Restless Soul - Alex Archer [73]
Like Zakkarat, she thought sadly.
“And some hill tribe villages are close enough to hit with a tossed stone—the Karen, Lahu, Lisu, Hmong, Lawa. The tourists love them, and the villagers coax the tourists out to see their crafts and watch the dances.”
She followed the lead police car as it turned off onto a wider road.
“If we were going to Chiang Mai as tourists, we would be taking Route 1095 by way of Pai. It’s less than three hundred kilometers. We’re taking 108 by way of Mae Sariang. They’re doing that for your benefit, Miss Creed. It’s not near as scenic, but it’s an easier drive.”
“How long will it take?”
“To get to Chiang Mai? About five or six hours. Split the difference and call it five and a half.” He tapped the clipboard again. “Now, about those questions I wanted to ask.” He reached up and turned on the dome light and tilted it so it lit up his paper. “Let’s start with how one woman was able to overpower three smugglers?”
“I think there were five. No, six, counting the one in the back.” And that wasn’t counting the men she’d dealt with the day before.
“Would’ve put him all comfortable in the back of one of the police cars if he wasn’t so filthy and bloody,” Johnson murmured. “And if you hadn’t managed to truss him up so well. Now…six men, you said. That’s quite remarkable for one female television archaeologist.” He paused. “We get your program in my district, but it’s dubbed. Your voice is a lot prettier than the woman who speaks in your place here. I saw the episodes you did on ancient Egyptian mummies being found in Australia and that goat-sucker creature in Mexico.”
Annja gripped the steering wheel tighter. She’d already handed over the pistol she’d taken from one of the men. She hadn’t shot any of them with it, and ballistics would show that. Still, she didn’t want to have to give too many details about what had happened over the past two days.
“So, six men, with just one pistol, and no shots fired from it that we could see. Tell me how you did that.” The skepticism was thick in his voice.
He was finally asking her pertinent questions. Annja took a deep breath and started to recount pretty much everything, including finding Zakkarat’s body. She left out the sword, of course, and she didn’t mention that she’d killed one of the smugglers. That would come out later, and she’d deal with it then. No doubt the fact that she’d killed other thugs in the Thins village would also surface. She’d dealt with such issues in the past, always scrutinized and never formally charged. But the grisly little details about the deaths yesterday and today didn’t need to go into Johnson’s notes right now.
His questions ended an hour later, leaving her four-and-a-half hours to herself. Annja chewed on the inside of her cheek, the slight pain keeping her awake. She ran the events and discoveries over and over in her mind, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle into place and meeting with little success.
21
They came into Chiang Mai from the south in the middle of the night, and that’s where Annja stopped following the police car and took her own route.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Johnson was surprised and flustered.
“Taking a precaution,” she answered as she stepped on the gas. “Covering my bases. Just in case.” Just in case the questioning turned ugly when they discovered the slain smugglers. She wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing…but this wasn’t her country and from experience she knew it was better to play it safe.
She took a left onto Charoen Prathet Road and sped up. On her right was the Mae Nam Ping, a wide dark strip of river that sparkled with the reflection of streetlights. She turned on Tha Phae Road and wove around a double-parked truck that was unloading boxes at a nightclub. She leaned forward and looked at the street signs, finding Tud-mai Road and swerving onto it, and ignoring the protests of Johnson, who tried to grab the wheel.
She slapped at his hand and squealed onto a side street, heading east now. The police