Missing Louise

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Missing Louise Page 23

by Nicholas Frankcom


  “You talk when I tell you to. Any yelling or surprise movements and four guns here will tear you up before you even think to shut your mouths again.”

  Kae’s harsh words brought an involuntary shiver that caused Jean’s head to slightly shake. Rusty remained silent, no longer willing to voice added resistance. Kae knew no further warning would be necessary.

  He judged they were a good mile from the foot of the hills now. With a brief wave of the hand, he dispatched his two mercenaries to each flank of the gully. They would be using the trusted AK47 to shoot some rounds into the air, one on each arm. The booming delivery of each shot should be enough to capture the attention of the Hmong below. With Vig at his side he gestured the two westerners to move forward. They made up the distance in continued silence. Where the hills rolled down to join the potholed plain there looked to be a gully. He gestured Rusty and Jean out into the open where the gully began its upward path to the black opening of a cave. It was time to announce their presence.

  As they moved Kae froze. He wasn’t expecting an armed man to be standing just in front of them.

  Thirty Five

  With gunfire came the panicked confusion. Each shot rang from different directions as the gully’s peace was destroyed by continuous firing. Some were loud thunderous explosions, echoing against granite walls. Others shots whistled nearby, high velocity fire getting dangerously close. Mike’s first reaction was to dive to the floor. He could make out smoke with bursts of orange marking the source of each shot. His panicked fall caused all the air to painfully exhale from his lungs, his ribs taking the brunt of the fall as he sprawled on the parched ground.

  Turning on his side caused a fit of coughing. All he could do was draw his legs to his chest in a futile attempt to ease the pain. As Mike gently rocked away the worst of the numbing spasms he grasped the nearest clump of grass to pull his body to partly sit up. He risked a brief glance back to the hills. The shadowy figure he had momentarily glimpsed on the side of the gully was no longer standing. A crumpled body near a sheer edge marked the man’s fate.

  With all of the shooting it was impossible to decide where to run for safety. Firing came from both sides, the stark landscape providing little cover. Each shot exploded around the steep sides, amplifying the intensity of the bloody struggle. Mike looked for Louise, soon spotting her pinned beneath two Hmong, each firing through gritted teeth of determination. They looked to be peppering the higher reaches of the gully with fire, accuracy not possible from their range. With luck they might hit a marksman out in the open. For now they hoped only to keep them at bay. Covering shots pushed the opposing figures away from the open ground. With so much crashing noise, Mike couldn’t be certain, but thought some of the firing was coming from further down, close to the dirt road they came in on.

  Needing a focus, he risked crawling to Louie. He felt the bruises on his ribs as he pulled his body over the tips of buried rocks, pieces of loose gravel raking his skin as he moved.

  “Stay there Mike. What are you doing?” Her words did little to stop his determined progress, he needed to get closer.

  “I need to come over Louise. I’m too exposed back there. I could easily get shot by those maniacs on the hill!”

  Despite her protest, he continued his snaking crawl, stopping each time a bullet passed within a couple of metres. With each whistling shot his fraying nerves caused involuntary spasms deep within his body. Biting hard on his cheek, he pushed on. The thinking was that if he were hit he would stand better chances if there were others close enough to press a shirt into his wounds. He might still die from shock, but he wouldn’t bleed to death out on his own. Louise held her hand out for him as he closed in the last few feet. He could read the relief in her face that he had made it.

  “Who do you think it is?” It was as much he could do to speak at all. His gasping breaths were close to full somersaulting in hyperventilation.

  “Not sure”, Louise replied, catching her breath as she did. “It’s probably local bandits; most are armed around these remote parts. They might have seen the trucks and taken an interest. There again I wouldn’t put it beyond government spies, Pin says they are our most dangerous enemy. He thinks they’ve been getting closer for weeks. It’s why we went ahead when we did. How we would have loved that second document.”

  “Great! There could be an entire army out there.”

  Peering through some parched bushes, the only genuine cover the gully floor had to offer, Mike watched khaki figures gradually move down as they gained more ground from the Hmong. He could only count ten or so, but they looked well equipped and held the advantage of high ground over the defending Hmong.

  A stocky Chinese man broke ground, firing as he did. Mike saw two more khaki figures drop in the fire zone. A volley of shots returned fire, missing their target as the china man threw himself down. Behind him a jeep accelerated into the foray. Armour plating defected the continuing small arms fire. Perched on the rear a heavy Type 85 machine gun raked through the centre ground, spewing out 500 rounds a minute. Most of the returning gunfire stopped, the Hmong pulling back to seek any shelter they could find amongst the heightened onslaught.

  With the gulley opening up, the jeep was able to take a long swing, taking in the far corners with the heavy pounding of the gun. Mike sullenly watched as only the china man was able to offer any resistance, feeble though it was, a small calibre handgun now holding out against this overwhelming blitz. Within seconds he too would be overrun, the last token effort smothered under heavy fire.

  As Mike turned away, unable to watch the finale play-out, he heard a roaring explosion, instantaneously feeling the rush of furnace heat blow across his face. Shielding his eyes, curiosity drove him to look back at the jeep. No longer ploughing through the hapless Hmong, it lay dethroned, blown over on its side. Mike’s first guess was that a lucky grenade had found its mark, lobbed blindly into the vehicle’s path. He looked again as the flames licked the buckled wheels, themselves torn from the burning chassis. It seemed a lot of damage for one grenade. His eyes picked up the tracks, weighty armoured plating pushing the tyres deep into the sandy topsoil. He knew then the jeeps fate was tied in with the huge tonnage of high explosive pounded into the ground during wartime B52 raids. For once their legacy worked for the powers of good.

  The Chinese guy was already up on his feet, firing at the enclosing ring of army figures. Mike thought he recognised him. His mind rattled back over events from the past week or two, a sea of faces conjured up by places they travelled through. Then he had it. The smoke rising from the upturned jeep took him back to a similar scene of destruction on the Vang Vieng bus route. He was taking Jean away from the billowing black smoke, leading her towards safety. Then, as now, he moved confidently, the stride of a veteran not panicked by the smells and fears of war. He used the burning jeep as cover, keeping his nerve as he edged back. Who was he? Mike watched as he continued firing rounds at the militia pushing down the hill. His role in all of this made no sense. Had he pivoted from angel to daemon and kidnapped Jean? He wasn’t with the militia so who else was here?

  “Blood Ravens.” The words were almost spat out.

  “What?” Mike replied, suddenly aware that Louise was trying to say something.

  “Dan was talking about them. They’re a renegade unit with the secret police, PC38. They make their own rules, state sponsored terrorism if you like. I bet they were behind the hijacking of your bus. You see there?” Louise was pointing at the closest fatigued figure. “Some of them have a red raven sewn to their uniform. They see it as a badge of honour.”

  “Hardly secret if they go around with pictures of red birds on them.”

  “They don’t need to be invisible Mike. Just scary.”

  Mike watched as the Hmong were forced back further, pulling back closer into a defensive circle, finally bowing to superiority in numbers and firepower. The
two defending their small ridge were the last to lay down their arms. As Mike and Louise stood up, arms half raised, a captain pointed at them. It was Mike’s hope that they might be too visible, too politically important to gun down on the spot. Despite what Louise was just saying, the Blood Ravens still represented the state and would surely have accountability to one locked office or another. Passports and consular representation must still count for something; accidents could not simply be attributed to misfortune. He sorely hoped the bus hijack was not Blood Raven sanctioned.

  Slowly the Hmong were systematically rounded up and instructed to form a group in the centre of the gully. It would be easier to keep checks on them that way, also easier to machine gun them all. Mike and Louise were pulled slightly to the side. It appeared that any special treatment, good or bad, would be meted out at a preliminary stage of this new encounter.

  As he was being ushered over to where the captain now stood Mike caught sight of movement back towards the dirt track. He almost did a double take. Rusty and Jean were walking his way. Close behind them stood a man, a man he recognised immediately. Kae.

  Thirty Six

  Captain Vaenkeo didn’t like to be pissed off. First there was that Chinaman, taking on his elite with reckless abandon. Once the odds turned again his way, the brand new PC38 jeep disintegrated as it was lifted into the air, peppered with shrapnel from an aging bomb. Now things got even further complicated. Two farang westerners were coming into view. They were walking awkwardly, a clear indication that their sudden desire to step into an on-going pitch battle was being managed at the end of a gun.

  The Blood Ravens presence out on the plain was no accident. The skilful sweep of Louise’s home in Portishead threw up more than her avid interest in Bristol City FC. They knew all about her dispatches to Laos, her quest for information on the errant Canadian father. Tracking the group to this point of the plain was simply a matter of a few scared witnesses pointing the way. Locals from a hill-top village were easily cajoled into directing them to a long forgotten track, talk of evil spirits guarding the way towards the shimmering hills. From there it was easy, not many visitors to follow in this part of the world.

  Watching the theatre play out below him, a few of those careful laid out plans were close to unfolding. They still occupied much of the high ground and had the advantage of numbers plus better equipment, courtesy of generous expenses from the Vientiane administration. They also held one further advantage, one that would come to the forefront at any minute.

  Rapid firing from each flank caused the captain to flinch. This was a sudden unexpected development. Who in the hell else was out here? Whistling bullets scattered the ground close to where the party now stood. A few hit the ground, wary for getting hit in the sudden melee. Clearly this was a show of strength, a display of muscle to indicate firepower superiority. Perhaps they were outnumbered. There was always the chance they could be ringed in, surrounded by a well-armed force. Another blow was struck against Vaenkeo’s carefully constructed plans. Through all this still the captain smiled.

  All around him, green coated ravens searched the gully for further signs of action. More shots came, though they could see no silhouetted figures. To their front the man holding the two apparent hostages continued to make his way towards them. Even from this distance, the captain recognised the mild off-centre walk belonging to Kae. He seemed to lean lightly to the left, giving an image of being off balance, a present from a close hit and run sanctioned deep within the corridors of PC38 last year. At the time Vaenkeo saw the miss as an amateur cock-up, only now realising how lucky it was to keep Kae walking these past few months.

  As the Chinaman moved closer to Kae, a wave of uncertainty ran over the surviving Blood Ravens, many lowering their guns as they sought instruction. With two farang in the theatre the rules were far from clear. Given their numbers and position, most would feel there was a clear shot on the Thai. Stopping him from pulling his own trigger on the two captives was a different matter. A delay in hitting the target, putting Kae down onto the floor, could put the farang out cold with him. Any dead-man’s spasm could easily depress the trigger and send all three to the floor. A lucrative army career with the PC38 elite would die with them.

  “I’m going to shoot them if any man so much as moves. We have you surrounded and we’re not leaving until you load us up with what we want!”

  With these words Kae was all too aware that the pivotal climax was in reach. The presence of so many Blood Ravens gave the situation a volatile edge. Even should they be fooled into believing their small but potent force was surrounded, there was every chance they might still favour a high stakes gun battle. Their unit was far from noble, more a renegade collection of elite assassins. Lowering their guns would show more than embarrassing loss of face. Their reputation for chilling reprisals and black ops skirmishes counted for much in the ranks of modern Laos’s legend. Likewise their current captives needed careful confinement. Must didn’t move, instead choosing to witness how their leader handled the changing mood.

  The captain moved forward, still smiling. He was careful with his choice of words.

  “Of all the people to see here, Kae. I heard your cafe was targeted by terrorists. Made a complete mess. Raw chickens in the kitchen came up charcoal brown. I saw the scene for myself. Might have thought a man would choose to run from that?”

  Kae edged forward with his two captives, closing the gap with the approaching captain to a few barren feet. Vig stood in the wings, gaining a touchline view of the exchange to come. Unconsciously his index finger tugged reassuringly on the trigger. The direction he aimed depended a lot on how Kae handled his delicate negotiations. The Thai was hardly on fire at the moment, crass decisions since their promising departure from Vientiane were digging them deep within a mere. Any terms or conditions between them didn’t include suicide.

  “It is always good to meet an open government representative such as yourself Vaeonkeo. I hope you kept a souvenir from your favourite cafe? I wonder if your party bosses logged how often you would lunch there? They might have noted the times other diners chose to eat, perhaps even those on their books!”

  “You have no hold over me Kae. Who are you to threaten me?” The captain raised his hand in mock dramatic effect. “How many of those party elite also took up kind offers of hand rolled Havanas in carpeted rooms with no ears? We’re now facing each other out here, the fabled Plain of Jars and no eavesdropping official within a hundred miles.”

  “You are wrong again Vaeonkeo.” This time it was Kae attempting to smile. It came less naturally than the captain’s. “You might have a few rouge troops watching your behind, but I have the high ground. One nervous gesture from you and they’ll cut you down.”

  “I don’t see your army Kae? A few unreliable mercenaries could hardly threaten the Blood Ravens.”

  As a gesture of intent, Kae prodded Rusty and Jean with his pistol, nodding at Vig as he did. Playing psychological games were a forte for Kae, but this was a dangerous stand-off, one he was still to enjoy.

  “A brave man stands in the open and argues with an unseen gun at his head. A braver man risks the lives of innocents before him.”

  “Come on Kae. I can’t talk openly with your farang between us. We need to have an offering, carry the risk so to speak. Why not pass one over, a gesture. You can keep the girl under your loaded barrel.” The captain brought out his hand as if he were to invite one into his own lair.

  Kae was about to speak, but was cut short by the bulk of Rusty moving towards Vaeonkeo, taking the captains words as permission to cross the invisible line and move one step nearer to the Blood Ravens. It didn’t strike Kae as odd that Rusty was following the conversation, spoken in Kae’s native Thai. He was too focused on the immediate consequences for giving up a hostage. Being the closest to Rusty, he chose not to reach out, wishing instead to keep Jean under closer confinement. He perc
eived her as his jewel, the one great chip for the final hand. He pulled tight on Jean’s collar to bring her back towards him.

  Vig measured he was in touching distance of the Australian. His arm went to grab Rusty’s sleeve, pull him back a yard or two, but missed as Rusty nimbly sidestepped and continued his way towards the amused captain. The speed and grace surprised Vig. He thought he caught a brief shift in the captain’s bemused expression, a brief glint of triumph. Kae began raising his pistol; pointing it towards Rusty the instant Vig levelled his own firing arm.

  The skilful move shook them down. Within reach of Vaenkeo, Rusty quickly dropped as firing started. Vig’s carefully placed bullet slammed into the ground below Kae’s feet causing Jean to skip back in shock. It made the Thai turn sharply, losing his aim. Simultaneously the Captain kicked a planted automatic within reach of the Australian’s grip. He turned and fired twice, both bullets hitting Kae in the chest. The Thai fell back, hitting the ground hard. He tried to speak, only managing a hoarse hiss from deep inside, a low gurgle pronounced his final struggle for air. Vig fought to look away only to be drawn into Kae’s last piercing stare. He expected regret, fear or a final glance of dejected disappointment. All he found was anger.

  Mike saw Jean run across towards them, her face still ashen white from her ordeal. It was not Jean he was watching. Rusty dusted down his jeans and slowly rose to his feet. He suddenly appeared bigger, more athletic, as if a hidden shape now strained to escape his cotton T-shirt. He nodded at Mike, a passing acknowledgment of their time navigating Asia together, before dutifully made his way towards Captain Vaeonkeo. How did Rusty know the renegade Captain? How much did the Captain now know? Thoughts of betrayal troubled Mike more than the deafening gunfight just witnessed.

 

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