Free The Widow's Strike by Brad Taylor

which would be the way Kavi entered and left.
    Malik said, “And how do you propose to get him from the fourth level to the street? Perhaps I could come in with a large Persian carpet, try to sell it, and when that fails, you could knock him out. I’ll simply roll him up in it, in full view of everyone. Then we’ll carry him out right to the Skytrain. Is that what you’re thinking?” Malik turned away, saying, “We wait until next Friday and try again.”
    “Sir!” Sanjar said. “Please listen. The dessert bar is right next to a hallway leading to a stairwell. That stairwell connects to a parking garage on the third level. This will work.”
    “You cannot attack him in the café!” Malik snapped. “I don’t care how close the stairs are! Three feet is too far.”
    Roshan, the engineer, spoke up. “Sir, I don’t think we’ll need to attack him. Kavi is completely ignorant of personal safety. I think we could engage him in conversation and have him follow us to our car.”
    Eventually, Malik had broken down and agreed to try, which left him sitting nervously across the way at another café, wanting to bolt from the overt risk he had been talked into taking.
    He saw the target enter and begin talking to other Thai teenagers. He watched the doctor’s son fiddle with his phone and knew he was logging in his location. Malik shook his head, still befuddled by the social networking site. The time slipped by and he thought about aborting.
    Abruptly, the other Thais left, taking him by surprise, and Malik called his men forward. Roshan and Sanjar entered the café and ordered something, but he couldn’t tell what.
    He watched Sanjar sit near Kavi and begin working his own smartphone. Logging in his Foursquare location and letting Kavi watch. Shortly, the two were engaged in conversation, with Roshan joining.
    Malik had given them twenty minutes and no more. If Kavi wasn’t leaving with them by then, they were to abort.
    Twenty-five minutes in, Malik got angry. He texted Sanjar, punching the keys on his phone.
    Get OUT.
    Sanjar glanced his way, then began working his thumbs over the phone. Malik felt his cell vibrate and read,
2 min.
    He was about to respond when the group stood up. Laughing, with his arm around Sanjar’s shoulders, Kavi walked out of the café and entered the hallway. Never suspecting the danger he was in. Never realizing that there were different types of predators in the world.
    They went down the hallway and turned into a stairwell. Malik followed discreetly behind, watching them act like the best of friends. Malik took note of the cameras in the hallway and knew they had taken a great risk. If he couldn’t convince the father to call the school and prevent a search, it wouldn’t take much to have their faces all over the country.
    They went down one flight, Malik hanging back until he heard the door to the parking deck open, then rushing forward. He entered the garage in time to see Roshan open the back door to their car, then Sanjar wrap his arms around the doctor’s son, causing a look of bewilderment on Kavi’s face.
    A look that changed to fear when Roshan brought out the hood.

13
    S itting across Highway 107 in Chiang Mai, I felt the first trickle of adrenaline when I caught sight of Jennifer walking out of the prison entrance with Piggy holding her arm. I watched her say something to him, then walk briskly to her car, retrieving her purse from the front seat. I knew why. She couldn’t very well have taken that into the prison, because I’d given her a little hush puppy for protection. A Ruger Mark III .22 with an XCaliber Genesis suppressor.
    Designed mainly for removing guard dogs, it would do the job up close on a man. And if Jennifer had to use it on Piggy, it would definitely be up close.
    She walked back to him and followed to an old Toyota, getting in the front seat. I waited until they’d cleared the parking lot, headed north on Highway 107, before I triggered.
    “Koko’s