Trapped in Bangkok, page 17
Ben paused. He had just about used up all his reserves of energy. His shoulder told him it was time to go. “Yeah, okay.”
“Um, Ben.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not sure how much detail we should go into on what the girls went through, you know? It will only embarrass them and their families.”
“I know, but we can’t really tell the story without some detail. Perhaps I can make it generic. You know, don’t identify any particular girl, just say, this is what the training facility was like and this is what they wanted from their subjects. Whaddya think?”
“That might be okay. We’ll have to write it very carefully.”
“Between the two of us, we should be able to manage. Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Take care, Ben.”
He hung up, then headed back downstairs to accompany the girls to the hospital.
CHAPTER 40
RANONG
Ranong crawled out of the tunnel below the wall at the rear end of his property, the bag clutched tightly under one arm. He paused, listening to the crackle of small arms fire, followed by the hollow crack of heavier weapons.
His men were valiantly fighting, but it would do no good. He’d spotted the heavily armed Marines coming over the fence as soon as the limo pulled up out front. He’d been standing by the front door, ready to great his guests, when suddenly, they were under attack. He knew in an instant that Ben had led the soldiers to him, even before he’d seen him get out of the limo, blindfold still in place.
Damn, I should’ve known not to trust Eric’s judgment!
Abandoning the four other auction clients who had already arrived, Ranong had spun on his heels and sprinted down the main hallway toward the back, ignoring the panicked servants running hither and yon. He’d rounded the corner to the double-locked door and unlocked it as quickly as his fingers could turn the keys. Once inside, he’d locked it again, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Instead of going downstairs, he’d walked down a few steps, pausing at a section of paneling that looked identical to every other section. He had pressed his fingers along one edge and it popped open, swinging aside to reveal a narrow passageway. He’d stepped through, and grabbed a flashlight that was mounted just inside. Ranong closed the panel behind him, knowing no one would be able to tell where he’d gone.
He’d walked down three steps, then paused in front of a small safe, set into the wall. He dialed the combination, opened it, and removed his new I.D., the bundles of baht, U.S. dollars, and a small sack of diamonds. He thanked his foresight to store the bulk of his fortune here, rather than at a bank. Even a safe deposit box required considerable time to access. This little hideaway – completely secret from the servants as well as Eric – had given him the peace of mind he’d needed.
He stuffed the loot into his pants, then hurried down the stairs, walked through a narrow tunnel until he came to a set of stairs. He climbed up and peeked out a manhole cover that opened out just beyond the wall of his property. He was in the clear.
Now, free of the soldiers, he put the last part of his plan into action. He walked down the path to a neighbor’s backyard, then knocked on the door. An old, toothless woman answered the door. When she spotted Ranong, she grinned.
“What brings you here?” She asked in crude Thai, made worse by her lack of several teeth.
“I need the car.”
She nodded and ducked behind the door. She returned a second later, holding a key in her hand. “There ya go. It’s all gassed up.”
“Great, Kesorn. This helps.”
She waved her hand. “Thank you for being so generous all these years.”
He took the keys, then went to the shed at the rear of her property. The shed, which looked as if it was about to fall down, appeared to be no different than that of her neighbors – a place to store tools, broken equipment or jars of preserves. In fact, it held none of those things.
Ranong used his key to unlock the heavy padlock, then slipped inside. An old Mercedes waited, just barely able to fit in the small space. He smiled. He threw the bolt on the wall and the entire front section opened out.
He had to squeeze himself into the front seat. The car started up, thanks to the old woman’s attentions over the last few months. He gunned the engine and headed out the door toward the highway. In minutes, he was far away from his former home.
CHAPTER 41
ALICE
Alice sat in front of the desk of the charge de’affairs at the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok. She held a faxed copy of the Washington Post story on her lap, reading the account of the girls’ ordeal and rescue while she waited for the man to return from processing her passport.
The story seemed accurate enough, although Alice didn’t know what had been going on outside her narrow little world inside the cells. She read that some of the girls had been missing for several months. She shuddered to think what they’d gone through, how far they’d been brainwashed into being sex slaves.
The photo that took up three columns of the front page showed the small knot of girls, huddled together among the soldiers, dressed in those silly robes and white coats. She could see herself there, at one side, looking lost. In fact, everyone appeared to be shellshocked, as if they couldn’t believe it was over.
The man returned. He’d been introduced as Brian Singlet, a career diplomat in his mid-fifties. Even he seemed shocked by what had been taking place right under his nose.
“Here’s your passport, Alice. I’m sorry that it took so long.” She suspected he was talking about a lot more than the time it had taken to process the passport.
“No problem.” She rose, smoothing her new pantsuit, courtesy of the U.S. government. “When can I go home?”
“We have a special charter arranged for all of you, plus the Canadian. It leaves today at four o’clock.”
She nodded.
“In the meantime,” he rushed on, “we’ve arranged for all of you to have rooms at the Royal Orchid Sheraton. You can rest up until the bus comes for you.”
Alice smiled. “That’d be nice. I’d really like to take a nap. Would you have someone wake me in time for the flight?”
“Oh, yes, miss. We plan to have guards posted on every floor to make sure no one is left behind.” To lose a girl now would be unthinkable, Alice knew.
She left and headed out the door. An armed Marine waited there for her. “Miss Johannson? Are you ready to go to the hotel?”
“Yes.” She got into the Humvee waiting by the curb and they drove away.
CHAPTER 42
BECKY
Jenna stared at her photo in the passport, letting the memories come flooding back. She was Becky, Becky Robison from Dallas. She’d been kidnapped almost a year ago and so thoroughly brainwashed, she believed she had no other life beyond the four walls of her prison.
Now, safe in the U.S. Embassy in Bangkok, she could let herself remember without fear of punishment. She had been a carefree, twenty-year-old, who worked on a neighboring ranch, training horses. She loved to ride and drink beer and date handsome cowboys. Her mother and father loved her. She even missed her silly younger brother Tom.
The phone rang in the empty office. She picked it up, her hand shaking.
“Becky! Is that really you?” She recognized her mother’s voice instantly.
“Becky! We were so worried!” Her father was on the extension.
For a moment, Becky was overwhelmed with emotion. She couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth, but only a sob came out. Finally, she managed, “Mom, Dad…” then began to cry harder, her vision blurred by her tears.
“It’s okay, honey. You’re safe now,” her mother said. “God, we were so worried about you! All your friends too. Everybody looked for you! We never gave up.”
“We all missed you! My god, I can’t believe you’ve come back to us! You’re pretty famous, princess,” her father added. “People want to write books, do movies! The whole country’s talking about the ‘Forgotten Americans.’ But I don’t want you to worry about any of that. Just come home to us, safe and sound.”
Becky tried to think of something to say. She wanted to tell them how much they all meant to her and how much she missed them, but she knew the words would close up her throat again for another round of sobbing. Instead, she asked: “Do you still have Patches?” Her favorite quarter horse.
“Yes, honey. We’d never sell Patches. He’s here, waiting for you. We’re all waiting for you.”
Becky wiped the tears from her eyes, remembering her faithful friend. “They say I’ll be home in a couple of days. We’re going to the hospital for a check-up, then we fly out tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you again.”
“God, I just can’t believe it! This has been the best day of our lives!”
EPILOGUE
Alice hugged her parents fiercely on the tarmac of the Columbus airport, surrounded by police and newsmen. She didn’t care at this point – she was just glad to be home.
She ignored the shouted questions and got into the limousine provided by the city and sat between her mother and father. They held onto each other as if they were afraid they’d never see each other again.
“God, I was so worried about you!” Her mother said between sobs.
“I’m all right, mom.” Her voice sounded small to her. Inside, she did not feel all right. She still felt programmed and knew she’d have to fight that over the next several months.
“I’d like to have five seconds with that bastard,” her father growled. “I can’t believe they let him slip away.”
“They’ll find him, don’t worry. His picture is everywhere; he can’t hide.” Alice wasn’t sure she believed it, but it made her feel better to say it.
“He’ll never hurt you again. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“Oh, mom, I’m nineteen now – you can’t keep me safe forever. I’ve got to go back to school eventually.”
“Now, now, there’s no rush. Next year would be soon enough.”
Alice started to argue, then dropped it. There would be plenty of time to determine that later.
* * *
Ben exited the jetway to see a crowd of people waiting for him, including three TV cameras with bright lights. He squinted and smiled shyly, raising his right arm to wave. His left remained in the sling. The painkillers he’d taken made him feel reckless. He spotted Bernie and waved him over.
“Bernie! Come here and share the spotlight!”
Bernie reluctantly came forward to accept Ben’s one-armed hug. “Glad to see ya, buddy.”
“The story looked great! Thanks for all the help.”
The camera crews lunged forward, peppering them with questions:
“What was it like at the slave auction?”
“Did they ever find the slave master?”
“How badly were you wounded?”
“Did you see any of the girls in action?”
Ben stopped short when he heard that last question. He gave the blond, blow-dried reporter a withering look and said: “Why, did you want to watch?”
The man blushed and stepped back.
Ben ignored the rest of the questions and held up his hand. Immediately, the group fell silent.
“I’m sure by now you’ve seen our story in the Post. I can tell you there will be many more chapters coming, and probably a book after that. If you want to learn more, you’ll just have to wait.” Then he pushed his way through the crowd, Bernie following right behind. Not to be outdone, the crowd followed them, shouting questions they knew neither man would answer.
The Post had promised to pick up Ben’s luggage, so they went directly to the curb, where a limo awaited. “Looks like we’ve hit the big time,” Ben remarked to Bernie as they climbed in.
“Yeah, but it makes me nervous.”
“Enjoy it while you can. This will all blow over in a couple of days.”
“Yeah, until the Pulitzers are announced.” He didn’t seem like a man thrilled about the idea.
“What’s wrong? Any reporter would give his eye teeth to be in our position.”
Bernie turned to look at Ben and slowly shook his head. “It’s Jill. The girl who started all this.”
“Oh, right. They haven’t found her yet?”
“No, and I’m not sure they will.”
“Don’t give up hope. They’re still rolling up the chain of Ranong’s slave empire. They’ll find her.”
“Let’s hope.”
* * *
Becky had requested she be allowed to avoid the crowd waiting for her – she wasn’t ready to face anyone. Her wish was instantly granted. The plane stopped on the taxiway, well away from the Dallas terminal, and a limo arrived at the bottom of the stairway.
She came out, waving briefly at the crowd in the distance, hearing their faint cheers, then came down the steps, aided by Diane, a nurse who had been assigned to her. Becky couldn’t look at Diane’s starched white uniform without thinking of Brandi. She wondered what had happened to her. She touched her blouse above her breast where her henna tattoo underneath had already begun to fade. She knew Brandi’s tattoo was permanent and hoped the poor slave girl would get some help.
She walked swiftly to the limo, her face breaking into a wide grin when she spotted her father, getting out of the back seat. On the other side, her mother’s face appeared above the top of the car. They had smiles from ear-to-ear.
Becky let herself be enveloped into her father’s arms. Her mother, not to be denied, ran around the car to join in the hugging. They stood like that, lost in each other’s arms. Becky could hear the crowd noise grow louder.
“Come, let’s get out of here,” her father said.
They separated. Becky spotted Tom, her sixteen-year-old brother, grinning at her from the car door. He’d grown in the last year. Now he was almost a head taller than her mother. “Hey, bony Becky,” he said. “Good to have you back.”
She smiled and really felt at home for the first time. “Sure, terrible Tom. It’s good to be back.” She hugged her brother, felt his hot tears on her neck.
“God, Becky, I never thought I’d be so glad to see you.”
“You look pretty good yourself, bud.”
“Come on, let’s go home. I’ve got a big pot of chili on the stove,” her mother said, clearly anxious to be away from the crowds.
“That sounds great, Mom. You know I love your chili.”
* * *
Agent Smith sat across from Agent-in-Charge Brian Loftus, trying to keep the smug smile off his face. Just another job for a fed, he told himself. Don’t get a swelled head.
“I’m very impressed,” Loftus said, putting down Smith’s report. “Except for not nabbing this Ranong fella.”
Smith shrugged. He wasn’t going to let the director make him feel bad about that. “He was there just seconds earlier. He must’ve had a well-planned escape route.”
Loftus grunted. “Yeah. He’ll be found. But other than that, you made the FBI look better than it has in years. Don’t think that won’t go unnoticed.”
Smith nodded, waiting. He knew there was something coming.
“There’s a spot for a Special-Agent-in-Charge at the Miami office. You interested?”
Smith smiled. “Miami? South Beach, cigarette boats, flamingos and Cuban cooking? That Miami?”
The director laughed. “I guess this means you’ll take it, huh?”
“Yeah, I think I could learn to enjoy Miami.”
* * *
Ranong left the plastic surgeon’s office by the back door, his face still swathed in bandages. He hoped the Cambodians wouldn’t pay much attention to him as he hailed a taxi. The procedure had only taken an hour and didn’t even involve a nose job, so his recovery time should be less than a week. The doctor had just altered his looks enough so he didn’t appear like the photos that had been circulated all over the world. It had cost him three diamonds, but it would be worth it if he could walk around undetected.
He’d been pleased that he’d managed to escape so quickly and with so much money. He was glad he’d listened to the small voice of worry that nagged him every time Eric mentioned the rich Canadian. He knew he should’ve listened to his stomach, which had warned him not to trust the man.
“Next time, I won’t make that mistake,” he said under his breath. Next time, he’ll be more careful.
The taxi arrived and he got in. He directed the man to his hotel building, then sank back against the cushions.
THE END
J W McKenna, Trapped in Bangkok
