43a. Seventeen Years Ago...

Seventeen Years Ago…
Chalam glances up at his visitor. He knows the man in passing, but never bothered to learn his name. OmniVentures underlings are there to do his bidding, nothing more. This particular underling has been in Chalam’s employ for quite some time. He has one of those faces that is easily forgettable, and--so far as Chalam is aware--no conscience to speak of. It’s one of the reasons Chalam keeps this person around: he does as ordered, no questions asked.
“You have the reports?” Chalam’s voice is level, but his eyes blaze cold fire. The underling nods, placing a thick folder on the desk. Chalam leaves through them, the nerve in his temple ticking faster with each page he reads. “How did you manage to get your hands on them?”
“Contact at the CIA.” The underling’s voice is granite hard and just as emotionless. “On our side, and low enough on the corporate ladder that no one will suspect him of asking too many questions.
“If Thai Intelligence and Interpol can’t crucify me, the Central Intelligence Agency will try instead.” Chalam mutters. “And they’ll use Anada and Kanok Saetangmasawat to do it. Their findings are very thorough, and very accurate, I’ll give them that. If this information goes public, it would be detrimental to me and this company. Do we know who they’re reporting to?”
The underling shakes his head. “No names, not even on phone records. The number is blocked.”
“The two of them have become quite the problem.” Chalam steeples his fingers, the muscles in both his jawline and temple ticking in tandem. “Problems need to be eliminated.”
The underling nods. “I’ll begin termination of employment paperwork immediately.”
“Termination of employment?” Chalam gives the other man a withering look. “Oh no, nothing so temporary as all that. Anada and Kanok Saetangmasawat have become a serious threat--their elimination will need to be more…permanent. It has to look like an accident. No traces, no suspicions. I’ll handle it myself.”
The underlying’s eyebrows knit together. “You’re going to—”
“Yes,” Chalam’s smile is a smooth, cold curve of satisfaction. “I’ll drive the car myself. I’ll ensure the accident is flawless and leaves no trace. Unless you could possibly think of a more effective way to remove them without raising suspicion?”
“I’ll arrange everything.” His underlying nods, a short jerk of his head. This man understands the gravity of Chalam’s order, and he understands what the consequences of any correction or protest will bring.
Once he’s alone in the room, Chalam turns back to his desk. His face reflects dark satisfaction, his thoughts already on the execution of his plan.
His smile widens as he picks up the documents. “One less problem.”