Emerald Buddha (Drake Ramsey Book 2)

by Russell Blake

  “Get out of here. Hurry,” he ordered, and emptied half his magazine at the boat before he turned and sprinted for the brush line where Allie had disappeared. Ricochets whined off the nearby rocks, and then he was in the trees. He spotted Allie ahead and ran in a crouch toward her, the whistle of bullets shredding through the vegetation too close for comfort. She kept up her pace, and they didn’t slow until they’d put a hundred yards between themselves and the river.

  Spencer held his finger to his lips and pointed to a small clearing near a thicket of bamboo. She nodded and he took the lead, his pace as fast as the terrain would allow. When he reached the thicket, he slid his hand into the duffle and drew out one of the pistols. He handed it to her wordlessly before retrieving another and strapping the holster onto his belt. She did the same as Spencer groped around in the depths of the bag for a curved AKM thirty-round magazine. When he found one, he swapped it for his nearly spent one and then gestured at the faint impression of a trail leading south from the edge of the thicket.

  Allie nodded and they set off, not waiting to see whether the boatload of killers had followed them or gone after Uncle Pete and Drake.

  Half an hour of hard pushing later, they slowed. Allie whispered to Spencer, “What do you think that was all about?”

  “Probably one of the neighborhood drug gangs. They tend to take a shoot first, ask questions later approach. They were likely in the vicinity and were drawn by the helicopter going down.”

  “Were we hit by a missile or something?”

  “No. Daeng thought it was a malfunction of some kind.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  Spencer looked up at the sky and then at their surroundings. “We’re pretty much in the middle of nowhere, so nobody’s going to save our bacon. Which means we’re on our own. Let’s head to our left. Eventually we should hit the river we crashed into, which will dump into the Mekong. Maybe we can find a shallower part where we can cross.”

  “What about Drake and Uncle Pete?”

  “First things first, Allie. Uncle Pete strikes me as resourceful, and Drake still has his MP5. Let’s get back to the river, and then we’ll figure out how to find them.”

  “What if we don’t?” Allie asked, her voice suddenly small.

  “Allie, a lot of survival is about attitude. If you believe you’re done for, you already are – might as well lie down and die. Allie, look at me,” he said, and she tore her eyes from his gun and met his gaze. “We will get out of this, and we will find them. We just need to choose the best way. It may seem like a big jungle, but it’s not as bad as the Amazon, and we walked out of that, didn’t we?”

  “Not all of us,” she said, almost inaudibly.

  “Well, we did, and we’re going to do the same here. Now, come on. Let’s find someplace to cross the river.”

  “What about the gunmen?”

  “I doubt they’re going to devote a ton of time trying to track us through rain forest. We don’t have anything they want. They’re just protecting their turf.”

  “They were pretty convincing.”

  He stared into the trees and then turned to her. “I want to put some distance between us and them before it starts getting dark.”

  “That’s hours away,” Allie said, but not disagreeing.

  “It’ll be here sooner than you think.”

  Chapter 21

  Chiang Rai, Thailand

  Jiao watched the blinking icon on his phone from his position by the hotel pool, a cool soda in hand, a nearby oversized umbrella providing welcome shade. The Americans were flying a methodical search pattern he recognized from the prior day – about as exciting to watch as grass growing. He sighed and closed his eyes, reasoning that there was worse duty than the one he’d been assigned, even if he despised Thailand on principle; the place was little more than a den of inequity populated by barbarians.

  His phone beeped and he opened his eyes. When he focused on the screen, he sat up, staring at it in disbelief.

  The icon had disappeared.

  He tapped buttons and rebooted, but still, nothing. Blinking rapidly as his mind raced, he was at a loss for what to do next. He called Xiaoping and told him what had occurred.

  “How many men do you have there?” Xiaoping snapped.

  “Three.”

  “We cannot lose the Americans. They’re our only lead. Find them.”

  “How?”

  “That is up to you. Use whatever resources you think appropriate. But do not fail.”

  Jiao hung up and stood. He understood what he needed to do. What exact form that action would take eluded him, but he would figure it out. He fingered the screen and zoomed in on the last location the blip had been…and spotted a small river.

  He would start there.

  ~ ~ ~

  Spencer held up his hand and stopped walking along the track he’d been following. He cocked his head, listening. Allie’s eyes narrowed and she looked back at the trail. Spencer motioned for her to get down and she did, taking cover behind a tree.

  The snap of a twig sounded from down the trail and she froze. Spencer took cautious steps to her left as he removed another magazine from the duffle, and then set the bag behind a bush and raised his weapon, his hand steady as he flipped the assault rifle’s collapsible wire stock into place. He stood unmoving, sweat coursing down his face, his attention laser-focused on the approach.

  The bushes rustled thirty yards away, and he adjusted the aim of the AKM’s muzzle a few degrees. Allie withdrew her pistol, flicked the safety off, and thumbed back the hammer.

  Another rustle. Spencer squinted down the sights, ready to open fire.

  A boar emerged from the brush and snorted before it took off at a run past them. Allie exhaled with relief and was standing when she heard something else.

  The sound of men moving along the trail.

  Of course. They must have scared the wild boar out of the undergrowth.

  She caught Spencer’s eye and he tilted his head, silently urging her to move toward him. She complied, her pulse pounding in her ears, her finger hovering over the trigger of her pistol, which seemed puny and insignificant now. He murmured in her ear, so softly she could barely make out his words.

  “Follow me. We’re going to try to hide. Don’t shoot unless I do.”

  They crept off into the dense foliage. Spencer took care not to break any branches as he forged a new track, moving stealthily as he searched for the path of least resistance.

  When they had made it twenty yards, they froze at the muffled sound of soft voices. Both slowly crouched down, and Spencer brought the AKM to his shoulder as Allie watched the trail.

  A half-dozen gunmen came into view, walking single file and toting AK-47s. The lead man held his gun at the ready, the others’ weapons were dangling from their hands or hanging from shoulder straps. They moved deliberately, their caution evident from their body language and the constant motion of their eyes.

  The lead gunman abruptly stopped and the others fell still. The jungle was quiet, and Allie was sure she could hear the men breathing. The leader raised his rifle tensely, and then the errant boar exploded from the brush in front of them and tore off like the devil was after it.

  Two of the men laughed nervously. The leader cut them off with a hand gesture, obviously unamused. He slowly swept the area with his gaze, and Allie instinctively shrank even lower, willing herself to be invisible to the gunmen.

  After a seeming eternity, the column continued down the trail. Spencer and Allie remained immobile for five solid minutes, and when it was safe, he drew closer to her.

  “Looks like they’re more persistent than I gave them credit for.”

  “What do we do?”

  “My gut says we backtrack.”

  “What? That’s nuts.”

  “No, it’s where they’ll least expect us – behind them. They’re probably following our footprints.”

  “Won’t they stop once they see there aren’t a
ny more?”

  “Depends. The ground was spongy earlier today from the morning rain. But it’s getting firmer, so for the last bit we haven’t left any.”

  “Then why are they still after us?”

  “Because they know they’re on our tail. We’re just going to trick them.”

  “What about whoever’s back at the boat?”

  “We’ll deal with that when we get there. They know this jungle. It could be there’s an outlet further along, or even a camp. So their advantage is familiarity with the locale. Our only edge is to do the unexpected.”

  “I guess that doesn’t include crying and praying for it to stop.”

  Spencer smiled. “Maybe later.”

  “I wish I’d held onto my machine gun when I bailed out of the helicopter.”

  “Hey, you’re here in one piece. Daeng isn’t. I’d say you were pretty fortunate by any measure.” He stood to his full height and checked the time. “Let’s get moving. Ideally we’ll be across the river before dark. I don’t like the sound of spending it in Myanmar with these guys nosing around for us, do you?”

  She gave him a frown. “I gather that’s a hypothetical question.”

  The slog back was slower. By the time they neared the river, its burbling surface visible through the leaves, the sun was setting. Spencer warned Allie to stay put and crept away into the brush. Allie resisted the urge to follow him when he’d been gone for ten minutes, but after twenty, she began to panic. The only thing that kept her rooted in place was that she hadn’t heard any gunshots, which she was sure she would have if Spencer had encountered any gunmen.

  When he returned, his face was grim. “The boat’s there. Two shooters.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Taking a look at the river to see if there’s anywhere promising we can cross.”

  “And?”

  “There is. Just around the bend from the boat.”

  “That’s cutting it pretty close, isn’t it?”

  “We have no choice. It widens out and looks like it’s no more than three or four feet deep.”

  “Maybe that’s why the boat stopped where it did?”

  Spencer shook his head. “No. That thing can’t draw more than a couple of feet, tops. They stopped near the helicopter because they wanted to pick up our scent. And probably Drake and Uncle Pete’s as well.”

  “Oh, Spencer…”

  “Don’t worry. But it’ll be night soon. We should give it a try before it’s too dark to see.”

  “You think there are crocodiles here?”

  “They’d be the least of our problems.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a sat phone in that bag of tricks so you can call in the cavalry, would you?”

  “It’s back at the hotel. Figured we wouldn’t need it in the helicopter. My bad.” He gazed at the river. “Follow me.”

  Spencer led her to the promising shallows. It was so gloomy by the time they made it that Allie could barely see the water. Spencer looked her in the eyes and took her hand in his, shouldering the duffle after stowing the AKM inside.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “I can think of other things I’d rather do, but yes, I guess so.”

  “It’s only bad until it gets worse.”

  “Ever the optimist.”

  Spencer moved into the water, which quickly rose to his waist. He felt with his hiking boots along the uneven bottom, scraping along the larger rocks that were gathered there as he searched for flat areas to maintain his footing. Allie cringed when the water reached her chest, but he kept pulling her along.

  She slipped and went under, and Spencer pulled her to her feet. She sputtered a mouthful of water but didn’t make any further sound, and Spencer squeezed her hand reassuringly and continued to edge through the current. After an agonizing section where the level reached Allie’s chin, the bottom gradually began rising, spurring them on.

  When they dragged themselves onto the far bank, Allie paused, panting, her eyes adjusting to the darkness that was now almost complete. When they had caught their breath, Spencer moved toward the brush.

  “Where to?” Allie whispered.

  “As far as we can get before we can’t see anything more.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then you’ll get some rest and I’ll stand watch.”

  “You need some, too.”

  “I’ll rest when we’re out of danger.”

  She stared out over the river towards where the boat waited with death aboard. “That could be a while.”

  “I’ve been through worse.”

  Allie studied his face and believed him. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 22

  Five hours earlier, Southwestern Laos

  Uncle Pete hurried through the rain forest with the vitality of a teenager, and Drake struggled to keep up. The shooting had been all the warning they’d needed, and the wily Thai had made it clear that Drake would have to maintain the pace or be left behind. Drake couldn’t discern any trail Uncle Pete was following, but he trusted that he knew what he was doing. In any case, Drake had no choice, the H&K in his hands slim comfort given the gunmen behind them.

  When they’d been underway for two hours, Uncle Pete stopped, listening for signs of pursuit. After several minutes he grunted and sat beside a tree, cross-legged, and closed his eyes. Drake stared at him unbelievingly.

  “What are you doing?” Drake hissed.

  “Thinking.”

  “Unless it’s about our funeral, shouldn’t we keep moving?”

  “Depend.”

  “That’s helpful.”

  “It why I thinking.”

  “Should I wake you if an army of murderous drug runners show up?”

  “Not sleeping. Thinking,” Uncle Pete repeated, his tone annoyed. He cracked an eye open and glared at Drake. “Take five.”

  “You do remember that we just survived a helicopter crash and narrowly escaped being gunned down, right?”

  “No talk. Think.”

  Drake gave up. He lowered himself to the ground and tried to occupy himself by inspecting his weapon, but quickly realized he had no idea how to break it down to clean it properly. He didn’t want to take the chance of dismantling it only to discover he couldn’t reassemble it correctly – the middle of the jungle while they were being pursued wasn’t the right place to learn how difficult it might be.

  He tilted the gun and a rivulet of dirty water trickled from the barrel. Drake didn’t have an inkling whether the weapon could still fire, but figured Uncle Pete would. The bullets were watertight, he guessed, but he didn’t actually know. After shaking the gun a few times, he set it down beside him and watched the area they’d passed through.

  Minutes dragged by, and Drake was becoming increasingly impatient when Uncle Pete’s eyes popped open and he fixed Drake with a flat stare. His gaze drifted to the weapon and he clucked his tongue. “Give me gun.”

  Drake obliged, and Uncle Pete quickly fieldstripped it and wiped down the parts with his shirt before snapping it together like he’d done it a million times. Which, for all Drake knew, he had. When he was finished, he stood and motioned to the left. “We go now. I keep gun.”

  Drake was in no position to argue, so he nodded and offered a silent prayer that the shifty Thai knew what he was doing. Based on his performance with the weapon, Drake would have said he did, but that was hardly the same as leading them to safety. Still, even though a slender reed upon which to hang his hopes, it was better than nothing, so Drake followed Uncle Pete without question or complaint.

  As the day wore on, the heat climbed to a swelter, the air thick as syrup as they made their way further from the river. Drake busied himself with swatting away invisible insects and hoping that there were no snakes lurking nearby. Uncle Pete soldiered on as though he had a map in his head, his steps unwavering until they reached a gorge that dropped precipitously to a stream below.

  “Now what?” Drake asked.

  “Go s
outh.”

  “How do you know which way that is?”

  “Sun set in west,” Uncle Pete explained, as though describing the earth’s rotation to a none-too-clever child.

  “How far do you think we are from the border?”

  “Maybe thirty, thirty-five klicks.”

  “So in miles, that’s…about twenty?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Aren’t there any villages between here and Thailand? Or maybe further inland?”

  “Hill tribes. But maybe more men with guns. Not safe.”

  “Then how are we going to get out of here?”

  “Walk. My wings all broken.” Uncle Pete’s face was a blank, and then he grinned. “You want adventure, right? This adventure.”

  “What about Allie and Spencer?”

  “Have own adventure.”

  “Right, but what if they’re in trouble?”

  “Spencer seem good with gun. Know ropes, that right?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Then worry ’bout us.”

  “But we have to try to find them.”

  “Can’t do anything now. Bad men behind. Our job stay alive. Mekong to right. We get to river, maybe catch boat.”

  Uncle Pete’s logic was difficult to argue with, Drake had to admit. Get to the river and follow it south. The Mekong was a major waterway, and there would be barges, ferries, and cargo vessels plying their trade. All they had to do was evade the drug-gang gunmen and any other threats the jungle threw at them and find the Mekong.

  “How do you know it’s there?”

  “It downhill.”

  Drake didn’t ask if that meant the river was at a lower altitude, or whether Uncle Pete was expressing a preference for following gravity because it would be an easier hike. In the end, Drake supposed it didn’t matter.

  Uncle Pete looked ready to say something else when he stiffened and stared off into the distance. “Hear that?” he asked in a whisper.