The Chao Phraya River cuts Bangkok in two, curving through an urban jungle as thick as the natural ones on Ko Pha Ngan. What is known to the West as "Bangkok" was once two cities on opposite sides of a curve in the river. The Chao Phraya serves as Bangkok's natural highway, with much of the city expanding outward from ports and marinas that were once fishing villages. The river is home to various animals and plants, and even has a species named after it.
Zachary Taylor was not interested in giant stingrays, however. His sole objective now was to avoid the reckless Thai ferry drivers who were making the river more dangerous than the roads alongside it. There had already been more than a few near-misses in the overcrowded waters. Taylor grimaced and steered the boat around a buoy. "Bob, is that it?"
Robert Sadeski peered through the inch-thick one-way glass. "Yeah, that's it. Take 'er in." He went back to typing something on a laptop.
"Got it." Taylor eased the craft into a small indentation in a pier. "Rene!" The Frenchman grumbled and stumped off to moor the boat. Zachary turned to Bob. "You sure this is the place?"
"Royal Thai Marina Company. This is it. Mark booked us a spot." Bob closed the laptop. The Thai agent wandered past, heading for the door. "Where are you going?"
"I must go to my superiors." He pushed the door open. "I'll be back with the rest of the mission tomorrow morning." He briefly exited the cabin, then poked his head back in the doorway. "You might want to look outside. Rene is having arguments with the dock workers." He vanished once again.
Bob sighed. "Dammit, Rene." He stood up, stretched, and ambled out of the cabin. The rest of the crew followed close behind.
Outside, there was no sign of the Thai agent. On the plastic dock below, Rene was being verbally assaulted by a Thai dockworker with a blue bandanna wrapped around his head. Bob jumped down alongside the man, who had apparently been too enraged to notice the other men approaching. He jumped backwards and assumed a boxing stance. "You! This boat cannot be here! No reservation. Out!"
Bob stared at the man with an expression combining contempt and confusion. He decided he would need to name this sensation at some later time. "We have a reservation. This is the Northern Cross, reserved by Mark Birch. Check your books."
"We have no reservation for this kind of boat! Get out!" The man shifted his weight between his legs. Bob wondered if he was going to attack. Bob's hand slowly moved towards his knife.
"Anuman! I'll deal with this." A tall, dark-haired American woman was striding down the dock. The Thai dockworker straightened up, bowed to her, and headed off towards a trawler which had pulled in farther down the dock.
The woman stopped five feet from Bob. "Well, you're clearly in charge here. That guy's got no moxie." She gestured at Levancon, still gawking on the deck. "My name is Silverstone, I'm the manager here. Who are you, and what's this boat?"
The woman's businesslike attitude annoyed Sadeski, and there was no amusement to be gained as from the Thai. "I'm Bob Sadeski. This is the Northern Cross. The name on the books is Mark Birch. It's there." His tone fairly dripped acid.
His efforts hadn't gone unnoticed. "All right, Mr. Tough Guy. This is my dock. Play by the rules or your boat's gonna be underwater. Now, you can come to my office and we can sort this out, or you can take a hike." Her voice was no different than before- a strong tone, without a hint of sarcasm or uncertainty.
"All right. I'll come." The woman turned and began walking toward a three-story building at the end of the dock. Bob glanced over to Gordon Weston. "Keep the boys here." He followed the woman towards the building.
The office was on the top floor. A large glass window offered a panoramic view of the river and much of the boat traffic in this area of Bangkok. On the far side of the Chao Phraya, skyscrapers rose from a forest of smaller metal buildings. The sun sat directly behind the tallest skyscraper, off to the south, giving the building a corona and the appearance of a shadow rising from the city. Bob could see his crew down on the dock, discussing something with a Thai worker, this one wearing a yellow bandanna.
"That window makes my job a lot easier." Silverstone's speech seemed friendlier, more relaxed. "Anyway, I think I found the problem. Whoever this Mark Birch registered you with doesn't know the difference between MV and motorboat." She turned a laptop to face Bob. "Not really an issue. That spot was open anyway."
"Anything you need me to do then?" Bob was surprised at the swiftness with which the problem had been resolved.
"No, Mr. Sadeski. We got it covered. So, what brings you to Bangkok? It's not often we get 'security contractors' with fully American credentials around here." She sat down in her desk chair and crossed her legs, eyes fixed on the mercenary.
Bob was feeling less annoyed by the minute. "I'm honestly not sure. That little guy, if you saw him, is a government agent. He's off getting the rest of the assignment."
"Ahh." Silverstone leaned back a bit. "I'm American. Or was, I guess. I came here when I was twenty-four. If it's still seven years that makes you legally dead, they'll be burying me next Tuesday." She grinned and closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them and fixed her gaze on Bob. "How's life in the states?"
"You can ask Mark Birch that." Bob scratched his head. "I haven't been stateside in eight months. I was there for a few months eight years ago, but other than that it's been stops in Virginia to visit the boss from time to time."
"At least you get to travel. I've barely had days off."
"I get to travel all over the world, and I spend the whole time doing the worst things imaginable." Sadeski glanced out the window and saw that three more Thais in bandannas were now talking to his crew.
Silverstone noticed Bob's expression. "The worst thing imaginable is boredom. Well, thank you, Mr. Sadeski. It's all sorted out now." She stood and extended her hand to him.
"Call me Bob. Thank you, Ms. Silverstone." He shook the hand.
"Miss. Since we seem to be on a first name basis now, I'm Leah. But only when the dockworkers aren't around." She smiled at him.
Bob left the building feeling substantially less frustrated than when he had gone in. The sour attitude rapidly returned when he noticed Zach discussing the merits of the boat with the dockworkers. "God dammit, Zach, we do not talk to people about this boat. The first rule of this boat is you do not talk about this boat."
"You just did." Taylor grinned. "Went well?"
"Yeah. You guys are on leave until tomorrow morning when our contact gets back." Bob turned his head, distracted by a noise from the boat's prow. "Rene! What are you doing?"
The younger man was sitting on the deck, covering his mouth with one hand as he talked on the phone. He raised his head briefly. "On the phone, boss!"
Sadeski sighed. "Rene, that's expensive. We're in Thailand. Calling other countries costs an arm and a leg, and it'll come out of your back pay."
"Fine." Levancon grumbled. He cupped his hand over his mouth, said something unintelligible, and then ended the call. Bob was somewhat suspicious of the Frenchman's odd behavior, but chalked it up to Rene's usual self-absorbed nature. After a check of the locks on the boat, the whole crew set off toward the heart of Bangkok. Passing the Royal Thai Marina Company's office building, Bob glanced up to see Leah Silverstone looking down from her window. Returning his gaze to the streets, he led the mercenaries off the dock.
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