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Authors: Stephen Leather
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Hutch.
'I killed a dog once. When I was a kid. Did I ever tell you about that?'
'No. No, you didn't.'
'With a cricket bat. Thwack. Never forgotten the sound.' Minnie bared her teeth and growled.
'You'd better go,' said Hutch.
Winter got to his feet. Ash from his cigar spilled on to the floor. 'I'll pick you up at noon tomorrow. We'll only be away for a couple of days.' He turned and walked out of the room without a backward look.
The two Dobermanns stood looking at Hutch, sensing his anxiety. Mickey growled softly and Hutch stroked his head. 'It's okay,' he said. 'Just an old friend, that's all.' He went over to the console, pressing the button that opened the main gates. He watched Winter drive out of the compound on a black and white monitor set into the wall. Winter waved out of the window of his Mercedes as if he knew he was being watched.
TIM CARVER LOOKED AT his wristwatch for the hundredth time. His driver was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and the noise was driving Carver crazy, but if he told him to stop the man would probably sulk for a week. If there was one thing that Carver had learned since he had been assigned to Thailand, it was that Thais did not react well to criticism.
The traffic ahead appeared to be locked solid, par for the course on the roads leading out of Bangkok at rush hour. In fact, the city's streets were jammed pretty much around the clock, and Carver had long become accustomed to sitting in his car waiting for interminable periods before crawling forward a few yards and stopping again. Carver usually played through his Thai language tapes during traffic jams, brushing up on his vocabulary, but today he decided to use the time to get his thoughts in order. The regular monthly meeting of the Foreign Anti-Narcotic Community had gone on longer than usual: two Thai undercover agents had been found floating in a canal close to the city's Chinatown, their bodies mutilated, and the overseas agents were worried about the ramifications for the safety of their own people.
It had been Carver's turn to host the lunch, and over beer and sandwiches at the DEA's offices the FANC members had pored over the police report on the deaths. It was a foregone conclusion that the Thai agents had been betrayed by one of their own; what worried Carver and his colleagues was at what level the betrayal had occurred. The primary reason for the formation of the FANC had been the rampant corruption within the Thai police force which had led to countless undercover operations being blown long before arrests could be made. The members of the FANC, primarily representing American, European and Australian drug agencies, shared information and consolidated their efforts to fight the drug trade, and only contacted Thai police and intelligence officials at the end-phase of any operation. Carver and his counterparts would have preferred to have excluded the Thais completely, but they didn't have the power to make arrests, or even to carry weapons in the country. The trick was to call in the Thais at the last minute, minimising the opportunity for the targets to be tipped off.
The British Customs official at the FANC meeting had announced that his bosses had decided to pull out one of 46 STEPHEN LEATHER their agents, a Taiwanese who'd been trying to infiltrate a team responsible for smuggling heroin into Manila. He'd been working in a Chinese restaurant near where the bodies were discovered and the Brits were worried that it might have been a warning. Carver had pointed out that generally the drug gangs didn't bother with warnings, but the Brits were getting jumpy. Hell, everyone was jumpy, thought Carver, and with good cause.
The traffic began to move again. Ahead Carver could see a brown uniformed motorcycle cop standing at the roadside wearing a cotton mask strapped across the bottom of his face. He'd flagged down a green Mercedes and was talking to the driver. Carver smiled wryly as they drove slowly by.
'I killed a dog once. When I was a kid. Did I ever tell you about that?'
'No. No, you didn't.'
'With a cricket bat. Thwack. Never forgotten the sound.' Minnie bared her teeth and growled.
'You'd better go,' said Hutch.
Winter got to his feet. Ash from his cigar spilled on to the floor. 'I'll pick you up at noon tomorrow. We'll only be away for a couple of days.' He turned and walked out of the room without a backward look.
The two Dobermanns stood looking at Hutch, sensing his anxiety. Mickey growled softly and Hutch stroked his head. 'It's okay,' he said. 'Just an old friend, that's all.' He went over to the console, pressing the button that opened the main gates. He watched Winter drive out of the compound on a black and white monitor set into the wall. Winter waved out of the window of his Mercedes as if he knew he was being watched.
TIM CARVER LOOKED AT his wristwatch for the hundredth time. His driver was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and the noise was driving Carver crazy, but if he told him to stop the man would probably sulk for a week. If there was one thing that Carver had learned since he had been assigned to Thailand, it was that Thais did not react well to criticism.
The traffic ahead appeared to be locked solid, par for the course on the roads leading out of Bangkok at rush hour. In fact, the city's streets were jammed pretty much around the clock, and Carver had long become accustomed to sitting in his car waiting for interminable periods before crawling forward a few yards and stopping again. Carver usually played through his Thai language tapes during traffic jams, brushing up on his vocabulary, but today he decided to use the time to get his thoughts in order. The regular monthly meeting of the Foreign Anti-Narcotic Community had gone on longer than usual: two Thai undercover agents had been found floating in a canal close to the city's Chinatown, their bodies mutilated, and the overseas agents were worried about the ramifications for the safety of their own people.
It had been Carver's turn to host the lunch, and over beer and sandwiches at the DEA's offices the FANC members had pored over the police report on the deaths. It was a foregone conclusion that the Thai agents had been betrayed by one of their own; what worried Carver and his colleagues was at what level the betrayal had occurred. The primary reason for the formation of the FANC had been the rampant corruption within the Thai police force which had led to countless undercover operations being blown long before arrests could be made. The members of the FANC, primarily representing American, European and Australian drug agencies, shared information and consolidated their efforts to fight the drug trade, and only contacted Thai police and intelligence officials at the end-phase of any operation. Carver and his counterparts would have preferred to have excluded the Thais completely, but they didn't have the power to make arrests, or even to carry weapons in the country. The trick was to call in the Thais at the last minute, minimising the opportunity for the targets to be tipped off.
The British Customs official at the FANC meeting had announced that his bosses had decided to pull out one of 46 STEPHEN LEATHER their agents, a Taiwanese who'd been trying to infiltrate a team responsible for smuggling heroin into Manila. He'd been working in a Chinese restaurant near where the bodies were discovered and the Brits were worried that it might have been a warning. Carver had pointed out that generally the drug gangs didn't bother with warnings, but the Brits were getting jumpy. Hell, everyone was jumpy, thought Carver, and with good cause.
The traffic began to move again. Ahead Carver could see a brown uniformed motorcycle cop standing at the roadside wearing a cotton mask strapped across the bottom of his face. He'd flagged down a green Mercedes and was talking to the driver. Carver smiled wryly as they drove slowly by.
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