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In which Kit, Bel and Kam get a call and a shocking revelation. |
Kit resists the temptation to check his outgoing calls for the umpteenth time. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as the driveway gate slides open, then wraps his fingers around his coffee cup instead. The last time he’d been to Bel’s place was to give information, rather than receive it. But then, so many things had been different last time. Bel’s morning call had caught Kit off guard. Usually, the two of them only communicated through LINE, so when Bel calls, it’s important. He’d invited Kit for dinner, and said it would be worth his while. Bel talked funny sometimes, but that’s not something Kit would say aloud. Not if he didn’t want his anatomy rearranged. There are still two cars parked side by side in the driveway--Bel’s little white Mazda hatchback and Kam’s Range Rover. Not for the first time, it occurs to Kit how much a car reflects it’s owner’s personality: Bel, fashion forward and chic and sometimes tries a little too hard, and Kam, intimidating and stoic and protective. They shouldn’t work together, but somehow they do. Kam opens the front door and gives his older brother the once over. “Is that a strawberry latte?” Kit’s answer is a raised brow. “Are you still drinking that fake coffee shit?” “It’s called Crio Bru!” Bel yells from the kitchen. “And it’s delicious!” Kit smiles as he comes into the front room. It’s never not fun to needle his brother’s boyfriend. Light from the setting sun streams through the windows, casting long shadows of the decor, which has changed a little bit to reflect that there are two occupants of the house now. Books on Bel’s overflowing bookshelves stand side by side with the model cars and motorcycles Kam has had since childhood, and the rest of the furniture walks the line between chic and comfortable, like the two men who live there. Bel comes out of the kitchen with a mug of Crio Bru in one hand and his phone in the other. “You sure you don’t want some?” “Let’s see, do I want fake coffee, or something with actual flavor?” Kit makes a face, holding up his own cup. “Have you ever tried it?” Kam retorts, offering his own cup. Kit flips him the bird as he takes a seat opposite his younger brother. Bel sits too, but only for a second. Then he gets up, goes into the kitchen, comes back with a king size KitKat, which he drops on the coffee table before resuming his seat. The air is thick with unspoken tension. Every so often, Bel glances at his phone, and then the clock, and then Kam’s watch, then his phone again. The fifth time he does this, Kam gives him a look. “You do know the US is eleven hours behind us right? So Nina won’t call until she’s awake.” “Of course I know that!” Bel rounds on his boyfriend. “I spent half my life there, remember?” Kit checks his watch. “It’s seven a.m. over there now. How do you know she has solid information and not something that will lead to another dead end?” “For your information, I forwarded everything you gave me to Nina.” Bel retorts. “And this morning she texted that she found something. So just eat your KitKat and wait til she calls.” Kit shrugs and opens the KitKat. It’s pink. “You got me a strawberry KitKat?” “Just eat it.” Over his boyfriend’s head, Kam casts his older brother an apologetic look. Anticipation builds in the room, thickening the air. Bel puts his phone on the coffee table and stares at it, as though that would make the phone call come through faster. The only sounds are the rattle of the candy wrapper, and the nervous drumming of Bel’s fingers on the coffee table—a drumming that stops only when his phone starts to vibrate. A name flashes across the screen: NINA. “It’s her!” Bel scrambles for the phone. “Put it on speaker.” Kit leans forward in spite of himself. Bel nods as he hits the speaker button. “Nina?” “What shithole did you fall into this time?” The voice that answers doesn’t belong to Nina. It’s male, and hearing it makes Kit tense up. The last time he’d heard that voice was less than two months ago. They were sitting at the edge of a pool, having a less than comfortable conversation. A conversation about things that had never been resolved--at least not on Kit’s end. Ninety-five missed calls, Silo. Ninety-five. And Bel’s is the one you answer. “Silo!” Bel squalls, his eyes on the phone rather than Kit. “I’m not the one in trouble this time, I swear. I’m just—doing Kit a favor. He’s here, you can ask him yourself.” “Are you?” Silo sounds amused, ignoring Bel’s invitation to address Kit. “Or did you just decide to play detective again? And why choose OmniVentures?” “I didn’t chose it!” Bel blows out a frustrated breath. “Someone else did. Or was assigned to it, or whatever.” “Yeah? Who might that be?” Silo clearly enjoys teasing Bel as much as everyone else does. “Interpol.” It’s Kit who answers the question. “Official investigation this time, on both the company and the CEO. We’ve got circumstantial evidence for just about every crime a businessman can commit, but nothing concrete to tie it all together. Not yet anyway.” “So there’s finally enough evidence to take down that shark.” Silo mutters. Kit isn’t sure if that cold note in Silo’s voice is directed at him or Chalam or both. “You’ve met him?” Bel sounds surprised. “I know who he is.” Silo sounds like he wishes he didn’t. “Everyone in the NIA knows who he is. We just can prove what he does--until now, I guess. Who’s case is it?” Kam hesitates. “Silo—” “I’m not going to fly back and take over,” Silo pushes. “I’m just curious who they assigned this to.” Kam and Kit exchange glances before Kam responds. “Jet Saetangmasawat.” “Oh.” Silo takes a minute to process this information. “Is that why you called Nina and not me? Because my ex is taking the lead?” A spasm crosses Kit’s face at Silo’s words, and he bites into his KitKat to cover it. “They called me because you’re supposed to be on vacation.” A female voice cuts in on Silo’s end of the line. “And I’m going to make sure you actually take one.” Bel’s sister doesn’t sound at all like him. Even without seeing her face, Kit knows what her expression is. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d been up hours before now, going over whatever parts of her case files she was allowed to take home that week. Cool, brisk, businesslike, workaholic, that was Nina. He had no idea what Silo even saw in her. Much less why he would take a vacation to visit her. “Bel, your sister’s harassing me.” Silo doesn’t sound at all harassed. “I’m sorry.” And Bel doesn’t sound the least bit sorry. “I also called her instead of you because apparently, you don’t answer phone calls.” Kit glares at him over the half finished KitKat. Bel shrugs, and there’s silence on the other end of the phone for a minute. “You told Bel you found something.” Kam is the one who breaks the silence. Nina hesitates. “You said Kit’s with you?” “He’s here, I told you that.” Bel confirms. “He just doesn’t want to do any talking, for some reason. What did you find?” “Dead ends to start with. OmniVentures is very good at covering their tracks.” Again, Nina hesitates. “Which is why we needed to investigate from another angle.” “We?” Kit leans forward in spite of himself. “The CIA.” Nina elaborates. “Chalam is a Person of Interest to us too. I went back though some of our old case files to see if we’d made progress on that score, but we hit the same dead ends the NIA and Interpol did.” “That’s why you called?” Kit sounds as disappointed as Bel and Kam look. “To say you found nothing?” “No, this is where the ‘other angle’ comes in.” There’s a shuffling of papers on the other end of the line before Nina speaks again. “Several years ago, one of our people contacted one of yours--I’m naming no names--and asked for a collaboration. The report I found doesn’t go into too many details, but apparently two civilians were asked to participate in an undercover operation to infiltrate OmniVentures. The agents who were their handlers lost contact after about four weeks, no calls, no emails, nothing. Then--” “Who were the civilians?” Kit breaks in. He’s never liked the expository parts of getting briefed. “Do you know their names?” Silence. “Nina?” Bel pushes. “Anada and Kanok Saetangmasawat.” It’s Silo’s voice who answers, low and quiet. The names hang heavily in the air, the silence in the room broken only by the distant hum of traffic. Kam sucks in a breath, and all the color drains from Bel’s face as they both look at Kit. “That means,” Kit’s mind struggles to process. “The civilians you hired--” “Jet’s parents.” Silo confirms. “Background check confirmed that.” “They worked for one of the smaller companies that OmniVentures took over, and were supposed to report on any suspicious activities they found.” Nina elaborates. “They disappeared before they could find anything concrete, and the investigation into their disappearance is still open. At least, it is on our end.” “Then it wasn’t an accident.” Kam mutters. “What wasn’t?” Nina sounds more curious than confused. “Jet’s parents died in a car accident when he was nine.” Kit elaborates. “This might explain why.” “If you can tie Chalam to the car accident, that’s a murder charge.” Excitement is building in Bel’s voice. “That’s something isn’t it?” “You’d have to prove it first.” Nina’s answer is practical, but deflating. “find osmethiong concrete that can’t be disputed.” “But that also means they were onto something.” Bel insists. “Otherwise, why would Chalam want to get rid of them?” “It’s hard to say.” Nina’s voice is tinged with caution. “But if they disappeared that quickly--” “That gives Chalam a personal motive,” Kit cuts in. “For premeditated murder. That’s something even the best legal team can’t easily talk themselves out of. Can you send me those files?” “Not Jet?” Kam gives his older brother an odd look. “He should know--” “Nina, send me the files.” Kit repeats. “I want to go over them first.” “You’ll share.” Nina makes it a command, rather than a suggestion. “So that we can close our case too.” “I’ll send you what we have.” Kit reassures her. “Next time, call me instead of your brother. Easier to collaborate that way.” “Hey, Kit.” This is the first time Silo has addressed him correctly. Kit's pulse rate stutters, and he keeps his voice steady. “Yeah?” “Stop calling me.” Silo ends the call without saying anything else. They don’t talk during dinner. Not because they have nothing to talk about, but because the conversation with Nina and Silo has given all three of them a lot to process. Kit mostly pushes the food around on his plate, while Kam and Bel exchange apprehensive looks. After they eat, Bel volunteers to clean up on his own, not just because he’s the host, but so that the two Manirat brothers can have a private conversation if they want to. Kit lights his cigarette with shaking fingers, footsteps sound behind him, but he doesn't turn around. “I’m doing it in the yard, not the house.” “I know.” Kam comes up beside him. “Is that cigarette for Silo or for what he said?” Rather than respond, Kit just takes a drag, and exhales smoke. “Silo’s not in love with Nina.” Kam presses. “I know.” Another drag, another exhale. “You keep telling me.” Kam glances down at Kit’s phone. “How many voicemails did you leave?” “Ninety-five.” Kit tries to keep his voice neutral and fails. “Least I know he’s getting them.” Seeing the expression on his older brother’s face, Kam changes the subject. “When are you going to tell Jet?” Kit shrugs. “Soon.” “Bad things happen when we don’t share what we need to.” Kam reminds him. “Last time, that put Bel and me in the hospital. Bel didn’t know for years what his dad did. Really messed with his head.” “I remember.” Kit exhales more smoke. “He still have nightmares?” “Not as bad as he used to.” Kam glances back at the house, where Bel is still cleaning up dinner. “He won’t go to therapy cause he says it won’t help, but I keep encouraging.” “Did it help you with your nightmares?” Kit is careful to flick cigarette ash onto the pavement rather than the grass. It’s easier to pick up that way, which of course he would remember to do before he left, since both Bel and Kam hated cigarettes. Or rather, they encouraged him to smoke outside. “Yes it helped me, but that’s not the point. Keeping secrets never goes well. Not for us, not for anyone. Can you put that out?” Kam waves at the smoke that insists on circling his head. Kit extinguishes the cigarette. “Your point?” “Jet needs to know why his parents died.” Kam reiterates. “And he needs to hear it from you.” Read from beginning: "1. Ignored" ![]() |