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.”
