Intent to Kill Page 17

  “Unfortunately there’s a lot of truth in it.” Vanna sat down beside her. “So Samnang. You’ve seen him and he hasn’t hurt you yet.”

  “True. Which only leads me to believe that there is something even bigger at stake. And Simon and Arun know what it is.”

  “Claire.” Vanna took her hands. “Knowing this, you’ve got to stop asking questions.”

  She shook her head, even as she closed her suitcase, shifting her backpack on her shoulder. “No, Vanna. I’ve come to get a story and now it’s become personal.”

  Chapter Thirty-five

  “I’ve searched all the obvious places,” Arun said when Simon arrived later that day. “I don’t know where the hell Arielle could be. I scoured the dock, checked the passenger lists on every flight out of here. It’s like she’s disappeared.”

  “What about Richard?”

  “I don’t think it was him. In fact, he only just arrived from Phnom.”

  “Someone has her. My gut hasn’t been quiet all day. If it’s Malone, fuck, I can’t even begin to think.” Simon rubbed his jaw.

  “If you’re right and it is Malone, she’s already dead.”

  Simon weaved for a moment. “I know you scoured the area. We’ve got to do it again.”

  “I even checked the school. It was locked. No one’s been near since school let out weeks ago.”

  “I spoke to Chan,” Simon said, referring to the chief of the Phnom Penh police.

  “And?”

  “He’s got a team moving into location, Saturday.” Simon looked out over the guesthouse lawn. Everything was quiet, deceptively peaceful.

  “That’s three days away.” Arun shook his head. “There’s little time. What about Claire?”

  “I told her to stay away. Go to the coast.”

  “You think she will?”

  Simon looked pained. “I can only hope.”

  “We could consider the media,” Arun suggested. “Just to make sure our butts are covered.”

  “No!”

  “Claire is a reporter. You’re okay with her.”

  “That’s not the same.” Simon shook his head, remembering what had been reported and how, as a result, their plan had fallen apart, and well . . . he wouldn’t think of the rest. Not now.

  “Isn’t it? You can’t continue to blame reporters for what happened. That was one man’s mistake,” Arun insisted.

  “If he hadn’t leaked that story, Akara might still be alive.” Simon’s voice was harsh. He didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Might. It was his job, Simon. I’m sure if he had known the outcome . . .”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “All right.” Arun raised his hands in the air, palms up. “You win. What about Siem Reap police?”

  “Phnom Penh is supposed to be contacting them.” He looked at Arun. “Hey!”

  Arun was staring into the distance.

  “What’s the deal?” He followed the direction that Arun was looking. “Shit!”

  “Ooh la la. How time flies. The late afternoon flight has arrived.”

  “I told her to stay away. Christ, this complicates things!”

  “She’s gorgeous.”

  “Isn’t she? And trouble. Why couldn’t she listen?” he said more to himself and knew in his heart he had never expected that she would.

  “You know her?”

  “Claire.”

  “No. The other one.”

  “Yeah, her too,” Simon replied.

  Simon pulled his gaze from Claire to the elegant woman with low-heeled sandals and hip-hugging shorts who accompanied her. His gaze went back to Claire. He braced himself as he saw the stubborn set of her jaw.

  Damn it, he thought, momentarily angry at her determination. All he saw was trouble and aggravation times two.

  “Lighten up, man,” Arun whispered. “We’ve got two babes about to pay us a visit and you look like you’re in pain.”

  “Arun, for God’s sake, man. We don’t need this now.”

  “You’re right,” Arun replied, all humor gone. “We don’t. So, let’s figure out how we’re going to get rid of them, shall we. I’ll deal with the one with the legs.”

  “They both have legs and damn fine ones too.”

  “Okay, the one with the aforementioned legs attractively set off by . . .”

  “Oh, shut up, Arun. Your attempt at chauvinistic humor is . . .”

  “Disconcerting?”

  Simon didn’t glance at Arun. He was in pain. His gut was in knots and his heart ached at the sight of her. And through it all a feeling of impending doom churned deep and dark just below the surface.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  “What are you doing here?” Simon’s gut rolled. What the hell was he going to do now? Things were going to crap and Claire was exactly where he hadn’t wanted her—in the middle.

  Vanna’s gaze swept appreciatively over Arun. She held out her hand.

  Arun took her hand, introduced himself, raised it to his lips and kissed it.

  “Sweet, but not going to work,” Vanna said.

  Simon turned his attention to Claire. “It’s not the place for you, Claire. I told you that in Phnom. We’re trained to do this—you’re not.”

  “I don’t plan to get in the line of fire but this is my career, Simon. You have to understand that. I won’t get the story staying safe in a hotel room halfway across the country,” Claire said. “Besides, I’ve spoken to my Uncle Jack and we need to talk.”

  “You could have phoned,” Simon gritted.

  “No.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I couldn’t.”

  “This is going to be interesting,” Arun put in and winked at Vanna. “You’re taking your life in your hands, my friend.” He held out his arm. “Shall I buy you a drink, m’lady?”

  Vanna took his arm, but not before a look passed between her and Claire, one that suggested that things were going exactly as they anticipated. “I don’t think I want to stick around for the fireworks.”

  • • •

  “You told me a lot of things, Simon. Maybe if you had told me the truth,” Claire said ten minutes later.

  “I didn’t lie to you,” Simon said, his arms folded across his chest and a stubborn look on his face. “And even if I had told you the truth, would it have mattered?”

  “I know that you can’t tell me everything. I’m a civilian.”

  “Exactly.” And there was relief etched in his tone.

  “I’ve pieced together some of it. Samnang is smuggling artifacts out of Cambodia. Just like he was over a year ago when people died and you disappeared.” She eyed him. “And Ella, she confused me the last time I saw her. Frightened me actually.”

  “Claire . . .”

  “No. Let me finish.” She held up her hand. “But first, I don’t think this is the place for this conversation. Let’s go to your room.”

  Five minutes later, he closed the door and turned to face her. “Look, Claire, your timing is way off. Samnang is moving another shipment of antiquities soon.”

  “I don’t plan to be near any of that but I do want to get this story. Maybe there’s a way my story can help you.” She shrugged. “I’m not sure how. I’m just throwing that out there.”

  “And what was it you mentioned earlier, about Ella?” he said, switching gears. “Damn it, I told you to stay clear of her, Claire.”

  “I think she may have followed me.”

  “Claire!”

  “Wait.” She put her hand up. “Let me finish. I wanted to find out more about my uncle’s past and I went to an address he’d given me in Phnom Penh.” She took a breath. “She found me. She and, I think, the same man who followed us in the market, and possibly stole the Buddha on the ferry. He was a block away—watching me.” She went on to describe what had happened, leaving out only two major pieces—her Uncle Jack’s long-ago deception of Samnang and the resulting threat to her life. She couldn’t mention either, for she knew how Simon would react, and he could
n’t afford to be distracted, to worry about her. She was here to help, not to hinder. And somehow, in a twist of logic she couldn’t explain, revealing Ella’s warning wasn’t quite the same as telling him the truth, what she’d learned from her Uncle Jack.

  “Richard was there?” Simon hissed in an undertone. “And you say she warned you that Samnang planned to harm you?”

  “Yes, but why?” Claire shook her head, reluctant to tell him the specifics. “That makes no sense.”

  “Or maybe every sense,” Simon said. “Ella is hoping to gain something for herself by revealing what you might think are some of Samnang’s secrets. I suspect that she thinks it gives her a position of power.” He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “Maybe I should have told you this sooner. Maybe that would have made a difference.”

  “What, Simon?” Her heart thumped. Was he finally trusting her, was this what she needed for her story?

  “Samnang’s sick—terminally. As a result, the loyalties to him are fraying. That’s when these kinds of situations get particularly deadly. Samnang no longer has the ultimate fear, death.” He shrugged. “So what does he have to fear? And what do those who answer to him fear?”

  “Nothing,” Claire said, and her voice was husky as she thought of everything that might lay ahead and of her fear, for him.

  “Exactly. Combine that with a pending deal for his illicit antiquities and there’s trouble brewing.” He took her hands. “You’re a civilian, and worse, you have a tie to this group through your uncle. Although I think if Samnang wanted you dead . . .”

  “He would have had it done long before now,” Claire finished for him.

  “I suspect he wants to frighten you. And if you’re injured in the process, it would be what he’d call collateral damage. That’s why I’ve pushed for you to back away from this, Claire. The stakes only raise the closer we get to the end.”

  “The end meaning . . . ?”

  “Both the antiquities deal and Samnang’s life.”

  She frowned and her heart did a little trip at the feel of his hands over hers as the idea of extreme danger swirled around them. “I want this story,” she said stubbornly. “Other journalists have covered war zones safely, I think I can be careful and still get the story.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll give you what you want—more, if you do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “It involves going back to Phnom Penh.” He cleared his throat. “Soheap has something for me.” His eyes met hers and she was sure all the doubt she felt was projected in them. “Look, Claire. Like I said, this is an assignment. The trap is set. I need you to do this for me.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “There’s still too many unanswered questions,” he said intuitively. “If I answered those for you, would that sway your decision?”

  She nodded. “No promises . . .”

  “No promises,” he agreed. “And some of this you already know.”

  She nodded.

  “Recently, some of Samnang’s group began selling antiquities behind his back using tourists as mules. And that’s where the Buddha came in. Niran, the shopkeeper in Bangkok, was the ringleader. That Buddha he sold you was no replica. It was real. But the Buddha you retrieved from our site was a replica made by Arun.”

  “Arun! Now that I didn’t know. Why is he wasting his talent?”

  “Interpol called and he signed on.” Simon shrugged. “As far as the rest, Niran and Samnang were buddies from way back. I think Samnang suspected all along that Niran was stealing from him, but he let Niran carry out his deals for a time. Recently, he ended it all when, we suspect, he killed Niran.”

  “I knew he was dead, but how are you sure it was Samnang? I had a hunch it was him but that was all it was, a hunch.” She suspected that there was much he wasn’t telling her, much he couldn’t tell her.

  “The method, the brutality.” His eyes met hers. “Look, Claire, it’s not something I’m going to discuss with you. It’s not anything you want to know. Trust me, there are some things that will haunt you.”

  “I’m sorry, Simon. You’re right.” Her last words were almost a gentle sigh. And crazily she just wanted him to take her in his arms and forget telling her any more.

  “With Niran gone, that leaves Ella Malone and her sidekick Richard.”

  “Also stealing from Samnang,” Claire guessed.

  “Right. Ella was, maybe still is, as close to Samnang as you can get. And she’s crazy.”

  “A little off.”

  “Crazy,” he repeated. “She will stop at nothing to see Arun and me dead. A few years ago, when we first tried to stop Samnang and his antiquities smuggling, her husband, Archie—”

  “Archie Malone. I came across his name in an article. He was killed in a cross fire.”

  “Right. Archie was a photographer and British Intelligence officer turned smuggler. There was a shipment moving that night, over a year ago. He got in the way and Ella shot him.”

  Claire gasped. “On purpose?”

  He nodded. “She blames Arun. Apparently she can’t remember or can’t admit she did it.” Simon shook his head. “We saw her do it.”

  There was silence between them for a long minute before he spoke again. “Archie died with a few other insignificant players and Samnang got away. Interpol leaked my status as that of civilian. Even the local authorities had no idea, and as a result my involvement was suspect by law enforcement, especially the police here in Siem Reap.”

  “So the shipment was stopped?” she asked, focusing on the one good thing that might have come out of that tragic night. “And you disappeared.”

  “Yes, with Arielle’s help, over a year ago.” He didn’t meet her gaze. “Damn it, and now she’s disappeared.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I can only blame myself.”

  “For her disappearance?”

  “She wouldn’t have gotten involved if she hadn’t helped me go underground last time. Our recent case piqued her interest and it seems that this time she dived in before I could stop her.”

  “So where do we go from here? What can I do besides report Arielle’s disappearance?”

  “Like I said, go to Phnom. See a man called Soheap. He once knew Samnang. Soheap is Arun’s uncle and an acquaintance of mine. One of the good guys. But before that, Samnang and he took police training together and then, well, Samnang went in the other direction. I can’t leave here. Arielle has to be found. I wouldn’t send you if I thought it was unsafe.” He wrote down the address for her. “Can you do that?”

  He traced her bottom lip with his thumb and the heat from his touch shook her will. “Please, Claire. All the major players are here. And we need that evidence before next Saturday. That’s when Samnang will move the antiquities.”

  “Next Saturday, that’s well over a week away. We’ll have plenty of time to get back.” She shook her head. “Not that I’ll be anywhere near but I, well, I want to be here for you if only in the background.”

  “Safely in your hotel room,” he growled.

  “Agreed. I’ll get what you need and be back in plenty of time for you.”

  “Yes, plenty of time,” he murmured. “Take Vanna.”

  She raised her eyebrows. And she remembered what her uncle had said in that last fateful phone call—he’d done some digging and discovered that Samnang was shipping antiquities this Saturday, only days away. Simon had known that and he’d lied, again.

  He kissed her then and she couldn’t help but let him. It was oddly erotic in a way, his tentative touch as if he were claiming her like she was his for the first time. As his hand slipped beneath her blouse and cupped one breast, she fell into the kiss and into him. She could feel him hard and ready, pulsing against her belly, and she only wanted to melt against him, to . . .

  She pushed away. “No, Simon. Things have changed but . . .”

  “The timing is off.” There was a look of chagrin to his smile. “But I think we’ve both learned some
thing about trust.”

  “I’m glad, Simon, because that was the one thing that would have ended any relationship between us.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

  And despite the regret in his voice, she was sure that there was nothing that could save their relationship now.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  “Claire, hello. Are you listening?” Vanna asked the next day.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled herself from her thoughts. “It’s just that Simon has set this up so we meet Soheap the day after tomorrow. Combined with weekend flight jams, that would guarantee we wouldn’t be back in Siem Reap until Monday.”

  “So we have an appointment with this guy?” Vanna asked.

  “We do. I just bumped it up, in fact. We’re meeting him in less than four hours.”

  “Four hours?”

  • • •

  “Let’s get going,” Claire said as they left the hotel to flag down a cab. “If we hurry up, we can be back by this evening.”

  “That soon?”

  “Simon’s lying about the day this deal’s coming down. There’s less time than he’s letting on.” Claire kept her attention on the street. “He wants us out of the area.”

  “So we stay.”

  “No, go. He’ll watch to make sure. It matters too much to him.”

  Vanna looked at her oddly. “You’re in love with him.”

  “No, I . . .”

  “You’re turning red.”

  Claire looked with relief as a cab pulled up.

  Vanna opened the door and got in. Claire slid in beside her. “Airport, please.”

  Claire dug through her fanny pack before pulling out a piece of paper. “Hold this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Soheap’s address. I’m excited to meet the man.”

  “I thought this was a wild-goose chase?”

  “Fortunately, no. There’s some questions that need asking. And I have a suspicion or two.” Claire turned and smiled.

  “Don’t.” Vanna grimaced. “I don’t like that look.”