Brett Battles - Little Girl Gone

“The van owner said this is where he dropped them off,” Daeng said.

“Where, exactly, are we?”

“Sathorn Pier.”

“So from here where would they have gone?” Logan asked.

“Anywhere along the Chao Phraya.”

The Chao Phraya, that was a name Logan remembered from his previous trip. It was the royal river that split the city in two.

“So they could be anywhere.”

“Sure, but the choice is odd. Why even use the river? The van owner said they didn’t take one of the public ferries, or even hire a boat once they got here. He said there was a boat already waiting for them.” Daeng paused, then said, “The only thing I can think of is that they needed to use the river.”

That thought had crossed Logan’s mind, too. It was either that, or they had used the river to cover their tracks in case they were worried about being followed. But it seemed to Logan that moving from car to boat and boat to car again with such a large group that included one incapacitated girl would have created unwanted attention, doing the exact opposite of helping them to disappear.

“Okay, so what would they have needed it for?” he asked.

“Maybe a hotel?” Daeng suggested. “There are a few along the waterfront.”

Logan shook his head. A group like that, checking into a big hotel? Same unwanted attention problem.

“They could have been meeting someone at another pier,” Daeng offered.

“Possibly. But then, why not just drive there?”

Daeng looked down the waterfront. “There are also a lot of private residences along the river, apartment buildings, shacks. Nothing that’s particularly fancy, but some do have docks, and a few are actually built over the river, so, depending on the type of boat they were in, they could have gone right underneath.”

Logan thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “That makes more sense to me.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Daeng told him. “There’s miles of riverfront here, and thousands of places for people to live in. It might take us weeks to figure out which one they’re using, and chances are they’re going to be gone by morning.”

Logan grimaced. Daeng was right, of course. “What would you do in their situation?”

“I wouldn’t be in their situation,” Daeng said. “I don’t kidnap people.”

“Hypothetically. You’d be concerned about security, right?”

“Sure.”

“Would you be concerned enough to have guards posted around the clock?”

Daeng consider it for a second, then nodded. “I would.”

“Yeah,” Logan said. “So would I.”

“Okay, so they’re being careful. How does that help us?”

 “If it was the middle of the day right now, or even the evening, I’d say it wouldn’t help us at all. But it’s three a.m. The river’s quiet. The streets are mostly empty. If we were ever going to notice someplace being guarded, wouldn’t this be the best time?”

“You want to go out on the river? Right now?”

“Tell me that I’m wrong.”

Daeng paused, then said, “No. You’re not wrong. It’s a good idea. The noise from a boat motor might stir them up, too. Make them easier to spot. Still there’s a very good chance we won’t find them.”

“I know, but we definitely won’t find them if we just stand here.”

Daeng nodded his head in agreement.

“I think our only problem is finding a boat at this hour,” Logan said, frowning.

“In that, my friend, you’re mistaken.”

Daeng led them down to the dock, then drew in a deep breath and let out an ear-piercing whistle.

At first, there didn’t seem to be any reaction, then some voices drifted over the water from off to their left—two people, it sounded like, talking to each other. Suddenly a motor started up, and a few seconds later, a Thai longboat emerged out of the darkness.

The boat looked just like its name implied—long and narrow. Over a dozen people could fit onboard, but no more than two side-by-side. Like the longboats Logan remembered from his first trip to Thailand, its motor was a big monster of a thing that hovered above the rear of the vessel. On the water side, a pole ran out from the motor to a propeller mounted at the end, while on the boat side, the pilot used a shorter pole to steer the craft by moving the whole engine in whichever direction he want to go.

The boat’s pilot was all skin and bones, and hadn’t bothered straightening his hair after Daeng’s whistle had woken him up. But he was smiling as he pulled up to the dock, and seemed genuinely pleased to have customers as he gestured for them to get in.

Daeng instructed his man who’d driven the car to stay on shore, then he and Logan stepped onto the boat.

“Two choices,” Daeng said, as he took the plank seat behind Logan. “Up river or down.”

“This is your city. What do you think?”

“Up.”

“Then we go up.”

Daeng passed on the instructions to the pilot, and they motored out onto the river.

Though the Chao Phraya was quiet, it wasn’t silent. There were a few boats moving up and down it. Most were smaller crafts with people fishing off the sides. But there was one group of three gigantic black barges moving down the center of the waterway toward the ocean, their progress guided by a small but powerful tugboat. Logan could also see black patches moving along the surface at a steady pace. They looked to him like clumps of vegetation, but were too far away to know for sure.

Their pilot followed the curve of the shoreline, keeping them no more than a hundred feet from land. Daeng had been right. The riverfront was packed with structures that came right up to, and sometimes over, the water. The buildings were mainly more apartments, some of them with what amounted to metal stacks hanging off the backs.

If Bangkok had been in the U.S., developers would have long ago bought up all the property, torn down what was there, and turned it into high-priced real estate with shops and restaurants and five-star hotels. Logan could see a little of that happening here. There were a few hotels that boasted their own piers, and looked like they’d set you back plenty of Thai baht for a night’s stay. But these he could count on one hand. Mostly, it was basic apartment living. Nothing fancy at all.

As they trolled along, the two men watched the shore, focusing not so much on the buildings themselves as on any out-of-place movements.

“How far up do you think they could have gone?” Logan asked.

“Technically, they could have gone miles.”

“I assume there are multiple piers?”

“Dozens.”

Logan frowned. “Then wouldn’t it make sense that they’d choose a pier closer to their destination?”

“To me, it would.”

“So, if that were the case, they’ve got to be pretty close.”

“If that’s what they did.”

“Yeah. If,” Logan said. “But we have to narrow things down. We can’t cover everything before it starts getting busy again. So that’s as good a target as any.”

Daeng pointed further up the river. “There are a couple of piers over there, harder to get to from the land side. So let’s say they could have gone as far as four piers away. After that, if it were me, I would have started somewhere else.”

“Let’s make it five just to be safe,” Logan said, “then we’ll swing around and hit the other side.”

As Daeng let the pilot know the plan, a thought came to Logan.

He looked at Daeng, and nodded toward the pilot. “Do you think Sathorn Pier’s his home base? I mean, he was sleeping there.”

“Probably.”

“You think maybe he was around when the others got onto their boat?”

Daeng looked at him, surprised. “That’s an excellent question.” He talked with the pilot for nearly a minute, then said, “He wasn’t there, but he says his friend told him about a group of farang that had rented a boat ahead of time, and left the pier early yesterday afternoon. He says they headed this way.”

“Does he know where they went?”

Daeng shook his head.

“At least we know we’re going in the right direction,” Logan said.

“If he’s talking about the same group.”

Logan was silent for a moment. “We’re playing with a lot of ifs here.”

“I wasn’t going to point that out.”

They talked very little over the next several minutes. Twice they saw people sitting at the back of buildings, smoking cigarettes, but neither instance appeared suspicious.

Daeng pointed at a spot about a couple of hundred yards ahead. “That’s the fourth pier.”

Logan tried not to think about it, but it was clear his plan wasn’t working. Chances were they’d already passed the place. And if he couldn’t find them, how was he ever going to—

“Do you hear that?” Daeng asked.

Logan listened. It took him a moment, but then he heard it. The sound was at almost the same pitch as their engine, but its rhythm was just slightly off.

“Another boat?” he asked.

Daeng nodded.

They scanned the river ahead.

“There,” Logan said a half minute later.

About a fifty yards ahead, and very tight to the shore, was the dim shape of a longboat. He watched it for a moment, then decided it was probably just another local out for some early morning fishing.

“I think he’s headed downriver,” Daeng said.

Logan returned to his search, wondering if they should just turn around and head back to the car.

Several seconds passed, then Daeng said, “Logan?”

He was staring at the other longboat. It was almost directly in line with them now, moving in the opposite direction, closer to shore. The building it was passing was all lit up, spilling its light onto the boat’s two occupants—a pilot and a solo passenger in the middle. And not just any passenger, either. A lanky and young farang passenger.

Ryan.

Logan turned away so he wouldn’t be spotted. “That’s one of them,” he whispered.

There was a moment of silence, then Daeng said, “Apparently so.” He shouted something at their pilot, and their speed suddenly picked up.

“Why did you—” Logan stopped himself.

The other boat had also picked up speed, and had turned toward them.

“Hold on!” Daeng yelled.

Their pilot took a sudden turn to the left toward the center of the river. Warm water sprayed over the side, hitting Logan in the shoulder and face, but he barely noticed. He was focused on the dark shape of the other boat as it continued to follow them.

Their pilot shouted out something, then Daeng yelled back. Whatever Logan’s new friend had said, the look on the pilot’s face went from looking pissed off to subservient in a flash.

Without warning, their boat swerved to the right then back to the left. Logan grabbed both sides so he wouldn’t fall out as they tilted through the turns. Glancing at the water, he could see they’d just gone around a wide patch of vegetation, this one a tangle of vines and leaves that actually seemed to be alive, and not just a flotilla of cast off branches rotting on the water.

Either the other boat had a better engine than theirs or a better pilot, because they were definitely closing in.

“We need to go faster!” Logan yelled over the sound of the motor.

Daeng shook his head. “The pilot said that’s all it’s got.”

Just then something hit the boat about four feet in front of Logan, creating a small hole in the sidewall.

He pointed at the damage. “Daeng! They’re shooting at us!”

Daeng leaned sideways so he could look around Logan, and see what he was talking about. But before he could say anything, his hand flew up and grabbed the side of his head. At the same instant, Logan heard something rip through the air a foot to his left.

Daeng doubled over, his face wincing in pain as he pressed his fingers against his head.

Logan looked back at their pilot, and pointed to the right. “That way! Now!”

He didn’t know if the guy understood his words, but the pilot got the gist of Logan’s motion. He shoved the steering pole around, sending up a rooster tail of water as the boat whipped through the turn.

“Back and forth,” Logan said, pointing in one direction, then the other. Up to that point, they’d been too much of a stationary target. They had to keep changing direction.

He leaned down next to Daeng, not waiting to see if the pilot did as he instructed. He could hear Daeng breathing heavily.

“Where did it hit you?”

He was trying to see the wound, but Daeng had twisted his head so the injury was facing down, out of Logan’s view.

The pilot suddenly screamed out.

Looking back, Logan saw that the man had scrunched down behind the bulk of the engine, one hand hanging onto the steering pole. Though he looked frightened, he didn’t appear to be hurt. Before Logan turned away, the pilot screamed again as a bullet smacked into the engine, sending a couple of sparks into the air.

Logan looked back at Daeng. “How bad is it?”

Daeng took a deep breath, then lifted his head. “I’m fine!”

“Let me see.”

Daeng turned, and moved his hand. The side of his head was covered in blood, making it impossible to see where the wound was.

Glancing around, Logan spotted a bottle of water back near the pilot.

“Throw me that,” he said, pointing at it.

The pilot didn’t move.

“Throw it to me!” This time he emphasized his words by jabbing his finger at the bottle.

Reluctantly, the pilot picked it up and tossed it over.

“Don’t keep us going in one line,” Logan said, pantomiming again to remind him.

He then cracked open the bottle and poured it over the side of Daeng’s head. Once the blood was cleared away, he could see that a bullet had torn through the upper part of Daeng’s ear, creating a flap that extended from the back of the helix almost all the way to the front. If it had taken another quarter inch with it, the whole top of the ear would have been gone.

“It’s not pretty,” Logan told him. “You’re going to need to get it stitched up when we get back, but you’re going to be fine.” He pulled off his shirt and placed it over the wound. “Press this against it.”

Daeng didn’t look like he really wanted to, but he did it just the same.

Logan glanced up and saw that they were now on the opposite side of the river from where they’d started, but still heading north. He scanned ahead, hoping for a wharf or canal or anything that they might be able to use to their advantage. He was just starting to turn back when a large, shadowy form moving steadily down the center of the river caught his eye.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Daeng looked over. “A barge, I think.” There was controlled pain in his tone.

Logan watched for another second. Yes, a barge, just like the ones he’d seen earlier. And if there was one barge, then there was probably at least one more tethered behind it.

Logan could see the tug now, too. It had a few dim lights on and looked tiny in comparison.

“Tell the pilot to head over there,” Logan said. “We can use it as cover.”