Alex
Kingdom of Greece
- Apr 16, 2019
- 4,940
Along the Thai-Lao Border, Undisclosed, Secret
A cold November night. An old seemingly abandoned street restaurant. Locked and boarded. A musty scented freezer, dark. A man, blindfolded and gag - kidnapped, a tied prisoner. Three armed men guard the door, they stand and salute as another older man dressed in a high-ranking uniform enters the building.
“General Sarayud.” The young man on the far left addressed the uniform.
“At ease.” The men did as they were told. “Did everything go as planned?”
“He fought,” another man stated, rubbing his reddened knuckles, “but no witnesses.”
Sarayud took off his hat and placed it on the counter next to him. “Good, now why him?”
The third man answered. “His mother was a Lao refugee. Thrown into the Nong Khai refugee camp, he was born sometime during the camp’s peak size. We ran his name, his prints, everything - his mother failed to document him, likely fearing being sent back to Laos. As far as the government knows: he doesn’t exist.”
“He can be whatever and whoever we make him.” The first man elaborated.
“And his mother?”
“Somewhere safe. She won’t be an issue, nor does anyone care if she’s vanished for a few days, or weeks.”
Nodding, the General took off his uniform top, placing it beside his hat. “Do you have his new documentation?” A quick assertive response came from one of the men and a folder was placed into the General’s hand. Opening it, the man would read over it all quickly. Name: Liko Vatthana, Age: 22, DOB: 1975, Place of Birth: Vientiane, Lao People’s Democratic Republic; there was more, but this was all the General needed. Handing the file back, the man began rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. “Is his age accurate?”
“We convinced his mother we were policemen and that her son went missing. I doubt she’d give us false information.”
One of the other soldiers would budge in. “Executive Ravee has shown his support for us, he’ll assure all this information goes in smoothly.”
The man simply nodded. “Get the door.”
Saluting, the last of the men grabbed a key from his pocket and used it to unlock the thick padlock from the freezer’s door. Inside, their prisoner could be heard whimpering as the door’s handle clunked and the door squealed open. With the door closed, it was pitch black and the inside couldn’t fit more than three or four people, nonetheless the General asked that the door be closed behind him as he entered.
As the three soldiers patrolled the restaurant, ensuring that no potential passersby gave a second look at their locked-up restaurant, various noises could be heard echoing from inside the freezer. The General yelled, the prisoner groaned and screamed, and finally cried. But eventually, the door to the freezer opened again and Sarayud reemerged, his hands bloodied. Reaching the sink, he would clean his hands and bark an order. “Recorder.”
One of the soldiers hurried to his leader’s side and provided him with the handheld device. The man dried his hands, took the hand recorder and returned, this time the freezer door would remain open. “As before,” he would tell their prisoner and waited for a sign of approval before pressing the ‘on’ button, “what is your name?”
Short of breath but still understandable, the blindfolded young man would answer. “My name is Liko Vatthana.”
“When and where were you born?”
“July of 1975, in Vientiane.”
“Who do you work for?”
“I’m a member of the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party.”
“Did they send you here? Why?”
“I was tasked to infiltrate the Rattanakosin Kingdom and assassinate the Crown Princess. For the glory of the people and the revolution!” With that, the General pressed the ‘off’ button and left, closing the freezer’s door behind him.
“It is done.” He told the three soldiers as he put his uniform and hat back on. “He knows what to do and he has the motivation. Make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be and keep an eye on him at all times until his time comes. If he survives, Do not let anyone but our own arrest him when the task is done.”
They saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Sarayu Chulanot slid the recording and file into his jacket and departed.
A cold November night. An old seemingly abandoned street restaurant. Locked and boarded. A musty scented freezer, dark. A man, blindfolded and gag - kidnapped, a tied prisoner. Three armed men guard the door, they stand and salute as another older man dressed in a high-ranking uniform enters the building.
“General Sarayud.” The young man on the far left addressed the uniform.
“At ease.” The men did as they were told. “Did everything go as planned?”
“He fought,” another man stated, rubbing his reddened knuckles, “but no witnesses.”
Sarayud took off his hat and placed it on the counter next to him. “Good, now why him?”
The third man answered. “His mother was a Lao refugee. Thrown into the Nong Khai refugee camp, he was born sometime during the camp’s peak size. We ran his name, his prints, everything - his mother failed to document him, likely fearing being sent back to Laos. As far as the government knows: he doesn’t exist.”
“He can be whatever and whoever we make him.” The first man elaborated.
“And his mother?”
“Somewhere safe. She won’t be an issue, nor does anyone care if she’s vanished for a few days, or weeks.”
Nodding, the General took off his uniform top, placing it beside his hat. “Do you have his new documentation?” A quick assertive response came from one of the men and a folder was placed into the General’s hand. Opening it, the man would read over it all quickly. Name: Liko Vatthana, Age: 22, DOB: 1975, Place of Birth: Vientiane, Lao People’s Democratic Republic; there was more, but this was all the General needed. Handing the file back, the man began rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. “Is his age accurate?”
“We convinced his mother we were policemen and that her son went missing. I doubt she’d give us false information.”
One of the other soldiers would budge in. “Executive Ravee has shown his support for us, he’ll assure all this information goes in smoothly.”
The man simply nodded. “Get the door.”
Saluting, the last of the men grabbed a key from his pocket and used it to unlock the thick padlock from the freezer’s door. Inside, their prisoner could be heard whimpering as the door’s handle clunked and the door squealed open. With the door closed, it was pitch black and the inside couldn’t fit more than three or four people, nonetheless the General asked that the door be closed behind him as he entered.
As the three soldiers patrolled the restaurant, ensuring that no potential passersby gave a second look at their locked-up restaurant, various noises could be heard echoing from inside the freezer. The General yelled, the prisoner groaned and screamed, and finally cried. But eventually, the door to the freezer opened again and Sarayud reemerged, his hands bloodied. Reaching the sink, he would clean his hands and bark an order. “Recorder.”
One of the soldiers hurried to his leader’s side and provided him with the handheld device. The man dried his hands, took the hand recorder and returned, this time the freezer door would remain open. “As before,” he would tell their prisoner and waited for a sign of approval before pressing the ‘on’ button, “what is your name?”
Short of breath but still understandable, the blindfolded young man would answer. “My name is Liko Vatthana.”
“When and where were you born?”
“July of 1975, in Vientiane.”
“Who do you work for?”
“I’m a member of the Lao People’s Revolutionary Party.”
“Did they send you here? Why?”
“I was tasked to infiltrate the Rattanakosin Kingdom and assassinate the Crown Princess. For the glory of the people and the revolution!” With that, the General pressed the ‘off’ button and left, closing the freezer’s door behind him.
“It is done.” He told the three soldiers as he put his uniform and hat back on. “He knows what to do and he has the motivation. Make sure he’s where he’s supposed to be and keep an eye on him at all times until his time comes. If he survives, Do not let anyone but our own arrest him when the task is done.”
They saluted. “Yes, sir!”
Sarayu Chulanot slid the recording and file into his jacket and departed.
