, drugged-into-compliance girls through the rear entrance and laid them on the large examination table. As expected, both girls had soiled themselves. They had been given only water over the past 30 hours, but that didn’t stop their organs from working. Anya Quinpo, Shin's 30-something, shy, somewhat shaky, and slightly obese Thai assistant, got busy cleaning up the girls and giving them fresh underwear, carefully bagging their wet underpants in separate plastic bags and setting them aside.

Sanjay Shin’s robust frame sat silently at a microscope station in a tall swivel chair. With an intense glare and arms folded across his chest, he watched the intake. In his mid-50s, the dark-complexioned, robust Indian with receding black hair, greying at the temples, deep-set, baggy eyes, and a short beard and mustache, he was the image of a discontented scientist whose research had never been fully funded. Sapptoso always thought it odd, regardless of the weather, that his drug-peddling chemist wore a fully buttoned dark-colored dress shirt with a matching, darker-colored tie pulled tight against his neck in a Windsor knot, a long white, partially buttoned lab coat, American blue jeans, and American cowboy boots. When he spoke, it was business only.

“Anya, you have enough for urinalysis?”

Anya examined the set-aside bags with the wet underwear and nodded. 

“Okay. Feed them first.

“Yes, sir, but they can barely swallow.”

“Yogurt in the small refrigerator. Spoon it for them.”

“Yes, sir,” said Anya as she made tracks for the adjacent room to return in a few minutes with the food and water. 

After feeding the girls yogurt, which they eagerly consumed despite being drugged, helping them sip water, and wiping up their drool, Anya stepped back.

“Anya. Analysis,” said Shin, nodding to the side room. Anya picked up the plastic bags and returned to the adjacent room. Shin glared at Sapp. “The usual?”

“Of course, doctor. Why else would we be here?”

With little enthusiasm but great efficiency, Shin checked the girls’ vitals—blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, lungs, eyes, ears, throats, and skin—all of which were depressed given their state. Finally, and silently, he dressed some abrasions. By that time, Anya had returned with a printout for Shin to examine, then retreated to the side room, as if what came next was none of her business. 

“With a sense of derision, Dr. Shin turned to Sapp. “It seems they’re all healthy and should survive the hell you’re putting them through. But you gotta feed them. I suggest you lay off or minimize…” he looked at Anya’s report, “…roofies or whatever other shit you’ve put in them, or they’ll soon be useless or dead.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now, would we, doctor?” Sapp smiled derisively. “I’m set on the roofies, but how ‘bout replenishing our GHB, Special K, and Devil’s Breath?”

“There’s been a price increase.”

“I’ll bet there has, the Inspector General?”

Shin nodded and held up five fingers.

“I’ll give him a call. He owes me.”

Sapp handed over a wad of currency, which Shin quickly counted and pocketed in his jeans, walked to a wall cabinet, withdrew three bottles of pills, and held them out to Sapp, who pointed at Sarsak, who took the bottles from the doctor and stuffed them in a drawstring bag he had brought in for the purpose. 

“We will now take our leave, and our cargo. I most appreciate your help, doctor. My customers will appreciate your thoroughness at quality control.” Sapp smiled at Sarsak, and the two men slung their drugged cargo over their shoulders and departed the way they had come.

3:15 PM

Once in the Tank, with the girls secured in the back again, and before they started for Mannu, Sarsak checked his mobile device. “Boss, VJ says your bitch is on her way…her. How’d she discover that?” 

“Your memory ill? Marco said Sully told her. Jaylo’s just confirming. We’ll get her this time.” 

“We? We staying?”

“No, I’ll call in the hordes. Keep our hands clean.”

As Sarsak maneuvered the Tank back onto the road toward Mannu, Sapptoso flipped open his phone and pushed an autodial number.

“Inspector General, Lieutenant Qiang? … Sapptoso Wanti. I’ve just been with our mutual acquaintance, Dr. Shin. He tells me there’s been a price increase … Is that so? … Ah, yes, the APB for our problem. … You’ll need to earn that, in my way of thinking, or I think we’ll take it out of your skin. … Yes, the cost extra. … Damn it, Lieutenant, don’t get on my bad side. … Yes, that’s a threat … you’ll never know from where it came. You’ve got to earn it. … To start with, you can eliminate our APB problem. … So, do you have any leads as to her whereabouts? … Not yet? Well, I imagine when you find her, you’ll be up for a promotion, if you get my meaning. Right now, the promotion doesn’t look so good… Yeah, hope that works out for you. Now, here’s information that will help us both. Listen carefully. She’ll be arriving at Shin’s within the hour. … Yes. Eliminate the APB, though I would like the honors. But you have to be quick…. Of course! … Do that. Be sure of it. … Good. Now, when the job’s done, let me know right away.” 

Sapptoso closed his flip phone and murmured to Sarsak. “If Qiang does his job right, things will be easier. If not, things will be more entertaining.” 

Chapter 25 - Escape (FLASHBACK)

Flashback - April 2013 - Meijing

It was early afternoon on Jia Kun’s first birthday. Sabriya, in a loose top and shorts, breastfed her daughter in the pretentious living room, which during the day served as a lounge for the staff and at night served as a reception parlor for customers. This afternoon, the 14- to 18-year-old working girls had abandoned their racy work attire and makeup for bathrobes, pajamas, or muumuus. They brought their little “Princess,” as Jia had been nicknamed, kind but meager birthday presents, wrapped in repurposed ribbons. The gifts included a used bright green rubber ball, a used red lipstick tube, a broken barrette, a lewd bracelet charm, a tarnished brooch, a used rouge palette and brush, and a ball of colorful string scavenged from the snags of dresses and negligees. The one-year-old Jia Kun, of course, had little use or interest in such things, particularly while she was locked onto her mother’s teat and doing her best to put on weight, something the gift bearers avoided for fear of a beating. However paltry the gifts, the mother graciously accepted each and promised to keep them until Princess was old enough to use them. Sabriya, however, now 20 years old, was determined that her child would never get the chance. 

The time in the living room was amicably spent among the girls reading old magazines, chit-chatting, begging the cook for more food, and watching a Chinese soap opera on an old black-and-white TV, complete with propaganda posters of Chairman Deng Xiaoping in the background and communist themes unnaturally woven into the dialogue, which no girl in the room could understand or care about. What was on their mind was the degrading work they would be forced to undertake once the sun went down and tricks with tics, as some of the girls referred to their clients, came to spread their wealth and who knew what else.

But the languid afternoon was about to face a reckoning. A young Korean man, with pretensions to match his arrogance, marched into the room and stopped in front of Sabriya. “Boss wants to see you.”

“When I’m done feeding Jia.”

“No! Now! Leave the useless kid here.”

“Absolutely not. Tell Pig Head I’ll come when I’m ready.” 

In an ominous tone, the man leaned in and fine-tuned his pitch. “You know what happens when his girls talk to him like that.”

“Hajoon, I’m not one of his girls.”  But her words summoned contempt from the very women who had just graced her child with gifts, and she regretted her arrogance but only a little. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Hajoon stared at her with threatening disdain.

“TELL HIM,” Sabriya snapped, and returned his gaze with her own threat.

Hajoon took a sharp step back, turned, and walked out the way he came.

A minute later, Jia was still feeding, and Mom was content on the living room couch, her eyes closed, enjoying the mother-daughter moment.

Suddenly, Sabriya was yanked to her feet. Jia, who had fallen asleep while feeding, jerked awake and bellowed her dissent. Sabriya held on to the child with both arms and pulled away from her assailant. But he was much stronger and bigger. 

 “You’re going back to work tonight,” he seethed. “I’ve been patient long enough. I need the money, and the girls are starting to act like they have a life of their own because of you. Ain’t gonna happen.” 

“Jia Kun needs to be fed. You know I can’t work.”

“You can work during the night and feed her during the day. She’s fat, and so are you. I can’t get as much money off your fat ass the way you are, so starting tonight, you’re on a diet, and you work for half pay, but you owe me just as much, so you’re going to have to work twice as hard to earn back what you’ve  cheated me out of this past year.”

Sabriya tried to pull against the man’s towering strength. She looked about the room for help, but the other girls had wisely all left. She was on her own against their whoemaster or “Mister,” as he demanded to be called. The problem was, he didn’t just pretend he owned them; he did. 

The malevolent slapped her hard across her face, drawing blood from her nose and lip. That wasn’t enough, however. He threw her on the floor while she struggled to hold and protect the little girl from hitting her head against the hardwood floor. But he wasn’t done. As soon as she hit the floor, the snake planted a swift boot into her abdomen, doubling her over and knocking out her breath. She couldn’t breathe; she started gasping, which only provoked Jia, who began to wail because crying wasn’t doing the job. The tyrant yanked Sabriya to her feet. “It’s time for the break room until you learn your lesson. Take the kid with you, but I don’t want to hear her crying during business hours, you got that, bitch?” The break room was where girls were taken for days or weeks at a time to physically and psychologically break their will through starvation, beatings, and finally drugs that completed the process by erasing their near-term memory, guaranteeing there would be no chance of describing their torture to authorities if they ever had the chance.

Gasping, Sabriya begged. “Do what you want, but don’t you dare put us in that waste closet; the baby will suffocate, and I can’t stand it.”

“Sounds like a great idea. You don’t deserve even a pallet bed.”

“Don’t you dare, you dimwit. If I ever get a chance, I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Fat chance of that. I own you.” The pernicious slaver laughed as he dragged helpless Sabriya, who held onto defenseless Jia Kun, into the damp waste closet, and dropped her and her baby on a wet mop next to a putrid bucket and trash bin.“I’ll send you a blanket. Keep that kid quiet, I don’t want to hear a thing tonight, or there will be more where this came from.” The brute slammed the door and barred it from the outside. After a moment, Sabriya felt sharp pains in her legs, realizing that being dragged across the rough wooden floor had implanted multiple wood splinters into her bare calves.

Jia continued to wail at the abuse. Sabriya looked around the room, which was dingy but not dark. Lifting her top, she pulled Jia to her unsuckled breast and within seconds her robust baby was gaining much-needed energy for what was to follow. 

Minutes later, Sabriya heard the bar being removed from the door. Hajoon appeared with a blanket and laughed, “You whores never learn. Here, suck on this,” and he threw a threadbare and soiled blanket at her and her now mostly content suckling child, then closed and barred the door. 

Sabriya made herself as comfortable as possible, and after Jia had fed and started to explore her mom’s face with sweet coos, Sabriya wrapped her in the blanket and held her close, hoping the babe would fall asleep again and stay asleep for what was to come. Drawing a deep breath, Sabriya closed her eyes and took a survey of her injuries, which stung but were not serious, which bled but would soon clot, and which bruised but would soon go numb. The lumps, however, would take weeks to heal. So far so good. She mentally mended her resolve and took comfort and even hope that the next step in her plan would be as successful as what had just happened, although it was far more dangerous.

In the dark hours of the morning, long after the brothel’s last customers had left, and as Jia slept, Sabrita willed herself to be fully alert. Time was now of the essence.  

A year ago, when Jia Kun was born, Sabriya had decided she was not going back to work in the brothel. She had been spared some of the degradation because of her pregnancy, the distraught shape of her body afterwards (something she purposely extended), and her need to breastfeed the child. Escaping her imprisonment for good, however, would require careful, patient planning. Tonight, she would execute the final phase of that plan. But she would get only one chance, and it was a life-or-death gamble. 

So far, her first foil had been successful—convincing her captor that being locked in the waste closet was a punishment next to death. For it was in the waste closet over the past year that she had diligently saved and hidden a great cache of money, and it was the waste closet itself that had access to several life-saving essentials. Unfortunately, the waste closet did not contain the one item she was convinced she needed, and that, to obtain it, she was willing to risk everything. 

Under a low shelf was a broken wooden crate, and within the crate she had created a false bottom, beneath which she had hidden a baby’s body sling, and beneath the sling was a silk backpack with a cache of money she had saved, scrounged, and stolen. Taking out the backpack, she opened a secret zipper where she had been stuffing money earned from performing extras for customers. Securing the zipper, she slid over to the shelf where the cook normally stored extra fruit and roots; these she liberally stuffed into the backpack. 

Next, she laid out Jai Kun on the floor and changed her diaper. She always put two diapers on her, so changing her in an awkward situation was simply a matter of removing the soiled one and tying her back up with the outer clean one. Jai Kun woke during her change and was a bit fussy, but Sabriya quickly put the child on a teat and let her eat her fill. While Jai Kun suckled, mother wrapped the soiled, smelly diaper on the floor and pushed it into a corner of the closet. After 15 minutes of feeding Jai Kun was again fast asleep. As soon as the babe was asleep, she donned the body sling and secured Jai Kun in it across her front. 

Then it was time to be daring. At the end of the closet was a drawered cabinet. Usually, when something needed fixing in the house, a carpenter came with his own tools to make the repair. But here was a junk drawer that included forgotten but useful hand tools. She pulled the drawer open and pushed aside the small hand saw that she no longer needed. But the rusty pliers she would. She moved the cabinet aside to reveal a wall of vertical wooden slats. With the pliers, she pulled out a dozen nails she had loosened over the prior months and removed the slats one by one, putting them quietly aside. This revealed the outer boards of the house’s facade, each of which she had sawed through at the bottom. She was sure that looking at the house from outside would not reveal her stealth modification.  It was time to leave. With the provisioning pack on her back, she picked up the sleeping Jia and slipped her into the sling across her front. Then, crouching next to the wall where the cabinet had been, she leaned back, bending the outer boards away from the house, creating a gap that allowed her to turn sideways and slip to the ground outside, carefully letting the boards return to their position without making a noise. 

Not bad, so far. But what came next required courage. She had to go back into the house, but not through the front, where a guard was always posted. There were also community dogs about. By and large, the dogs were friendly, but if spooked in the middle of the night, there would be barking, a ruckus, and even an attack, which could bring the guard or thieves, unpredictable dangers. Creeping around the house, with a moon behind an overcast sky, but with plenty of light to reveal her presence if anyone looked, made her heart beat into her throat. Carefully, so as not to kick a can or break a stick, or fall into a hole, she skirted the house to the other side and the rear, where there was an isolated but narrow door. Would it make a noise when she opened it? Would it be locked? Would there be anyone inside? She looked in the window next to the door, but could see nothing because of the darkness. At least no one seemed to be in the room. She tried the door. The handle turned, but the door was bolted shut. What to do? She pictured the room’s interior, which she had been in many times. The door was near the window. Was the window ajar? She could not climb in the window with her backpack and baby sling, but maybe… The window was not locked. She slid it up a few inches, reached inside, and felt blindly for the latch bolt. She found the bolt and slid it open. But doing so made a loud CRACK as the metal parts slammed together. Holding her breath, she peered into the shadows around her. No movement, outside or in.

The door opened, and she stepped in. What she was looking for, she had seen many times lying on the desk where the boss could easily rub it. It was a magic amulet associated with the god Kasden, the source of power, wealth, vengeance, and everything else, virtuous and evil. She needed the amulet because of the promise that anyone who possessed or wore it would be protected and granted magical powers over others. But the amulet was not on the desk, and without it in hand, she shouldn’t be standing in the middle of this office. If found, she’d be shot instantly, and the bullet would go through her and Jia, who was slung across her chest. She rebuked herself for going this far and risking so much. Gingerly, she circled the office. The floorboards squeaked, which only aggravated her bowels and weakened her knees. 

She scanned the room again. She stopped and stared into the shadows. Was that it? There, hanging on a peg next to the door to the inside hallway and partially hidden by a coat on an adjacent peg, was what appeared to be the amulet. She crept forward to get a better look, but something else caught her eye—a shiny silver handgun in a leather shoulder holster on a third peg next to the coat. She had never held a gun, and this one looked massive. A gun surely might be helpful, she thought. Dare she take it? She honestly had no idea how to use a firearm, except to point and pull the trigger. It had to be more complicated than that. Was it loaded? How would she check? 

Suddenly, she heard a door open inside the house, and footsteps in the hallway approaching the door she stood before. Quick. Make a decision.

Carefully, but swiftly, she pulled the heavy gun from the holster and stuck it into her baby sling next to Jia, then she grabbed the leather loop through which the amulet was strung, looped it over her head, and tucked the embossed piece of tin into her top. At that instance, the door handle to the inside door, not two meters in front of her in the shadows, turned, and the door pushed slowly open away from her. She would not see who was behind the door until it was fully open, and whoever was behind it could not see her.

There was no hesitation now. She walked quickly, not quietly, to the exterior door through which she had entered, stood in its opening, turned toward the inner door, pulled the pistol from the sling that Jai Kun had kept warm, and pointed it at the person entering. The body of a large man appeared in the dark. She could not make out who it was, but she suddenly realized her body was silhouetted by the dim moonlight behind her. The man saw her, reacted, and instantly grabbed for a pistol tucked into his belt and pointed it at her. BAM!  

The man fell to the floor and crawled into the dark hallway. But he had not fired his weapon; she had fired hers, and whether she hit him or not, she was not going to stick around to find out. Quickly, several things happened in succession: The gun she held recoiled and hit her in the forehead. Jai Kun started to cry, and the man yelled, “INTRUDER, OFFICE.” Sabriya ran out the door, the pistol waving wildly in her hand because it was so heavy. She ran hard, holding Jai Kun steady in her sling with one hand, and the heavy, now smoking pistol in the other. As she had planned, she exited the property through a cinderblock gate hidden behind a small grove of mango trees and turned left toward the alley. No sooner had she exited through the gate than she heard several men chasing her, but not seeing her leave, they knew not which way to turn.  

Chapter 24 - Ambush at Frog Village

Thursday, August  15, 2024 - 12:15 PM

The road east out of the Pangina Mountains toward Yung Fa Ho was paved, smooth, yet undulating as it wove through the rain forest toward the agricultural plains and the South China Sea.  As she approached Yung Fa Ho, Sabriya slowed her SEC and looked for a sparse row of corrugated-iron sheds, a junkyard, and a water tank atop a building. It didn’t take long, as she almost missed the sheds; there were only two, and the junk yard had fewer than a dozen old vehicles, partially covered by overgrowth and vines. The water tank, as the young monks had described, was perched atop an old, decrepit cinderblock building that looked like a garage. The tank was perhaps five meters high and as wide around, made of weathered gray wooden slats, held together by rusty iron straps, and topped with a pointed metal roof. The garage-like building was faced with two roll-up steel bay doors, an attached office, and was surrounded by a jungle of trees and underbrush. But what she had come for was there in plain sight, parked conspicuously…strangely conspicuously next to the building...out in the open, like a roadside banner. The van was like Liang had described it—pale frog green, no windows on the sides or rear, and rust around the bottom. 

The stealthiness of the SEC would pay off now, as she coasted to a stop on the perimeter of the helter-skelter yard and positioned the cycle for a fast escape. Studying the tableau, the only tire tracks led to the parked frog van and to one of the two windowless garage doors, both of which were closed. Whatever was happening inside the garage was happening without prying eyes. No one wandered the yard. Between the cackle of birds, she listened, hoping to hear the cries of girls. But nothing. Were the girls even here? It had been over a day since they had been taken during their trek to school. Sabriya’s heart beat strong, her senses alert. This is what she had come for, or was it? Would she find the girls or even a clue of their existence? Early afternoon under the full Pellagorian sun was no time for stealth. She could not hide. 

Crouching next to her SEC, half hidden behind foliage, her helmet still on, Sabriya initiated the encrypted comm channel: “Scorp. Sabriya. Copy?”

Major Landon responded instantly. “Sabriya. Copy. You’re near Yung Fa Ho, please report.”

“I have found the kidnapper’s van near a garage. I have not approached. No activity. Are there police nearby that can come, search, or apprehend?”

A few minutes later, Landon reported back: “Sabriya, negative. Police have refused. Don’t do anything foolish.”

“The foolishness took place yesterday morning.”

Sabriya locked her helmet on the SEC, checked the load on her P250, made sure her expandable bo staff was secure on her belt, scanned the property, and maneuvered behind the derelict vehicles to survey the back of the building. There was only one other door in the back, but vegetation had overgrown the sill…not used, if the door opened at all. The only other door, other than the bay doors, led into the office from the front, near where the frog van was parked. No one was visible through the office windows or in the van’s front seats. The van’s side door was unlocked. She opened it slowly, looked inside, and her heart skipped a beat. On the far side, wedged between the otherwise bare plywood floor and the bare metal frame, was a girl’s brown sandal. It could have been Jia Kun's, but she was unsure. Without getting into the cargo area, she looked carefully, and as expected, there were strands of long black hair caught in the fibers of the flooring. Her anger rose. This was the van Jia Kun and Gely had shared when abducted.

With her P250 in hand, she slowly opened the front door of the office. It made little noise. Stepping inside, she listened carefully. Water was running. Checking the floor for debris, she walked carefully through the vacant office into a corridor that led further back, where the water noise was louder. A few steps in, she peeked to her left around a corner into a narrow hallway where brooms and mops hung on the wall. At the end of the hallway, a man showered behind a curtain. She let him continue. Turning to the opposite side of the corridor, she trained her pistol toward a door and carefully opened it. She gazed into the vacant, two-bay garage, where there were no vehicles and only one bay appeared to contain any repair tools and a workbench. Nothing else. 

Back to the narrow hallway, the shower, and the man scrubbing dirt from his body and no doubt his conscience—he was obviously the frog van’s driver.  She holstered her pistol, retrieved her bo staff, and extended it a half-meter, for close-quarter strikes. The shower had been installed at the end of the hallway, almost as an afterthought, she thought, converting the hallway into an elongated shower room and storage niche. The only way out was back through the corridor. She stepped toward the shower, making sure her shadow didn’t obscure the ceiling light and alert the occupant prematurely to her presence. Grabbing the edge of the cotton curtain, she yanked it to the side. Not surprisingly, she was greeted by a 50-year-old naked man, who jumped back from the intrusion. 

Meet the proprietor of Sully’s Garage and Van Service, a short 1.6-meter-tall, dark-skinned Laotian, whose black hair fell over his eyes from the water cascading from the showerhead above. His hands grabbed his privates, about which Sabriya was uninterested.  Flicking her bo staff with her right hand, she pinned his throat against the back wall, while her left hand turned off the water. There was a towel on a hook to her left, but she wanted him wet, cold, and vulnerable. 

With piercing eyes and a balanced pose, she stuck a foot into the shower and forced her bo staff deeper into the man’s neck, “WHERE ARE THE GIRLS?” she screamed. Sully shook his head violently, pretending he didn’t know. “WHERE?!” Sabriya screamed again, pushing her staff against his larynx, deciding that if he tried to speak, she might back off on her threat of a tracheostomy. 

Frightened, shaken, and, of course, naked as the day he was born, the man screamed in Lao, “SUAY! SUAY DAE!” which Sabriya interpreted as Help! Help me!

“NO ONE IS GOING TO HELP YOU,” she screamed back. “I know you kidnapped two children in your van. WHERE ARE THEY?”

But the man just shook his head violently, stuttering even as he whimpered, “Bor, mae khoy!  Bor, mae khoy!”

“If not you, who?” Sabriya demanded, slightly releasing her bo staff’s pressure on his exposed throat. 

But suddenly, with a pronounced and even greater fear in his eyes, Sully’s attention moved off Sabriya and shifted behind her. Everything happened in a flash. Turning her head toward the narrow passage behind her, Sabriya saw three tall, muscular men in black T-shirts and hoods stacked behind her. The man in front jumped forward and, from behind, grabbed her left forearm and twisted her body away from the shower. The movement rotated Sabriya’s body counterclockwise, allowing her right hand, which held the short bo staff, to swing violently toward the man. Taking advantage of the rotational acceleration, Sabriya added her body weight to the momentum of the turn and whiplashed her bo staff around and down hard on the man’s left shoulder bone. With a CRACK, the man collapsed to the floor in pain, his left clavicle having been snapped barbarically in two. The narrow hall allowed only one man at a time to get to her, which also allowed her to focus on one man at a time, although there would be no roundhouse kicks.  

The second man yelled, “Sully, grab her.” 

Sabriya realized that Sully was the man in the shower and that her back was turned toward him. She was about to lift and thrust her left heel into Sully’s gut when she realized the naked man was so scared he was sitting on the floor of the shower, in a fetal position, crying. Forget him.  Quickly turning her attention back to man number two, who was grabbing for her throat with both hands, but she dropped her head just enough so the man thrashed at the air above her. In thrusting for her, the man exposed his own throat to her three-thrusting fingers of her right hand. But at the last second, he too dipped his shoulders, and she missed her target. In close now, the man grabbed Sabriya’s forearms and yanked her forward. All right, if you must…she thought, and grabbed his head and pulled it down into her right knee that she raised sharply into his face. He dropped suddenly to the floor, as she, not relinquishing her grip on his black balaclava, ripped it off.  She turned him over and looked at his face … a sudden rush of repulsion. He was a Filipino, but all Filipinos looked alike, and she found them a distasteful breed.  Who was he? She felt she should know, but she couldn’t remember.

Two down and one to go, Sabriya locked eyes with man number three, who was wielding a broom handle he had acquired off the wall. She was suddenly without her bo staff, as the man threatened a lethal strike. She hadn’t practiced it before, but where one’s life is threatened, there’s a way, and she quickly drew her P250, and with both hands to steady it, aimed the muzzle at the man’s center, only to realize the gun’s safety was on, and in the heat of battle her thumb wasn’t strong enough, or positioned correctly enough, to push the lever up and disengage the safety. The gun was useless when she needed it most. But her opponent’s eyes caught her own intense stare down the barrel, and that was enough. In an instant, he dropped the broom handle along with his courage and fled like a frightened mongoose through the front door. 

Where had the men come from, she wondered? She considered chasing number three, but the Filipino had awakened and grabbed one of her legs and was trying to take her down. Kicking free, she managed to back away from him, which also allowed him to get up and come at her again. He dove at her with both of his muscular arms, but she stayed put, lowered and balanced her stance, and let his momentum drive his face into her ready, pounding fists, and then a knee to his now in-close groin. The Filipino doubled over and fell to the floor, groaning.  

“WHERE ARE THE GIRLS?” she yelled at him, but he only grunted back, then fumed in a thin voice, “You’ll never find them. They’re gone.” With blood drooling from his mouth, the man fell unconscious, or so it seemed. Never believe a lying thug, Sabriya reminded herself as she tried to calm her heart and the adrenaline flooding her veins. She felt like emptying a 9mm clip into him, but her conscience overruled the impulse and let him lie in his blood. He wasn’t dead, but how she wished he was.  

She turned in a fury, wondering where the third man had run. She worried about her SEC but realized it was keyed to the short-range ignition fob on her belt; the cycle was going nowhere.  She tripped over the two men, one in pain on his back with a broken shoulder, picked up her collapsible bo staff, and confronted Sully, the naked wimp in the shower. Towering over the broken heap, she screamed at him in Lao. “Where are the girls? Where did they take them?” She threatened to hit him with her bo staff or poke him full of holes.

Through tears, the man whimpered, “Pohan…a…pothecary, guy name might be Tgang…Thung…Thanng. I dunno.”

“Where in Pohan?”

“I don’t know, please believe me. I never been there. They just borrowed my van. Please don’t hurt me.”

Sabriya stared at the man and realized there was nothing more to get out of him.

Leaving the building, she jogged to her SEC and then doubled back. She hadn’t killed anyone yet, but perhaps there was another way to relieve her rage.  Keeping a good distance from the frog van, she eyed the vehicle’s slightly exposed fuel tank from the rear, released the safety on her P250, and BAM! BAM! BAM! … KABOOM! An explosion ripped into the air, vaporizing the van, igniting the nearby vegetation, and spilling toward the building. She turned to go again, but stopped again. Not wanting to be guilty of manslaughter, she calculated the water’s trajectory and emptied the rest of her clip into the water tank, creating eight streams of water that arched onto the ground, creating a firebreak between the van and the building’s entrance. Not the best way to stop the spread of a gasoline fire, she thought. Maybe it will work, maybe it won’t. But she had no intention of sticking around to see. 

Time to get out of here,” she thought. Where was the Pohan pothecary, and who was Thang? No doubt in Pohan about two hours east in the northern part of Meijing. But where exactly? 

As Sabriya’s SEC raced east, she called Landon, or rather, he called her.

 “Sabriya, David’s here and Hannah. What’s going on? Your biometrics went off the charts? Did you find the girls?”

“No girl. I just tangled with four thugs who. Whoever sent them took the girls, one of them said so. In the meantime, you might want to call the local fire brigade, if there is one. There was an explosion of a van’s gasoline tank, and the building next to it may be on fire with three men inside. I think they’re still alive, but I didn’t stick around to check their vitals.”

David’s panicked voice came over the channel, “What have you done, Sabriya?”

“It’s what I haven’t done, my dear. I have not found my daughter or Gely. Now, tell me, Landon, somewhere in or near Pohan is a pothecary, but knowing the area, I doubt it’s a public pharmacy. Could be some discredited pill pusher dealing drugs, name might be Thang, Thun, or Thanng. It’s not an affluent or rich area. That’s where the girls might be. I do know that Pohan’s in northwest Meijing.”

David interrupted, “Sabriya, what about those men you said are in the fire, can you rescue them?”

“Not a chance. darling. My rescue schedule for the day is booked.”

David continued. “Well, you need to hear what I didn’t want to know. About an hour ago, the Meijing police put out an All Points Bulletin for a woman on an electric cycle who is wanted for terrorizing citizens. You may be riding into a trap.”

“That was an hour ago? Why would that be me?”

“They’ll also be after you for arson,” quipped Landon.

“Maybe you ought to quit, before you get burned,” said David.

“I’m sorry, dear, can’t hear you. You’re breaking up. Landon, find the Pohan place and get me there.”

“Will do,” said Landon, who added, “David left grumbling about calling MI6 to clean up an international incident.” 

“There will be more to clean up if I don’t find my daughter. Tell him I’ll try to wrap up before British Special Forces arrive.”