The crude track was easily missed, recent tyre tracks marking out an entrance partly obscured by rambling thorn bushes and tall elephant grass. Despite these small clues they passed it off before returning to give it a second glance. By the time they reached the hapless Hmong they were an hour closer to their intended quarry. Lying on his back, the first obvious sign of death was the solitary fly, lolled into investigating the youth’s open mouth. A crimson stain through his midriff marked out where the killing bullet through him harshly to the ground.
Vig joined Kae by the side of the body. Like his bank rolled commander he was no stranger to evidence of violence or death and was quick to cast his experienced eye over the immediate scene.
“It’s no execution. The Hmong would never kill their own like this. They tend to bond together, rarely turning against one another. Even if they did, they would bury the body, partly out of respect but also to hide any evidence. I would say we have somebody else out here; they’re obviously armed and happy to kill on sight. They’re also ahead of us.”
“How many do you think there could be?” Kae asked.
Vig squatted down closer to the body, looking for any disturbance or foreign objects dropped in the immediate area.
“It is hard to say. The Hmong will have kicked up a load of dust as they passed. Any tracks put down after they left will be very difficult to isolate. There are a couple of signs that could help us. Nothing I can be sure about without a proper examination though.”
“Go on” Kae prompted, realising Vig was catching on to clues he was not seeing.
“It looks like a set of tracks has a shorter wheel base, probably a jeep. My instinct would be to say this passed after the larger trucks pushed their way through, but without more time I cannot There might even be more than one jeep, which would make our job all the more dangerous”.
Kae nodded, assessing the risks ahead of them.
Vig continued to brush his hand through the tracks, checking for further imprints. He was happy to speak out loud to Kae using the Thai’s mother tongue. He felt confident neither Jean nor Rusty would understand any of the dialogue and knew the Hmong would understand little. What he was less happy about was Kae’s earlier explanation of the task ahead and the implications that held for a critical armed stand-off before too long. All Kae was prepared to say was that they were on trail of a hidden Buddha, a very valuable statue creating enough wealth for them both to retire in envious luxury. Appealing though this was, Vig suspected Kae was keeping critical details under his hat and probably harboured a more sinister agenda once it came down to splitting any proceeds. Previous associations in business generally involved Kae pricing a set fee on Vig’s services. Carving up a stolen money pot into fair percentages took their relationship into new territory. He simply couldn’t see them over a table shaking hands on any kind of share.
A further drawback Vig saw with the treasure chasing scheme was how they would outwit the Hmong currently unearthing the Buddha further up the track. They certainly could not out gun them, even with the two mercenaries in tow. Kae seemed assured that using Rusty and Jean as a diversion would be enough to overrun the party, alongside the added element of surprise. The worrying aspect now raising its troublesome head was that even if Kae nailed a surprise ambush and gentrified a collection of heavily armed Hmong into retreat, hopefully marooning them in the process, how they would then cope with a second, unidentified group who were evidentially armed and presumably chasing the same Buddha. Vig was reluctantly compliant to follow Kae for now, though would be sure to take any situation on visible danger alone. If they either captured the prized Buddha or not, Vig knew that this assignment would be their last. No longer a man of calculated rationale; the Thai was becoming too emotionally obsessive, pushed beyond a point where he could never go back or accept failure. To do so would mean having nothing to return to. His prime riverside café lay in a charcoal slush-pit, a handsome price now on his head. Slipping back to his previous life of raw dealing now brought with it a death warrant. He could only now have a future with the high price of anonymity. For Kae the mission could not fail. And with the stress this brought made him an unpredictable and dangerous man to side with. Vig at least still had his anonymous lifestyle in Vientiane, the enviable bonus of a young Chinese mistress to welcome his return.
Kae must have noted Vig’s brief glance at their temporary captives as he surveyed the scene.
“We’ll take the two farang along as our guest surprise.” Kae smiled as he spoke, though his gaze drifted into the foreground. “Shooting the Hmong on the spot to lie beside their fallen comrade should be the more sensible option but that can wait. We may need some manual labour later if we are to haul this Buddha away. I’m hoping our Hmong friends will do most of the heavy work before we surround them. It’s too hot for lifting don’t you think?”
“Surround them?” Vig was quick to pick up on Kae’s improbable choice of phrase.
“Surprise alone will not be enough. We must also convince them that we have half an army. Our two hostages will be enough to stun them whilst we threaten to shoot them on the spot.”
Vig tried to hide his immediate concerns. The plan seemed as good as any, given their limited resources. Calling anyone’s bluff in a tight situation was fraught with obvious risk. He would need to weigh up the situation for himself once they reached their target. As if they weren’t in enough danger, there remained the added complication of confronting an additional force, one probably responsible for bombing Kae’s livelihood.
Without waiting for further direction he began securing the two passive Hmong, anxious to ensure they remained silent witnesses to the afternoon’s firework show. Rusty and Jean sullenly watched the ropes being tightened, wondering what fate was in store for them.
Thirty Three
“We’ve found something!”
Mike fought the urge to correct Louise’s self-inclusion. She was now very much part of the “we”, a part of her that would remain with the Hmong long after she left Laos. He wondered if she could now ever return to Portishead, at least to be happy there.
Before Louise’s proclamation Mike was aware something was up. Part of it was the change in mood, a shift in urgency as the human boulder clearing chain came to an expectant halt. Excited exchanges were taking place close to the cave entrance, the dark mouth opening wide enough to invite those nearest to take a step closer and drop down into the welcoming abyss.
As focus shifted to the excited buzz around the cave, Mike took time to step back, searching for his tobacco as he did. He knew any find would rapidly spread its way down to where he stood. Though most of the language appeared alien he could begin to understand its rhythms, some of the emphasis on syllables. He would know soon enough what lay uncovered behind the boulders, any sign of the Pha Bang or its resting place would quickly be conveyed to all within ear shot. He still felt that any communist revolutionaries hiding a national treasure all those years ago would surely have taken some time to intern it with a degree of cunning and imagination, if not at least lock it behind thick steel. His current concerns lay not back in seventies folk lore, but with the here and now. Whilst all others pushed forward with bubbling anticipation for what might come out from the cave, Mike found a patch of grass and sat down to contemplate over a hastily rolled cigarette. The act forced him to take time out and think.
Though not a natural worrier, Mike held growing concerns over where Rusty and the other traveller John might be. With all of the action grasping the headlines further up the gully, few appeared to notice that they were still one truck down. It could easily be a case that the old motor gave out on the rutted track, backfiring in its final death throws. This could easily explain the shot he had heard earlier. There again other reasons could be the cause for their delay, none of them quite so easy on his mind. If bad luck were forecast for you this year, he imagined the plains were the place t
o invite it. The place possessed a soul, an evil one. He took some comfort in the fact the remainder of the party looked to be untroubled, or perhaps unaware. He took a purposeful drag, thinking how long he should give before raising any alarms. The nicotine fused with his anxiety, pumping his brain into an unwelcome cyclone, rationalising all the worst outcomes. He bit his lip as he worried about what to do next. His quest to find Louise now over, he could do without any added excitement presiding over any further missing person investigation. Once they pulled away from this hair-raising debacle they would have the small matter of finding what happened to Jean since the hellish bus hijacking episode. Mike reasoned she was safely tucked up in a Vientiane bar singing bad karaoke to passing gap year students. She was probably getting bored wondering where everyone else had got to. He allowed a brief feeling of hope to keep that image alive.
A chorus of excited voices brought his attention back to the cave. Something was definitely being uncovered, enough to get everybody shouting. More out of necessity for something to do rather than feel part of it, Mike moved forward to see what it was. There seemed to be a lot of chaos around the excitable crowd furthest up the gulley. Feedback was coming from those nearer the cave mouth, a human chain of excited whispering, but only enough to create more confusion.
Louise was again by his side, though clearly pushing towards the front for different reasons than Mike. Much like a cheer-girl, her enthusiasm was proving infectious to those around her, motivating them to crowd around and soak up any news coming from the cave. Mike thought of asking her where the others might have got to, thinking twice when he saw her attention elsewhere. Instead he looked around for Dan. His search was cut short when he noticed Pin emerge at the top of the gully, close to where the cave mouth was being expanded by a gang of volunteer navies.
Mike half expected the Hmong leader to throw his arms in the air in a ministerial proclamation. Instead he scrambled down the screed in an awkward crablike style, anxious not to lose footing and flounder this close to his life’s achievement; leading his troop of Hmong out of isolation. He had to remember that this wasn’t a treasure hunt, or exclusively a spiritual quest for the Hmong. They wanted this to buy their way out of the Laotian jungle, tickets to Thailand or to further-flung Hmong communities in the USA.
As word spread, Louise found Mike’s ear. In the excitement her western rolling R’s began to purr like a secretive cat hidden from view.
“There was nothing in the immediate cavern, though there is a promising sign. A smoother chiselled block of granite looks to be sealing a cavity, perhaps even a further tunnel. There is wax sealing around the border, marking it more as a tomb, with luck the last resting place for the Pha Bang. Pin almost missed it, the communist plunderers obviously careful to disguise their handy work. It’s starting to look promising.”
Mike was beginning to agree. Perhaps Dan was right, the Pha Bang could be found. Any signs of human engineering, a cold chisel against a granite rock, linked the cavern in with a secret history. Someone put a lot of work in for a reason. The fact that wax was still sealing the chiselled rock suggested they were the first amateur archaeologists to search the cave since it was ceremoniously sealed up..
Louise was again reaching for his ear. She was whispering excitably, unaware that any notion for secrecy was lost in their current isolation.
“He’s going to try another route in. I think a group of them are hoping to search for a back entrance up behind the gully. It might make things easier for us. There is always the fear that using force to move the concealing rock could damage any priceless objet d’art resting the other side. Even our extensively jewelled Pha Bang would not take too kindly to a sealed granite door falling in on its unprotected head!”
Mike absently glanced up, watching Pin take a couple of Hmong back up the screed slide with him. He looked so much more elegant as he bypassed the cave and continued a hike over the ridge, a determined climb without the indignity for losing a foothold as on his more precarious descent. Half way up he turned to beckon Dan into following. The Canadian quickly caught up, sporting a khaki shirt that made him more archaeologist than rogue pilot. He watched them as they disappeared over the ridge, wondering what they might find the other side of the toothed summit.
Looking back, he saw Louise moving towards the cave and realised his opportunity to raise his concerns over Jean and Rusty were now gone. Anxious to ply his unease, he made his way back to where the old track ran out into the first loose rocks. From here he hoped to catch a glimpse of any movement further down the road. He reasoned that if he were first to spot his friends it might soothe his fraught nerves and rekindle his interest in dusting off the Pha Bang if they got to de-crate it. Given his surroundings, it looked the best location to sit and wind down. He figured he could give a few more minutes before running into the cave to grab attention.
On reflection later he was unsure when the shooting started. He saw movement, perhaps a man, up above on the slopes. Loud gunfire accompanied his vision. The silence of the gully exploded, allowing Mike no time to shut out the noise and cower for cover.
Thirty Four
Kae reasoned he held two options. Both were standing before him. His initial, perhaps instinctive response was to load them with fear, show them what the consequences could be if they failed to listen hard to all instructions. A shallow cut to soft exposed flesh would make a memorable impression. He briefly considered sinking a bullet into one of their Hmong companions, a sacrifice he felt worthy of the occasion. Any high drama would make them watch, front row seats from where they now stood. In the end he settled for a more moderate approach. A few spirited gestures with Vig’s Glock seemed to capture full cooperation. He even assured them that no harm would come if they followed simple instructions and kept their mouths closed. Soon they would be reunited and swapping stories with their friends once more. Their two heads nodding in unison were enough to convince him that total compliance was assured.
“So that’s it, if we nod like canaries you let us all walk out of this? Just like that! All the time you’ll have our backs covered ready to gun us down if we so much as sneeze.” Rusty’s voice was etched in suspicion.
Once again the Australian was proving too inquisitive and a little too brave, throwing too much scepticism at men with loaded guns and aversion to living witnesses. Kae simply smiled. What other choice did they have other than listen to his cheap talk. If they complied with his full instructions there was a chance they might live, though only if convenient.
Knowing where to cast his net was easy enough. The horizon was punctured by a range of ragged hills, a shimmering purple as the fierce afternoon sun caught the rocks. The end of the road.
Kae took Rusty and Jean and pushed them to the front. He would remain close to them, his own gun ensuring they would not run. They would know by now that he would use it. Rusty maintained a steely look of self-determination as his arm was grabbed, shunting him forward. Such bravado was admirable, even if it were playing up for effect. Kae knew that once any shooting started the Australian would soon lose his steel charade.
He intended to use his two local mercenaries to create the effect of a ring, push the Hmong into thinking they were surrounded and outgunned. Once in place on both flanks, he would nudge the two travellers into the centre. Then would begin his pinnacle negotiations; a CV busting height for his darkened career. Outmanoeuvred and out flanked, the Hmong would be pushed into talking. With his two captives pleading for their lives, they would have few alternatives other than to give in to all his demands.
He knew how sacred the Hmong might view their hallowed Buddha, so was aware they would fight long and hard to keep it. They were a gritty people, used to pinning their back against the wall. He would throw them a strand of false hope, giving them the illusion that they might reclaim their prized Pha Bang later. It would keep them from tearing him down in pieces once he hauled the Buddha fro
m their grasp. He knew a dealer known to the Hmong. A wiry Vietnamese man who traded in stolen antiques behind his shop of caged birds. The Hmong enjoyed his discretion as they traded war souvenirs and fakes behind his cheeping birds. In letting his name drop, in assumed blissful ignorance of the Hmong’s under-counter dealings, the seed firmly planted for a second opportunity to seize their prized Buddha, seemingly avoiding a deadly fire-fight on the plain as their stolen truck churned through the gears back along the potholed lane. With guns waving, the Hmong would be betrayed into holding back, conned into believing they had a better chance.
The ugly truth towed a more sinister line for the Pha Bang. Priceless jewels would be crudely scored out before fiery coals warmed the iron furnace patiently being stoked to return the priceless statue to molten liquid. Gold bars always traded well on the illicit Asian markets where serial numbers or taxes counted for little.
Kae brought his two captives to a stop. They were both quiet now, compliant to every word. As insurance policies went Rusty and Jean were fairly watertight, the two innocents caught up in the high-stake secretive fight of others. He had anticipated well. Once standing in the open ground pleading for their lives no opposing guns would take aim. The startled Hmong would be forced into passive surrender, the advantage quickly changing sides.
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