International Incident Read online

  She searched her mind for a plausible explanation. Why would a litigator specializing in complex commercial disputes have a working knowledge about the Jones Act and related arcane admiralty law topics? Pittsburgh does have three rivers; I thought it might come in handy? No, not really believable.

  Meanwhile, the international call was probably costing a small fortune and they were in danger of losing their signal at any moment. She sighed and settled on the truth. “I had a crush on the professor who taught admiralty law,” she mumbled.

  Of course in reality, Professor Alfredson’s class lectures were geared more to the maritime equivalent of Worker’s Compensation cases, cases involving collisions between vessels, and the ever popular negligent damage or loss of cargo. They rarely touched on anything quite so esoteric as multi-jurisdictional criminal law. But the professor had written about the topic extensively, and Sasha had been lucky enough to edit an article he’d written for the law review.

  Back on land, Hank chuckled. Beside her, Connelly rolled his eyes.

  “Figures. I’ll bet he was a young intellectual type. Hair to his collarbone, horn-rimmed glasses. Rode his bike to class,” he cracked.

  She arched an eyebrow. “He was a mostly bald widower and grandfather in his seventies. He wore Hickey Freeman suits and drove his Volvo wagon to class. He did have horn-rimmed glasses.”

  Hank and Connelly both dissolved into laughter.

  Connelly shook his head. “Attracted to his intellect, huh?”

  She drew herself up to her full, if meager, height. “As a matter of fact, I was. Tastes change, though. Look at me now. Married to an empty-headed pretty boy.”

  He broke into a wide grin. She felt her own mouth curving into a mirroring smile. For a fleeting moment, safe in their small cabin, they could laugh.

  Hank cleared his throat then brought them back to the purpose of the call. “Let’s not overlawyer this problem. When you witness a crime, you should report it. The fact that your ship’s captain wants to turn a blind eye is a bit troubling.”

  “I don’t think it’s anything nefarious. I think he’s somewhat of a sexist, and he’s more concerned with staying on schedule and delivering the high-quality, luxury experience his passengers expect than with seeing justice done for some nameless woman,” she responded.

  “Hmph,” Hank grumped in response. “Well, let me make some calls. I’ll be back in touch when I have a contact for you.”

  “Thanks,” Sasha and Connelly said in unison before ending the call.

  “Now what?” Connelly asked.

  She let a slow smile play across her lips. “I was thinking we could do something … life affirming.” She looked meaningfully toward the bedroom. He dropped his blueberry muffin as if it were radioactive and raced her to the bed.

  10

  Binh lay in his ragged hammock. It swayed in time with the ocean’s gentle movement. He stared sightlessly at the beams above his head.

  It was the hottest part of the day, time to sleep. But he knew that sleep would elude him. His heart was still hammering, even now all these hours later, from the near miss on the stairway. He’d been so lucky: the rodent skittered across the floor at the most fortunate time. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened if the shooters had caught him peering up the stairs.

  Then he caught himself. Don’t be stupid, Binh.

  He knew exactly what would’ve happened if they’d caught him. He’d have shared Mina’s fate.

  Mina. Her terrified screams still filled his ears, and the echo of the sound tore through him. There was nothing he could have done to save her. Once Captain Vũ had called his bosses and told them there was a woman on the ship, her fate had been sealed.

  A roach crabbed its way up Binh’s arm. He shifted and flicked it to the ground. He knew that he’d possessed no more power to help the girl than did that bug.

  Although he hadn’t been able to help her, she—in death—would help him. He vowed to find some way off the boat. It didn’t matter that he would never be able to repay the manning agency’s fee. It didn’t matter that he’d have to return home in shame, a failure. He would escape so that his life wouldn’t end the way hers had.

  He just had to be smart, patient, and watchful. He would look for the perfect chance to flee. Maybe it would be when they were docking at a port, maybe it would be when they were picking up new crew members. Maybe he could rely on the kindness of a stranger.

  Months ago, Thiha Bo had told a story about fisherman from Cambodia who’d been rescued from another boat within the Thale fleet. A man working aboard a resupply boat had witnessed the Cambodian receiving a beating and had scraped together the money to buy out the Cambodian’s contract, freeing him. Binh realized this Good Samaritan scenario was more of a dream than a plan; in fact, he suspected that the story was a fiction, something Thiha Bo had made up simply to give the rest of them hope. But a fairy tale could sustain him until he was free.

  The sound of voices floated down the stairs. The two crew members tasked with making the day’s meal were coming back from the kitchen, chattering about the murder. Everyone knew what had happened, even though none of them had witnessed it. The sounds of the gunfire and Mina’s cries had filled the cabin below. Binh didn’t want to gossip with them about it, so he turned toward the wall and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, feigning sleep. He repeated a single sentence on a loop inside his brain until a fitful sleep finally overtook him: I will be free. I will be free, he promised himself.

  11

  Leo and Sasha had just finished a light lunch with the Kurcks and the four of them were lingering at the table, chatting, when Leo felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked the display discreetly, even though there could only really be one person calling him. Hank’s number appeared on the screen; Leo figured he was calling with the contact information for the Bangkok Legat. He excused himself from the table and stepped out of the dining room and onto the deck to take the call.

  When he returned, Sasha and Oliver were in the middle of a spirited conversation about Singapore.

  “The architecture is certainly avant-garde and cutting edge,” Oliver was saying. “But a wee bit much—I mean, did you see that swimming bridge that connected the two high rises? Madness.”

  “I must have missed it. Connelly was excited about the restaurant scene. He even made me eat durian fruit. I just thought the entire city had such energy and vibrancy. It was invigorating,” Sasha said smiling.

  “Invigorating? I’ll have to confess I don’t share your love for Singapore, Sasha,” Elli said.

  Leo pocketed his phone and lowered himself back into his chair. “And why’s that?” he asked, rejoining the conversation.

  “I suppose it’s because I find the government so oppressive,” she answered slowly in a thoughtful tone of voice. “I think it’s quite totalitarian and controlling about trivial matters, while real issues of disparity and injustice are disregarded and swept under the rug, as you Americans say. For instance, did you know you need a prescription to purchase chewing gum there?”

  Leo laughed. “Is that really true?”

  Oliver leaned across the table. “Oh, it’s true all right. I learned years ago on one of our first cruises that chewing peppermint gum helps me combat my mild seasickness. For this trip, I hadn’t had time to buy my gum before we left home. When we arrived in Singapore, we wasted the better part of one morning on a fool’s errand trying to track down gum. It turns out that it’s been banned for more than a decade, with some specific exceptions for dental gum and nicotine gum, but it’s all kept under lock and key.”

  “I hope you were able to find something else to help with your nausea,” Sasha said, giving him a concerned look.

  “Oh yes, that delightful hostess procured what I needed as if by magic once we were on board. Can’t say too much about the level of service and personal attention on this cruise line. Top-notch captain.”

  Leo was careful to avoid making eye contact
with Sasha. He knew full well what she thought of their captain’s personal touch.

  He checked his watch. “Why don’t we take a walk?” he suggested. “We have a while yet until we dock.”

  “I could definitely stretch my legs,” Sasha agreed. Then she turned toward the Kurcks. “Care to join us?”

  They stood and pushed in their chairs. Oliver draped Elli’s sweater over her shoulders solicitously.

  “Oh, no. You two go ahead. Elli has a massage scheduled at the spa and I’m going to take a catnap. We need to rest up for the excursion to Bangkok. I hear the tour guides maintain quite a pace once they reach the city. You may want to conserve your energy as well,” Oliver suggested.

  Leo smiled. “We’re actually not participating in the guided excursion. We have an acquaintance in Thailand, who’s graciously offered to show us around.”

  “How lovely,” Elli murmured as she took Sasha by the shoulders and did the whole European air kiss thing on both sides of her cheeks.

  “Very good,” Oliver said, clapping Leo on the back.

  After they said their goodbyes and the Kurcks headed toward the spa and their stateroom, respectively, Sasha and Leo strolled along the deck hand-in-hand. The usually serene ship seemed to buzz with energy as it drew nearer to the port.

  “So, who’s this friend of yours in Thailand?” Sasha asked.

  He turned to her. “What friend?”

  “The friend who’s going to give us a tour of Bangkok.” She gave him a look that mirrored his confusion.

  He stared at her for a full thirty seconds before answering. “It’s the Department of Justice attorney who Hank is setting us up with, honey.”

  She wrinkled her forehead. “When did you talk to Hank?”

  Was she kidding? Where did she think he’d gone when he’d left the table? He pulled her over to a set of chairs and eased her down into the seat. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m a little distracted,” she admitted. “I keep thinking about what happened to that woman. And the kids. I’d like to talk to my parents before we disembark.”

  It was so rare for her to show any vulnerability, even to him, that for a moment he wasn’t sure exactly how to proceed.

  He spoke slowly and in a careful voice. “I know you’re freaked out by what you saw, but it’s important for you—for both of us—to stay alert. Are you telling me you really didn’t notice when I got up from the table that my phone was vibrating?”

  She shook her head. “I really didn’t. I thought you just went to the bathroom or something. You have to admit you were pretty cagey about it. I mean, I assume that as nice as the Kurcks are, you didn’t want to have a conversation with them about why you have a spy phone.”

  “Okay, that’s a fair point. But just do me a favor. What is it Daniel always says to you about staying engaged and vigilant?” Her Krav Maga instructor was almost guaranteed to have some pithy saying appropriate for the situation.

  “Keep your head on a swivel.”

  “Right, that. It seems like good advice for our current situation.” He realized he may be overstating the potential dangers, but he wanted her to realize that they weren’t in Pittsburgh anymore. The good will that came from his unofficial role with the Department of Homeland Security and her status as a local superhero attorney didn’t translate into Thai. They were just two Americans in a foreign country about to stick their noses into something that didn’t involve them.

  He cut short his musing when she nodded her agreement then pushed herself up to standing. “Look, you don’t have to worry about me being the weak link, Connelly. We’re a pretty kick ass team. I’ve got your back.”

  The tightness in his chest eased at that familiar, fierce look on her face, and he smiled. “Good to know. There’s no one else I’d rather go into battle with.”

  “You’re always so romantic with your sweet nothings,” she teased as she stretched up on her toes to kiss him.

  12

  Laem Chabang, Thailand

  Jan van Metier smiled, nodded, and shook hand after hand, taking care to address each passenger by name as he wished him or her a wonderful adventure in Bangkok. The vacationers streamed from the ship, overnight bags slung over their arms, headed off for their various excursions. As they filed past him, he inwardly counted the seconds until he himself would be off duty.

  He had a strong need to unwind—away from the passengers, the crew members under his supervision, and the ever-watchful eye of his employer.

  Most of the crew would travel the two hours to Bangkok to party or dine or otherwise blow off steam. A skeleton crew would remain on the ship to attend to the needs of those passengers who chose not to go ashore. He, however, would neither stay on the ship nor travel to Bangkok.

  Instead, he would fulfill his desires at Samut Prakan, the fishing town twenty-six kilometers to the north. It was far enough away from both Laem Chabang and Bangkok that he could enjoy some measure of anonymity without worrying that he would run into an exploring passenger or a carousing crew member.

  It just wouldn’t do for the ship’s captain to be seen indulging, even on his personal time. And Jan was always very careful to maintain an appropriate public persona; but he was, after all, still a man who needed to relax on occasion and unwind like every other human being. Today, his need to do so was perhaps greater than usual—a response to the stress of the delicate situation with that blasted Connelly woman.

  Just a few more hours. He swore he could already smell the sweet, just shy of cloying, perfume that filled the smoky backroom at Bar Pavot. His anticipation mounted and his mouth began to water. He checked his watch discreetly and kept his smile frozen firmly into place.

  13

  Sasha said goodbye to her parents and then to the twins, both of whom were babbling excitedly into her parents’ speakerphone. Whether that excitement had anything to do with the fact that their mom and dad were cooing at them through the phone, she couldn’t tell. Regardless, it was comforting to hear the sound of their laughter and to receive confirmation from her parents that Finn and Fiona hadn’t completely exhausted them yet.

  She handed the phone to Connelly. He made kissing noises and ended the call. He was stowing the phone in his backpack when Bruce knocked discreetly at the stateroom door. She hurried over to unlatch the door and waved him inside.

  “Mrs. Connelly, Mr. Connelly. Good day.” He gave a formal little nod.

  “Hi, Bruce,” Connelly responded cheerfully.

  Bruce gave Sasha a look and tilted his head. She abandoned the overnight bag she’d been packing while on the telephone and ushered him into the small sitting room.

  “I have the information you asked for, ma’am.” Bruce handed her a folded piece of paper.

  “Perfect. Thanks so much,” she said in a low voice as she pocketed the note.

  “Please don’t mention it.”

  She suspected he meant that literally; she doubted very seriously that he had acquired what she needed without breaking at least a corporate rule or two—or maybe even a law. But, apparently, one of the great benefits of having a personal European butler of one’s own was that he came, not only with impeccable manners, but with a sense of absolute loyalty, as well. It was pretty awesome, to tell the truth—even if it was just for the week.

  “Understood.”

  He nodded and cleared his throat, speaking slightly louder than was strictly necessary as he changed the subject to include Connelly in the conversation. “Will you be staying overnight in Bangkok?”

  “We will,” she answered.

  “Very good. Do you need a recommendation for hotel accommodations or are you all squared away?”

  “Actually,” Sasha said, “we have a friend here who’s been gracious enough to offer to show us around and put us up.”

  ‘Friend’ and ‘put us up’ were a slight exaggeration, but it was close enough to true. Hank had arranged for Mel Anders, the legal attaché, to pick them up and drive them to Bangkok; they’d
worry about finding a hotel after they finished their business. With any luck, they’d be able to have a nice meal and a quiet night.

  “What about you? Do you get the night off?” Connelly asked.

  “Indeed, I do. Because you’ve elected to go ashore, I have a twenty-four-hour leave pass. But, as vibrant as Bangkok is, I won’t be making the trip this time. I’ll be visiting a nearby monastery for the evening.”

  “Are you a Buddhist?” Sasha asked. Now that she thought about it, Bruce’s calm manner reminded her a bit of their Buddhist friend, Bodhi King.

  “Not strictly, but I do find their traditions peaceful and re-centering. I like to avail myself of a quiet retreat when I can. I’m past the point in my life where I’m interested in the attractions that are so prevalent in the larger towns.”

  “What’s Laem Chabang like?”

  “Although it’s small, it’s a very busy city because of the port. In addition to being a port of call for several of the cruise lines, it’s the country’s largest port and does a bustling international shipping business. It’s not as cosmopolitan as Bangkok, of course; but, it also lacks the rougher elements that the smaller fishing towns seem to attract.”

  Sasha saw Connelly’s ears perk up at the mention of fishing towns. He walked into the sitting room to join the conversation. “So there’s a lot of illegal activity in the fishing towns?”

  Bruce hesitated, clearly trying to find the most polite and politic way to discuss an unsavory subject. “I’m sure that I don’t know firsthand, Mr. Connelly, but my understanding is there’s quite a bit of drug activity, bar fights, and perhaps some …” he paused to clear his throat, “… prostitution. The men have a hard life out at sea, and they seem to have a need to cut loose, if you will, when they dock. I recommend avoiding any of the small fishing towns on the route between here and Bangkok—Samut Prakan, in particular.”