Chpater 21

Book:Hot Revenge Box Set Series Published:2024-5-1

Klempner – Thailand
Hours later, my water-break is a half-forgotten dream. I’m sweaty and uncomfortable. The sun has westered beyond the treeline and shadows draw long.
It’s been tough; not so far in terms of distance covered, but the going is steep and over broken ground that bizarrely, has left me with a crick in my neck from constantly looking down to watch where I place my feet.
But it’s levelling out now, getting easier, and I’m leaving the treeline behind me, the trees thinning. Still hiking hard, I check the mapping app. Despite my break, I’m where I intended to be by now, the trail skirting around the mountain, more or less on a contour.
Behind me, above and to my left, the forest is thick and impenetrable. To my right, ahead of me, a sheer drop, some hundreds of feet of rocky cliff-face, has opened up the view. I look over mile upon myriad mile of forest, stretching out in waves of mountain height, valley delve and misted crevasse.
But on the edge of my vision, forward on my trek, the trail curves along its ridge towards a glimpse of the sea. Another few hundred yards and the sea, and if I have it right, my destination, will be in plain view.
Swiping at my forehead with an already-sopping rag, I gulp water, shaking the bottle to test how much remains. It’s not too bad, and I drop to an easy stroll, looking ahead.
And after a short distance more, I see what I want: a small clearing.
I stop, rolling my head against neck muscles tight with fatigue then, heaving muggy air, shrug off the backpack once more and set the rifle against a tree-trunk. Unpacking, I find a couple more likely-looking trees, then sling my hammock between two trunks and drape over the mosquito net.
Night falls with the swiftness of the tropics. I sit by my small stove, sipping coffee from the tin mug. With the water boiling again, I tip in my pre-made mix of rice, dehydrated vegetables, dried fish. Humming to myself, I stir the can, then lean back against the trunk again to drink my coffee.
In the leaf litter, a beetle trundles by; a good couple of inches long, maybe more, it’s an iridescent green, like some fantastic jewel. No gem I know could compete with this small armoured tank of an insect.
Amazing…
It’s an engaging sight, but I don’t try to touch the beastie. For anyone interested in such things there’s a lifetime’s work documenting the small life around here. Personally, I prefer to keep my distance. Insects have some odd defence mechanisms and I’m a long way from any chance of a jab against blood poisoning or anaphylactic shock.
So instead, I watch the shimmering sapphire-emerald little creature struggle through moss and leaves, then with a buzz, launch itself upwards and whirr away, a blue-green ripple in the night until, as it leaves the small circle of light cast by my lamp, it vanishes.
Green eyes…
Wonder what’s she’s doing now?
What would she think of that waterfall?
Then I chuckle.
She’d probably reach for her paintbrush…

Stay focussed…
Taking the rifle down from its place propped against the tree, methodically I check it over. A smooth pull on the trigger and it clicks nicely. But it does no harm to be careful and I wipe away a little grit with the oiled rag I keep packed.
The workman and his tools.
*****
Dawn finds me already awake, dressed, and rolling hammock and mosquito net into the pack. Standing, limbering up stiff muscles, I drink more coffee and some rewarmed soup
Then rucksack and rifle back in place, I set off to take the short walk to my destination.
*****
I don’t need my phone anymore. I’ve found what I was looking for. Setting down pack and rifle, I pace, examining the ground, choosing my angle.
Way down, perhaps only a mile and a half as the crow flies, sits a fortress.
To the casual eye, I daresay it doesn’t look like a fortress. This confection of sculpture and architecture could be the grand pleasure palace of any of the super-rich. Set to impress, extravagant gardens stretch all around a central building, all arches, balconies and walkways, set to catch whatever breeze might be there to be had…
Opulent…
Luxurious…
Pretentious…
… but to my eye, knowing my target, it has more the look of a military compound.
Lush greenery; lawn, palms and tropical shrubbery, are the setting for a central swimming pool, edged by terracing set out with loungers, some occupied. There’s a smaller dip-pool, tables and seating.
But the gardens are surrounded by a wall. To the front entrance, the wall is painted white and oh-so-attractive, but solidly built and a good twenty feet high. Guards patrol a walkway at the top.
The grounds run down to the sea and moorings where a yacht sits bobbing on the waves.
Behind the house are the kinds of utilitarian building you might expect in a place of this sort: garages, workrooms and suchlike. But also, away from prying eyes, is the compound.
Outwardly, also white-painted, it looks elegant and in keeping with the villa. To any observer standing outside, it would appear a simple extension of the main gardens. Not that any observer would be able to see inside through the solidly built structure.
Who would know, what was in there?
Unless they looked.
In these days of satellite photography and the gradual mapping of the world… I smile to myself. It was so easy to find all this…
… once I looked.
Ain’t the internet marvellous?
The neat driveway to the main house splits to a side-track, leading to the compound gates: as tall as the containing wall, solid and barred. In the centre of the compound a building squats; block-built, small barred windows, solid roof. The single door I can see is sheet steel with a slot window, double drop-bars and locked with a heavy-duty padlock.
Cellblock?
There’s no sign of anything resembling air-conditioning or fans. To one side, a couple of buckets sit by what might be a standpipe.
But nothing much is happening. The sole guard patrols, more or less. Mainly, he slouches in the shade of the building.
I check the angle of the sun, gauging by eye whether I’m safe to…
Reflections from glass…
Yes.
I choose my spot to lie; on bare rock and hopefully to avoid being targeted as a meal by the various crawlers I notice at ground level. At arm’s length and with the edge of my knife, I flick away a couple of choice specimens.
One with yellow and black stripes, some version of a wasp, or maybe an ant, suggests a critter that is able to stand up for itself. I let it make its own way in the other direction before I lie down. Another, with more legs than I’m comfortable with, is sent on its way over the rock edge.
Then lying flat on my stomach, tucked behind a small, shrubby something-or-other, I raise binoculars, scanning the area.
Several women already lie out by the pool, working on their tans. All are glamorous in a Hollywood starlet kind of way. Tall, leggy, busty: they could, every one, be the lead in some back-street porn movie. None wears more than a thong. Several wear less.
Scanning over the women again, examining their faces…
Anyone I know…?
… that I might have sent here?
I scan each blandly beautiful face with their designer make-up and designer bodies…
None are familiar…
… and I pass over.

Great green eyes, in alabaster skin set in a sea of copper-red hair…
Get a grip…

Armed figures patrol the shore and the moorings. More figures stand by the gates, also armed…
What are they carrying?
Some kind of semi-automatic rifle…
Or are they SMGs?
It hardly matters. Nothing they have is remotely capable of the range needed to hit me, even if they knew where to aim.
I look back to my own rifle; a TAC-50, a sniper’s weapon; which I chose, for this specific occasion, for its reputation for extreme distance sharp-shooting. The round is capable of piercing light armour. It’s anyone’s guess what it will do to a human body.
In fact, I tested that, while I was trying out the weapon, on a pig carcass. At the shorter range I used, the carcass more or less vanished save for a red haze. At this distance…
A TAC-50 brought down an ISIS terrorist at over two miles. And my target won’t be at anything like that range. Perhaps a little over half the distance…
When he appears…
It’s getting hot again, but without the heavy exertion of the previous day, I’m much more comfortable… probably more than can be said for anyone inside the compound building.
About mid-morning, another guard, gun in hand, joins the first, unlocks the cell block and a dozen or so figures, all female, trudge out.
Sunlight glints on the metal cuffs at ankle and wrist. All the women are young and attractive, or would be, cleaned up and in decent clothes. As it is, black, white and every shade in between, they’re all in rags…
The women walk a couple of weary circles around the compound, shielding their eyes against the sun. One of the guards barks something at them and they stand to queue by the stand-pipe, taking turns to run water into the buckets, splash it over their faces and arms.
The last two of the women to wash refill the buckets then, with the others, at the end of the gun, trudge back inside, carrying the water with them. One of the guard re-locks the door behind them, then the pair saunter into the shade to smoke again.
And I settle to resume my vigil.
*****