Chasing the White Lion James Hannibal (essential reading TXT) 📖

intentionally hurting her, and anyway, the rumor is probably true.’ Or”—Talia lowered her chin, raising her gaze to meet Val’s—“The Oliver Twist. ‘Picking pockets and graft isn’t as wrong as armed robbery or murder, and anyway these rich people have money to burn.’”

Val set her jaw. “Now you’re hitting close to home.”

“Yes, I am. And you’re feeling hurt, betrayed—not because I’m being direct, but because Rudenko’s presence pulled back the curtain on your self-con. You can get angry, or you can own the moment and stop treating yourself like a mark.”

Val left the counter and walked into the living room, facing the setting sun. She didn’t speak for a while. “Is . . . Is this how it was for Marco?”

“And Tyler. And me. Each of us set our own boundaries. I thought my anger at God was not as wrong as outright rebellion in any form. And hey, didn’t I deserve to be angry anyway?”

Val remained quiet for a time. “I can see how you’d believe that.”

“But by setting my own degrees of right and wrong, I was rebelling. I conned myself into believing I was wiser than the one who created the whole universe. I hurt Jenni, Bill, and Eddie, and so many others in the process. Tyler helped me see I was drowning.”

“Drowning. Yes.” Val turned. Her cheeks were wet. “I’ve lived a lifetime of taking, Talia. I’ve hurt thousands of marks—and how many others I didn’t know about, like Rudenko’s victims. You once said I don’t care who I hurt. But I do. I’m sinking under the weight of all my crimes.”

“You don’t have to.” Talia stepped around the counter. Carefully. Slowly. “Remember Peter on the water, how Christ lifted him out of the waves. Trust. Faith. We weren’t created to go it alone in this world. I’ve been learning that since Volgograd. Tyler. Finn. You. You’ve all been there for me.” She stretched out a hand. “Christ is here for you now. All you have to do is accept his help.”

Val took her hand, and Talia pulled her into an embrace. The two of them cried together.

CHAPTER

SEVENTY-

TWO

RATCHAWIN RIVERSIDE VILLAGE

YAN NAWA DISTRICT

BANGKOK, THAILAND

TYLERJUMPEDTHEMEDIAN and cut between oncoming cars. He fishtailed down the bridge’s east embankment. A hard right and a spray of gravel left him speeding along the narrow dirt trail beside the tracks.

“You didn’t make it?” Eddie asked after Tyler gave him a sitrep. “But you and Finn have to find the trailers and work the locks before Darcy stops the train. Two minutes later, transport security will come running down the tracks from their passenger car. We have a tiny window to get those kids off.”

“Fluid plan,” Tyler said. “Fluid . . . plan. Finn, report.”

“Found the freight trucks. Numbers nine and ten, counting from the back. Working the first lock.”

“Keep at it.”

The tracks diverged from the riverbank, and a canyon of dilapidated apartment buildings swallowed the train. Tyler inched closer to the railroad ties and sailed through the gap. Every rock and pebble jiggled his front tire, threatening to unseat him, but he sped up. He had to get on board before some larger obstacle sprang up in his path—an obstacle like the utility post materializing two hundred meters ahead.

The bike’s engine screamed. The handlebars bounced and jerked at his arms. Tyler closed on the last car, a freight truck on a flatbed like all the rest. With thirty meters to run before the utility box, he reached for the trailer and swiped empty air.

Twenty meters. It was no use.

“Finn, I can’t get to you.”

“Yes, you can!”

He heard the shout as much from the car beside him as over the comms. The thief appeared from behind the trailer and reached out a hand. “Grab hold!”

Tyler gripped the Aussie’s forearm and jumped. The two fell side by side on the flatbed. In their wake, the bike slammed into the utility box, sending up a shower of sparks.

Tyler tossed his helmet over the side and helped Finn to his feet. “I thought I told you to work the locks.”

The thief frowned. “You’re welcome. First lock’s done. Contents were a little disappointing. I’ll get to work on the second post-haste.”

“Make it post double haste,” Eddie said. “You’re almost to the market.”

The entire plan hinged on being ready to rush the children off the train when it stopped.

According to Eddie’s research, Siam Rail Transport had plowed straight through the decades-old Central Bangkok Market to install the new southern line, knocking down tin and cinder-block booths. With the line completed, the vendors moved back in, right up to the tracks. Three times a day, the conductor blew his horn, the awnings rolled back, and the train rolled through at thirty-five miles an hour, inches from the noses of the market customers. The moment it passed, the awnings fell back into place, and business resumed.

A train stopped in the middle of that market would cause all the right kinds of confusion.

Tyler followed Finn from one rolling flatbed to the next, heading for the first truck. “What did you mean when you said the contents were disappointing?”

“I’ll show you.” They reached the trailer and Finn threw open the doors.

“Clothes?”

“Evening gowns mostly.”

Tyler caught the hem of a dress and rubbed sequined polyester between his thumb and forefinger. “Cheap evening gowns. Eddie, how confident are you in those registry numbers?”

“Confident. Please, get to the second trailer. You two are killing me.”

The padlock protecting the second trailer proved no match for Finn. He had it loose in moments and unlatched the doors to reveal a wall of cardboard boxes.

“False barrier,” Tyler said. “Got to be. Look for a smuggler’s door behind.” The two hauled down box after box, only to find another row. The horn sounded from the engine. Tyler checked the train’s progress. “Darcy, we’re approaching the market. Do your thing.”

“But of course.”

They didn’t need to permanently disable the train, only stop it for a time. Darcy had planted a small charge in the tracks to target one of the engine’s