Beloved Enemy by Eric Van Lustbader Page B

of tenderness washed over him that he’d never felt for anyone before or since. Her significance for him lay somewhere between that of a sister and a daughter. He would protect her with his own life, if need be. He had tried to protect her father once, to no avail. But together, he and Dandy had exacted her revenge, an act that had bonded them for life. There wasn’t anything Dandy would not do for him, an obligation she had taken on willingly. And because he had not asked it of her, she drew both strength and confidence from it.
    Not a word was spoken until they had savored their first sip. They smiled at each other. Her name wasn’t Dandy, of course—that’s what Redbird called her because her Thai name was so long and, even for him, unwieldy to pronounce. She didn’t seem to mind.
    “My contacts tell me that the target, Pyotr Legere, has not returned to Moscow. In fact, he’s off the grid altogether.”
    “Gone to ground.”
    Redbird nodded, turned his mobile so Dandy could see the photo of Legere that Dickinson had provided. “Look familiar?”
    She shook her head. “But Chati might know.”
    Chaat Pradchaphet was a minor underlord in Bangkok’s criminal underbelly. Despite his relatively low status, he seemed to know everything and everyone of interest in and around the city. Therefore, unlike others in his profession, his principal work was selling information. The answer to why he didn’t use this information for his own advancement was simple: he was lazy. Chati preferred to work less, rather than more. Stress did not suit his sybaritic lifestyle.
    “All right. Dinner at Chati’s then.” Chaat ran his business out of a restaurant in the Sukhumvit Soi area. The place was very upscale, hi-so in Thai slang. That was good for Redbird; Chati was in residence, day and night, squeezed into a chair at his private table next to the open kitchen.
    As was her wont, Dandy sat on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom while Redbird showered. There was nothing sexual in this, but another form of intimacy that both craved. Redbird had no family to speak of, and as for Dandy, being the black sheep of the family, breaking off and going her own way, her brothers and their respective families had become distant. Frankly, Redbird and Dandy preferred each other’s company, even when they weren’t talking.
    Dandy smoked a clove cigarette, drawing the aromatic smoke into her lungs and slowly letting it drift out through her mouth and nostrils, her head tilted back to reveal her throat and long neck. Years ago, when this strange ritual began, Dandy had wanted to scrub him down, but Redbird soon put a stop to that. That the offer was cultural rather than sexual made no difference. She took this rebuff with her usual equanimity. Redbird had only seen her cry once, when she had killed the man who had murdered her father, and then, as he cradled her, it seemed as if she would never stop. Since that time, she had developed a terrible calm Redbird found both fascinating and admirable. It was that calm that drew them even closer.
    “You come here at the worst times.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but rather strong, carrying over the sound of the running water.
    “Worst?” Redbird said from behind the translucent shower curtain.
    Dandy took another drag of her cigarette. “The weather.”
    “Except for the rains, the weather is always the same here.”
    Dandy laughed, smoking like an engine. “Hot, hotter, hottest.”
    “Well, that’s true.”
    Having rinsed off, Redbird turned off the water and pulled back the curtain. Dandy had an enormous bath towel ready, spreading it as she rose, preparing to wrap it around his shoulders. Before she did, though, her fingertip ran lightly over the scars on the back of his right shoulder.
    “Do they hurt?”
    “Not for some time.”
    “I mean inside.”
    “Towel.”
    She wrapped him as securely as a mother swaddles her child. Their relationship ran both ways.
    “I know you won’t talk