- Prey
- Sphere
- Black Rose
- The Great Train Robbery
- Blue Dahlia
- Carnal Innocence
- Dance Upon the Air
- High Noon
- Lawless
- Sacred Sins
- Tribute
- Face the Fire
- Holding the Dream
- A Man for Amanda
- All the Possibilities
- Next
- Prey
- Sphere
- Black Rose
- The Great Train Robbery
- Blue Dahlia
- Carnal Innocence
- Dance Upon the Air
- High Noon
- Lawless
- Sacred Sins
- Tribute
- Face the Fire
- Holding the Dream
- A Man for Amanda
Tanner on IcePage 22
Well, that was something. “Just a minute!” I shouted, and ran to the door and made sure the chain bolt was on. “Give me a second! Be right with you!” “Mr. Edmonds, open the door!” “Right-o,” I cried, wondering if that was something Canadians said, wondering why I thought it mattered. “Just out of the tub!” I added. “Be with you in a jiffy!” I’d dived out a car window and dropped from a first-floor guest-house window, but this time, damn it to hell, I’d taken a room on the fifth floor. Was there, by some lucky fluke, a fire escape? Or a ledge wide enough to cling to? No and no. “Please open door right now!” “Yes!” I sang out. “Right now! Wish you’d let me get decent, but I daresay you’re in a bit of a rush, and I wouldn’t want to throw your timetable out of kilter. Know how annoying that sort of thing can be.” They had the door unlocked and were just about to hit it hard enough to smash the chain bolt when I reached it, unhooked the chain, and drew the door open. I had my clean khakis on, although I hadn’t managed to run the belt through the belt loops. Nor had I put a shirt on. And I was barefoot. If we were going to visit a pagoda, I was dressed for it. “Come in,” I said. “Come right in, make yourself comfortable. Sorry I’m not properly dressed, but I sensed that you were in a bit of a hurry. Now then, what seems to be the trouble?” Chapter 12 There were four of them, all men, all dressed in smart khaki uniforms, the trousers sharply creased, the shoes polished. Two held automatic weapons and looked as though it was all they could do to keep from pointing them at me and letting off a burst. The other two were officers, with no weapons in their hands but holstered pistols on their hips. One was the little master of an-ah-deh who’d steered me away from Aung San Suu Kyi’s house. The other, with an extra chevron on his sleeve, looked to be in command. “Your papers,” he said. “My papers.” “Your passport.” “Oh, right,” I said. “Didn’t I leave it with the girl at the desk downstairs?” “She say not.” “Well, I suppose she’s always been truthful in the past. Oh, right,” I said, digging it out of my Kangaroo. “Here we are.” The man in charge let his segundo take the passport from me and inspect it before passing it on. Then he had a look at it himself, and then he had a look at me. “Evan Tanner,” he said. “Yes.” “You gave other name downstairs.” “Well, yes,” I admitted. “ Edmonds.” “Yes, Gordon Edmonds.” “Canadian.” “Yes, that’s what I wrote.” “Put passport number. Different number from this.” “Yes,” I said. “I can explain.” They looked at me. “You see,” I said, “I didn’t want my competitor to know what I was up to. I’m a businessman, and one of my rivals has a representative in Rangoon, and I didn’t want him to know where I was staying.” “So you use false name.” “That’s right.” “Who is Edmonds?” “No one, really.” “You just make him up.” “Yes. Silly of me, I suppose. I thought I’d be a Canadian, you see, and I tried to think of a Canadian name, and all I could think of was Gordon Lightfoot. The singer?” They didn’t seem to have heard of him. “Well, he had a big hit with a song called ‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.’ About a ship that sank in Lake Superior some years ago. Gordon and Edmund, you see. Gordon Edmonds. I don’t suppose it sounds particularly Canadian, but-” “You are here on business.” “Yes.” “It says tourism on your visa.” “Yes, well-” “What business you in?” “I’m an importer.” “What you import?” “Coffee, mostly. You see-” “No coffee in Myanmar.” “But that’s just it,” I said. “You don’t grow any coffee here, and I’m sure there are hillsides in this country that would be perfect for coffee plantations.” I nattered on in this vein, making it up as I went along, and it began to sound pretty good to me. Why not grow coffee in the mountainous regions? There were areas of the Shan state, for example, that ought to provide an ideal climate for its cultivation. It might not have the dollar-per-acre return of opium, but it could still prove profitable, and caffeine was a more socially acceptable drug than heroin, and- “I think you have something beside coffee,” said the man in charge. He pointed at my backpack, still reposing on the bed, and let off a burst of Burmese too rapid for me to make out. One of the men opened my pack, and the Number Two officer began to go through my things. |
- The Loners
- The Saints
- Switched
- Fangtastic!
- Re-Vamped!
- Vampalicious!
- Tome of the Undergates
- Black Halo
- The Skybound Sea
- If You Stay
- If You Leave
- Until We Burn
- Before We Fall
- Every Last Kiss
- Fated
- Suspiciously Obedient
- Random Acts of Crazy
- Random Acts of Trust
- Her First Billionaire
- Her Second Billionaire
- Her Two Billionaires
- Her Two Billionaires and a Baby
- His Majesty's Dragon
- Throne of Jade
- Black Powder War
- Victory of Eagles
- Tongues of Serpents
- Empire of Ivory
- Crucible of Gold
- Delirium