False Horizon. Alex Archer

him a little. It was a theory quickly turned to fact when the man spoke again.

      “Are you Tuk?”

      The inflection of voice told Tuk all he needed to know. The man knew him not from his dealing with thugs, but from his intelligence work. Tuk smiled. “Yes. I am he.”

      “I would like to ask for your assistance in a small matter I have to deal with,” the man said. “And I will pay you very well for your services, say twice the rate you used to obtain from the British?”

      Tuk smiled. “That would make me very happy indeed.”

      The man nodded. “I was certain it would.” He gestured to the street. “Walk with me and I shall tell you of the matter.”

      Tuk fell into step beside the stranger and they moved off down the street. Tuk found himself marveling at the manner in which the giant man moved. Not so much like a steamroller or some other juggernaut, but with the practiced, careful step of a dancer. The man’s grace belied his immense size and Tuk knew this was no ordinary spy.

      “She will come from America. A young woman in her twenties. Dark hair that flows down past her shoulders. She is lithe. Quick. And in battle, she is a most formidable opponent.” The man showed him a picture of a beautiful woman.

      “I won’t fight her,” Tuk said.

      “I should hope you won’t,” the man replied. “But have little doubt that if she spots you, then she will make every effort to find out why you are following her. And she can be most persuasive.”

      Tuk smiled. “She will not see me.”

      “Indeed. And that is exactly the reason I have come to you, my friend. I know of your reputation. I know of your skill. This is not a matter to be entrusted to a faceless bit of technology, but rather to an expert such as yourself.”

      “I will follow her from the moment she leaves the plane until such time as you wish me to stop,” Tuk said. “And never will she be the wiser.”

      “Excellent. Excellent.” The man handed Tuk a small envelope. “Take half of the payment now for your trouble.”

      “Trouble?”

      The man chuckled. “You are used to never being seen and yet here you are walking down the street with me. And I tend to attract attention despite my best efforts. I am therefore ruining your usual cloak of invisibility. For that, I sincerely apologize.”

      “You are not troubling me in the least,” Tuk said. He appreciated the man’s deferential attitude. “Had you not employed me, I might again find myself needing to find a job with a lower class of person. One I do not wish to seek out, but circumstances have dictated that I do just that in order to survive.”

      The man nodded. “The realities of life do not tolerate the whims of our hearts, do they?”

      “Not often.”

      “Take this assignment and I will triple your payment. I know the pain of working with idiots. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

      “Your generosity is most appreciated.”

      “As is your discretion,” the man said. “And your talent.”

      “What would you have me do once I pick up the trail?”

      “Nothing. You do absolutely nothing except follow her. For you to attempt otherwise would be suicidal.”

      There was nothing boastful or arrogant about the manner in which the large man spoke. It was simply matter-of-fact. And Tuk had little reason to doubt the man’s words.

      “As you wish.”

      “She will most likely head to Thamel.”

      “What makes you say that?”

      “That is where all foreigners tend to go, isn’t it? And this woman is adept at blending in with the surrounding scenery.”

      Tuk nodded. “I won’t let that fact enable any assumptions on my part.”

      “I know this.”

      They reached the end of the street and throngs of foot traffic swelled around them. The large man turned to Tuk and smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

      “How will I know where to find you?”

      “Take this.” The large man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small phone. Tuk recognized it as a disposable unit like thousands of others sold all over Katmandu. It was anonymous and therefore useful to the very drug runners Tuk despised.

      “Press and hold the two and it will ring to my phone. Tell me where you are and I will be there. The phone is set to vibrate. If I call you and you do not answer, I will assume you are unable to talk at that moment for fear of giving your position away. However, I will expect a return call as soon as you are able.”

      “Understood.”

      “Then we are in business.”

      Tuk frowned. “One last question, if I may?”

      “Yes?”

      “How did you find me?”

      The man smiled. “You are a rarity in this part of the world, my friend. But not so in other places. In every city and town there are those who know it better than anyone else. I only needed to take my time and you revealed yourself when the universe judged the time right.”

      Tuk smiled. “I’m glad to be of service.”

      “As am I.”

      “I know better than to ask your name,” Tuk said. “But what about the woman? What is she called?”

      The man started to walk away, paused and looked back at Tuk. “Her name is Annja Creed.”

      Tuk said the name to himself several times, trying it on for size. When he glanced back, the large man was gone.

      Outside the Blue Note, Tuk wondered what exactly such a woman might be doing in order to attract the intense scrutiny of the man who now employed him. She seemed ordinary enough, albeit skilled at movement through crowds. Tuk had trailed her on a motorbike from the airport, and when she’d given up the taxi, he had parked and followed her on foot.

      The phone buzzed in the pocket of his worn pants. Tuk reached in and pulled out the phone. “Yes?”

      “You have her?”

      “It is as you said. She is in Thamel. At a restaurant called the Blue Note.”

      “Keep watching her.”

      “You’re coming here?”

      “Not yet. But I will soon.”

      The line disconnected and Tuk was left to wonder some more about the woman called Annja Creed.

      3

      Inside the Blue Note, Annja was oblivious to the little Nepali man stationed outside with orders to report on her movements. She had other things to consider just then, like exactly how she was going to deal with the two men heading toward her table.

      “Mike?”

      But Mike only frowned. Annja glanced at him and then back at the hulking masses in front of her. They both stopped short of coming within range of a swift kick from Annja’s boots. That meant they had a situational awareness Annja recognized, marking them as seasoned professionals.

      “Hi, Mike,” the one sporting a goatee said. “How ya been?”

      Mike frowned. “I don’t know you.”

      “Sure you do. You know our employer, Mr. Tsing. So if you know him, then you know us.”

      Annja looked at Mike. “Who is Mr. Tsing?”

      “A miserable bastard, apparently,” Mike said. He looked back at the