Page 32 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
“You know him? How fascinating. Does he visit often?”
Somyot finished mixing my gin and tonic and slid the glass across the polished wood of the bar.
“Once every month, once every two months for the time I’ve worked here.”
“How long have you worked here? It seems like a real nice place. Are those palm trees real?”
He glanced in the direction I pointed, and I took the opportunity to pour an inch of my drink into a nearby ice bucket.
“Yes, they’re real. The orchids too. I’ve worked here for three years, almost.”
Interesting. Whatever business Lonnie had in Bangkok, it was taking a while. The intel report from Sirius didn’t list any completed deals for LM Developments in Thailand.
“My deepest sympathy. Lonnie can be a real douche.”
Somyot was too diplomatic to wholeheartedly agree, but the smile did come back.
“A new hotel is opening soon in Sathon, a deluxe one. Some customers we would not be sorry to lose.”
My phone buzzed with a message.
Emmy
McD’s car has pulled up.
“My husband’s meeting just finished. Thanks for the drinks, and I’ll see you again sometime.”
Somyot saluted me as I stood. “Enjoy the evening.”
Oh, I intended to.
CHAPTER 12
Marc
“…and while we’re incredibly appreciative of all the support, the sheer volume of messages has made it impossible for our ‘hosts’ to find important communications. We therefore request that once a legal, binding agreement has been reached regarding Malati’s future, the Minister of Environment makes a televised statement to let the world know of the plans. Serena and I haven’t been harmed so far, and we want very much to go home to our families.”
Families. Marc sure hoped Kitty wasn’t losing sleep, and he also hoped she was keeping Huck sheltered from the drama.
This time, Marc and Serena had written most of the script, although Havana had changed some parts to make Wild Roots appear more benevolent. Then Serena had pointed out that if they came across as too nice, nobody would believe this was a real kidnapping, so they’d changed them back. Marc had offered to be tied up again. The blonde showed up with onions, and Serena cried convincingly while Marc adopted a suitably grave tone for the appeal. When they included footage of the tarsiers and the pig-tailed lemurs, plus several clips of Indonesia’s natural beauty to show what would be lost if the development went ahead, Marc had somehow found himself rooting for the bad guys.
And were they really that bad? Sure, they’d fired a few bullets, but they hadn’t actually killed anyone. The property developer would wipe out half the island’s wildlife population.
“How long does it take to catch Stockholm syndrome?” he muttered as Havana and the cameraman left the room, leaving Marc with just Serena and the handcuffs for company. “I think I have it.”
“Do I look like a psychologist?” she asked. “All I know is that the tarsiers are oddly cute and the property developer sounds like a real dick.”
“He is a dick,” the blonde said from the doorway. Katie. Someone had slipped up and called her by her real name earlier. “His ego is bigger than Uranus.”
Marc crinkled his nose. “Is that a roundabout way of telling me I’m full of shit?”
“Uranus, the planet. Not… Never mind.”
“Isn’t Jupiter the biggest planet?”
“Yes, but Uranus has that magical blend of size and toxicity. Lonnie McDonald only cares about money. Not the environment, not animals, not even humans. He hides his assets to avoid paying child support because having an extra zero on his bank balance is more important than being a father, and he cheats on his wife and his girlfriend.” Katie was breathing hard, and her anger came through loud and clear. “So no, you don’t have Stockholm syndrome. You just have empathy. We’re the good guys here.”
“I’m sure all the bad guys say that.” Marc held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest. “Yeah, yeah, I know—your collective is different.”
