“What’s causing this?”
“That’s what Chloe was trying to determine.”
“She went to investigate the source?”
“With Dr. Tobias. He specializes in tropical diseases. They left with a Free Burma Ranger escort to reach the worst-affected villages inside Myanmar.”
His chest tightened. “Any contact since?”
Dr. Malee’s expression answered before her words. “They were supposed to check in every twelve hours. We’ve heard nothing.”
Forty-eight hours without contact in hostile territory.
Perfect.
“I work in crisis management. If you could show me their planned route...”
Dr. Malee studied him for a long moment. “Are you with an aid organization?”
“Private consulting. I specialize in locating missing persons in unstable regions.”
Half-truth. Jones, Inc. did everything from hostage rescue to finding lost souls and even sometimes close body protection. This counted, though, as Worried Family Response.
So far.
She pulled out a phone and opened up her GPS map. Widened it. “The villages are located here. That’s all I know.”
“Dr. Malee.” A young nurse appeared in the doorway. “The little girl in bed three is having another episode.”
“I hope you find her,” the doctor said as she turned away. “Someone needs to save these children.”
He watched her go, then headed out the door.
If those were the stakes, maybe he wasn’t the man for the job.
He got in the car. Hopefully he hadn’t burned all his bridges here.
He headed toward Chai’s neighborhood, which occupied one of Chiang Mai’s nicer residential areas. Successful merchants and mid-level government officials maintained homes behind high walls and security cameras, protected by tree-lined streets.
He parked in the small drive of a modest two-story home and rang the bell.
Chai’s pretty wife answered and smiled at him, her eyes warm. “So you’re back.”
Not really, but, “Is he in?”
“’Round back.”
He found his old teammate in the back garden, pruning tomato plants. A big man for a Thai, he was still built like the Thai special-forces operator he’d been, although now he wore a T-shirt and jeans, a pair of bamboo flip-flops, and a wide-brimmed straw hat.
“Nice place.”
Chai turned, and it took a second, but then he grinned, shoved the pruners into his back pocket, and came over, hand out. “Trouble from the East.”
Skeet laughed. “Could be.” He looked around the cloistered yard with the flowing bougainvillea and jasmine, the small fountain. “Give peace a chance?”
“Why not?” Chai gestured to a couple of bamboo chairs under an overflowing frangipani tree. “Whatever the question is, the answer is no.”
A boy of maybe six burst from the back door onto the deck and raced toward the garden, shouting something in Thai.