Deceit. [COMPLETED.]

Chapter 62

"The trap."

Yusuf Peng answered his phone.

A middle aged man of medium build with short fair hair he was stood outside a corrugated shed erected in the middle of a jungle. It was the only building for miles around. You could scream but no one would hear you.

'Hello amigos,' he said in a matter of fact way.

The reply when it came was equally as curt.

'Just checking in. Is everything okay?'

Peng smiled.

'Yes my friend. I moved them a couple of hours ago. No one will find them even if they search for days.'

'Good.'

The voice on the other end of the line seemed pleased.

'Leave them alone tonight. Rough them up a little in the morning but keep them awake. Put the dogs with them if necessary and don't give them anything to eat or drink. We need them tired. We need them angry and,' said the man in a steady voice, 'we need them disposed of once this is finished. No traces. No bodies.'

A few droplets of rain had started to fall. It had been expected. They found their way through the trees. You could hear them landing on leaves. It was therapeutic.

The air was hot. It was also humid. The man was accustomed to many things where he lived; the annual rainfall, the humidity, bodies that disappeared but not, he mused pensively to any sudden changes of a plan.

A frown creased his narrow forehead. He pursed his lips as if deciding on whether to challenge the change. He looked up into the foliage. He allowed some of the water to refresh his face. He decided he would let it be.

Three of his men stood around waiting. All seemed preoccupied with their own thoughts. All equally getting wet. All simply dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.  There was no need for coats. The air was too hot.

All carried weapons. All waited patiently to be told to either get back into the parked Land Rover or sort out the two Englishmen they had just secured to a post inside the corrugated shed.

Peng had already formed a mental picture of what he would now do with the change of plan.

He knew a neighbour who kept pigs.

He was a good friend. He was someone who knew not to ask those awkward questions that came when trucks turned up late at night. Questions that would never get answered and so the disposal of bodies would happen as they always did.

In an animal's stomach as food.

His silence brought an abrupt response from his friend in Singapore a Mr Uri Takiyoma, who in total contrast to Peng was sat in an air conditioned limousine and so could not see the sweat draining down his friend's back to add to the saturation of his light flowery shirt.

The stakes were high.

'In less than a week my friend,' reminded Uri, 'the ship will be in China,' It will then undertake a transformation and have new colours before our first shipment of guns are taken on board.'

He didn't need to say anymore.

There was to be no witnesses.

Although Peng was, in his own right, a well-respected person in these parts of the woods, he knew all too well that it wasn't good practice to fall out with your business partner especially if that person was from Japan. Not when they turn up at your home unannounced and with no weapons. No. You give them your utmost respect and listen to what they had to say.

"I understand you can make things disappear."

"What kind of things?"

They had talked over a glass of whisky. That question alone had been sufficient to pique Peng's curiosity.

"Ships,'" Takiyoma had said. "And people."

That had been nearly a year ago. A lot had happened in that time. Peng had lost an uncle to a rival in a bar fight. He had lost a lot of money when one of his lorries had been stopped carrying drugs, a tip off to the police and one that had required one of his visits to his neighbour late at night.

It would be good to have another string to his bow to ease his losses.

Uri steered the conversation towards the proposed meeting of less than forty eight hours.

'The American I have hired is no more than a drunk,' he said. 'He has starred in a few 'B' movies, none that we would have seen. He knows his part. He will be with you tomorrow. He has assured me that he can pull this off but I have to say my friend that he too must be disposed of.'

Another pause while Peng reflected on what was being said.

If truth be known he had no intention of selling all the guns. Some yes, but the rest would become lost in shipment and with new guns he could avenge his uncle's death and become the head of the largest and most powerful cartel in Malaysia.

He asked about the rich woman. He was curious now. With these new plans would she be going to his neighbours farm.

'Do not worry about her my friend,' came back the reply. 'All in good time. I have a man in Europe who will deal with her. She will get her few precious moments with her daughter. I will at least afford her that, after which we will not see her again.'

So there was less to divide the spoils; no loose ends.

It was only good and proper and of one thing Peng had learned a long time ago and that was never to have any feelings of remorse. It did you n0 good and so he calmly turned his attention to the mechanics of the plan itself.

His brother and eldest nephew would be in the house along with other family members. Two of his own men would stand outside and he himself would wait down a side road around the back ready to take out the bodies.

It was a simple enough plan but all the same he was subjected to a few words of advice.

'Do not underestimate this Captain,' cautioned Takiyoma. 'He may be stupid but remember he will have a gun and in my line of business, a man with a gun is someone to be wary of.'

He left it there, the call ending and after leaving a couple of his men behind to supervise the arrangements of having the dogs in the shed Peng made his way home to a waiting family all eager to enjoy his cooking from his weekly barbecue.

Away from the trees and in his vast orchard a cool breeze blew. The rain had stopped. It made for a welcome change. All manner of fruit and flowers grew there. Peng stood a moment on his veranda. He savoured the scene. He drew in a deep breath of air. He exhaled. He felt good.

As he lifted the lid off his barbecue he closed his eyes. He saw weapons being loaded onto the deck of a small cargo ship. He saw his own men carrying them. He even saw a new car, one he had planned to buy his devoted wife. A Mercedes perhaps. An elegant vehicle for an elegant woman.

It drew a smile ending at the noise of laughter as one of his grand daughters came towards him holding a cold bottle of beer. He opened his mouth to say thank you. He knelt down ready to take it from her hand.

Tomorrow people would die. Maybe even his own men.

Death to him was as much a friend as life itself and as he breathed in the scent of his grand daughter's freshly rinsed hair, he preyed to his god that he would live to see her face again.

The time was just after five in the afternoon and Captain Kirk Attwood had been asleep for barely an hour.

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So another plan is running parallel.

Revenge is all consuming but so is the need for power.

Two plans are now about to collide.

And Kirk is stuck in the middle.

As always I so love your comments.
Take care.
JU.