Emerald Buddha (Drake Ramsey Book 2)
Page 20
The source had told headquarters that the Americans had located the plane deep in Shan Army territory, and were going to attempt to work a deal with that group. Jiao’s intent was to shadow them and, once they were at the plane, to make his move – or not, depending on what the source indicated they found. The informer had a sat phone, as did Jiao, so communications weren’t a problem, although his source had made it clear that the phone would be off until he was ready to share information.
Jiao didn’t like that arrangement, but the informer had been adamant, so he’d backed down and agreed to the terms. He could see the logic – the last thing the snitch wanted was to be found out, and Jiao shared that fear. The man would be of no use if the Americans suspected he was selling them out. That was to be avoided at all costs.
The irony was that nobody had any idea if Liu had been carrying anything, much less whether it had survived the crash. Likely not, he’d been assured, so this whole ordeal was probably for nothing. But even if the odds were only one in a million, they had to be sure – the stakes were far too high to leave anything to chance. The possibility of Liu being in possession of data the Chinese might want had been the only part of Jiao’s final solution in sabotaging the plane that he hadn’t factored in; but then again, he hadn’t had all the information when making the decision.
Jiao tried to get comfortable on the canvas as his mind went over the next day’s objective. They’d have to make better time than they had today, because they had to cover at least thirty miles. The hope was that he could find a willing driver who could cart them at least part of the way; otherwise it was looking like two full days to reach the site.
That part made him apprehensive. In spite of the impression headquarters had, the roads were little more than ruts. His superiors believed it wouldn’t be difficult to make most of the trip by truck or bike, but Jiao wasn’t so sure.
He and his men were dressed in local garb, the cheap shirts and pants worn by the farmers, and if stopped by the Shan army, they’d likely be ignored. That was the hope, anyway. If all else failed, he could buy his way out of trouble. The population’s love for money was reliable anywhere in the world, just as his informant had been buyable. The only thing that ever changed was the currency and the amount.
~ ~ ~
Night creatures serenaded Reggie as he lay on the bank of a creek, his theory being that the flat gravel would act as a deterrent to snakes and other predators. He peered up at the glimmering stars and offered thanks for the lack of clouds. With luck he’d be able to sleep without getting soaked multiple times, as he had throughout the day.
He’d made reasonable progress toward the plane, but it had been a tough slog, and he’d ultimately stolen an ancient bicycle to speed his trip. His guilt had compelled him to leave a fifty-dollar bill in its place, easily five times what it was worth. But the theft had proved fortuitous, and he was now only twenty miles from the coordinates he’d been given – an easy ride, assuming he could continue to avoid Shan Army patrols.
Being obviously not Asian was an impediment operating in Myanmar, but he had no choice but to forge on. He’d do his best, and if captured, would have his control pull strings with the Shan troops, who were on a cordial basis with the CIA. That would blow his cover, but if it was either that or torture and death, he was sure the agency would understand. At least, that was his hope.
But it would be better to stay under the radar. They were so close now. The seemingly impossible had come to pass, and the plane would be inspected shortly – perhaps as soon as tomorrow. Then he could return to the world and leave the entire mess behind, his job done, another successful notch in his belt.
The nearby bushes rustled and he inched the barrel of his pistol over to face it. He wasn’t worried about random drug gangs this far inland, but there were plenty of other menaces lurking in the hills, many of them deadly – and hungry.
A small furry form edged from the brush. Two glittering eyes spotted him, and the creature scurried away.
He smiled up at the night. A panther or, worse, a crocodile wouldn’t be so easily spooked. He’d debated trying to find a tree to sleep in, but discarded the idea in favor of the bank.
Reggie could go days without rest if absolutely necessary, but as he’d gotten older, his stamina had flagged. He didn’t want to test his endurance tomorrow, when things got real. What was possible and what was advisable were two different things, and the aches in his body were unmistakable signals that he was no longer the twenty-something dynamo he’d once been.
He opened his eyes and checked the time. It would be light in six hours. If he got two of sleep, he’d be happy.
Chapter 34
Joe marched toward the hidden valley at the head of a ragged column. Dick and Harry followed directly behind, and the rest trailed in a rough procession along the game trail. Joe gripped a machete in one hand and his AK in the other, and occasionally hacked his way through a tangle of vines and branches, the track only clear to knee level.
“Boar,” Joe had explained when he’d found the path. “We’ll follow it as long as it leads in the right direction. Better to stay away from any human-sized trails as we enter the contested zone. Don’t want to draw enemy fire.”
“That would be bad,” Drake agreed.
“Total buzz kill,” Joe said.
“How will we know when we’re out of Shan territory?”
Joe held out his machete toward Dick and Harry. “Just watch their body language. When they look like they’re going to piss their pants, we’re in no-man’s land.”
That had been just after dawn, and they’d been hiking southwest ever since, the ground fog thick for the first three hours. The going was slow due to their choice of routes, but Joe had insisted on staying in the densest part of the jungle, using the GPS for guidance as they worked their way toward the twin spires.
They took a break for lunch by the bank of a brook that gushed down the side of a mountain, dining on a rice pudding that Joe assured them would hold for a week without spoiling. Once they were done, they continued plodding toward the valley, climbing steep slopes and traversing rocky outcroppings, the peaks barely visible in the distance when they reached high points above the canopy. It drizzled all afternoon, making an already unpleasant route even more difficult, and everyone was exhausted by the time they reached a stream several miles from the karst peaks.
They made camp with the last of the fading light, and Joe had a hushed conversation with Dick and Harry. Drake had discussed how to distract the pair so that they could sneak away and inspect the wreckage during the night, and Joe had agreed to take one for the team.
A fire was out of the question, given their circumstances, so after the tents were pitched, they sat in the moonlight, which was bright enough for them to see each other clearly, and munched on their dinner. Dick and Harry had some sort of foul-smelling fish concoction they spooned down with mess kits, and every time Allie got a whiff of it, her gorge threatened to rise in her throat. They seemed happy with their meal, though, and smacked their lips and burped continuously as they wolfed it down.
When they were finished, Joe held out a joint the size of a cigar, brandishing it like a magic wand. The men’s eyes lit up at the sight, and after a token refusal they were passing it back and forth.
Joe leaned toward Drake and gave him a crooked grin. “I laced this with a little opiated hash for extra pop. You want a taste?”
“Um, no, thanks. I think, given what I’m going to be up to, I’d rather be straight.”
“Total downer, man. Maybe it’ll help you see in the dark. It definitely sharpens my intuition, you know?”
“Yeah, well, good for you. I’ll pass.”
Joe took a long drag and held it in as he handed the spliff back to Harry. “Smooth, daddy-o. Lemme know if you change your mind.”
The three of them smoked the joint down to a nub, and soon Joe was yawning, his eyes glazed. Dick and Harry looked like they’d been shot with a tran
quilizer dart, and were out cold within minutes of staggering to their tent, their snores a rumbling drone through the thin fabric.
Joe whispered theatrically to Spencer as he stood. “Good luck, dude. Watch out for gremlins.”
“I need the GPS,” Drake reminded Joe. Joe looked around and then stumbled to his tent. He stepped back out with the GPS in one hand and a pair of night vision goggles in the other.
“Leng lent me these in case we had to move at night. You ever use them?” Joe asked.
Uncle Pete stepped forward. “I know how.”
Joe handed the goggles to him, and Uncle Pete slipped the strap over his head. Joe regarded Allie. “We’re about three klicks from the wreckage. Take you a couple hours each direction if you’re lucky. So no rest for the wicked tonight,” he said, offering the GPS to her. “You know how to work it?”
“I can figure it out.”
Uncle Pete led the way from the camp, and Spencer followed, Allie and Drake bringing up the rear. The valley was enshrouded with fog, and the moonlight lent the white blanket a ghostly glow as they ascended the rise. Joe’s estimate of the time it would take to reach the stream proved overly optimistic, and the two hours had turned into three before they found the river where the plane had gone down.
They stopped at the water’s edge, and Uncle Pete consulted the GPS. He pointed east. “That way. Maybe two hundred meters.” He pushed the goggles up and blinked. “See good with no scope, huh?”
“Yes. Lucky it’s nearly a full moon,” Allie whispered.
Uncle Pete picked his way along the bank, moving slowly, the only sound the burble of the water rushing around occasional rocks. They reached a fork in the stream, and Allie peered at the GPS before pointing to their right. Uncle Pete nodded and they made their way around the bend and then stopped and stared at a shape in front of them. The twisted metal of a fuselage rose halfway out of the water. One wing was wedged into a tree, and the other lay fifteen yards behind the plane.
They stood transfixed by the sight of the mangled tail section, the cabin in surprisingly good shape. Spencer was the first to move and approach the wreckage. Drake and Allie followed, Uncle Pete hanging back as they neared.
The glass was shattered from every window, and the passenger door hung crookedly from a single hinge. Spencer walked to the prop and studied the engine section while Drake and Allie peered into the cabin.
The pilot’s decomposed corpse grinned at them from his seat. Most of the flesh was gone, the jungle’s predators having feasted on it and maggots having done the rest. Allie grabbed Drake’s arm as her eyes adjusted to the grisly vision and she looked away.
“Oh, God, Drake…”
He drew her close and hugged her as he whispered in her ear, “The big surprise is that it’s only the pilot. I don’t see Christine’s or her boyfriend’s bodies. They aren’t here.”
“Maybe they got thrown clear?” Allie ventured. “It looks like the plane came apart when it hit.
Spencer’s voice carried from the front of the plane. “Guys? I think I know what caused the crash.” He rounded the fuselage and stepped toward them. “And it was no storm.”
~ ~ ~
Jiao crept along, following the Americans after watching the Myanmar soldiers pass out in the camp. He’d arrived shortly after he’d received word from his source that they were at the base of one of the tall monoliths that framed the entrance to a remote valley.
He’d been able to secure a ride on a motorcycle with a young farmhand who had jumped at the chance to make the equivalent of a hundred dollars, and had made it near the camp after receiving the call. His hike from the road in the dark had rattled his nerves, given the inherent danger in the area, but he’d made it without any problems and had monitored the group until four of them had snuck off, presumably in search of the plane. Jiao had followed at a safe distance and hidden in the bushes when he’d seen the outline of the aircraft. The Americans were now having an animated discussion, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
He watched as the tallest of them led the other three to the front of the plane and pointed to it. Whatever they had discovered had unnerved them. Jiao crouched motionless in the moonlight as they inspected the wreckage, his fingers on the butt of the pistol in his belt, waiting patiently as the Americans murmured unintelligibly by the twisted remains of the Cessna.
Chapter 35
“What I’m saying is that I’ve seen this kind of damage before,” Spencer said. “Look. There was an explosion in the engine compartment. You can see here and here where the metal blew out. Only a blast from the motor would cause that. It’s pretty distinctive,” he finished.
They studied the area Spencer had identified. He was right. There was no other explanation, given the damage.
“So the engine blew up?” Drake asked.
“Or someone sabotaged it with explosives.” Spencer’s gaze swept the area. “What’s most interesting to me is that there’s no sign of either Christine or her boyfriend.”
“I was thinking they might have been thrown clear on impact. They had to be going, what, a hundred miles per hour?” Allie said.
“Maybe less. And the water would have softened the impact some,” Spencer said.
Uncle Pete walked down the bank a dozen yards and called out softly, “You come now!”
The three of them approached where the little Thai was standing over a collection of pale rocks. They were arranged into letters six feet long.
“S.O.S.,” Drake whispered. “There’s your answer to whether they were thrown free. At least one of them had to be alive to collect these stones and spell this out.”
“Then they’re alive,” Allie murmured.
“Were. We don’t know whether they still are, or how badly hurt they might be,” Spencer corrected.
“So where are they?” Drake asked.
Spencer’s eyes roamed along the bank and the surrounding jungle. “That’s the million-dollar question.”
Uncle Pete returned to the plane and climbed in. By the time they made it back to the wreckage, he was stepping out. He flipped the goggles up and shook his head. “Nothing in plane but dead guy. But someone else been here. Radio stolen. Same-same with other gear.”
“Are you sure?” Spencer asked.
“Course.”
“It has to be the drug gang – they’re the only ones in this area. Remember the intel Collins provided? There aren’t even any hill tribes around.”
“Then it’s possible they have them,” Drake murmured thoughtfully.
“What do we do now?” Allie asked.
Drake’s jaw tightened. “We call home,” he said through gritted teeth. “Uncle Pete, you have the satellite phone?”
“You betcha,” Uncle Pete answered, and dug the device from his satchel and handed it to Drake.
Drake inspected it and squinted at Uncle Pete. “The battery?”
“Oh. Yeah. Here.”
It took a minute to acquire a strong signal. Drake called the number Collins had given him, and it was answered on the second ring.
“We found the plane. Looks like Christine and the boyfriend were alive after it crashed,” Drake said, his voice low.
“What!”
“Yup.” Drake told him about the S.O.S. and the plane being looted.
“Any sign of where they went?”
“No.”
“Did you find anything in the plane?”
“Nope. Just the dead pilot. Or what’s left of him. Everything that was worth anything has already been stolen.” Drake hesitated. “Spencer says that it looks like the plane was sabotaged.”
Collins’ voice turned cold. “How?”
“He thinks explosives.”
“Is Uncle Pete there?”
“Yes.”
“Let me speak with him.”
“Did you hear me? The crash was no accident. What haven’t you told us?”
“You know as much as I do. Let me talk to Pete.”
“Damn it, Ramsey. Hand the phone to Uncle Pete. You’re wasting valuable time,” Collins snapped.
Drake shook his head in frustration and tossed Uncle Pete the sat phone. “Wants to talk to you.”
Uncle Pete spoke softly as he walked away. Drake turned to Allie. “I think Collins knows something he’s not telling us.”
“So we’ve been had?”
“I don’t know. I mean, he did sound surprised, but he recovered too quickly, like it wasn’t that big a shock.”
“What do we actually know about Christine besides that she’s the senator’s daughter?” Spencer asked. “What was she into? Exactly? Why was she on the ass-end of the planet, for starters?”
“You heard the briefing. Some kind of religious thing. Finding herself.”
“What about the boyfriend?” Allie asked.
“Again, I don’t know anything more than you do. He was Chinese. Possibly into some shady dealings.”
“Then isn’t it likely she was collateral damage? Maybe he crossed the wrong people and this has nothing to do with anything more than taking out a problem,” Spencer said.
Uncle Pete circled back to them. “He say go back to camp, look for temple. They check around.”
“That’s it?” Drake demanded. He eyed the sat phone in alarm. “Take the battery out. Last thing we need is a missile landing on us.”
Uncle Pete shrugged, removed the battery, and slipped the equipment back into his bag. He dropped the goggles into place. “You ready?”
“How are we supposed to continue like nothing happened?” Allie whispered to Drake.