Fatal Reunion - A James Acton Thriller Book #33 Page 2

  Thammathibet pursed his lips, staring at him before storming off. “Fine!” he shouted over his shoulder.

  Uthumphon patted his father’s man on the shoulder. “Good thinking,” he whispered with a smile. “I’ll be in my chambers. Do not hesitate to call on me should there be any problems.”

  Another bow. “Of course, Your Highness, thank you, Your Highness.”

  Uthumphon headed down the long hall toward the suite reserved for him that included bedchambers but also an office for him to conduct his business. He waved off his servants as he entered, and retreated to his bedchambers, staring out the window at the gardens below.

  And his brother, who might be king in the coming hours, laughing with his friends and cavorting with a harlot not his wife.

  May the spirits help us should he become our king.

  3 |

  Khwae Noi Tributary Dig Site Kanchanaburi District, Thailand Present Day, Three Days Earlier

  Professor Chayan Bunthan gently reached down and used his fingers to push away the mud from the edge of the small piece of exposed jade. It revealed an even bigger portion below the surface, and his heart pounded a little harder as his team members, along with the visiting schoolchildren, leaned closer, everyone as excited as he was.

  To this point, the dig site had been a fascinating glimpse into what life was like several centuries ago in this area. A recent river diversion for a hydroelectric project had dried up the river and revealed a village, buried for hundreds of years, all evidence suggesting it had been lost in a calamity as opposed to abandonment.

  It was a window into how peasant farmers and fishermen lived at the time, and it reminded him in some ways of Pompeii. There, people had died from the gasses and were preserved by the gently falling ash. Here, they died fleeing a wall of water. The village was heavily damaged, yet much remained, preserved in the now drying mud.

  They were in the middle of nowhere, the area very poor, and the excitement of having a team from Bangkok here had drawn some attention, including from the local schools. They had already had several tours come through over the past week, and he loved taking the time to show the children around, teaching them a bit about their history, and of archaeology.

  And it had been one of these students that had discovered the piece of jade sticking out of the ground on a practice grid set up for them. It was the first thing of potential monetary value they had found, and exactly the type of find they didn’t want word of spreading, as it might attract the wrong element.

  He had to play this carefully. A shard of jade was nothing. A curiosity with minimal value. A jade carving, especially something large, could be worth a fortune to someone living in abject poverty, and might spur rumors that there was more to be found. The locals could descend on the dig site and tear it apart if they thought their lives could be changed by finding something.

  He shoved his finger deeper into the mud, tracing the fragment, and hid his excitement as his fingertip continued to sense the smooth stone. He couldn’t proceed. It was too dangerous. He sat upright and threw his hands up in defeat as he rose. “Sorry, folks, just another piece of pottery. It was just painted green.” A round of groans from the children had him forcing a smile to fit the lie. “Now, now, there’s no reason to be disappointed. You children found an artifact we didn’t know was there until today. I’ll tell you what. When we excavate it and clean it up, I’ll let your teacher know, and you can come back to see what you found. Sound good?”

  Cheers erupted and their teacher smiled gratefully at him as he was helped out of the hole by one of his university-aged students. “Thank you so much for sharing your time with us,” said Miss Achara Panya, a beautiful woman with a bookish charm that Bunthan had to admit he was attracted to, even if she were ten years his junior. He had lost his wife in a car accident several years ago and hadn’t dated since, instead throwing himself into his work. It had been a long time since he had been attracted to anyone, and for some inexplicable reason, he found Achara intoxicating.

  “No need to thank me. It’s been my pleasure. And I did mean what I said. When we clean it up, we’ll have you all back.”

  “The children will be thrilled, I’m sure.”

  He took a chance, having noticed no wedding band. “And will you?”

  She smiled, turning her head away slightly. “I will be as well, I’m sure.”

  He beamed at her as he walked her back to the beat-up bus the children had arrived in. “Please forgive me if I’m being too forward, but is there a Mr. Panya?”

  “No.” She gestured at his hand. “But there is a Mrs. Bunthan.”

  He reached for the ring, giving it a twist, having forgotten he was still wearing it. “There was. She died three years ago.”

  She paused, placing her hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged, tapping the ring. “I guess you never really get over such a thing, and I never saw any reason to stop wearing the ring.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s time.”

  She stared up at him with a smirk. “Perhaps it is, if you’re going to hit on women.”

  His jaw dropped. “Oh my, am I that obvious?”

  “You’re definitely out of practice.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  She laughed. “You didn’t offend me, Professor.” She stopped as they reached the bus. “I understand you are staying here?”

  “Yes. We’re on a very small budget. If we used any of it toward accommodations, we’d have nothing left to feed ourselves.”

  “It must be very uncomfortable.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Then might I suggest dinner? My parents own a small restaurant in town.”

  “That would be lovely. But meeting your parents on a first date?”

  “Oh, they’re traditionalists. There was going to be a chaperone regardless. This way they get to meet you and assess your intentions toward me.”

  He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly nervous. “I feel like I’m a teenage boy again.”

  She giggled and pulled out a piece of paper, writing something on it before handing it to him. “This is how to find it. Say, seven tonight?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She climbed on the bus and it pulled away. He waved at her, the children returning it for her, but the smile she shot at him as he caught her last glimpse had his stomach in knots as both guilt and excitement gripped him.

  “Sir?”

  Bunthan turned to see one of his students, Sanun, standing behind him, grinning. “Umm, yes?”

  “She’s a hottie. I can’t believe you asked her out.”

  Bunthan cleared his throat, glancing about. “Keep that to yourself.”

  “It’s good for you, Professor. It’s been three years. She would want you to move on, to be happy again.”

  He regarded Sanun, his prize pupil that had been with him for years, and there when he received the news of his wife’s death. “Who says I’m not happy?”

  “Everyone.”

  Bunthan pursed his lips. “Everyone?”

  “Yes, Professor. No one wants to say anything, but you work too hard, you never have fun.” Sanun gestured toward the now departed bus. “She could be good for you. Have some fun tonight, remember what it’s like to spend time with a pretty girl.” He wagged a finger. “And don’t feel guilty about being happy. It’s all right to move on.”

  Bunthan stared at the much younger man, then realized he wasn’t so young anymore. “When did you get so old and wise?”

  Sanun shrugged. “Good mentor, I suppose.”

  Bunthan chuckled. “Perhaps.” He headed back toward the jade discovery. “Please keep this to yourself. I don’t want the entire camp discussing my love life.”

  Sanun lowered his voice. “I think it might be a little too late for that. Everyone saw how you two were looking at each other.”

  Bunthan noticed several staring with smiles. “Lovely. I’m now the camp gossip.” He
pointed at the hole as the others gathered around. “As I’m sure you’ve all suspected, I told a little fib to our visitors.”

  “What did she say?” asked Suchin, one of his female grad students.

  He eyed her. “She thanked me for allowing them to visit.”

  “By writing it down?”

  His cheeks flushed as he realized he still had the piece of paper Achara had given him, gripped in his hand. He stuffed it in his pocket. “Fine. You’ll all know before the sun goes down, because Sanun here can’t keep a secret. She invited me to have dinner with her”—hoots and other inappropriate sounds and comments erupted from his far too young companions—“at her parents’ restaurant. Very innocent, very proper, I can assure you.”

  “Good for you, Professor,” said Suchin. “She’s cute!”

  He held up both hands, palms out. “All right, all right, that’s enough.” He pointed at the hole and the shard of jade still protruding from it. “Back to business. That is obviously not part of a clay pot. It’s clearly jade. It could have monetary value, so I didn’t want any locals seeing it, because word could spread.” He hopped down then kneeled beside the exposed edge. “Now, let’s see what we actually have here.”

  And after a few minutes of careful digging with his hands, he had revealed enough to know what it was.

  And that they were all in terrible danger should word get out.

  4 |

  Royal Palace Ayutthaya, Ayutthaya Kingdom April 26, 1758

  Prince Uthumphon entered his father’s bedchambers and suppressed a gasp at the sight that lay before him. His father appeared near death, his cheeks sallow, his skin ashen, any life that had been there just yesterday now gone. It was heartbreaking. There was little doubt now that his father wouldn’t be long with them, and might not even make the night. And he assumed that’s why he had been summoned, against the physician’s orders.

  He forced a smile as he approached his father’s bedside. “How are you feeling?”

  His father’s head turned toward him and a weak smile greeted him. “How do I look?”

  Uthumphon’s eyes burned and tears threatened to escape, for he couldn’t bear to tell his father the truth. Oh, how he wished at this moment to have the capacity to lie with ease as his brother did, yet he couldn’t. It wasn’t in his nature. He had always told the truth, sometimes to his own detriment. He never got away with anything as a child, for guilt would rack him to such a degree that a stern look would have the floodgates opening.

  So today, he said nothing.

  “That bad?”

  The tears rolled and he plunked down on the bed, his shoulders rounded as his back faced his father. Men weren’t supposed to cry. Certainly not heirs to the throne. If his brother were to die, and he was forced to become king, what would his subjects think of a leader, chosen by the spirits, who cried?

  A hand touched his back for a brief moment and he turned to see his father’s arm flop onto the bed, the effort having taxed the poor man far more than it should have. Uthumphon wiped the tears from his cheeks and sniffed heavily.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I know I shouldn’t behave like this, but…”

  “It’s all right, my son. I too cried at your grandfather’s bedside when he died.”

  Uthumphon’s eyes shot wide. “You? You cried?”

  His father smiled slightly. “Yes. All men cry at some point in their lives. Some resist it, where tears never flow, but they are crying nonetheless. Others cry at the sunset of a difficult day. There is no shame in it, though as the future king, you must keep such emotions hidden from your subjects. While the women may worship you for having a heart, the men, who share such emotions yet hide them, will lose respect.”

  Uthumphon grunted. “Well, there’s no risk of that happening. Thammathibet will rule, I am certain, for a long time, then his son will become king. I will be happy to remain in the background, playing my small part.”

  His father gripped his hand, the squeeze of the fingers barely felt. “No, my son. I have made my decision. You will inherit my throne, not your brother.”

  A wave of nausea swept through him as sweat broke out on his forehead and upper lip, beads trickling down his spine. “Wh-what?”

  “You will be king after I’m gone.”

  Uthumphon’s jaw slackened as palpitations ravaged his chest. The pounding in his ears was almost overwhelming, and he felt faint. Both arms darted out, gripping the bed on either side as he struggled to steady himself. This couldn’t be. The eldest son always succeeded the death of the father. As far as he was aware, this cycle had never been broken, not in all of the years of the kingdom.

  And there was only one explanation for what had just been said, and that realization had his nerves steadying and his heart settling. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and smiled at his father, though there was no hiding the sadness that gripped him, knowing the man’s mind was going.

  “You’re mistaken, Father. You know that Thammathibet is the eldest and must inherit. I cannot take your place unless Thammathibet dies without a male heir.”

  “That is where you are mistaken.”

  Uthumphon’s eyebrows narrowed, his chest tightening once again. “What do you mean?”

  “It is tradition that the eldest inherits the throne, not law. All is dictated by the Mask of Succession. He who possesses it after the king has died, becomes king himself. All that matters is that he is part of the royal bloodline and male. Hierarchy is of no importance.”

  Uthumphon’s eyebrows shot up. “Surely this can’t be true.”

  “It is, and always has been. Sadly, this is the first time in the history of our bloodline where the eldest son must not inherit the throne. Should your brother succeed me, I fear it would mean the end of all that our family has built over the generations, and there will be nothing left for his own son to inherit.” His father gripped his hand, some of the strength he was accustomed to, returned. “Son, it is imperative that your brother never sit on the throne. It will be the end of all we have built.”

  5 |

  Acton/Palmer Residence St. Paul, Maryland Present Day

  Archaeology Professor James Acton plopped onto the couch, exhausted. They had closed escrow on their new house a few weeks ago, and had finally finished moving in. Yet were they really finished? He doubted it. His wife, Archaeology Professor Laura Palmer, dropped beside him, curling her legs and snuggling up next to him. He placed his arm over her shoulders and squeezed her tight as he stared at their new surroundings.

  “I can’t believe we finally did it,” he sighed.

  “Neither can I. Do you think it’s too big?”

  Acton grunted. “Of course it’s too big. You could fit my old house and your London flat in here, and still have room for a basketball court. But there wasn’t much choice. Everything on the market was either just a variation of what we already had, or a monster.”

  She stroked his chest absentmindedly. “It’s a lot of house, but we can afford it, and it will be fun to fill it. I’ve already picked out my office. You?”

  “Yup. I wonder if we picked the same one. Front of the house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Left corner.”

  She sat up, staring at him. “Yes.”

  “Second—”

  “Floor! Yes!” Her lower lip thrust out. “Not fair! I picked it the moment I saw it.”

  “So did I.”

  “When?”

  “When I said ‘dibs.’”

  “Dibs?”

  “Hey, if you’re going to live in America, you need to learn our customs.”

  “You’re mean.”

  He grinned. “Yet you still want me.” He turned on the smolder. “Don’t ya, baby?”

  She giggled. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Hey, no big words.” He rose and extended a hand. “How about we go buff the floors in your new office?”

  “My new office?”

  “Yeah, I was only joking. I knew you
wanted it from the moment we stepped in the room.”

  She took his hand and rose, grabbing him and dropping a kiss for the ages on him. She stared into his eyes. “What was that about buffing the floors?”

  A toothy grin. “I’m thinking every room in the house should be broken in.” He leaned closer. “How about we start with Hugh’s room? It will be our dirty little secret.”

  She playfully slapped his chest. “You are incorrigible.” Her face brightened and she hopped on her toes. “Let’s!”

  He grinned to himself at what was about to happen, then groaned when her phone vibrated on the table. She grabbed it and read the message, and her excitement grew—so he knew it had nothing to do with sex with him. “What is it?”

  “Oh, this is wonderful. I’ve been working on this for over a year.”

  He eyed her. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me?”

  She dismissed his joke as if it were serious with a wave of her hand. “No, no, nothing like that. I just didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

  Now she had him curious. “What is it?”

  “You know how Mai has been feeling homesick and misses her father?”

  “Of course.” His jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me you figured out a way to get him here.”

  She shook her head. “I wish! No, nothing so grandiose, I’m afraid. Mary has confirmed he is blacklisted and will never be granted permission to leave the country, but he does have free movement again as of a couple of weeks ago. She had one of her contacts in Hanoi visit him, and all the arrangements have been made.”

  He still had no clue what was going on. “What arrangements?”

  She wagged her phone as she hopped up and down. “The visas just came through for all of us.”

  He held out a hand, calming her down. “Listen, you’re leaving out an awful lot of information here. Visas for what?”