Free The Assassin (Max Doerr Book 1) by Jay Deb

men could be seen getting into
a cab.
    Doerr
set up the cameras again that same evening but stayed glued to the monitor. He
saw Heherson returning to the parlor at 10:05 p.m. If his job had been to snipe
down the guy with an M16, it would have been a cinch. But the job, this time,
was to get to him and listen to what he said into his phone. That should give
enough information as to where his helpers were, and that would bring the CIA
close to the hostages Heherson was holding. At the very least, Heherson’s
conversations should give a good lead.
    Doerr
watched the monitor for an hour, and, similar to the previous day’s pattern, Heherson
left at 11:15 p.m. At the front door of the hotel, a man was waiting with a motorbike.
Doerr had given the man seven thousand baht earlier in the day to arrange to
have a motorbike wait for him the entire night.  
    Doerr
took the bike and leaned against the wall, kicking a beer bottle that someone had
left there.
    Within
minutes, Doerr saw Heherson come out of the parlor and climb into a waiting
taxi. The cab pulled away from the building, and Doerr followed; the cab took a
few turns, and then it merged onto the Ram Inthra Expressway.
    The
cab, a converted Toyota Corolla, was moving slowly through the traffic-ridden
streets of Bangkok. It shot ahead a few times, but Doerr twisted the throttle
and caught up with the cab easily. In Bangkok, motorcycles were able to drive much
faster than a sedan, due to the congested traffic that never cleared, no matter
how many new roads and bridges the government constructed.
    After
about five kilometers, the taxi took a turn, and so did Doerr. The new road had
less traffic, and the cab picked up speed. As Doerr increased his pace, the air
blew through his hair, and his shirt billowed behind him. He felt uncomfortable,
but he continued to drive at a safe distance behind the taxi, which he hoped
would soon stop at a cheap hotel, but it didn’t. It crisscrossed through a
number of streets. Doerr maintained a good distance; some roads were badly lit,
and he expected that he had the stealth he needed.
    A
few turns later, the cab stopped in front of a large hotel. Doerr stopped in a
dark shadow and watched a hotel employee come to the cab and help Heherson out.
Doerr took out his smartphone, noted down the hotel name and immediately called
Samuel.
     
     
    THE
NEXT DAY Doerr was drinking his coffee from a tiny foam cup in his hotel lobby.
After four days in Bangkok, he was still grappling with jetlag. A local man sat
at the next table. He wore no shirt and smoked and sipped coffee at the same
time. Doerr watched a boy, barely fourteen or fifteen years old, carry in two
huge suitcases. An elderly man, the apparent owner of the suitcases and obviously
a new customer for the hotel, followed the boy.
    Doerr
wondered at what grade that boy had dropped out of school. He was so engrossed
in his thought that he was startled by the ringing of his own phone.
    It
was Samuel. “Good job, Max. Our techies were able to hack into the hotel
computers and found a room number booked against one of Heherson’s known
aliases.”
    “Great,”
Doerr said.
    “Now
you need to do one more thing.”
    “What
is that?” Doerr asked.
    “Go
to his room and get his cell phone, or its number. Then we can listen in on
what the bastard says.”
    “I
have to go to his room, when Heherson is there, and snatch the phone from his
hand?” Doerr said sarcastically. “Is that what your plan is?”
    “Yeah,
something like that,” Samuel paused for a few seconds. “Or go through his stuff
and notes to find his number.”
    “I
have a better idea.”
    “Okay,
let me hear it.”
    “You
guys put a satellite watch on the hotel and tell me when he goes out. Do it
during the daytime, so it’s still busy, or when I walk into the hotel the
employees might become suspicious. Then I’ll get in his room and plant a bug. Your
techies can match the voice coming out of that bug with the cell