A Disastrous Sea Change
Chapter 21
Kris was pleased that the latest delivery to Bangkok went well this time. Wu not only delivered the product, but on his word as well. Thankfully there were no screw-ups or rip-offs on the trip. Kris believed Albert’s little object lesson in pain management the other night had obviously caught his attention and seriously changed his attitude for the better. Ron must have tuned him up pretty well. He wondered if Ron had a sadistic streak running through his psyche as well as being a greedy, American apostate.
Well, corporal punishment certainly had its place to ensure organizational discipline, assuming one didn’t spare the rod and spoil the child in the process. Fortunately, Albert Wu was no longer an undisciplined, spoiled child, he aimlessly mused.
Capital punishment would even be applied from time-to-time in exceptional circumstances: the Bangkok courier being a recent example. And that’s the sort of punishment he had in mind for Richard Avery, again with prejudicial and agonizing pain, if he had his way.
***
The Pearl of the Orient departed on schedule from Myanmar bound for Kolkata, India on a routine, cargo run. In a sense, it was to be its maiden voyage; really nothing more than a trial run to meet the drug contacts he’d later work with in delivering opium to the subcontinent. Maiden was an odd word when applied to his worn out, tramp steamer that had seen much better days in her promiscuous, younger years.
Kris Amar had laid out plans and precautions for his role in the smuggling when they’d met in Yangon. Captain Aung had made the voyage many times over the years. This was just another routine crossing of the Bay of Bengal for him, so no worries. He wasn’t smuggling any drugs or carrying other illicit cargo so no problem he could foresee.
It was Amar’s idea and it was a good one: do a dry run to see if there were any Judas’s among the Indians they would deal with later. Amar didn’t think so, but first wanted to test the waters and the bona fides of the contacts. Aung was impressed and thought it a clever ploy by the displaced desi he now worked for.
His beloved wife had started her chemotherapy in Bangkok and her prognosis for remission was excellent according to her doctors. Life was good, he thought. With more money coming his way in the future, it would only get better. Perhaps they could even afford another child soon if his wife fully recovered from her illness. He’d like a son this time. Girl’s had little value in his culture, other than to perform household chores and bear children. However, a son was a prized possession who would inherit his father’s soon to be prosperous business. The family name would be remembered and live on through his male progeny. Aung was pleased with the thought.
The captain lit up an expensive, hand-rolled cigar to celebrate his and his wife’s good fortune. He’d never have a chance to finish it because of something incredible that was about to come his way.