Call to Arms Read online

  ‘Thanks for the ride, Major.’

  Major Dang watched him go, scowling to himself. He glanced over to Mookjai, waiting by the second Land Cruiser. The sergeant gave a nod to confirm he had completed his task.

  Dang nodded back. ‘Let’s go.’

  Brad found Travis and Susie by the pool, relaxing on loungers with drinks close at hand. Susie had a glossy magazine open beside her and was people watching. Travis appeared to be asleep with a paperback open on his lap.

  Brad ran an approving eye over Susie’s figure, clad in a red bikini.

  ‘Good flight?’ Travis asked, sitting up and sliding his dark glasses down his nose.

  ‘Fine. Got a welcoming committee from your mate, gave me a free ride.’

  ‘Two Land Cruisers? Took your bags separately?’

  Brad gave a tilt of the chin.

  ‘May as well go unpack and settle in. De-bug while you’re there,’ Susie advised.

  Brad flicked his chin again and moved away.

  ‘Man of few words,’ Susie observed wryly and picked up her magazine.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Travis nodded.

  Susie glanced at him sideways. ‘Obviously runs in the family...’

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Kablan and his three men had settled into a hotel in Nathon, taking two rooms to share. They travelled on Nigerian passports and encountered no problems on the way.

  They were met at the hotel by a diminutive Thai man aged somewhere in his sixties. Kablan had never met him before but the man had had dealings with Ashkir and arrangements had been made.

  The man carried a small rucksack with him, and was searched by one of Kablan’s men before being allowed into Kablan’s room.

  The door was closed and two of the men stood guard while Kablan and his second, Gobey, spoke to the man. They sat on the floor facing each other.

  The man handed over the rucksack, and Gobey checked it. Inside were four Chinese Type 54 pistols, variants of the Russian Tokarev TT-33. Gobey checked them and gave Kablan a nod.

  ‘They’ll do,’ he said.

  ‘What about rifles?’ Kablan said. ‘I don’t see any rifles in there, old man.’

  The old man didn’t flinch. He withdrew a set of car keys from his pocket and passed them over.

  ‘Downstairs,’ he said, ‘in car.’

  Kablan tossed the keys to Gobey and jerked his thumb towards the door.

  The room remained silent until Gobey returned a couple of minutes later. Kablan looked up questioningly as he entered.

  ‘Chinese AKs,’ the wiry Somali said.

  ‘Bullets?’

  ‘Enough.’

  Kablan turned back to the old Thai man. ‘You can go,’ he said dismissively.

  The old man pushed up with surprising ease for a man of his age. He said nothing as he moved to the door.

  One of the guards let him out and closed the door behind him again.

  Kablan tossed a pistol to each man, keeping what looked like the best one for himself. He slid a magazine into place and racked the slide. He glanced at Gobey, who was loading his own weapon.

  ‘It is time to visit Mr Stephenson,’ he said.

  The suspension of the grey Mazda sedan the old man had supplied creaked under the weight of the four men as Gobey pulled up outside Stephenson’s villa.

  The four Somalians alighted and approached the house.

  They were met on the front path by Prasong.

  Kablan noticed that the expressionless Thai had both hands behind his back. He glanced towards the house, and spotted the older white man there, his hands out of sight below the solid railing of the deck. His face was watchful, flicking from Kablan and Gobey on the path to the other two who had fanned out behind them.

  Kablan stopped in front of Prasong and the two men stared at each other.

  ‘Tell him we’re here,’ he said.

  There was a pregnant pause for a long moment. Nobody spoke. Fingers curled around weapons, waiting for the go.

  Stephenson appeared beside the older white man.

  ‘What d’you want?’ he called out.

  ‘Our boss wants to make sure you keep your deal,’ Kablan said, his good eye never leaving Prasong’s face.

  ‘The deadline hasn’t expired yet,’ Stephenson replied. ‘There’s no need for you to be here.’

  ‘My boss would disagree, Mr Stephenson.’ Kablan turned his head and fixed his eye on Stephenson. ‘You know the terms of his agreement.’

  ‘Yes I know the terms,’ Stephenson snapped, the tension clear in his voice. ‘The deadline has not arrived yet, so you can just go.’

  ‘We will go peacefully,’ Kablan agreed, giving a slow nod. ‘This time. Do I make myself clear?’

  Stephenson said nothing. His face was pinched and pale.

  ‘Do I make myself clear?’ Kablan repeated.

  Terry hefted the AK in his hands so that they could see it. ‘Just fuck off you dirty kaffir,’ he snarled, ‘before I blow your shit away.’

  Kablan stared at him, recognising the accent. He didn’t like white Africans. ‘You,’ he said, ‘you will be first.’ He kissed two fingers and pointed them at Terry like a pistol, blowing him a kiss. ‘Till we meet again.’

  The four Somalians backed off to their car and departed.

  A hundred metres down the road, Johnny Mitchell watched from his battered van with growing interest. He took out his cell phone and rang Chambers.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Susie watched Brad constantly throughout lunch. Every time he looked at her she smiled. Finally he put his fork down and pushed his plate back.

  ‘Am I a monkey in a zoo?’ he grumbled.

  She smiled again and gave a short laugh. ‘Sorry, I’m just amazed at how much you can eat.’

  ‘Gotta feed the beast.’

  Travis emptied his water glass and refilled it. Without prompting he topped up Susie’s too, a move that didn’t go unnoticed by his nephew.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Brad asked. They had filled him in on the snake incident which, considering Dang’s comment to Brad, they were now attributing to him and his team. He had also found tracking and listening devices in his own luggage, similar to those found by Travis and Susie.

  ‘I think our first step should be to find the listening post,’ Travis said. ‘It’s gotta be handy.’

  ‘Judging by the type of gear they used it’s gotta be within a couple of hundred metres,’ Susie said. ‘A guest at the resort, maybe. Or at least based in a room here.’

  ‘Probably one of Dang’s guys,’ Brad said. He gave a wry shake of his head. ‘I’d love to wring that prick’s neck.’

  ‘All in good time,’ Travis said. He looked to Susie. ‘Given the Service’s relationship with him, do you foresee any issues with us going up against him?’

  Susie waggled her hand from side to side. ‘Could be/maybe. The Director doesn’t tend to look too favourably on us taking out our contacts.’

  ‘Even if he’s corrupt and obstructive?’ Brad queried. ‘What kinda bullshit policy is that?’

  ‘It’s not a policy as such,’ she replied, ‘more just a matter of good manners.’

  Brad grunted and reached for a banana.

  ‘If we had the right kit we could track it straight away,’ Travis said. ‘But we don’t, so it’s down to the old Mark One.’

  Susie frowned quizzically.

  He tapped his eye. ‘Mark One eyeball. I think we split the resort into sectors and go hunting.’

  His companions both nodded agreement.

  ‘Speaking of kit,’ he said, looking to Brad. ‘No issue with getting what we need?’

  Brad grinned. ‘None at all. Your mate Jedi has an Aladdin’s Cave down there. He queried a couple of items but gave them up anyway.’

  ‘Good.’ Travis slid his dark glasses back on. ‘Right, first things first; I’ll take the villas and cabins, Susie you take the garden rooms, Brad you do the suites-the main building over there.’ He checked
his watch. ‘No rush, take your time. Better go grab our shorts,’ referring to pistols rather than clothing, ‘and meet back in the pool when we’re done.’

  ‘Meet back in the pool,’ Brad echoed with a grin, pushing up. ‘It’s a tough life.’

  He loped away towards the villa and Travis started to get up. Susie stopped him with a hand on his arm. He sat back down.

  ‘You never told me. Your sister.’

  He looked sharply at her. She waited. His brow furrowed.

  ‘You don’t have to tell me,’ she said softly, ‘if you don’t want to.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Travis sat back and rubbed a hand down his thigh as he gathered his thoughts. ‘She was older than me…good fun, a real hard case. Easily led though. Got a bit wayward at high school and ended up pregnant.’

  Susie nodded silently.

  ‘Things went pretty much bad to worse after that. She got into drugs and all the shit that goes with that. The young fella was taken off her, she went downhill and ended up dead pretty soon after.’

  Travis’ face clouded over and Susie waited some more. He took a moment to regroup before continuing.

  ‘The young fella was taken in by our folks, I went off and joined the Army and that was pretty much me off the scene for the next twenty odd years.’

  ‘So your parents raised him?’

  ‘At first, then he got shipped off to an aunty and uncle.’

  ‘The father?’ Susie prompted.

  ‘Waste of space, never showed any interest. I don’t think he was even named on the birth certificate.’

  Susie pulled a face. ‘How did she die, if you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘Overdose,’ Travis said shortly.

  ‘And what’s Brad’s beef with you then?’

  Travis started to shrug then gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. ‘I wasn’t there. For either of them.’

  ‘You were a bit young, to be fair,’ Susie said.

  ‘I understand where he’s coming from. I could’ve done more.’

  Susie opened her mouth to speak but saw the look on his face and closed it again.

  ‘This is my chance to make it right,’ Travis said softly. ‘I know what he’s going through now, and I won’t let him down again.’

  Major Dang scowled as he listened to Mookjai’s sit-rep, not interrupting but feeling his rage build.

  At the same rate as his rage built his member deflated, and the topless young “massage therapist” who had been working on him tried her best to get things going while he sat with the cell phone clamped to his ear.

  Dang slapped her hand away irritably and rolled sideways off the mattress on the floor. He struggled into his pants and shoes, snapped ‘Wait there’ and disconnected. He pulled his shirt on and angrily threw back the curtain which separated their “cubicle” from the rest of the room-four similar cubicles were curtained off, two of them in use.

  The middle aged madam standing by the till gave him a sharp look as he stalked towards her. He thrust a couple of notes at her and went for the door. The driver waiting for him at the kerb jumped with surprise and scrambled to open the car door. Dang ignored him and got in, slamming the door behind him.

  The driver knew better than to speak-obviously this hadn’t been a normal “happy ending” massage.

  Dang’s mood had not improved when they arrived at the resort where the New Zealanders were staying.

  He made his way to the room in the main building where their listening post was, and was met at the door by Sergeant Mookjai. Looking into the room past him, Dang saw the duty monitor, a young constable. The man was sitting on a chair at the table, which was covered in pieces of broken electronic equipment. He was nursing his right wrist and had wads of bloodied toilet paper protruding from both nostrils. He looked both forlorn and scared.

  ‘He says a very big white man came,’ Mookjai informed his superior. ‘Hit him with the door and nearly broke his arm, then broke all the equipment. It is smashed.’ Mookjai’s face was tight with anger. ‘It is them, for sure.’

  ‘No doubt,’ Dang agreed.

  ‘I will go now,’ Mookjai told him, giving a curt wave to a couple of his men. ‘We will bring them in for questioning and things will happen.’ He looked knowingly at Dang.

  ‘No,’ Dang said, ‘I think we will be smart about this.’

  ‘But sir…’

  ‘No.’ Dang’s tone was firm now. ‘I understand your sentiments, Sergeant, however we have to remember these are not the usual stupid tourists who we can play with. These are Government people, and we will risk an international incident if they were to…become injured.’ His dark eyes glittered. ‘No, I think we can do better than that.’

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  The island lay seven miles off the east coast of Koh Samui.

  It was a square mile of rock covered with dense jungle, and had previously been home to an addiction-rehabilitation centre run by Buddhist monks in the seventies and eighties.

  The monks were long gone but the centre remained, Spartan concrete buildings with no insulation and few windows.

  Johnny Mitchell loathed the place-you could almost feel the dying spirits of the junkies who’d spent time there-but it had proved very useful over the years. A number of people had met their demise here.

  The tide carried them into the sheltered bay on the southern side of the island, Mitchell cutting the engine of the small fishing boat as they neared the wooden dock. He looped a rope over the mooring hook on the dock and tied them off, the waves slapping at the sides of the boat. The smell of the sea air was heavy. Mitchell felt alive when he was at sea. He leaped nimbly out and helped Chambers up before grabbing the bags. Chambers led the way from the dock up the narrow goat track towards the centre of the island, his flashlight beam bobbing and swinging as he stumbled over the rough ground.

  Mitchell followed several metres behind, as sure footed as a mountain goat despite the terrain underfoot. They reached the clearing near the middle of the island which contained the buildings and Mitchell quickly moved forward, scanning the area with a night vision monocular before physically clearing each building. Once he was satisfied, Chambers joined him and they moved into the main building.

  It had originally been the administration and teaching block of the facility, housing a kitchen, a couple of offices, a chapel and an auditorium of sorts. Mitchell had spent time here over the last year between jobs doing what he jokingly called renovations including a master suite, a bunkroom and some special additions.

  While Chambers settled himself into the master suite Mitchell went out the back and fired up the diesel generator to get the lights going. He came back inside to find Chambers waiting for him in the auditorium, his hands clasped together as if he were praying and an almost apologetic look on his pink face.

  ‘I really am sorry for the inconvenience, Johnny,’ Chambers said. ‘I know this is not your favourite place, but it really does serve a need, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does,’ Mitchell acknowledged. He watched Chambers carefully. The man had always been somewhat unstable, but tonight was something different. He seemed more fucked up than normal, and Mitchell wasn’t sure if it was because of the accidental death-well, as accidental as it could be when you were choking someone with a scarf while fucking them in the ass-or something more. He hoped it wasn’t anything more than that. The Englishman walked close to the edge on a good day as it was.

  ‘Tomorrow is a new day, is it not?’ Chambers’ eyes sparkled now and he smiled like a child, full of innocent excitement.

  Mitchell said nothing. He had the impression he didn’t need to; this was a one-sided conversation and he was merely a spectator.

  ‘I find that I’m rather disappointed in my friend Philip,’ Chambers continued. ‘He and his minions have really let me down this time, and I fear they have reached the end of their usefulness, don’t you?’

  Mitchell remained silent. Chambers’ gaze went right through him and he fe
lt a chill run down his spine.

  ‘It’s so sad when a relationship breaks down Johnny, but if the trust is gone, what is left?’ Chambers spread his hands now like a preacher at the pulpit spreading the Good Word, only Mitchell knew what was coming and there was nothing holy about it.

  ‘You want me to get them out here,’ he said flatly, and Chambers’ face lit up like a cherub.

  ‘Oh Johnny, you really can read my mind,’ he cooed. ‘That’s just the ticket indeed. And while we’re at it, we’ll deal with that bloody fool Dang too. He’s annoying me as well.’ Chambers smiled coldly. ‘He and his cohorts are bringing the New Zealanders out here, so I think we will deal with all of them at once.’

  ‘Boss, do you think…’

  Chambers cut him off with an icy glare. ‘Yes, I do think actually Johnny. I think those useless bloody bastards need to be taught a bloody lesson, all of them. Open up the pit and let them fight it out. Whoever survives, walks away.’

  Mitchell nodded slowly, being carefully to keep an eye on Chambers without eyeballing him. An intense feeling of evil was creeping over him and the hairs on his neck were standing up.

  ‘No worries Boss,’ he said coolly, ‘I’m all over it.’

  ‘Splendid.’ Chambers clapped his hands together and smiled brightly. ‘I knew you’d be just the man for the job, Johnny. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to turn in. It’s been an eventful day.’

  With that he was gone with a swish of his robes, back towards the master suite.

  Mitchell watched him go, finally letting out his breath. Whatever else happened, he decided, he was doing nothing without a gun strapped to him.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  The tapping at the door was soft at first, just enough to stir Travis into cracking an eye open. He listened, the feel of Susie's warm nakedness comforting against his skin. The tapping escalated to a firm knocking and he sat up, snatching his jeans off the floor.

  'What is it?' Susie said sleepily, sitting up and rubbing at her face.