Chapter 8
When Shirlee's lips touched the warm rim of the teacup, its steam unplugging her stuffy nose, her first thought was: God, I'm alive! Her delicate fingers spread out to touch the scratchy wool blanket covering her naked body and she peeked out through one swollen amber eye and gasped, a scream rising in her throat.
A hand, rough but warm, clamped over her gaping mouth, and her eyes flew open, wide and frightened. Now he would rape her . . . take her brutally in the rectum!
"Hush . . .," the most handsome of Bu Manchu's black belt bodyguards was whispering close to her face. "Don't make a sound. You are in friendly company." Supporting the back of her neck with his strong hand, he encouraged her to sip from the cup. She hesitated, certain it was laden with drugs. "You must be quiet or they will find you here and kill you," he was saying. "We must get you to safety." Shirlee groaned, her head throbbing, her body aching from the nasty tumble into the lifeboat as she stared into the kind eyes that belonged on some Buddhist statue, rather than a Bu Manchu black belt killer.
"Tomorrow we will be docking and taking a boat up the Pai River as far as Wei Phu Long. They will give you trouble at the port if you leave alone. You must stay in my steamer trunk until we reach our destination, and from there you can contact an embassy and explain your story. They'll help you."
They would never believe my story, thought Shirlee, wondering why one of Bu Manchu's thugs had decided to befriend her. She stared at him, noticing for the first time that he was a young man with wide set dark eyes that bespoke kindness and mercy . . . and very, very muscular. God, why didn't he touch her and get it over with?
"No doubt you are wondering why I am in sympathy with you and have not touched you." He asked her question for her. "I am sorry to see you badly treated by Manchu. He is a murderer, a thug, and I have begun to realize that this is no way for an honorable man to live," he explained, encouraging her to take nourishment. "I will help you to safety as this will be my last trip for Manchu. I am going to stay in Burma . . . unless they kill me first."
Shirlee listened as intently as a girl who'd been knocked unconscious for two days could. Something about this man's ethereal nature gave her the shivers and she lay nakedly quivering beneath the heavy wool blanket, waiting for his hands to slip underneath and maul her body. They didn't.
She ate ravenously and felt surprisingly refreshed. That night she lay in a bundle of covers, fighting off a fever and chill, watching as her good Samaritan bored breathing holes in his steamer trunk which would later be used to transport jade back to Bangkok. He worked assiduously, a true craftsman, a patient human being. She wondered why a handsome, muscle-bound knockout like this man Ti would condescend to work for a thug like Manchu.
Again, he read her mind. "You are wondering, of course, why I have put myself in the company of Bu Manchu?" He set down his tool and wiped a trickle of sweat from his satiny, smooth forehead, his eyes level and calm.
"Yes . . . that thought had entered my mind," answered Shirlee hoarsely, a tingle of excitement racing through her tired body as he eyes riveted on the smooth naked muscles of Ti's chest rippling as he worked.
Ti reached up to swipe a chock of black hair from his liquid eyes. "Bu Manchu is my father. . ."
A steamer trunk is roughly handled, and it was fortunate that the insightful black belt turned humanitarian 'had the foresight to pad it with down pillows before packing Shirlee's scantily clothed body into it and loading it aboard a truck and shipping it some twenty miles to the mouth of the Pai River.
Still, Shirlee was thankful that she was still alive. Suffocating in a steamer trunk, her body twisted into a pretzel, her limbs numb, was no punishment compared to the horror of staring into Bu Manchu's cruel eyes as he threatened to violate her rectum. Yes, she had much to be thankful for, she thought, passing the claustrophobic hours by piecing together the details of Bu Manchu's smuggling operation and fantasizing Chad Barker's praise when she finally stumbled into his Hong Kong office with her story. Shirlee offered a little prayer to the gods.
Chad Barker . . . did he have the whole force out looking for her? Did they have a line on where she was? Those thoughts were interrupted by the high voiced chirp of Burmese thugs. Obviously, Manchu's men had reached the Pai River and were about to load the boat heading up to Wai Phu Long where the empty trunks would be loaded up with jade and brought back to Bangkok after the Thai border patrol had been paid off in money and flesh. From the feverish chatter, Shirlee picked out Ti's Raj English, speaking loud and distinctly. "Yes, we will load that trunk now."
That was her signal. Shirlee held her breath and buried her face in the down pillows as Ti had instructed her, and covered her head with her arms, cushioning the blow as the trunk thundered into the bottom of the boat, crashing in an explosive thump.
"There," she heard Ti emphasize for her benefit. "The last of the trunks are loaded. We won't have to bother with them again."
Good, she thought wondering if she would survive another blow such as the one that had just rattled her body hard enough to rearrange her magnificent parts.
She managed to sleep for a few restless hours, and when she awoke, all was quite, save for the far away chatter of birds skirting the river for fish. It was around dusk, she guessed, plastering her ear to one of the breathing holes, listening for who was on the boat. It was obvious to Shirlee that Bu and Kim would not suffer the indignity or exposure of riding on the smuggling boat, and in her dazed state, she recalled Ti's explicit details of the operation . . . much of which she'd missed. Her head had ached pitifully and her eyes had been too busy watching Ti's biceps and chest muscles working to listen intently . . . and the heavy gold chain with the jade Buddha adorning his smooth neck had been mesmerizing to a woman who'd missed her last orgasm.
Kim, Bu and Hiro would be transported to Wai Phu Long via human porter where Bu would do the negotiating with the Thai border patrol, enticing them with Hiro's sleeky body, part of the jade cache and money, if necessary. From there, Bu would entrust his cargo in the hands of his bodyguards, all well trained in defense and the power of intimidation. At the mouth of the Pai River, Bu, Kim and what was left of Hiro would be transported back to The Emerald along with the jade. Part of the smuggled stones would be sold in Bangkok and the best would go to Hong Kong where it would be sold at a higher price.
Shirlee heard a long low snore and the dip of the paddles in the murky river waters as the boat slipped along smoothly. Mentally, she tried to imagine what stark reality awaited her outside the safety of her metal prison, and horror stories of snake infested river and jungles so thick the foliage grew back a minute after a machete had cleared a path. A shiver suffused her body.
Ravenous, she tore open the bag of bamboo shoots that Ti had given her and chomped on one, her pearly teeth sinking into the snappy vegetables and quenching her parched throat. The first nourishment in countless hours, she had barely swallowed down the first when her teeth went to work on the second.
A rustle sounded on deck and a voice boomed close to her ear. "What's that?" Somebody was on his feet. "What was that?" he repeated, sounding alarmed. "Sounds like somebody eating."
Shirlee swallowed the half chewed pulp, gulping, terror struck. That voice belonged to the black belt who'd bathed her throat in his cum. "Impossible," she heard Ti's voice in rebuttal. "No . . . I heard something. Sounded like somebody . . . eating . . . ?"
Ti threw back his head and laughed. "Must have been the gibbons."
"No . . . it was close up . . . like it was coming from the trunk." Heavy foot steps sounded and the boat listed as one of the guards rose to his feet. A scream built and died in Shirlee's throat.
"Nobody could survive those trunks. . . was probably a rat."
"Yes . . . a rat. . ."
Everything settled down, still Shirlee's heart thudded so loudly in her chest she was certain it was rattling the steamer trunk. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes into hours . . . and suddenly, in the midst of a dream, she heard the creak of hinges and saw daylight for the first time that day.
"You must get out now . . . hurry while it's still dark," Ti was whispering. "We are passing the Cove of Good Fortune on the way to Wai Phu Long where the trunks will be opened. Take this with you. It will promise you good fortune." He drew the heavy gold chain with the jade Buddha from around his strong neck and draped it around Shirlee's slender one, then bowed reverently. "I trust you are a good swimmer?"
Shirlee nodded in dumb terror, staring down into the murky waters, trying to make out the shimmer of water snakes.
"Do not worry about the snakes. The only one you need fear is the krait. If it bites you, you will die before you know you have lived. Do not concern yourself . . . you have more lives to live."
Shirlee glanced plaintively from the dark water up to Ti's smooth, unharried face and, teetering on tip toes, she kissed him gratefully on the cheek, knowing this might be the last time she kissed a man. He held her close enough for her to feel the throbbing bulge stabbing her in the stomach . . . but this was no time for such mind distractions. Raising her arms over her head, she plunged into the night fallen waters, dark and deep as the black hole of Calcutta, and scissored her legs for dear life.