Kade woke to the sound of the alarm. With a groan he reached across the bed to slap it off. The clock read 11am. His poster session was at 1 o'clock.
The sound of the shower emanated from behind the closed bathroom door. Sam was in there. She'd slept on the floor in Kade's room, a bodyguard he wished he didn't need, wished he could be rid of. He could feel her mind, calm, thinking about the day, washing herself methodically. He didn't think she could feel him yet.
Kade rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling. Weak light filtered through the crack between the hotel room curtain and the wall. In addition to Sam, he knew that there were two of the guys with guns in the hotel now as well, posing as Thai businessmen, covertly ready to intercept assailants, and leap to Sam and Kade's aid should anything happen.
He was as safe as he was going to get. Others weren't so lucky.
Narong and his friends… Chuan… Lalana… Sajja…
He knew what he needed to do. He remembered something Wats had said after a few drinks once, talking about a no-win situation he and his squad had found themselves in, deep in the mountains of Kazakhstan, a decision of whether or not to try to rescue a captured squad mate against impossible odds.
When the chips are down, when you have to weigh what you believe in against your own safety – that's when you find out what you're made of.
Kade knew what he believed in. He believed that Narong and his friends were doing nothing wrong. He needed to warn them, have them call off Friday night. He glanced at the door to the bathroom. It was still closed. The shower was still going. How long had Sam been in there? Was she about to pop out? He had to take the chance. He was tired of being passive. He had to make the right thing happen.
Kade kept his mind as blank as he could, reeled in the amount he was emanating, rolled off the bed, padded as quietly as he could in boxers and bare feet to the small desk, found the stationary and pen, jotted a quick note.
Robyn Rodriguez is a narc. You must cancel Friday night or uninvite us. You didn't hear this from me, please.
The noise of the shower ended. He pulled the top sheet off the pad, folded it up, scanned around frantically for his pants.
The bathroom door opened. He looked up in time to see Sam crossing the distance between them, her face livid. Her open palm knocked him to the floor before he even saw it coming. His world exploded in pain. The room spun around him.
"You stupid son of a bitch."
She was standing above him, naked, water dripping off of her, fists clenched. She was going to hit him again.
He held his breath.
"I warned you," she told him.
There was a scar below her left collarbone and above one perfect breast, a long line of red against her olive skin. A knife wound? Surgery? There were circular pock marks on her otherwise flat stomach, more above one knee. Bullet wounds? Her nipples were hard. Was she cold? Did this excite her?
What was she?
He spat out blood, tried to talk. "It's not their fault. They're not doing anything wrong."
She kicked him in the stomach. He curled into a ball of agony, unable to breathe.
"I trusted you, Kade. I went to bat for you. I saved your fucking life. And what do you give me? Just pathetic lies. Again, and again, and again."
He gasped for breath, tried to speak…
"Tried… do… right thing…"
"Fuck your right thing, Kade. I'm tired of your lies. If anything about Friday night goes wrong, we're going to assume you sabotaged it. Got it? Anything goes wrong, and you're in an internment camp for life, you and your stupid fucked-up party friends. Dozens of them. You hear me?"
Kade tried to speak. Nothing came out. He nodded meekly instead.
Wats bowed respectfully to the woman who opened the monastery door. This was his fifth attempt today. The woman took a look at him, his skin color, his clothes, his height, his musculature, and addressed him in English.
"May I help you?" Her accent was quite good.
Wats responded in his best Thai, as weak as that was. "Please, honored sister. I'm looking for a monk. I had the honor to serve food to him from my humble stall yesterday. He forgot his alms bowl with me. I would return it to him."
She frowned at him, replied in Thai. "There are many monks, friend. If one has lost his alms bowl, it can be easily replaced."
"Please, honored sister." He bowed again. "This monk blessed my humble stall. I would feel honored to be able to return his lost possession to him."
"Very well. What does he look like?"
Wats rose up out of his bow. "He is tall." He held his hand at temple height. "Nearly as tall as me. Perhaps 1.8 meters. Not young, but not old. He has sharp features. A large nose. With a hook." His hands molded the image in the air as he spoke.
"He is Thai?"
"Yes, honored sister."
She thought for a moment. "That is very tall for a Thai man. We do not have a monk that tall in this monastery."
Wats contained his disappointment. There were many more places to try.
"But," she continued. "I may know who this monk is. Where is your food stall?"
"Off Thep Prathan, honored sister. East of the Chao Por Suea shrine."
"Ahh, near the convention center?"
"Yes, honored sister."
She nodded. "Then I may know who this monk is. It may be Phra Racha Khana Chan Rong Tuksin."
Wats nodded to himself. The title indicated that this Tuksin was only one step below Somdet status, a very senior monk. He nodded, repeated the name to be sure he had it right, then used the colloquial title, "Chan Phrom Tuksin. Thank you, honored sister."
She nodded at him.
"Where would I find Chan Phrom Tuksin, honored sister?"
"He resides at the Wat Hua Lamphong, near Chulalongkorn University. He is special assistant to Professor Somdet Phra Ananda."
Wats nodded again. This went close to the top, indeed. "Thank you again, honored sister." He brought his hands together in a respectful wai to her, turned to go.
"What food does your stall serve, young man?"
He turned back to her. "American food, honored sister. Hot dogs and hamburgers."
She frowned at him. "That is not fitting food to offer a monk," she scolded. "But you earn much merit in going so far to return his bowl."
"Thank you, honored sister." He bowed his head, made the wai to her again.
"Sawadi, traveler."
"Sawadi, honored sister."