Bulletproof Mascara: A Novel (39 page)

“Right,” agreed Nikki. “You gave the address to the cabbie?” she said to Jenny. “I’ll see you there?”

“With bells on!” Jenny said with a wink, getting into the cab behind Ellen.

Nikki headed back to her motorcycle and couldn’t help but let it squeal a little around the first corner. Things were definitely looking up.

The northeastern corner of Lumpini Park was an intersection of three busy roads that merged into one road that ran across one of the few bridges that spanned the Chao Phraya River. At the intersection of all these roads was a small triangle of paved land. Nikki stood in this spot and swiveled this way and that, trying to figure out what she wanted to do. Around her, early-morning
tourists and Thais streamed by, all intent on their own business.

Ratchadamnoen, one of the roads Kovit had mentioned, curved a little to meet up with the bridge road. In the other direction, Nikki had an unobstructed view of the roadway straight down to the large Democracy Monument.

She spotted Sarkassian’s building. It was a rundown hotel with the bottom windows boarded up and real estate posters on the front. The only real signs of life were that the plywood had been pulled off the door.

“What do you think?” she asked as Jenny and Ellen got out of the cab.

“I’m going to want to see the interior layout,” said Jenny.

“I want to be up high,” Ellen said, and Nikki nodded, pointing to a building directly across the wide street from the rundown hotel.

“Will that do?”

“Should,” said Ellen. “You’re going to try to find Z’ev? You sure about that?”

“I told Val he was CIA. If I’m right, Val and Sarkassian are planning on cleaning house. He’s as much at risk as Lawan, and it’s my fault.”

“All right, then,” Ellen said. “See you when I see you.” She hefted her bag a little higher on her shoulder and set off across the street.

“What about you, Jenny?” asked Nikki.

“I think I want a few things out of my luggage,” she said. She emerged from the trunk a moment later, duffel bag much fuller.

“You haven’t got much time; they’ll probably be here soon,” Nikki said, checking her watch.

Jenny nodded. “They will if Val’s running it by the Carrie Mae handbook,” commented Jenny. “Get to the location early and be waiting—that’s the way to do it.”

“What do you think we’re doing?” Nikki asked, and Jenny almost laughed in response. “You going to be all right?” asked Nikki, feeling suddenly worried.

“Yeah, sure,” Jenny said, putting on her sunglasses. “You going to be able to get our luggage back to the hotel?”

“Since arriving in Thailand,” Nikki said, “I’ve learned that motorcycles can carry a great deal.”

Jenny shrugged and went to pay off the cabbie while Nikki bungee-corded their luggage to her borrowed bike. She waved as she pointed the bike back in the direction of the hotel. Jenny raised her hand in salute.

Lawan was waiting for her at the hotel, pacing a track in the carpet.

“My team’s in position,” said Nikki, as soon as the bellboy had dropped off Jenny and Ellen’s luggage. “Any luck with calling Jim?”

“Yeah,” Lawan said, throwing the phone down on the bed. “He says he can’t help!”

“He really said no?” Nikki felt surprised and disappointed. She hadn’t expected that from Z’ev.

“I think he would, but I get the feeling it’s not his decision. Do we really need him?”

“No,” Nikki said, and felt a rebellious counter to that thought in her heart, “but I would like to know where they are. Keep Jim and whoever he’s working for out of the way, if nothing else.”

“Someplace with their heads up their asses. That’s where they are,” said Lawan bitterly.

Nikki laughed.

“I’ve got to introduce you to Jenny. I think you’d like each other.”

Lawan’s only response was a grunt.

“Nine ten,” Nikki said, checking her watch. “Twenty minutes until they call you with a location?” Lawan nodded, and Nikki nodded, feeling a surge of nervous energy.

“OK, let’s get you ready,” she said, taking a deep breath, steadying herself.

She dug into Jenny and Ellen’s bags, pleased to see that Rachel had pressed the Borg cube of makeup on each of them. Soon the contents were scattered across her bed as Nikki pulled out everything she thought she needed. Jenny’s Anastasia was not built for Lawan, but a few bits of duct tape later it was strapped into place.

“You sure this thing is going to work?” Lawan asked.

“Yes,” said Nikki firmly. “It’s, uh . . . been tested. All right, next thing: charm bracelet. Pull the grenade charm and throw it down.”

“There’s a grenade charm?” Lawan said skeptically. “Doesn’t anyone think that’s weird?”

“Of course it’s weird,” said Nikki, “but who actually looks at a woman’s charm bracelet? Now, when it breaks there will be a thick white smoke, and that is your opportunity to use the mini-perfume. Just spray it directly into someone’s face, preferably into the eyes or nose, and do not, I repeat, do not get any on yourself. The knock-out gas works in less than three seconds, so make sure you’re standing upwind.”

“Tell me again what you’re going to be doing while I’m standing upwind?” Lawan asked.

“I’ll be . . . well, hopefully, I’ll be taking care of any surprises that crop up.”

“You mean the Valerie woman you told me about?” Lawan asked.

Nikki nodded. “Your job is to get yourself out of trouble while my team covers us.”

“Uh-huh.” Lawan sounded unconvinced. A few minutes later her cell phone rang. Nikki held her breath as Lawan replied in monosyllables.

“Ratchadamnoen and Atsadang,” she said at last.

Nikki breathed out. “Yeah, I know the place. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“OK,” Lawan said, hanging up. “Thirty minutes, starting now.”

Nikki looked at her watch and thought about Z’ev.

“I wonder,” said Lawan. “If I just hit Redial, would Sarkassian answer?”

“Why would you do that?” Nikki asked, still thinking her own thoughts.

“To tell him I’m going to kill him,” said Lawan.

THAILAND XVI

Paint It Black

Nikki stared at the hotel. Jenny and Ellen had confirmed that everything was in place. Sarkassian, Val, and the little girl—all the players were inside. Along with half an army of Sarkassian’s friends. They were all waiting for Lawan to arrive. Jenny had left an entry point for her. As she hauled herself up bamboo scaffolding half a block down the street and climbed from building to building, Nikki thought about seriously having to redefine “entry point” for Jenny—predefine it to something easier. Finally she was sitting next to Jenny on the roof and staring down at the interior of the old hotel through an enormous skylight.

The hotel was built on a courtyard floor plan, with a wide shaft rising up through the middle of the building. The open area had at some point been covered with a skylight and looking through the grimy glass, Nikki could see, four stories below her, Lindawati looking scared but defiant and hugging a grimy teddy bear. Sarkassian lounged by the bar, and Val was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Val?” asked Nikki, scanning the crowd below her.

“Don’t know,” Jenny said. “She scampered away after they got inside.”

“That’s not good,” muttered Nikki.

“Too bad you can’t get your boyfriend to come help,” Jenny said.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Nikki said automatically. “We don’t really want the CIA involved, do we? Plus I think his boss is being a dickhead.”

“It’s a common problem,” said Jenny with a shrug, her eyes trained on the street below. “They’d probably just get in the way anyway.”

“But the extra firepower would have been nice,” said Nikki, matching her stare. The seconds ticked by with infinite slowness.

“She’s late,” said Jenny, stating the obvious.

“Oh hell,” said Nikki as a car pulled up and two people got out.

“What?” Jenny hissed, maintaining her position by the skylight.

“It’s her boyfriend. She brought her freaking boyfriend.”

“Oh hell,” Jenny said. “What are you going to do now?”

“Stick to the plan,” said Nikki, crawling back to the skylight. “There’s nothing else to do.”

Below, the door opened, and Lawan and Saman entered hand in hand. Lindawati yelled something and tried to run toward her mother, but one of the guards brutally shoved her back. The pair were patted down and then pointed at Sarkassian.

“I’m not getting any audio,” Nikki hissed. And Jenny made shushing noises as she fiddled with the equipment.

“. . . not get away with this, Sarkassian,” Lawan said, the audio cutting in. “The Thai people will no longer accept this sort of degradation and abuse from outside influences.”

“Oh for . . .” Sarkassian slammed his hand down on the bar, making dust motes jump. “Wake up! Thailand is clinging to democracy by its fingernails. It’s a playground for the rich and the corrupt of Europe and America. You keep trying to make things better for these poor people . . . it’s pointless. Thailand doesn’t care. America doesn’t care. No one cares. Why don’t you just give up?”

“Because she’s better than you,” Lindawati said. Sarkassian’s reaction was quick and brutal. And even without the listening equipment, Nikki could hear the impact of his slap as it echoed off the walls. The little girl was spun around and thrown to the ground by the impact. She sobbed, and Lawan went white. Even the thugs around the room looked surprised.

“What?” asked Sarkassian, spreading his hands and looking around. “I’m the bad guy.”

“Oh crap,” Jenny said. “We’ve got company.”

“Company?” repeated Nikki, looking back at Jenny, who pointed back down the skylight.

The front doors banged open, and Z’ev and Victor walked into the room.

“What the . . . did we post fliers or something?” Nikki demanded. “Does everyone know where this secret meeting is?”

Jenny shrugged and shook her head.

“Victor?” Sarkassian said, clearly startled.

“He got picked up on a raid of his favorite Pai-Gow club,” Z’ev said, sounding smug. “Couldn’t buy his way out, since he’d lost all his money. I had to go haul him out of a jail cell.”

“Fucking licensing division of the police ran a crackdown,” Victor said, but there was something nervous in his voice.

“Any booze?” Z’ev asked, wandering around behind the bar.

“Interesting,” Sarkassian said, ignoring Z’ev and eyeing Victor carefully. “And what are you doing here?”

“We went back to the house. Everyone says you’ve been looking for us. Where are we supposed to go?” Victor said.

“Well, I have to admit that I didn’t expect you to actually show up,” Sarkassian said. “I mean what with Jim being with the CIA, I rather thought you’d be in prison by now.”

Behind the bar, Z’ev froze. There was the small click of multiple weapons being cocked and pointed at him.

“But now here you
both
are. That’s unexpected.”

“I brought him to you,” Victor said. “I had to warn you.” He was sweating.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Victor,” said Sarkassian, taking a gun out from under his jacket and setting it on the bar.

“What are you doing, Jirair?” said Victor. “I brought him to you. We kill him and we get out of town.”

“Get out of town? With you?”

“Yeah,” said Victor eagerly. “We get the cash. Set up somewhere else. Cambodia, maybe.”

“And how am I supposed to trust a man who agreed to wear a wire?” Sarkassian asked, reaching into Victor’s alligator shirt and pulling out a microphone.

“I had to,” Victor said, backing up, but his voice was still strong. “To get out. I bring them to you.” He had backpedaled until he was standing next to one of the goons. His next move was lightning fast—he back-slammed a fist to the goon’s face and then grabbed at the man’s gun. But it wasn’t fast enough. Sarkassian fired four times, and Victor sagged to the ground, falling face-first onto the floor.

“Jenny,” Nikki said. “Any sign of Z’ev’s CIA buddies?” Some part of her mind noted that her voice sounded strangely empty.

“Negative,” answered Jenny in the same curiously flat tone.

“What are you doing, Jirair?” Z’ev asked.

“Don’t! Don’t open your mouth,” commanded Sarkassian. “This is your fault! You brought the CIA. Everything was just fine, and now you come in here and make a mess. I don’t like mess.” The last words came out in a threatening hiss.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Z’ev asked, looking as cool as ever. As if Sarkassian and a gun weren’t mere feet away.

“You want to know what I’m going to do? I’m going to kill you.”

“I figured that,” Z’ev said, with a shrug. “But it’s not like that will make the problem go away.” He was casually walking the length of the bar. Sarkassian tracked him with his gun, but apparently Z’ev’s bravado pleased him, because he laughed.

“I’m going to clean up the mess. Wipe the slate clean. Scorched-earth policy, you might call it.”

“What about the women?” Lawan demanded.

“What women?” Sarkassian replied with an evil glint in his eye. “I told you—I’m cleaning up the mess. When I’m done, there won’t be anything left.”

Lawan made a furious yelp, and Sarkassian laughed. His cronies followed suit. Saman put out a hand, restraining Lawan.

“Maybe I should show the little girl what her mother used to do for a living,” one of the men said wolfishly—Nikki recognized Amein’s killer from the night before. At the time she had called him Stomper, and it appeared his bullying ways had not changed because he prodded Lawan in the back with his gun. “Remind her what women are good for.”

Lawan appeared to flinch and move aside, but the movement only covered Saman’s spinning roundhouse. But instead of a kick, he pulled it up short and put his knee right into the man’s chest.

“Here we go,” Nikki said.

“Yeehaw,” Jenny said, and broke the glass.

The man went down gasping, and Lawan tossed the smoke grenade as the glass from the skylight rained down and everyone scattered. But as the thick white smoke went up, Nikki saw a muzzle flash from a gun on the third floor, and Lawan jerked backward.

“Ellen, we’ve got a shooter on the third floor,” Nikki yelled, as Jenny threw herself off the roof and into the courtyard. “Could be Val,” she added. “I don’t have a visual on her.”