Missing In Rangoon
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
As foreigners rush into Myanmar with briefcases stuffed with plans and cash for hotels, shopping malls and high rises, they discover the old ways die hard. Vincent Calvino's case is to find a young British-Thai man gone missing in Myanmar, while his best friend and protector Colonel Pratt of the Royal Thai Police has an order to cut off the supply of cold pills from Myanmar used for the methamphetamine trade in Thailand. As one of the most noir novels in the Vincent Calvino series, Missing in Rangoon plays out beneath the moving shadows of the cross-border drug barons. Pratt and Calvino's lives are entangled with the invisible forces inside the old regime and their allies who continue to play by their own set of rules.
On the other hand, the city was already filling up with foreign caravans. Come to think of it, Calvino thought, Miller would be not only too late, but irrelevant. Tropic of Cancer—download it for free from the Internet and then forget where you saved it on your computer. That’s how Henry would stop mattering. Saved but unread, except by one exotic Black Cat. Colonel Pratt asked who was at the door before opening it. “It’s me, Pratt.” Calvino heard the security chain slide and fall. The
use the one at the Savoy.” “I don’t think they’d like that.” Ohn Myint’s face suddenly appeared inside Saxon’s cubicle. “Ohn, you’re exactly on time,” said Saxon. “I’ve got a taxi waiting downstairs,” she said. “We should be on our way.” It was the first time that Calvino had seen her in regular clothes. She wore a freshly pressed longyi and white blouse and had makeup and a light brush of lipstick. Her hair had been combed, parted and tied back in a ponytail. She smelled of perfume and
surveillance job. I need a local who knows the city. You don’t. I don’t. And there isn’t anyone else.” He was right; they needed local resources. It was the difference between success and failure. “I’ll find someone.” Just as Calvino was on the cusp of solving one missing person case, the Colonel handed him another one. The hard-to-find were popping up like mushrooms at dawn hiding in a fine mist. “You’re still busy with the Osborne case.” Calvino smiled. “Looks like I’m finished with it
her, but with death, what was available except a shrug? She—of course death was a she—could steal his life, rob him blind as he watched her stealing, and there was nothing he could do but rail against the death goddess and finally submit to the thief no man could defeat. Osborne took a long drink from the glass of Johnnie Walker and water. “My father was born in Burma. His family owned property in Rangoon. He knew George Orwell. The country was under British rule then. Have you read Kipling? Of
grandfather, who had banished Yadanar’s mother from the family. If only he’d lived long enough to see that his grandson would be artistic, a lover of art and music. The paintings had long enjoyed a legendary reputation for foretelling. The owner of them had a portal into the future. According to Mya’s aunt, her husband, the general, used the paintings to make his plans. He gave information as favors to his superiors. They won lotteries, promotions, beautiful women and business deals. He never