Page 31 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“Right. Although I’d rather stop the development. Those Yoda-monkeys are cute in an alien-life-form kind of way.”
Okay, they were. We’d seen one in the forest last night. And that gave me an idea…
“All we have to do is buy time. Then when the heat’s off, McDonald can quietly disappear.”
Emmy gave me an amused smile. “Are you volunteering your services?”
If necessary. But Sin took great joy in fighting back on behalf of animals who couldn’t, and if I told her about McDonald’s plan for the Yoda-monkeys, she’d begin plotting right away. Well, after she finished wrangling turkeys. Huh. How was Marcel getting on back in Vegas?
“The Choir can handle it.”
“Attagirl.”
Four hours later, we landed in the heat and humidity of Thailand. I began sweating as soon as the airplane door opened. A car was waiting for us, courtesy of Blackwood, who didn’t have an office in Bangkok but did have a presence. An investment in a local firm, Emmy said, and they operated under the Blackwood umbrella when necessary. A legit outfit, unfortunately. They’d help us, but if we stepped out of the grey and into the black, we couldn’t involve them.
“Business or vacation?” I wondered out loud as we prepared to exit the jet.
We’d weighed up the options during the flight. One of Emmy’s infamous exes had gone into the private sector and become a partner in an intelligence firm, Sirius, and they’d put together an impressive report, given the time frame. I’d have to see about adding them to the Choir’s list of resources.
McDonald already had investments in the region—a mall in Malaysia, apartment buildings in the Philippines, and a share in a hotel in Fiji. He was probably hoping to expand. And possibly also hide assets in case his wife got sick of his cheating and decided to divorce him.
Speaking of the wife and mistress, wouldn’t he have brought one of them along if he was on vacay? Unless there was a third woman…
“Or a hookup,” I added.
“The more important question is, hotel or private residence?”
A hotel would contain potential witnesses and additional security, but as long as we wore the right clothes, we’d find it easier to move around inside. With a private residence, we’d have to skulk in the shadows.
“I look good in a maid’s uniform, but not here. Most of the staff will be locals.”
“If he’s meeting with a business associate, maybe we could join them for dinner?” Emmy suggested.
“Add some peer pressure, you mean?”
“Exactly. He’ll be less likely to tell us to fuck off if there’s a witness. Don’t forget his MO—he’s the congenial businessman, only too happy to help until the contracts are signed.”
“I like the dinner thing.”
“Go and pick a nice outfit out of the closet. We don’t want to get barred from a fancy restaurant for wearing shorts.”
McDonald didn’t go to a fancy restaurant. No, he checked into the Hotel Metrolux and disappeared up to the penthouse. I found a spot in the bar with a view of the lobby while Emmy went on a scouting expedition.
The bartender was a friendly guy wearing a dress shirt, a bow tie, and a maroon vest. His name tag said “Somyot,” and his smile said he was hoping for a tip.
“One more,” I said, placing fifty bucks on the bar. In local currency, that would be enough to buy me alcohol poisoning. “Keep the change.”
His smile grew wider. “You are drinking alone tonight?” he asked, his accent strong but his English perfect.
“I’m not supposed to be, but my husband’s meeting is running late.”
“A lot of businessmen stay here.”
Thank you for that perfect opening. A HUMINT collector’s dream.
“Yes, I’m sure I saw one of his associates across the lobby tonight. Lonnie, Lonnie McDonald.”
The smile slipped, which told me more than words ever could. “Yes, he is a guest.”
