Free Devil's Due: A Thomas Caine Thriller (The Thomas Caine Series Book 0) by Andrew Warren Page B

website isn't run by me, or any other chao pho family.”
    "You expect me to believe the chao pho doesn't engage in human trafficking?" Caine asked.
    "Yes, I traffic women.   Poor girls from shit towns come to me, desperate for a new life, willing to do anything to make enough money to feed their families.   Do I profit off their misery?   Certainly.   I'm not going to apologize for that to a man like you.   We both know you've done far worse, and you don't have as many years behind you as I do.   Am I wrong?"
    Caine returned her stare, waiting for her to continue.
    "I ship them all over the world, and they do what they have to.   It's not pretty; survival never is.   But kidnapping local girls, auctioning them off like cattle?   That's not only shameful, it's bad business.   Too much risk.   Sends people like you to my door."
    "Why should I believe you?" Caine asked.
    Anna twisted her dry, cracked lips into a smile.   "Because I can prove it to you.   I can tell you who is really running the site--and, with a little luck, where to find your precious bar girls."
    Caine leaned forward in his chair.   "Where are they?"
    "Not so fast," Anna cackled.   "I'm not in the habit of giving out information for free.   There's a price.   And you did say you would do whatever it takes, didn't you?"
    Caine glared at the leathery old woman.   "Fine.   How much do you want?"
    Anna smiled again. "Do I look like I need your money?   No, no, keep your baht.   You have skills, connections.   You were able to find me here.   I want you to put those skills to work for me.   A favor, chosen by me at a later date.   Nothing too far south of your moral compass, I promise.   We have a deal, yes?"
    Caine hesitated for a moment, then nodded.   "Deal."
    Anna spit in her hand and held it out to Caine.   He shook it.
    "Good."   The old woman took a deep, wheezing breath.   "Now, the people running that website are not chao pho.   They are the Red Wa.   Have you heard of them?"
    Caine thought for a second.   "Drug runners.   They operate in the hills, on the northern border.   Refugees and immigrants from the United Wa State, an independent territory in Burma ... or I guess I should say Myanmar now."
    Anna nodded. "You're well-informed.   The chao pho have had good relations with the Red Wa in the past.   We both have Chinese ancestry in our blood.   We have a partnership in the meth trade here in Thailand."
    "So, why are you selling them out to me?" Caine asked.
    "One of their number, a man we call Pisac, has been muscling into our territory here in Pattaya.   Massage parlors, brothels, beer bars ... he has overstepped his bounds.   These are chao pho operations.   Pisac believes his contributions to our drug trafficking success have earned him a cut of the profits from our other operations.   We do not share his belief."
    "Pisac?" Caine asked.
    "It means 'devil'.   Whatever you may think of me, I promise you, this man lives up to the name."
    "I don't believe in devils or demons, Anna."
    The old woman shrugged.   "As you like.   Anyway, I used to do business with the Rudov family.   They are old-school Russian mafia, a Vor family.   The father, Sergei, was recently released from prison.   Just before his release, Alexi Rudov, his son, cut ties with us.   We believe he is now working with Pisac and the Red Wa.   They set up the Thai Angels site together.   Handpicked girls. Pretty, sexy bar girls, not filthy village peasants with crooked teeth and scrawny bodies.   Girls like this, men see, men desire.   Now, they can have them, with the click of a button."   Anna shook her head.   "Shameful."
    "I had a run-in with Alexi Rudov.   He's disappeared."
    "He's probably gone to the Red Wa camp, to take possession of the girls.   They will be locked into a cargo container and loaded onto a ship.   No way out, no sunlight, pitch black darkness.   Maybe they have a flashlight so they don't piss and shit on