Little Girl Gone - By Battles, Brett Page 0,77

he was trying to keep his lips from parting. With effort, he said, “It’s where the hand over is supposed to happen.”

Logan’s skin grew cold. “What hand over?”

“I don’t know the answer to that. I swear. Mr. Andrews is in charge. I’m just one of the team.”

Just one of the team. The words made Logan want to belt Aaron as hard as he could, to hell with whether Aaron would be able to talk again or not. And to hell with whatever damage it would do to Logan’s hand. Aaron was distancing himself from responsibility, and that was something Logan could never stand. But he held it in, pushing his anger down to where he could save it for later, if needed.

“What time is this supposed to happen?” he asked.

“Sometime tomorrow…uh…I mean, later today. I don’t know the exact time. We’re getting picked up at the station, and then we’re supposed to go help get things ready.”

“Where?”

Aaron shook his head. “Only Mr. Andrews knows.”

“Where?” Logan repeated, his hand clinching into a fist.

“I don’t know! I swear to God!”

As annoyed as it made Logan feel, he was pretty sure Aaron was telling the truth. “At the meeting on your way to the train station, what did the man give you?”

“Give me?”

“Don’t even try to lie. We were watching, remember?”

“An envelope,” Aaron said quickly. “He gave me an envelope.”

“What was inside it?”

“I have no idea.”

“You didn’t look?”

“Why should I? It’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for then?”

“Mr. Andrews. I’m supposed to give it to him when I see him.”

“Where is it now?”

“In…in my cabin.”

“Where exactly?”

“The front pocket of my backpack.”

Logan made him describe the backpack, then go over everything again just in case he could catch him in a lie or shake something new loose. But Aaron’s answers remained the same. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“It’s me,” Daeng said.

Logan opened it a crack.

“We’re nearing the station.”

“You got someone to meet him?” Logan asked.

“All set.”

“How long until we get there?”

“Five minutes.”

Logan shut the door, and turned back to Aaron. “Sorry,” he said.

“Sorry about what?”

Moment later, Aaron was unconscious again.

35

The offloading of Aaron went smoothly. Afterwards, Logan and Daeng tried to get a few hours of sleep, then got up early, and were sitting in the dining car just a little past 6 a.m.

Daeng ordered a bowl of noodles, while Logan went with only coffee.

“So you still want to try it,” Daeng said once Logan had gone back over the plan they sketched out after they’d gotten rid of Aaron.

Logan nodded. “It could be important.”

“It could also cause problems.”

“I’m trusting that you’ll be able to keep that from happening.”

Daeng grunted, but said nothing else.

For the next half hour, Logan did little more than stare out the window at the tropical jungle that covered the hills around them. The train was moving slowly now, the upward climb a challenge for the engine.

As he was contemplating getting another cup of coffee, Daeng said softly, “Here they come.”

Logan casually raised his empty cup to his lips, pretending to take a final drink, while Daeng focused on what little was left in his bowl of noodles. From the corner of his eye, Logan could see two people walking past their table, then suddenly stopped.

“You’re the guy who helped me last night, aren’t you?” a voice asked.

Logan looked over. The man who spoke was the guy Logan had helped by playing doorman. Standing next to him was the other member of their group.

“Hey,” Logan said, smiling. “Beer guy, right?”

“Yeah,” the man replied, no humor in his voice. “We’re looking for a friend of ours. Wondering if you might have seen him.”

Logan kept the smile on his face, staying in friendly-tourist mode. “How much did you guys have to drink?”

“He’s in his early twenties,” the man said, ignoring the comment. “About my height. Short brown hair. White guy.”

Logan paused like he was thinking. “There’ve been a few people like that in here this morning, but most headed toward the back of the train when they left. Was he traveling back there?”

“No.”

“Hmmm.” Logan shrugged. “Sorry. I guess not.”

“What about your friend?” the other guy asked, looking at Daeng.

“Oh, uh, I’m not even sure he speaks English.” To Daeng, Logan said, “Do you understand?”

Daeng glanced up from his bowl. “No speak good,” he said, his accent thick.

“You see another white guy like me? Younger?” Logan asked.

“Farang everywhere on train. Many. Many.”

Logan turned back to the men. “I don’t think he’s going to be much help. Your friend’s