The Believer: Max Jones #5 (PAPERBACK)

The bar was louder than Max remembered. Smokier. Too much sensory input. It verged on irritating.

The low, steady thump of the bass underpinned the excited chatter of the customers. Drunken laughter, the clink of bottles and glasses, the grinding of wooden chair legs on the floor. The overhead fan did little to disperse the heat as sweat trickled down the side of his face. He shifted position and felt his shirt peel away from the back of the chair.

It should have felt the same. Should have felt familiar. But it didn’t.

Max sat at the far end of the bar, at Uri’s regular table, his back to the wall, a bottle of Chang in front of him. He hadn’t touched it for a while. The condensation had long since faded, leaving the glass warm in his hand. He idly picked at the bottle’s label with his thumbnail and watched the room without really seeing it.

He wasn’t sure why he was there. He had felt he owed it to his friend. A last drink in the bar Uri had owned before his brutal death in the jungle. He had come to pay his respects, but now that he was there, it didn’t feel right. He felt empty.

He took a sip of the beer and made a face. It was flat and warm and left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Someone moved into his peripheral vision, and he looked up.

It was the waitress he had first seen when he met Uri. The one who had flirted with him. She looked down at Max uncertainly, the prettiness of her face marred by a deep frown. He racked his brain for her name.

“You are Uri’s friend?” she asked hesitantly.

Max swallowed. He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

Something like relief flashed across her face, and she pulled out a chair and sat beside him, facing him with her back to the bar. Concern etched her features.

“Have you seen him?” She stretched out her hand, almost touching his, as if the contact would give her comfort, but stopped just short. “He said he was going to be away for a few days, but it’s been a week. He’s not answering his phone, not replying to my texts...” Her voice trailed off, running out of steam, her eyes searching his face.

Max felt heat run through his body, a deep sense of dread settling in his gut.

What should he tell her?

Tell her Uri was never coming back? Then she would ask what he knew, and he’d have to explain. Should he lie? Give her false hope? He wasn’t staying in Chiang Mai much longer. He wouldn’t be around later to explain why Uri still hadn’t returned.

Her name came to him.

He took a breath. “Pim, right?”

“Kaaa.” She nodded. “Yes.”

Max nodded, his eyes drifting to the bar and back again. He felt he owed it to his friend.

“Pim, I’m really sorry. Uri is not coming back.”

He watched her face.

She blinked, searching his expression as if trying to find some meaning. He saw her eyes grow moist and the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

“What... what do you mean?” She blinked away tears and glanced over her shoulder at the bar before turning back to him. “This is his bar. Why would he leave?” Anger flickered in her eyes, and her hand clenched. “Is there someone else? Another woman? I’ll kill her.”

Max grimaced. There was no easy way out.

He reached for her hand and saw her flinch. He held her gaze.

“Uri is dead.”

Her sharp intake of breath cut through the noise of the bar. She pulled her hand free and covered her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Tears welled as she stared at him.

Max said nothing, giving her time.

When she finally regained some control, she placed her hand back on the table.

“How?” she asked. “What happened? Where is he?”

Max took a breath. He had to finish what he had started. Maybe this was why he had come back.

“Uri died saving my life.”

She gasped again, but this time she leaned forward, her fingertips touching his hand.

“Where? What happened?”

“I can’t tell you everything... All I can say is that he was very brave. He died a warrior’s death.” The lie came easily to his lips.

“You have to explain,” she said. “Where is his body? How did it happen?”

Max glanced past her at the other patrons. Happy people. Drunk people. Soft people whose only experience of danger had been crossing a busy road.

He looked back at her, really seeing her now. Pretty. Fair-skinned for a Thai. Long hair tied back in a high ponytail. Gold earrings in a tribal design brushing her neck.

And grief in her eyes.

“We were in Myanmar...” He searched for the word. “Phama.”

Her frown deepened.

“We came up against some very bad people.”

She nodded slightly, as if that made sense.

“During the fight to get free, Uri lost his life so that I could keep mine.”

“But why?” she pressed. “Why did he have to go there? What were you doing?”

Max exhaled slowly. “I can’t say. But Uri and I go back a long way. We were soldiers together... in a previous life.”

“In Israel?”

Max nodded.

“We share... shared... a bond. But he would never have left me to face danger alone. And he went down like a warrior, doing something he loved.” Max gestured toward the bar. “As good as this was, he wanted something more. He wanted that life again.”

His words trailed off. There was no way to make her understand.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

She studied him for a long moment. Long enough for Max to feel uncomfortable and look away as guilt gnawed at his gut.

The barman called out in Thai, Max recognizing her name in the stream of words.

She glanced over her shoulder, then back at him. Grief and confusion fought across her face. She nodded as if finally accepting the news, then wiped her face with the back of her hand, pushed her chair back, and walked away without looking back.

Max watched her go, feeling hollow.

Had he done the right thing? Had anything he’d done been right?

How many lives had been lost because he believed he could fix things, make a difference, find redemption for what he had been and what he had done as the other Max? The one with a different passport, a different name, a different country.

Had he only made things worse?

A hand touched his shoulder, and he flinched, pulled from his thoughts.

Pim was back beside him.

She set down a shot glass of amber liquid in front of him. She held another in her hand and raised it slightly.

“For Uri,” she said.

Max nodded. He picked up the glass.

“For Uri.”

He drank it in one.