He was in a high state of agitation. He hated incompetence, yet seemed perpetually surrounded by it. That the police hadn’t picked up the Hunter woman put Cole in the worst of his foul moods. He ran into this bullshit all the time. Even when you owned these bastards, paid their goddamn gambling and whoring expenses, you still couldn’t expect a reasonable level of competence. In the front seat next to his security chief/driver, Besson yapped away constantly on his phone as the driver negotiated rain swamped roads and barely moving traffic. A police car, bar lights flashing, led the way. “Don’t worry,” Besson said, putting his phone away and turning to Cole. “We will have them soon.” “I’ll believe it when I’m holding hands with her,” Cole said. Cole saw the future of Southeast Asia and he wanted to be a big player in that future. He and Besson were well positioned. No centerpiece in his planned massive casino/hotel complex outside Angkor Wat would be able to touch the ultimate icon, the Golden Elephant.
