The journey out of Bangkok was relatively uneventful. I field-stripped the pistols, balled up the knives with my discarded clothes, and tossed them down separate storm drains. We returned to the hotel long enough to gather our things and check out. That was the most dangerous part of the operation, but I couldn’t burn my passport if I could avoid it.
The driver took us to a bus terminal, where I paid him off. Plus a bonus to keep his mouth shut. Allondir and I caught a series of buses to the train terminal at Hat Yai. We took the train to the town of Butterworth in Penang, and another to Kuala Lumpur. Then we caught was a direct flight to New Haven.
Allondir didn’t say much. He moved as though in a haze, needing guidance and direction. He ate, drank and slept mechanically, solely to meet the bare minimum biological needs. As he rested overnight, I checked my inbox. Read a few emails, sent a couple more.
When the plane landed on American soil, Allondir heaved a long sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said finally. “You saved my ass.”
“Just doing my job.”
The moment we cleared immigration, four large, beefy individuals closed in on us. One of them held up a badge.
“Mr Allondir?” the orc said. “Special Agent Ferosis, FBI. We have a warrant for your arrest.”
“Arrest?” Allondir sputtered. “What for?”
“Sexual abuse of a minor and possession of child pornography.”
“What the hell?” Allondir turned to me. “Cyr, do something!”
“Special Agent, may I see your badge please?”
He held it out for me. I made a big show of scrutinizing it. “Looks legit to me. I can’t interfere with law enforcement.”
“Cyr, you—”
“May I see some identification please?” the orc asked.
“My passport is in my left front pocket.” As he nodded, I slowly handed it to him. “My name’s Dominic Cyr Lee. I’m registered on the Private Peace Officer database.”
The fed worked his scroll, comparing the display to the passport. Nodding, he returned it to me. “Thank you, Mr Lee. You are free to go.”
“Hey, not so tight!” Allondir said. “Cyr, can’t you help me?”
I shrugged. “Sorry. Our contract is finished. All I can do is advise you to find an attorney.”
“What? Come on—”
“Oh, yeah, there is one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Payment for services rendered, net seven days. Invoice in your inbox.”
“What!”
The feds laughed, hauling him away. Switching on my scroll, I checked my inbox. I had one new mail. It came from a secure one-use-only email address. No sender, of course, but I knew which old friend from the service it came from.
Thanks for the tip. Found more filth on his hard drive and forwarded them to the Feds too. Not every day you get to put a freak away.
P.S. He had a healthy off-the-books numbered bank account in Helvetia. Had. No need to pay me this time.
I snickered. Kept the scroll away. Walked out into the sun.
--
If you enjoy blending sci fi and fantasy, check out my latest novel HAMMER OF THE WITCHES.
To stay updated on my latest stories, promotions and other updates, sign up for my newsletter here.
No comments:
Post a Comment