Chapter 29

The mission had clear parameters.

This was what Freen kept coming back to. The mission had clear parameters and clear objectives and a clear threat assessment and when she was working on the mission she was not thinking about anything else. This was useful. This was the most useful thing about having a mission.

She had been very focused on the mission since Wednesday evening.

Nam had confirmed the second phone on Thursday morning. A brief message, no unnecessary detail: malee’s phone active last night. upload at 23:14. recipient confirmed as jeff’s number.

Freen had read it at her desk with Becky’s office door open behind her and the closing argument section Becky had asked her to review sitting on her screen and she had typed back: meet me at lunch. the usual place.

Then she had reviewed the closing argument section and sent her notes and gone back to the Viroj bundle and been very focused on the mission.

—

The usual place was the coffee shop three blocks north.

Nam was already there when Freen arrived. Corner table, back to the wall, half a coffee and – new development – an entire bag of chips open beside her laptop.

Freen sat down.

“The phone,” she said.

“Active for four months.” Nam turned her laptop to show the data. “Consistent pattern – Becky’s schedule forwarded every Sunday evening. Hearing dates, prep session times, route changes, client meeting locations.” She tapped the screen. “Jeff gets it before the week starts. He has her entire diary.”

Freen looked at the data.

Four months. Since before they arrived. Khun Malee had been doing this since before anyone was watching and she had been careful about it – the Sunday evening timing, the brief uploads, nothing that would look unusual in a routine phone check.

“She’s not an amateur,” Freen said.

“No.” Nam ate a chip. “Recruited properly. Jeff got to her through a third party – we haven’t identified who yet but it doesn’t matter for our purposes.” She closed the laptop. “What matters is she goes before Jeff realises the information has stopped.”

“If she just disappears he’ll know something changed.”

“Which is why she can’t just disappear.” Nam looked at her. “It needs to look like a normal HR process. Performance issue, internal transfer, something mundane. She leaves the firm under her own power and Jeff sees it as normal staff movement.”

Freen thought about this. “Who do we use for the HR side.”

“Charlotte.”

“Charlotte can’t know the real reason.”

“Charlotte doesn’t need to know the real reason. She needs to action a performance review that was – let’s say – flagged by an anonymous internal report three weeks ago.” Nam smiled slightly. “I filed it three weeks ago. It’s in the system. Charlotte hasn’t looked at it yet because she has slightly more pressing things on her mind.”

Freen looked at her. “You filed a fake performance review three weeks ago.”

“I filed a real performance review based on real observations. The secondary phone is a real secondary phone. The uploads are real uploads.” Nam ate another chip. “I just organised the paperwork in advance. In case.”

“In case.”

“You’re not the only one who plans ahead.”

Freen was quiet for a moment. Then: “What’s my part.”

“You walk her into the HR meeting.” Nam closed the chip bag. “Charlotte will handle the meeting itself. You just need to get Malee to the conference room without her knowing what it’s about.”

“How.”

“Tell her Charlotte wants to discuss a scheduling matter. Routine. Nothing alarming.” She looked at Freen. “Be normal about it.”

“I am normal.”

Nam looked at her for a long moment. “You’re going to need to be more normal than usual.”

—

The HR meeting was scheduled for two o’clock.

At one fifty Freen walked to Khun Malee’s desk.

Malee was at her screen, working through something administrative with the focused efficiency of someone who had been doing this job for six years and knew it completely. She looked up when Freen stopped beside her.

“Ms Sarocha?”

“Charlotte asked me to let you know – she’d like a quick word about the partner scheduling for next month. Conference room two, if you have a moment.”

Malee saved her document. “Of course. Now?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

In her earpiece Nam said: “You’re too calm.”

Freen smiled at Malee and gestured toward the corridor. “No rush.”

“She’s going to know something’s wrong,” Nam said.

Malee stood and picked up her notepad – the habit of someone who took notes at every meeting – and followed Freen toward the corridor.

“People who are calm don’t make people suspicious,” Freen said.

Malee looked at her. “Sorry?”

“I said – the meeting shouldn’t take long.” Freen held the conference room door open. “Charlotte’s already inside.”

“You make everyone suspicious because you’re too calm,” Nam said in her ear. “It reads as unnatural.”

Charlotte was at the table with two documents and the professional warmth she used for difficult conversations. She stood when Malee came in. “Khun Malee. Thank you for coming. Please sit down.”

Freen closed the door from the outside.

In her ear: “That has never been a problem before,” she said quietly. To the corridor wall.

“You’ve never worked in a law firm before,” Nam said.

This was a fair point.

She stood in the corridor and adjusted. Slightly. She thought about how Noey walked through the office – the easy looseness of someone who found everything mildly amusing. She thought about how Heng spoke to people – warm, unhurried, like he had all day. She rearranged herself into something that looked less like a soldier waiting outside a room and more like a junior associate who had just passed on a message and had nowhere particular to be.

A woman from the litigation team walked past. She smiled at Freen.

Freen smiled back. Easy. Unhurried.

The woman kept walking.

“Better,” Nam said.

Inside the conference room the voices were low and professional and Freen couldn’t hear what was being said. She didn’t need to. Charlotte had the performance review documentation and the internal transfer offer – a position at the firm’s Chiang Mai office, framed as a development opportunity – and she was very good at these conversations. She had been having them for twenty years.

Seventeen minutes later the conference room door opened.

Khun Malee came out. She looked slightly pale but composed – the look of someone who had just received news that was unwelcome but professionally handled. She had her notepad under her arm. She nodded at Freen as she passed.

“Thank you,” she said. She meant for the scheduling message.

“Of course,” Freen said.

She watched Malee walk back toward her desk. At her desk Malee sat down and opened a drawer and took out something and put it in her bag. Then she closed her laptop and picked up the bag and went to speak to someone from administration.

Clearing her desk.

The transfer was effective immediately. Charlotte’s offer had apparently included a generous relocation package. Freen noted this and made a mental note to thank Charlotte without explaining why.

She went back to her own desk.

She sent Nam one word: done.

Nam sent back: smooth. meet me downstairs in ten.

—

Nam’s car was parked around the corner.

Freen got in. Nam had the chip bag again – a different flavour this time, which suggested she had made a trip to the convenience store between the coffee shop and now, which was very Nam.

“Jeff’s last upload from Malee was Sunday,” Nam said. “He’ll expect the next one this Sunday. When it doesn’t come-“

“He’ll assume a problem on her end first,” Freen said. “Give it a day or two. Then he starts to wonder.”

“So we have until – Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest before he changes his behaviour.”

“Does he have another way to get the schedule?”

“Not that we’ve identified. The direct access to Charlotte’s calendar was the whole point of Malee.” Nam ate a chip. “Without her he’s working from what he already knows plus direct observation.”

“He’s already doing direct observation.”

“More of it then.” She looked at Freen. “How long do we have until closing arguments?”

“Twelve days.”

Nam was quiet for a moment. She looked at the building through the windscreen. Fourteenth floor. The firm’s windows catching the afternoon light.

“How long do we have before Surat moves?” Freen said.

“Engfa thinks before closing arguments. She’s not more specific than that.” Nam closed the chip bag. “Which means somewhere in the next twelve days.”

Freen looked at the building.

Inside somewhere Becky was at her desk. Working on the closing argument. The last section that still wasn’t right. She had been at it all week and she would be at it tonight and she would probably be at it every evening until she walked into the courtroom and delivered it.

She had no idea.

She had been reading the names of senior military officers into the court record for two weeks and she had no idea that those names had been watching her do it. That someone had been sitting in the gallery tracking her and reporting back and that the people being named had made a decision about what to do about her.

She was just working.

Twelve days.

“Yes,” Freen said. “We better move.”

Nam started the car.