Koh Tao: Leo & Allissa International Thrillers, #0

By Luke Richardson

Leo's looking for the perfect place to propose to the love of his life. When they arrive in the Thai tropical paradise of Koh Tao, he thinks he's found it.

But before he gets an answer, she's nowhere to be seen.

 

On searching the resort, his tranquillity turns to turmoil. Is it a practical joke? Has she run away? Or is it something much more sinister?

 

Set two years before Luke Richardson's international thriller series, this compulsive novella turns back the clock on an anxiety ridden man battling powerful forces in a foreign land.

 

KOH TAO is the prequel novella to Luke Richardson's international thriller series. Grab your copy for free and find out where it all began!

 

 

Praise for Koh Tao:

 

★★★★★ "Intense, thrilling, mysterious and captivating."

★★★★★ "The story grabs you, you're on the boat with your stomach pitching. As the story gathers pace the tension is palpable. It's a page turner which keeps you hooked until the final word."

★★★★★ "The evocative writing takes you to a place of white sand, the turquoise sea and tranquilly. But on an island of injustice and exploitation, tranquillity is the last thing Leo finds."

★★★★★ "Highly recommend to anyone who loves adventure and travel."

★★★★★ "Love the book, it finished too quick!" 

★★★★★ "Love and adventure collide in Thailand, love it!"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luke Richardson
• Release date: Aug 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393772590

Luke Richardson

Author of international thrillers. 

Book preview

1

P olice, open up, came the voice, thick and dull through the thin door.

Omar’s eyes shot open. He shouldn’t have been sleeping. He should have been listening for people approaching in the corridor outside.

We know you’re in there. You have ten seconds before we break down the —

The officer stopped talking. Omar imagined him being interrupted by Mr Sahin — the hotel manager — rushing along the corridor with the large master key.

Omar leapt to his feet and crossed the dark room. He knew what the men outside wanted. They would demand to see his immigration papers. Omar had seen it often enough — the officer’s gloved hand screwing the precious documents up at the corners before thrusting them back towards him. This was the sixth inspection in the last two weeks.

The key grated in the lock. Omar imagined Mr Sahin’s face getting redder by the moment. Omar knew he would pay for this tomorrow. Why couldn’t you answer the door, you imbicile. If that door gets broken down, it’s coming out of your wages.

The key ground, then stopped. Mr Sahin must have used the wrong one.

But it wasn’t the door that worried Omar, nor was it the papers.

Baby, baby, we must wake up, he whispered, rocking his wife’s sleeping body. The men are here. You know what you have to do.

What, hey? she said, stirring as his calloused hands shook her awake. Omar watched her big walnut-coloured eyes flutter open. Even fraught with darkness and danger, she was beautiful.

The police are here again. You know what you must do.

Nafisa was suddenly alert. Her eyes darted left and right in the darkness. She nodded, and Omar backed away.

Omar picked up his papers from the top of the small chest of drawers and crossed to the door.

Another key now grated in the lock. Voices berated the delay. Mr Sahin really would be angry in the morning.

Omar inhaled a deep breath, rubbed the creases from the front of his shirt, and reached for the door handle.

2

Across the Gulf of Thailand, the city of Chumphon laboured into the night. For many residents whose work for the day was complete, it was time to prepare food. As their lights blazed, the smell of lemongrass, lime and fish tumbled out into the night.

For the men who worked at the city’s dockyard, though, the shift was just beginning. They were required to unload the freighters which arrived with electronics from China, clothes from Bangladesh or cars from Japan, whatever the time of day or night. It was heavy, desperate and thankless work.

A small army of women worked at the docks too. Their job was to sort the fish coming in on the trawlers. Snapper for the tables of Chumphon, barracuda for Phuket or even, sometimes, Marlin for Bangkok.

A cacophony of shouts erupted as one such fishing trawler neared the far end of the oil-stained wharf. Dirty green in colour, it sat beneath an array of nets and pullies. The craft shimmered under bright electric lights. A man jumped from the boat and secured it with two ropes: one at the bow, one at the stern. Then, great baskets of fish, glistening silver, got passed up to the quay and emptied across the wharf’s dusty concrete. In a desperate attempt to evade their coming death, some of the stronger fish began flicking their fins and tales. A tuna, its scales shimmering an oily green, flapped towards the ocean.

Got it, shouted a fishman, bringing his heavy boot down on the fish’s silver head. Little bastard almost escaped, he said to the rest of the crew in their native Burmese. The fisherman removed his boot and stared into the dark and lifeless eyes.

You go free and my family doesn’t eat, he thought, kicking it back into the pile.

Life on these shores is hard.

3

P apers, now, one of the men snarled as Omar opened the door. A bright light was shone in his eyes, preventing him seeing the voice’s owner.

From the sheer mass of shapes, Omar assumed two officers and Mr Sahin stood outside. Omar didn’t need to see the officers — Inspector Kaya and Officer Deng. He’d run into them enough times. Each would be wearing a tightly-fitting black shirt, open at the neck and glinting with emblems of their rank.

Omar handed across the thin bundle of papers. The most valuable things in his life, other than Nafisa. Their families had sunk savings into funding their journey here, which took weeks across land and sea. These papers were the only things keeping them from being sent back again.

The light dulled as it was redirected at the papers in the officer’s gloved hand. A thick finger traced the information as greedy eyes looked for inconsistencies. Omar knew they were looking for anything that gave them cause to take him in and dig up some reason to send him back. Any reason would do.

They held the paper beside his face and shone the light in his eyes as the officers compared him with the photograph. One said something in Thai and the other laughed.

They all look the same.

Omar knew the language and understood, but kept quiet. They would leave soon.

Are you here on your own? The light shone into the room behind him.

Omar felt his body tense. His hands balled into fists.

Has Nafisa got out okay?

The officers pushed past Omar without waiting for a response. One of them snapped on the light. Omar’s eyes stung.

Omar exhaled with relief when he saw the room was empty. Nafisa had got out in time. That was good.

The police officers began to search the room. As Omar had expected, he recognised them as Inspector Kaya and Officer Deng. The same two as before. The same two who always got him up in the middle of the night for no reason.

One was small and slight, yet muscular, and had a malevolent gaze — Deng. The other was large, rippled with fat, and seemed always to be sweating — Kaya. The smaller of the two opened a cupboard while the larger one pulled out a drawer and tipped out the contents. Omar felt himself ready to argue. Then, seeing the officer’s glinting gaze, Omar swallowed his anger. They were looking for a reaction, any reason to take this further and drag him down to the station. Omar knew he couldn’t let that happen. Not now, when they were so close.

Omar glanced at the window through which he knew Nafisa had fled. The room was on the first floor, at the back of the complex overlooking the restaurant’s flat roof. Omar imagined Nafisa now, standing with her back against the wall directly below the jutting windowsill.

She was safe for now, but if one of the officers looked out there, there was a good chance she’d be seen.

Omar swallowed. His throat felt like sand. If Nafisa was discovered, he knew exactly what would happen. She didn’t have the papers he did. Although they had arrived together, with the cost of the journey and the extortionate prices charged by government agents to get officially registered, they simply couldn’t afford to buy two.

Omar had suggested the plan because he didn’t know what else to do — they really had no other option. They would get the papers for him, then he would get a job and they’d save as hard as possible to buy the papers for Nafisa. It wasn’t ideal, as she’d have to stay hidden until they had her papers. But it was better than nothing. It was better than getting sent back.

Anything was getting better than getting sent back.

Omar was shaken back into the present as Inspector Kaya emptied the bin across the floor. The bags Omar had used to bring Nafisa leftover food from the restaurant crashed to the floor. The Inspector dropped into a crouch, his sizable waistline stretching his tight trousers, and poked amongst the packets.

A lot of food here for one little man, he said, glancing up at Omar.

I work very hard, Omar said, forcing himself to smile. So I am always hungry. His cheeks ached.

Inspector Kaya stood and kicked the pile of rubbish. It skittered across the floor and under the bed. Omar’s fists clenched but his expression remained calm.

Officer Deng crossed to the window. Omar focused on the wall opposite. He wouldn’t give anything away. Keeping his eyes locked, Omar expected, at any second, to hear the raised voices of a discovery.

Silence filled the room. Outside, a bird shrieked. To Omar, it