False Horizon. Alex Archer
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“How will I know where to find you?”
“Take this.” The large man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small phone. Tuk recognized it as a disposable unit like thousands of others sold all over Katmandu. It was anonymous and therefore useful to the very drug runners Tuk despised.
“Press and hold the two and it will ring to my phone. Tell me where you are and I will be there. The phone is set to vibrate. If I call you and you do not answer, I will assume you are unable to talk at that moment for fear of giving your position away. However, I will expect a return call as soon as you are able.”
“Understood.”
“Then we are in business.”
Tuk frowned. “One last question, if I may?”
“Yes?”
“How did you find me?”
The man smiled. “You are a rarity in this part of the world, my friend. But not so in other places. In every city and town there are those who know it better than anyone else. I only needed to take my time and you revealed yourself when the universe judged the time right.”
Tuk smiled. “I’m glad to be of service.”
“As am I.”
“I know better than to ask your name,” Tuk said. “But what about the woman? What is she called?”
The man started to walk away, paused and looked back at Tuk. “Her name is Annja Creed.”
Tuk said the name to himself several times, trying it on for size. When he glanced back, the large man was gone.
Outside the Blue Note, Tuk wondered what exactly such a woman might be doing in order to attract the intense scrutiny of the man who now employed him. She seemed ordinary enough, albeit skilled at movement through crowds. Tuk had trailed her on a motorbike from the airport, and when she’d given up the taxi, he had parked and followed her on foot.
The phone buzzed in the pocket of his worn pants. Tuk reached in and pulled out the phone. “Yes?”
“You have her?”
“It is as you said. She is in Thamel. At a restaurant called the Blue Note.”
“Keep watching her.”
“You’re coming here?”
“Not yet. But I will soon.”
The line disconnected and Tuk was left to wonder some more about the woman called Annja Creed.
3
Inside the Blue Note, Annja was oblivious to the little Nepali man stationed outside with orders to report on her movements. She had other things to consider just then, like exactly how she was going to deal with the two men heading toward her table.
“Mike?”
But Mike only frowned. Annja glanced at him and then back at the hulking masses in front of her. They both stopped short of coming within range of a swift kick from Annja’s boots. That meant they had a situational awareness Annja recognized, marking them as seasoned professionals.
“Hi, Mike,” the one sporting a goatee said. “How ya been?”
Mike frowned. “I don’t know you.”
“Sure you do. You know our employer, Mr. Tsing. So if you know him, then you know us.”
Annja looked at Mike. “Who is Mr. Tsing?”
“A miserable bastard, apparently,” Mike said. He looked back at the huge men. “Why are you bothering me about this now? I told Tsing I needed a few more weeks to pay him back.”
“Pay him back?” Annja sighed. “What are you paying him back? What did you need money for?”
The goateed henchman smiled. “He wanted to buy a map. A fifty-thousand-dollar map.”
Annja’s eyes widened in alarm. “Fifty grand? What kind of map costs that much money?”
The goateed man pointed at her. “You see? That’s exactly what Mr. Tsing would like to ask our friend Mike here.”
“Since when does Tsing care what his money is used for as long as he gets repaid?” Mike asked.
“Since he found out you were blowing fifty large on a map,” the man said. “Now, you can come along with us quietly and without any trouble. Or we can beat you senseless and then take you to Mr. Tsing. Makes no difference to us.”
Annja smiled. “Suppose we don’t feel like seeing Mr. Tsing just now? What about you guys go back to him and say you couldn’t find Mike?”
“We already told him we had you two in sight. He’s very interested in seeing Mike and apparently he’s very interested in meeting you. Says he loves your show.”
“How did you know who I was?” Annja asked.
“We have ways of finding out who is on airline manifests. It comes in handy for Mr. Tsing to know when he has business associates coming to town. Or other people that he’s interested in meeting.”
“Great. A fan,” Annja mumbled. “That’s just what I need right now.” She looked at Mike. “When were you going to tell me about this?”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to,” Mike said. “Tsing told me I had all the time I needed to pay him back. This is as much a surprise to me as it is you.”
“Fifty grand? That must be some map.”
“It is.”
The goateed thug cleared his throat. “Are you coming with us or do we have to drag you out of here?”
Annja eyed him. She could easily draw her sword and cut both men down before they could blink. But she wasn’t sure that unsheathing her blade in a crowded restaurant was the best way of handling this. At least, not in view of everyone else in the joint. Maybe she would try her luck once they got outside and into some narrow alley. She imagined Mr. Tsing would infest some tiny haunt on the back side of Katmandu.
Mike nodded. “Fine, we’ll go with you to see what Tsing has to say. I like this place too much to cause trouble in here, anyway.”
“Smart,” the man said. “I’m sure he won’t keep you long. This is more of a social call than a collection call.”
“What a relief,” Mike said.
The two men led them out of the Blue Note. Annja looked around but saw little chance for action. Throngs of people swelled around them and the two henchmen bracketed Mike and Annja between them. The tide of the foot traffic carried them along.
Mike whispered in her ear. “Don’t worry, I can handle Tsing.”
“Can