Page 35 of The Big Fix

“Hi,” she greeted me cheerfully, immediately patting down Nam, pulling out his cell, wallet, and keys and jamming them into her pockets. She then slipped around me, which was impressive in the cramped space, and put a protective arm over me as she narrowed in on the gunman. “Got him. The shooter’s on a roof to my right, two buildings over,” she said out loud, her comm picking that up, and a moment later I saw the man’s head explode.

“Oh,” Jing said, nodding before turning to me. “That’s good. George Hunt is fuckin’ amazing. Remind me to say thanks later.”

No shit.

Standing, yanking Nam to his feet, not letting his head turn to look at the dead man again, I heard Chris say, “Hunt sniped your bogey. Authorities are inbound. Get out of there.”

We heard sirens in the distance, and I knew we needed to disappear before the police arrived. With no time to lose, I pulled Nam after me and followed Jing outside, across one street and then down another.

Chris was shouting directions I could barely concentrate on over Nam crying and trying to talk to me at the same time. He was hysterical at this point, which was understandable. Having people die in front of you was a lot the first time. Jing continued to lead, finally darting into a small shop selling a variety of touristy stuff, T-shirts and shot glasses, all with the same crappy puns on Bangkok. It did sort of write itself.

Jing said, “Let’s rest a minute, all right?”

That was fine with me, and I looked at Nam, who was turning a terrible shade of gray. “You’re going to be fine. Try and catch your breath.”

“And you?” Jing teased me. “Do you need to catch your breath too?”

“Pardon me?” I panted.

She chuckled. “Treadmill’s not the same as running for your life on the street, is it?” She waggled her eyebrows at me. She was trying to distract me from our imminent death, which was damn nice of her.

“No, it is not.” I wrung a smile out of the corner of my mouth, breathing hard and sweating heavily.

“Okay,” Jing said after another moment, fiddling with Nam’s phone, turning it to face him so it unlocked and then scrolling through, finding what she was after. “Chris,” she said, “I need you to extract Nam’s sister and niece right now from their home. I’m texting you the address.”

“Got it. What do you want me to do once I have them?”

“Hasana will send you the coordinates to a safe house—there’s no address—in the next minute. Get them there.”

“Copy that.”

“Arden, I need you and Dante to get to Nam’s flat—I just texted you the address—and recover Owen’s laptop.”

“On it,” Arden responded.

“Be careful,” Jing warned her. “We’re blown now. They know we have Nam. They’ll be watching his place.”

“Understood,” she said quickly.

“Hunt, are we clear?”

“Affirmative. All clear.”

“What happened?” I asked Jing as Nam doubled over and I rubbed his back.

“All those people we assumed were there—suddenly were.”

“Soldiers?”

“I don’t think so. I got a mercenary vibe.”

“Okay. Go on.”

“As soon as the sniper killed the guy shadowing Nam, Chris was pinned just keeping you from getting overrun, and Dante had to leave his safe spot in the building across the street to get to Arden.”

“Why?”

“She got grabbed by three guys and shoved into a car.”