45
Sang Ki Park
Wayward Palms Motel
Sang Ki Park followed the blond mercenary’s directions that morning, and found himself at a faded roadside motel between Indio and Coachella. The two-and-a-half-hour drive went quickly, and was ripe with the promise of salvation and vengeance. A successful recovery of their kidnapped workers would go far in restoring his uncle’s confidence. The recovery of the old man’s grandson would ensure his redemption.
The mercenary’s room was drab and dingy, but the surrounding desert was crisp with a lingering chill, and beautiful with a first kiss from the morning sun. Sang Ki Park felt honored to share in this moment. Especially with such a beautiful woman at his mercy.
“Are you comfortable?”
Megan Orlato said nothing until the blond man spoke Arabic.
“I’m fine, for Christ’s sake. Let’s get this the fuck over with.”
The mouth of a whore. She was sister, wife, and participant with the men who had stolen, tortured, and murdered Park’s workers.
Park, the woman, the crazy blond mercenary, and two Double Dragon soldiers were in the room. An additional twelve Double Dragon soldiers waited nearby in their cars. Park’s uncle, Young Min Park, who was Kwan Min Park’s grandfather, was driving out now, but would likely not arrive until after Kwan was recovered. This was as it should be. As the revered leader of Ssang Yong Pa, Young Min Park must be shielded from physical danger and legal prosecution. But the old man, like all old men, was weak in his feelings and hungry for the sight of his grandson.
The blond man with the spiky hair checked his watch.
“You good to go?”
Park kept his eyes on the woman, seated in a tattered chair with his men near at hand. The two mercenaries who worked with Mr. Cole had captured the bajadore ’s sister, and now wished to trade her for Park’s stolen workers. The blond mercenary had explained this plan earlier that morning.
“Yes. I am good.”
“You remember what to say, or you want to go over it again?”
“I am good.”
“No negotiations. No delays.”
“I am good.”
The blond man turned to the woman, and spoke Arabic until she interrupted.
“Speak English. Jesus.”
“I don’t care what you say, but you have to say something. If you clam up, I’ll make you.”
“Fuck you.”
The blond man dialed the phone. It was her cell taken from her home and delivered by Mr. Pike. It contained her brother’s direct number, stored in the memory under “Bobby.” Using this phone was important, for Ghazi al-Diri would only answer if he recognized her incoming number.
The blond man listened for the ring, then passed the phone to the woman.
She closed her eyes as if steeling herself, then spoke.
“It’s me. I’m sorry, baby, they got me. No, this Korean dude. Some guy pulled me out of the house last night and gave me to this Korean. They killed Dennis. Dennis is dead-”
The blond man twisted the phone from her hand, and passed it to Park.
“Your sister is the property of Ssang Yong Pa. You have twenty-six of our people. We will have them back in this way.”
Park told Ghazi al-Diri where the trade would take place, when, and how it would happen, exactly as the mercenary instructed. There was no room for discussion.
“Say yes, she will live. Say no, you will hear her die now on this phone. You will then kill my people, but this is a loss we can accept. We will hunt you forever.”
Park listened for several moments, then repeated the instructions.
“You must say yes now.”
He listened a moment longer.
“Very well. You must reimburse ten thousand American dollars for each of the three dead. Do not deviate from these instructions. Do not be late.”
Park pressed the power button to terminate the call, and returned the phone to the mercenary.
“He has agreed.”
The woman closed her eyes when she heard this and wilted in relief.
The mercenary went to the door.
“Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
“If they don’t show, don’t kill her. We might have to use her again.”
“They will come. I could hear much love in his voice.”
The mercenary stared for a moment, then laughed very big as he left.
Sang Ki Park thought his joke funny, too, but masked his joy with a scowl. The mercenary had insisted Park carry out the plan as instructed, but the mercenary served his own goals, and Park served the goals of Ssang Yong Pa.
The plan would change as Ssang Yong Pa required.
46
Joe Pike
Pike met Jon Stone to hand off Megan Orlato and swap vehicles. They circled the date farm once on foot to fine-tune their plan, then parted. The Koreans had reached Banning Pass by then, and Jon had to meet them.
Pike drove to a feed store that opened at four A.M. He used their restroom, bought a bottle of water, two bags of trail mix, and a bag of dried mango, then returned to the farm. He parked behind an abandoned irrigation truck in a field across from the mouth of the gravel drive, and ate the food as the sky slowly brightened.
He thought about Elvis Cole, and their friendship, and hoped Cole was inside and alive. He told himself Cole was alive. Pike took the Jiminy Cricket from his pocket. He looked at it. A toy cricket. Pike put it back in his pocket.
If Cole was dead, there would be hell to pay.
The day grew full-on light. Nothing stirred at the farm.
Pike’s phone rang at 9:32 A.M. on a beautiful day in the desert.
Stone said, “He agreed. Go.”
Pike left the Jeep, ran hard for the date farm, and disappeared into the trees.
Ghazi al-Diri
Ghazi al-Diri’s life ended with the Korean’s call. He was in the commissary when his phone buzzed, letting his coffee steep in a French press he brought from Sao Paulo. Now, he slipped the phone into his pocket, and poured the coffee. Several of his men were near, eating burritos of eggs and beans they had made for themselves. Ghazi moved away from them to think. He was angry, but might yet survive if he remained calm.
Maysan changed everything. The Korean gangsters had somehow learned she was his sister, and now held her like a pollo. Ghazi had no choice but to assume the gangsters now knew everything Maysan knew-his phone numbers, his home in Ensenada, how he had operated north of the border these past two years, and even his current location. This frightened him the most as they might even now be watching the farm.
Ghazi acted quickly. The trade for his sister required the box truck and many men, but much more needed to be done if he was to survive, and these things were unpleasant.
“Rojas! Where is Medina?”
“With the pollos. You want him?”
“Yes, both of you. In the garage.”
Ghazi had more of the coffee as Rojas hurried away, then strolled to the garage. Ghazi had agreed to the exchange, but he would not make the trip. He would do everything possible to save his sister, and prayed the Korean gangster was good at his word, but Ghazi al-Diri did not believe he would see her again, and felt certain the exchange was a death sentence.
Rojas and Medina appeared almost at once. He straightened like the commander he was, and faced them.
“We are returning the Koreans. We need eight guards for the move, two for the big truck and the rest in the smaller trucks. They should be armed. Rojas, I want you on the big truck. You will be in charge.”
Rojas looked surprised, but made no objection. They had been together a long time. Ghazi would hate to lose Rojas, but Samuel was the smarter and more capable. If recovering Maysan was possible, Rojas was more likely to succeed.
Rojas said, “Someone has bought them?”
“The gangsters have my sister. You will be exchanging the pollos for her. I have made the arrangments.”
Al-Diri quickly outlined where and how the exchange would take place, told Rojas to pick his men, and move out as quickly as possible.