Rising Tiger (16 page)

“You don’t have a cousin who deals with that?” Jake said with a big smile.

Hesitation, as the man considered his options. “I don’t know if this is true, but I have heard about a bar on the outside of town. It has performers there that are same same, but different.”

“I saw that on T-shirts a couple of times today. What does it mean?”

“Lady boys. Same same on top like girl, but different on the bottom, like boys.”

“Gotcha. I’m not looking for that.” Jake turned to see Alexandra behind the vehicle on the sidewalk.

“I know,” the driver said, his eyes shifting to the rearview mirror. “You have a beautiful woman.”

“Right. About the heroin. I assure you I don’t plan on buying any. I’m writing a book about this, and need to have first-hand knowledge.”

“I see. Then go to the Khmer Now Bar. It’s on the way to the airport.”

Then the driver told him the name of a man who would know about the heroin, along with the procedure to approach to guy. For not knowing anything about the heroin trade in Siem Reap, Vibol sure knew a lot about how to acquire it. Jake shook the man’s hand and thanked him again for his help.

By the time Jake stepped out into the late afternoon heat of Cambodia, he was hit by a wall of humidity and the smell of street food. He came around to Alexandra and the two of them watched the driver pull away.

“You get what you need from him?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. And then some.”

She looked confused.

“I’ll explain later,” Jake said. “Right now I need a shower.”

“You showered this morning.”

“I know. But this could be a two or three shower day.”

They went back to their hotel, showered, and then took a short nap in the cool air conditioned room. Jake had a feeling it might be a long evening, and nothing beat keeping an edge than a quick power nap. But in this case the nap turned into an intimate session, which led to a second nap. When they woke up the second time, the room was nearly dark. Only the lights from the busy street shone through a narrow crack in the curtain.

They went down to Pub Street and found a nice restaurant, soaking down the Khmer dish with two cheap Khmer Beers. Jake guessed that if Bill Remington had planned on retiring in Cambodia he could have done it on the cheap. Food and drink prices here were ridiculously low, which made some sense once Jake found out from the driver that the average income in Cambodia was just a thousand dollars a year. Yeah, Remington would have lived like a king. But now the man was dead, and there was much more to the story than Jake was made to believe.

By the time nine p.m. rolled around, Jake had formed a plan of action. It wasn’t like he could just go to the general’s hotel, knock on the guy’s door, and start questioning the man about his plan for world domination. No, this might take a little more finesse.

Jake and Alexandra went to the Khmer Now Bar as an Austrian couple curious about same same but different. The beer wasn’t as cheap here, since they had to pay for performers with needs, including breast implants. The first performer of the evening was a stunning woman with relatively huge breasts in a short blue dress with sequins. From this distance, a few tables in from the stage, Jake could see the same same, but the different wasn’t readily apparent.

Between musical sets, where the next performers also looked like beautiful young Cambodian women, Jake finally switched from beer to the code drink, a Tom Collins. Jake was amazed that anyone still drank them, or that a bartender in Cambodia knew how to make one.

Their normal waitress didn’t bring them their drinks, though. Instead, the first performer of the night, a same same but different lady boy, dropped off the drinks and sat down with them. Jake had to admit that he or she was stunning.

“Not many people order these drinks,” the lady boy said. He had no discernible Adam’s apple, and his voice was accented and very lady-like.

“It’s an oldie but a goodie,” Jake said, giving the proper phrase to ensure they were both on the same page.

“My name is Chantrea,” she said, putting a French spin on the name. “It means moon in my language.”

“I take it you have what we need,” Jake said.

Chantrea got up and straightened her sequined dress over her narrow hips. She nodded for them to follow her, and then she wandered toward the restrooms, her hips swaying like a hooker trying to entice a client. Eventually they got to the far back, where two larger men stood watch over a door. Now Jake saw exactly what he wanted; bulges where normal security types kept their guns. This Chantrea had something worth protecting. And it was likely not just heroin.

Inside the office, Chantrea wandered to the desk and sat against the front, her skirt lifting almost high enough to let them try to look for a dick and two balls tucked between the legs. She pointed for each of them to take a seat in fine leather chairs.

Jake and Alexandra sat, giving them an even better view of the crotch area. Yeah, he was packing something. Nothing too serious, though.

“Now, I know the two of you didn’t come here for heroin,” Chantrea said.

“Why’s that?” Jake wanted to know.

She laughed. “Because, honey, you’re not strung out enough.”

“We all have to start somewhere,” Jake said. “Consider this the before picture. We’ll worry about the after picture later.”

“Vibol said you were a funny man,” Chantrea said. “I see why he liked you.” Then he turned to Alexandra. “And you. He said you might have said two words all day.”

“How do you know Vibol?” Jake asked.

Chantrea shrugged. “He’s my cousin.”

“Seriously?”

“We’re all related in this town. Nothing happens without our knowledge.”

Time to come clean. At least a little. “Okay, then tell me about General Wu Gang.”

Chantrea looked shocked and amazed that Jake had just spoken that name. “Don’t even speak that Chinese bastard’s name in my establishment.”

“You own this place?”

“I own this whole block, from the tattoo parlor on one end to the foot fish shop on the other end, including both massage parlors and the chicken shack.”

“And the heroin business.”

“Hell no. I might deal some out to special clients, but my uncle runs that business in town.”

Jake stared into the business owner’s eyes. Something told him to trust this person. “I don’t really need heroin,” he admitted.

“No kidding.”

“I need a couple of guns.”

Chantrea laughed. “Honey, that’s a totally different drink. Why didn’t you say that from the beginning?”

“You don’t want to know why I need the guns?” he asked.

“Only if you think you can rob me.”

“Is that the major crime in Cambodia?”

“Yes, sir. Robbery murder. They’ll rob you for your damn Vespa around here. But the weapon of choice is the knife or the machete. Not guns.”

“What about General Wu Gang?” Alexandra finally said.

“She can speak,” Chantrea said. “By the way, I love your attempt at a German accent.”

“She’s Austrian,” Jake assured her.

“Same same.”

“But different.” Jake smiled.

“Different in a different way.” Chantrea considered Jake more seriously now. “What’s your fascination with the Chinese general?”

How much should Jake say? Only as much as needed to reach his goal. “The general murdered a friend of mine.” It was a close enough lie to be credible.

“And the two of you want guns so you can go kill him?” Chantrea gave Jake a curious smirk. “You look like you could kill that general with your bare hands.”

“Only if I can get close enough,” Jake agreed. “And sometimes that requires guns. Besides, I just want to talk with the man.”

“The gun laws in Cambodia are not favorable to foreigners. If you get caught with them, you might as well start learning the language soon. Because you will never get out of our jails. Plus, the food sucks. There’s no air con. Huge rats. And they will want to have their way with you. Your girlfriend will be raped multiple times before she even gets her prison clothes issued.”

Jake waved his hand. “That’s no concern of yours. Can you get me a couple of guns? Preferably Glock nines with extra magazines.”

“Not the forty cal versions?”

“No. I’ll go for the extra rounds and make each shot count. Besides, like I said, it’s only for insurance.”

She reached over on her desk and then stood up and fixed her dress down her hips again.

When the door opened, the two men entered and closed the door behind them.

“What if I told you my uncle works for the general?” Chantrea asked.

Jake and Alexandra got to their feet. He shifted his head toward the men at the door. “That would mean you also work for the general.”

“You should have sold us the guns,” Alexandra said to Chantrea.

“Why is that?” Chantrea asked.

Jake casually started to leave, moving in close to the two guards. When they didn’t part for him, Jake went through a quick progression of kicks and punches and elbows and knees, taking out both of the Cambodian guards without either man landing a single blow to Jake.

Chantrea started to reach for something behind her desk, but Alexandra was too fast, grabbing and twisting her arm behind the performer’s nice blue dress.

“This is a big mistake,” Chantrea said.

By now Jake had gotten both guns and four extra magazines from the guards. “Gen four Glock 17s,” Jake said to Alexandra.

“Nice. Now, can we get the hell out of here?”

Jake started for the door, but he stopped and turned toward Chantrea. “You didn’t seem to like the general. Why do you care what happens to him?”

“Because my other uncle happens to run the police department.”

Great. Now this same same but different lady boy would have both sides of the law after him.

Alexandra punched Chantrea in the mouth, knocking her out and probably keeping her from performing for a while until the bruise sank.

Then Jake and Alexandra walked out with purpose, catching a tuk tuk out front. When the driver asked for a direction, Jake had the man go to their current hotel. They grabbed their bags in a hurry and jumped into another tuk tuk. They did this, changing tuk tuks, a few times until they finally got out and walked the last two blocks to the only five-star hotel in Siem Reap.

Jake and Alexandra checked into the five-star hotel along a quiet river on the road to Angkor Wat. He used a Eurocard that matched his Austrian passport, linked to a bogus Innsbruck address that would have been right in the middle of the Inn River.

When they got to their room, Jake pulled everything out of his backpack and assessed the value of every item. Not a single item could not be easily replaced. The electronics were tools with no real value to him. He had already uploaded everything from his laptop to his secure server and then scrubbed the hard drive. The machine was now nothing more than a boat anchor. But instead of leaving it intact, he smashed it against the tile floor. Then he filled the bathtub. As it filled, he ripped the cord from a lamp and brought it to the bathroom. Then he threw all of his electronics, except for his secure cell phone, into the bath water. Alexandra had done the same thing with all of her electrical equipment. Then Jake plugged the old lamp cord into and outlet and threw the hot wire into the bathtub, bringing a nice display of sparks as the electrical boards fried.

The two of them went back into the bedroom area and looked over their clothes, most of which were dirty. They both found remaining black items and put them on.

“I hate to leave these shoes behind,” Alexandra said to Jake as she clutched a pair of nice black pumps.

“When this is done, I’ll buy you anything you want,” he said. “Jenkins will pay the expense.”

She smiled. “He might think you’ve become the same same but different.”

“Ha, ha.” Jake checked over his Glock and made sure it had a round in the chamber. Then he counted the rounds in the two extra magazines. Back in the day he wasn’t a big fan of the Glock, but over time he had gotten used to the boxy look over their practical usefulness. The Glock was nearly thought-proof. And they came out of the box firing small groups. With no safety, they were simply point and shoot.

Alexandra had done an equal assessment of her own Glock.

“Together we have over a hundred rounds,” Jake said.

“We might need every one,” she reasoned. “Did you catch the two guys in the lobby?”

“Three,” he corrected. “The third guy sat at the bar with his back to the front desk, checking us out in the mirror behind the alcohol.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep. A lefty, though. Carries his gun on his left hip.”

“Nice catch. Okay, so that’s three that we know about. There has to be more up on the penthouse floor.”

Jake guessed the same thing. “Right. And the hotel elevator requires a special key card to get up there.”

Alexandra shoved her gun into an inside-the-pants holster on her right hip and covered that with a black cotton shirt. Everything else she planned to bring with her was stuffed into multiple pockets on her black cargo pants. “So what’s the plan?”

“We need this guy alive,” Jake declared.

“That makes it much harder.”

“I know. But we need to clear up the motivation behind Remington. Something just isn’t right with how everything went down.”

She nodded agreement.

Jake had insisted at the front desk that they be assigned the highest floor in the hotel. He specifically requested the penthouse, but that was already taken—which he guessed to be the case. So the desk clerk had offered a suite on the floor just below the penthouse.

“Do you suppose they have fire codes in Cambodia?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, but the stairwell will probably be locked to the top floor. They can get out, but we can’t get in.”

Jake smiled as he closed in on her. He released a button from her blouse, exposing a nice cleavage. “This should unlock a door or two.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said, “especially after the same same but different club tonight. Maybe you should show off your chest. They might like that more here.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s a niche club. I’ve been watching how the locals look at you. Most still want what you have to offer.”