Page 38 of Wired Courage

“I did not. But that isn’t surprising. It is a large place, and I stayed in Pim Wat’s apartments. Only a few women are allowed on the base, and only in just a few areas. There is little to no technology in the compound.” Armita shook her head. “Getting the men back will not be easy. The stronghold is well-defended.”

“I have been trying to get the attention of the CIA,” Sophie said. “I have offered to become their informant if they will help me. I am in communication with our security agency in Hawaii, as well, but they have had no luck getting any help from the authorities.”

“As for me, I am worried about Pim Wat coming after Armita,” Malee said. “I bought this house—your former home—under a shell company with your uncle. I did it to keep it in the family—I thought you might want to return someday.” Malee wiped down the counter with a cloth as Sophie had seen her do a hundred times. “Seemed like a good investment, to have it available next door. And it has been.”

“I thank you, Auntie,” Sophie said. “Does Pim Wat know that you own this place?”

“My sister thinks I am a sheep.” Malee smiled darkly. “I am not. I have many secrets from Pim Wat, this house not least of them.”

Malee and Armita had provided the nurture that Sophie had needed as a child. Affection surged up in her for the two brave women. “I want to take you back to the island where I was hiding—but I’m concerned that one of the men may have given up that location to Pim Wat and the Master. We are better off flying directly to Hawaii when we can get transport—we will be safer back in the United States.” Momi had fallen asleep at last, and Sophie gazed at the baby’s sweet face.

“You two go. I will stay here. My sister will never know I was involved,” Malee said.

Sophie nodded, settling the sleeping baby close. She had no desire to set the infant down.Ever.

“Momi still needs to be burped,” Armita instructed. “Otherwise gas will wake her up later.”

Sophie lifted her daughter up against her shoulder and patted her back carefully, unwilling to wake the child after all of the stress of her screaming.

Malee’s phone buzzed, startling the baby, and Sophie glanced over to see Malee gasp as she checked the caller. “It’s Pim Wat!”

Sophie stood up carefully, preparing to flee to another room if the baby cried, as Malee took the call.

“Sister!” Malee said cheerfully in Thai, pulling a face that would have been funny if the stakes hadn’t been so high. Sophie appreciated Malee’s effort to minimize Pim Wat’s threat—but she wasn’t fooled. Pim Wat might well take pleasure in killing Armita, to begin with.No telling what she’d do to Sophie, Momi, and even her own sister if she discovered she had been double—crossed . . .

Malee had put Pim Wat on speaker, so that the three of them could hear her husky voice clearly. “Malee. I’m on my way to see you. I need a break.”

“A break from what? Your busy round of art openings and fashion shows?” Malee continued to clown, rolling her eyes, communicating clearly that she was keeping up the fiction that she didn’t know anything about her deadly sister’s real lifestyle.

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get to your place. I just landed in Bangkok and I should be at your house in about half an hour.”

Three pairs of eyes widened in alarm. Sophie squeezed the baby inadvertently, and Momi let out a sleepy belch at last.

“I can’t wait to see you, sister! We’ll do pedicures,” Malee said with forced cheer, and ended the call.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Day Twenty-Seven

Agong sounded somewhere in the depths of the stronghold, waking Connor. The recruits in the barracks room he’d been billeted with got up in silence, rolling their bedclothes into neat bundles and dressing in all blackgi.

Connor had slept poorly. He’d been tied, loosely enough to sleep, but too tightly to make any attempt to escape; the other men ignored him. He was a white-skinned pariah lying on his little pallet in the corner.

Connor waited, his bladder painfully full, as they departed in silence. That must be part of their daily ritual. Finally, the ninja who’d helped Connor before returned to untie him.

Connor studied the man’s shorn head—a Thai number was inked onto the back of his naked scalp. “What is your name?” Connor asked, in halting Thai.

The man looked up swiftly. “You speak our language.”

“A little.” Connor held up a finger and thumb with a narrow space between them. He tried a disarming grin.

“My name is Nine of House. You can call me Nine.” Nine was dead serious and focused on undoing knots in the natural hemp rope that had tightened during the night.

“Nine. That is an unusual name.”

“We take a new name when we join the Yam Khûmk?n. We have a designation, and the area we serve. I serve the House—the living quarters of the Master and our leaders.”

“My name is . . . Connor.” He surprised himself by speaking the truth. Only a handful of people in the world knew his real first name, but his stratagems, so necessary elsewhere, seemed irrelevant here.

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