Lethal Redemption Read Free Page B

and toiletries, throwing things that the houseman picked up. Whatever he was after wasn’t there and the colonel wasn’t happy about that at all.
    The Frenchman then ripped out the lining of the suitcase, before setting it aside. For a moment he stood and stared at the pile. That’s when his phone buzzed.
    Besson pulled the phone from his shirt pocket, looked at the caller ID. He answered, walked away and had a brief conversation.
    When he hung up and walked back he said, “Cole is coming in from Angkor Wat. You’d best find Kiera Hunter. Do nothing to her. Just locate her and have your men watch her every move until we’re ready. And those idiots you hired that got their asses handed to them by a damn girl, get rid of them.”
    The colonel left Besson and returned to the car. He was in a very sour mood for what those idiots had done by letting a woman beat them, because it would come back on him.
    He opened the back door and shot the man closest to him in the head. The other tried to get out but never got the door opened. The colonel shot him in the back of the neck. Then he got into the passenger seat and told the driver where to go.
    There was a field not all that far away that was a preferred spot to dump bodies. The colonel had visited it on more than one occasion. He was in a hurry. He knew if he didn’t find this Hunter woman and keep her in sight, he might well be joining those he was putting in what he liked to call the field of errors.

5
    When Miloon pulled his Vespa in front of the American Embassy gates, Kiera hopped off saying, “I’ll be right back.”
    Her wet clothes stuck to her in the heat like hot wax and she couldn’t wait to get out of them, but first things first.
    Kiera walked through the Embassy courtyard where half a dozen small kids were playing soccer. Most of them Caucasian, one Black and the others Asian. In her dark mood she feared what kind of world these kids were going to inherit.
    Inside the Embassy she was directed to the Public Affairs office occupied by a bored, phlegmatic embassy officer.
    As she registered under his watchful eye, the whole time he inundated her with an unsolicited list of security updates on Cambodia, and, for no reason she could discern, went into his analysis of the conflicts in Burma between Buddhists and Islamists.
    “I’m not going to Burma,” she said with a bit of an edge. “Can you tell me if there is a new address for Vale Expeditions?”
    He studied her a moment. “Sorry, I don’t think I can be of much help there.”
    “Why is that?”
    “There no longer is a Vale Expeditions.” He paused, and then said, “You look banged up. An accident?”
    Observant, aren’t you, she thought, saying, “No. I tripped and fell in the storm. Is Michael Vale still in Phnom Penh?”
    “No. He’s gone. His son, Porter Vale, is still around cleaning up his father’s mess. If you want to have medical personnel take a look—”
    “No thanks. What do you mean by mess?”
    “Are you a friend or relative?”
    “No.”
    When he didn’t volunteer what ‘mess’ meant, she said, “You have any idea where he might be?”
    The man had an annoying habit of staring and his eyes didn’t seem to have a normal blink ratio. He said, with pointed sarcasm, “If Porter Vale’s not in jail you will probably find him at a bar. You might try the usual watering holes like The Red Fox, Jungle Bar and Grill, or the Heart of Darkness Bar on fifty-one street. And if I can be of any assistance, I’d be happy to show you a few places.”
    Not in this, or any, lifetime, she thought. “No, thanks.” She gave him a tight smirk. “Are there ATMs in this fair city?”
    “Yes. The Canadia Bank. That’s the tallest new building in town. Phnom Penh’s version of a skyscraper. Some mobile ATMs. But if you’re thinking of getting local currency, the riel is becoming more or less worthless. The dollar is the currency of choice. At least until it goes the way of the