Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (230 page)

He continued to push his way into the crowd, trying to squeeze through any seam that he could find.

“We have a problem.”

Logan looked over. Daeng had somehow caught up with him.

“Yeah. I noticed,” Logan said as he kept shoving his way forward.

“It’s the mother,” Daeng told him. “The monks tried to detain her, but she wouldn’t stay. Then some of your
farang
friends grabbed her as she was about to start up the stairs.”

Bell’s other men,
Logan thought. The ones that were missing.

Daeng must have read Logan’s silence as displeasure, because he said, “The monks did all they could, but they weren’t going to hold her by force.”

“I know,” Logan told him. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, but it wasn’t their fault, either. He should have given Daeng the signal as soon as Bell had stepped onto the temple grounds. They would have had Elyse by now, and they could have communicated that down to the monks who’d been with Sein. But he’d wanted to make sure he had accounted for everyone, and had gotten in as close as he could first.

Once more his delayed action had caused a mistake.

Get the girl
. Carl’s voice whispered in his mind.

As they got closer to the exit, Logan could see that some of Bell’s men had been forced off to the side, and were being surrounded by monks. One of them stared at Logan across the crowd. It was the guy who had the beers on the train. Logan could see the light bulb go on as he suddenly realized Logan must have had something to do with all this.

The man shoved one of the monks out of his way. Only he didn’t get very far. Laying a violent hand on a monk was unheard of. Several Thais had seen the shove and were pulling the man back. More quickly joined in.

Logan craned his neck, looking ahead and hoping other monks had been able to corner Bell and Elyse, too, but no such luck. Bell was leading her and the Myanmar man down the short steps to the courtyard, with one of his men still with him.

“Excuse me!” Logan said loudly. “Excuse me!”

Daeng was shouting something in Thai next to him that he assumed was the equivalent.

It was working, at least a little. Some of the monks looked at them, then stepped out of the way once they saw Daeng. The biggest problem was the tourists. The sudden appearance of all the monks confused them, and they didn’t seem to know what to do, so they just stood in the way, taking pictures.

Finally, Logan and Daeng reached the exit steps. They raced down into the courtyard, not even worrying about grabbing their shoes.

“What about the generals’ men?” Logan asked. “One of them’s with Bell, but the others are going to get away.”

“No,” Daeng said. “They’ve been taken care of.”

“What do you mean?”

“The monks.”

“I thought you said they wouldn’t hold anyone by force.”

“I said they wouldn’t hold Sein by force. Elyse’s mother has done nothing wrong.”

Logan had a quick vision of the temple in Rangoon, and monks being beaten by the secret police. There would be no love lost here for those associated with that inhumane act.

They reached the top of the long, dragon-lined staircase. Logan took two seconds to pull off his socks so he wouldn’t slip, then kept moving. The others were about two-thirds of the way down, and he could see they’d taken a moment to put on their shoes. Bell’s man was carrying Elyse over his shoulder. It would have been nice if that had slowed him down, but he was moving as quickly as the others.

Daeng’s hand flew up, and he touched the Bluetooth receiver in his ear.

“They have Sein…in a van,” he said, his voice punctuated by the steps and the rhythm of his breath. “It’s waiting at the bottom.”

Bell was going to get away before they got there.

No!
Logan thought.
No! No! No!

He couldn’t fail again. He just couldn’t.

He increased his speed, knowing he might end up tumbling all the way down, but he didn’t care.

Not only was Elyse still in danger, her mother was in trouble, too. The only way to make this right was if he could get both women free.

When he jumped off the final step, he estimated that the others had about a thirty-second lead. With Daeng not far behind him, he sprinted down the looping path through the vending area, and toward the street.

But as he took the final turn, he stumbled to a halt.

He was too late.

The same gray cargo van that had been parked by Bell’s building in the outskirts of the city was now pulling away from the curb.

“No!” he yelled.

He whipped his head around, looking up and down the road. There were several taxis parked off to the right, but a four-wheeled taxi wouldn’t do him any good. What he wanted was—

—a motorcycle.

It was parked at the side of the road. Its owner was sitting on the curb, eating. The guy wasn’t wearing one of the familiar orange vests, though, so it was a pretty good bet his ride wasn’t a motorcycle taxi.

Logan sprinted over to him. “Speak English?”

“Yeah,” the guy said. “I speak.”

“I need to use your bike.”

He laughed. “You kidding? No way.”

Logan pulled out a thousand
baht
note and held it out to him. “You can drive.” With his other hand he pointed at the rapidly receding gray cargo van. “They took my friend!”

The guy looked at the van, then back at Logan. “Serious?”

“Yes.”

As Logan got onto the back of his bike, Daeng ran up. “Let your friends at the bottom know we’re going to need them,” Logan said.

He nodded, then pulled out his phone.

“What’s you name?” Logan asked his new driver.

“Kai.”

“Okay, Kai. Let’s go!”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

THE ROAD BETWEEN Wat Doi Suthep and Chiang Mai followed the contours of the mountain down to the plateau where the city lay. The hillside was covered with tropical vegetation. With the exception of where there was a roadside business or home, the plants and trees came right up to the edge of the road, sometimes even creating a partial canopy over the top.

It would have been beautiful if Logan had time to pay attention, but his focus was on spotting the van that was somewhere ahead of them, not on the local flora. He kept his eyes glued over Kai’s shoulder at the asphalt ahead. If this had been a straight road through a flat countryside he would have seen them right away. But the curves severely shortened his visual range.

Finally, after another sharp turn to the left, he saw the van, then pointed at it.

Kai said something.

“What?” Logan asked, unable to understand.

“What you want do?” Kai yelled.

“Go around him,” Logan said. “And keep going fast all the way to the bottom.”

“Why bottom?”

“I have friends waiting there.”

“Okay.”

Kai gunned the engine, and within seconds they were whipping past the van. Logan made sure not to look at it as they went by, so that those inside wouldn’t know he was interested in them. Soon the van disappeared behind them, swallowed up by the bends in the road.

It had taken Logan and Daeng twenty minutes to climb the mountain to the temple earlier, but the trip down on Kai’s motorcycle took no more than five.

“There,” Logan said, pointing to a wide spot on the side of the road that Daeng had described to him earlier.

They pulled over, and Logan immediately hopped off. He then pulled out another thousand
baht
note from this pocket gave it to Kai.

“Thanks,” Logan said.

“You need more help?”

Logan shook his head. “Trust me. You’ve done more than enough.”

“Okay, if you sure. Good luck,” Kai said, then took off.

Daeng had told Logan there would be five of his Burmese refugee contacts waiting at the wide spot if they ended up needing them. So Logan was a little surprised to find nine of them there. It seemed the only ones missing were the kids and a couple of the others.

He pointed at the two cars parked nearby. “Yours?”

“Yes,” one of the man said.

“Who’s driving them?”

He signaled for a couple of the other men to join them, and Logan quickly explained what he wanted to do. The main guy had to do a little translating for him, but they all got the gist of it.

“You guys okay with this plan?” Logan asked when he was through.

“Okay,” the main guy said. “No problem.”

“Excellent. Then they should get ready. It’s almost time.”

The two drivers got into their cars, and started their engines.

“Just tell me when you want them to go,” the headman said.

Logan nodded, then, after a moment, said, “Daeng said you might have a gun I can use.”

“You sure you want?”

“Better to have it than not.”

The man retrieved a pistol from the back of the closest car, and gave it to Logan. “Police catch you, not good.”

“I’ll remember that,” Logan said.

He quickly found a good spot, then looked up the hill. Through the trees, he could see a small stretch of the road that was beyond the curve just up from their position. He kept his eye on it, waiting for the van to appear. Finally, the gray van moved by, then passed out of sight.

Forty-five seconds tops and they’d be here.

“Now,” Logan said.

The headman waved at the two parked cars. Instantly, they pulled into the street. Only instead of merging with traffic, they drove across the lanes, and halted, creating a roadblock. The lead car was all the way on the road, while the second car hung partially over the shoulder.

Immediately cars slowed to a stop and began honking, but the Burmese drivers didn’t move.

The van appeared around the curve only a few seconds later than Logan thought it would. A quick calculation told him that it would be about six cars back in the jam. Other cars were still coming around the bend after the van, so it would immediately be hemmed in.

“Stay in the outside lane,” Logan whispered to himself, as he backed into the cover of the bushes. “Stay in the outside lane.”

It did.

Then, as it came down the final part of the hill, it slowed to a crawl, and finally to a stop at the back of the traffic jam.

“Okay,” he said to the headman, then pointed at the line of traffic. “Start them moving around.”

The man nodded, then he and several of his men ran over to the car that was sitting halfway in the wide area. Together they pushed it all the way onto the road, as if it were stalled. Then the headman got the attention of the driver of the first car in the outside lane, moving his hand in an arc, directing the guy into the wide area so he could drive around the blockage.

Soon the next car in line was following suit.

Then the third. And the fourth. And the fifth.

Finally it was the van’s turn.

Logan gave the blockade driver a wave, and the guy acknowledged with a quick nod.

The van turned cautiously off the road, rocking a little on the uneven shoulder, but not stopping. Then, just as it pulled abreast of the roadblock, the blockade car shot backwards, slamming into the van’s front wheel well.

There was a crunch and a rip and an expulsion of air as the van’s tire went flat. It was better than Logan could have hoped for.

Quickly, he stepped out from the bushes and over to the back of the van.

As he was sure would happen, someone on the inside turned the handle and pushed one of the back doors open. Logan slipped around the side, out of view, not worried about being seen in the side mirror. He could hear one of the Burmese men arguing with the van’s driver up front on the other side, keeping him busy.

The van rocked, and three people stepped out. Whoever they were, they headed around to see the damage, and deal with the problem.