Red Tide, стр. 64
After a drink in the town’s only bar the women returned to the dock. “Here,” Kelsey said, as she gave two 6-packs of beer to the Hulk. “Pass ‘em around. Who knows where this stuff was brewed. I hope you survive.” Those who were close enough to hear laughed.
The plane took off and headed west. Sack lunches were traditionally Brody’s responsibility, and a thankless one at that, since no matter what he provided to the crew it was never considered good enough.
As for Kelsey she enjoyed the steak sandwich which was loaded with onions, parsley, tomatoes and a touch of salad dressing. Then she put a sleeping mask on, stuck earbuds in, and closed her eyes. Her thoughts turned to Max Ryson. He was good in bed and scary smart. What more could a girl want? Sleep came quickly.
When Kelsey awoke it was to the sound of Chaney’s voice. “We’re descending, boss. Time to buckle up.”
Kelsey sat up straight and turned to look out the window. Balikpapan was a seaport city located on Borneo’s east coast. It was a financial center with busy air and seaports. The city had been established as a fishing village in the 19th century, and fishing still ranked as an important part of the economy, even though the oil industry had eclipsed everything else in terms of overall revenue.
The sun was starting to set. Wride took advantage of what light there was to put the flying boat down, thread her way between the ships anchored in the bay, and taxi to the Balikpapan Seaplane Base. It was a modern facility, with six slips, half of which were occupied.
Brody was the first person to deplane. His duties included securing the mooring lines, or in this case supervising the local dock jockeys, while they secured the mooring lines, and making arrangements to refuel the plane. A task he was expected to complete ASAP in case Kelsey wanted to leave early.
Meanwhile, aft of where Kelsey sat, the bodyguards were drawing straws. Standard operating procedure required one of them to sleep on the plane during the night. A security precaution that had paid off in the past. Howe drew the short straw, and was about to complain, when Chaney put a finger to her lips.
The rest of the party went ashore with duffle bags in hand. All of them were armed. That was illegal of course. But the Parkers had high-priced lawyers everywhere. And a night in jail was preferable to an eternity spent in a coffin. Because like every other big city in the world Balikpapan had its share of criminals.
In keeping with the Parker family’s unwritten code Kelsey and her team had been booked into a mid-priced, yet nice hotel, near the company’s Balikpapan office.
Once her retinue had checked in Kelsey took them out to dinner at a Japanese restaurant. The same unwritten code that specified staying in mid-priced hotels prevented anyone, Kelsey included, from having more than two alcoholic drinks with the meal.
The entire party was back in the hotel by eight PM. “We’ll meet in the lobby at 7:00,” Kelsey told them. “I have an appointment at 8:30.”
Donnelly and Chaney had rooms adjacent to Kelsey’s. And both would be on-call throughout the night. But there was no need.
The night passed peacefully, the group had breakfast in the restaurant off the lobby, and checked out. Two SUVs were waiting outside along with a rep from the rental agency. After searching each vehicle for IEDs and surveillance devices, bodyguards took their places behind the wheel.
One SUV would have been sufficient to move five people. The second was a spare. And, in the case of a car chase, would be used to block pursuers. In keeping with standard operating procedures, a pilot was assigned to each car.
Both SUVs were equipped with nav systems which made it easy to find the Dyak Fishing Company. “Dyak,” or “Dayuh” were loose terms for more than 200 riverine and hill-dwelling indigenous subgroups who inhabited the central southern areas of Borneo.
According to company lore, the company’s founder Aito Eguchi named his company “Dyak Fishing” as a way to honor the indigenous peoples.
But, according to George Parker, Eguchi knew that a Japanese surname wouldn’t fly in the wake of WWII, and chose “Dyak” for marketing purposes. Not that it mattered anymore. The old man was gone now. And his grandson, Milo Eguchi, was in charge.
As the lead SUV arrived in front of the Dyak Company’s sleek, modernistic headquarters building, Kelsey was reminded of how successful the enterprise was, in spite of cutthroat competition. Or had been prior to the war. But now? Kelsey could only imagine that the current situation was a good deal more difficult.
Donnelly got out to open the door for her. “Ronda will go in with me,” Kelsey said. “You know the drill.”
“The drill” for what was considered to be a low-risk meeting was for Kelsey to take one bodyguard with her, and leave the rest of them with the vehicles.
Kelsey had a small radio in her jacket pocket. And, after a quick radio check, she put it back. Kelsey was wearing an all-white outfit consisting of a waist length jacket, a tee shirt, and peg pants. A pair of red high heels completed the look.
Chaney’s black business suit was one size too large for her in order to provide room for a bullet proof vest, two handguns, and backup mags. She was wearing black high-tops which, though covered with glitter, would allow the bodyguard to fight effectively should something bad come their way. She followed Kelsey to the front door which swished out of the way as they approached.
The lobby was cold in contrast to the muggy atmosphere