by Clara Ward
Sarah must have imagined similar orders as they cleared the trees, because she told him, “Go for one of the helicopters by the main parking lot. We’ll never make it out on Cambodian roads.”
Driving maniacally along the dirt track, Reggie could see three helicopters. Two appeared to be private, one white and one gray. The third was orange and offered tourist flights. As Reggie brought the car in, the propeller on the orange one began to spin. A Cambodian man ran toward it yelling and shaking his arms. At the same time, Reggie noticed that a truck was following them, gaining on them, from the direction of Ta Prohm.
“Behind us, in a truck.”
Sarah turned. Reggie thought he heard two tires blow out on the truck as the propeller lost a little speed. When Sarah faced forward, the propeller sped up again.
“We could tell the pilot that Tom was shot by the people chasing us, ask him to fly us to Thailand,” Reggie said.
“Sure. Or offer him money. Or toss him out, and I’ll fly the thing myself.”
“Do you know how to fly a helicopter?”
“I’ve heard they’re a lot easier than they used to be. I always wanted to learn.”
Reggie skidded to a stop on the road beside the helipad. The tour man was now in his helicopter, staring at the controls and shaking his head. Two men were charging on foot from the broken down truck, but they weren’t going to make it in time.
Reggie lifted Tom from the back seat as if he were an injured friend, or more precisely, a friend injured by someone else. He scuttled behind Sarah to the helicopter operator. She was just beginning to tell the man their story when a shot was fired and hit the confused pilot in the head. This shot was definitely a bullet, not a dart.
Reggie pulled back behind solid metal. The shot had come through the far door, from one of the other helicopters. There was warm blood splattered all over Reggie’s face and shoulders, all over Tom who lay unconscious and slightly drooling in Reggie’s arms. For a moment, he thought his knees would buckle or his stomach heave. Then he saw Sarah, emanating wrath and staring straight through the doors of the tour helicopter in the direction of the assassin. He thought, I’m a spy trying to escape with the most dangerous woman on Earth. Regaining control of himself, Reggie realized there was no point in pretending.
With a screech of metal, Reggie saw the black helicopter’s propellers wrap down around its doors as the windows rolled themselves up. Whoever had fired shots from inside was not currently visible.
Sarah shoved the dead pilot from the tour helicopter and took his seat without hesitation. Reggie quickly heaved Tom into the backseat then buckled himself in front. The noise of the propeller forbid discussion as Sarah took hold of a long lever control to her left and positioned her feet by pedals on the floor. She glanced out at the two men approaching from the truck. They were just pulling guns that now flew from their hands. Sarah glanced back at the other two helicopters for just a moment. Then with a gulp like the cat eating the proverbial canary she gently pulled the long lever, made some slight move with her foot, and they rose above Angkor Wat.
The temple blazed in piercing sunlight against a scrubbed blue sky. The helicopter tilted and lurched unsteadily as they began to fly forward, about a hundred feet from the ground.
“They’re scrambling for the white helicopter,” Reggie shouted.
“I broke it. Don’t talk now.”
Sarah’s tone cut through the adrenaline rush of escape. Reggie could see how tense her shoulders were under a shirt abnormally soaked with sweat. He suddenly realized they could still die if she made a mistake in piloting.
Reaching back, he took the time to prop Tom up to a better position and buckle him in. Sitting there, limp and helpless, the body barely resembled the proud, theatrical man who had so affected them in Belize.
Reggie looked away, out the window, and saw they were flying above the same road that had brought them in from Thailand yesterday. There were no other aircraft in sight.
“Reggie,” Sarah shouted without looking sideways. They seemed to be moving forward smoothly, and her face looked intent, but calm. “Do you still have the card that government guy gave us? Wang Chantachai, or whatever his name was?”
Reggie realized he still had a fanny pack with his phone and a wallet in it. (His money and papers were under his clothes in a money belt, as usual.) Probably he hadn’t taken the card out of his wallet. On the first pass, he didn’t see it. He looked again without saying anything, and there it was.
“Got it.”
“See if your phone works. Someone should tell the Cambodians and Thais that we’re in this ‘copter. I’m heading back to Poipet where we crossed the border. I’d like to land in the open area there. If he’s got anyone who could advise me ahead of time on landing this thing, that might be good too.”
“Should I tell him Tom set us up and people might be chasing us?”
“Whatever, but we’re not supposed to say much on the phone.”
Reggie pulled out his PAD. It was claiming a marginal signal. Well, that would have to do. It was the best phone on the planet. He dialed the number from the card.
It rang. There was an unrecognizable greeting on the other end.
“I need to speak to Wang Chanthanasai,” Reggie shouted.
The reply was unintelligible.
“I need to speak to Wang Chanthanasai,” he tried again.
More mangled words, they sounded like angry English. Then they were disconnected. Reggie dialed the number again.
“Emergency! I need to speak to Wang Chanthanasai!”
“This is Wang.” The connection was bad, but Wang spoke each word loud and clear.
“This is Reggie Malone and Sarah Duncan. We are in a helicopter in Cambodia. Someone tried to capture Sarah. We need clearance to land in Poipet.”
There was a pause long enough for Reggie to worry he’d lost the connection. Then the words, “I can’t . . . How long . . .”
“We don’t know anything about helicopters. We just left Angkor Wat and are following the main road to Poipet. And we have someone with us you may want in custody.”
Reggie heard something harsh muttered in Thai, then, “I will call the border at Poipet, but this is . . . No more . . .”
“Is there anyone who can tell us how to land a helicopter?”
“What!”
Wang ranted for a moment, loud and clear. Then he personally gave instructions for landing, which Reggie relayed to Sarah, who seemed to at least know what “cyclic” and “collective” meant. By the time Reggie got off the phone, he was pretty happy with himself and the PAD.
He looked over at Sarah, and she looked more than happy. Bliss might best describe the vacant smile and quivering hands.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m flying!”
“Yes, I see that.”
“Reggie, I’d kind of read how to do this but—I had to teek the whole surface of the ‘copter. I’m touching it everywhere. I’m actually part of something that can fly.”
Reggie remembered dreams he’d had about flying. There was something very sensual about being able to steer oneself through the air. Watching Sarah, he felt like a voyeur.
“What’s it like?”
“Guiding a toy boat in a bathtub, with slight motion under water or the barest touch of a finger. God, I always wanted to learn to fly.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Once I knew what I could do,” there was a catch in Sarah’s voice, “I thought I might be too dangerous.”
There were tears in Sarah’s eyes now. Her euphoria seemed tinged with self-denial. Reggie imagined an angry Sarah flying over the countryside, setting fires to forests and buildings as she passed. How old had she been when she chose not to study flying? How much had she read to know the parts of a helicopter and how to get one off the ground in the first place?
“Someone else I’d worry about. You, I trust.” Reggie hoped he sounded reassuring. He thought he even believed
himself, mostly, but Sarah gave no sign that she’d heard.
Over an hour passed in silence, Reggie watching out the window or watching Sarah enraptured with the feel of flight. But his first sighting of the border was like a bucket of cold water down his front. He thought he’d heard somewhere that landings were the hardest part of flying, or maybe Sarah’s early concerns had infected him. She still looked pretty happy, and Reggie kept silent so as not to break her concentration.
They began to slow and descend. With each dip the nose of the helicopter tipped up or tilted and things were a little rough. Luckily, there was nothing in front of them but clear, flat land. The border was surrounded by hard baked dirt without a single tree. Reggie tried not to tense, but by the time they finally approached the surface his fists were clenched on the seat and he pulled in like a turtle seeking his shell.
The ground lurched up. They were going to crash.
Then they were still, safe on the ground. Sarah released one hand, then the other. The propeller was still turning but the absence of motor noise was startlingly sudden. Sarah sank back in her chair and closed her eyes. Reggie unbuckled himself and looked at Tom, who was still oblivious. Then he waited.
Sarah still had her eyes closed when the propeller came to a complete stop and two Thai police officers began walking toward them. Reggie reached across to touch her hand. She opened her eyes and took a breath, but that was all.
The shorter of the two Thai officers reached the helicopter first and motioned for them to open a door. Reggie did so and stepped out to speak to him.
“Hello. You are Reginald Malone?”
“Yes, sir.”
“With Sarah Duncan and someone we may need to handcuff?”
“Yes, sir. Though the person you may need to handcuff is currently unconscious.”
The officer looked like he might not have understood that. After a moment of silence Reggie added, “He’s asleep, drugged.”
The officer nodded. “You have passport?”
Reggie carefully untucked his shirt and pulled his money belt up enough to retrieve the papers issued to him by the Thai government. The officer took them and looked toward Sarah. Reggie climbed back up and crouched beside Sarah who still looked rather dazed.
“You okay?”
“I probably shouldn’t do that again.”
“They need your papers.”
Sarah straightened up and pulled the papers out of her money belt. She handed them to Reggie and then glanced back at Tom. “Is he okay?”
“I think so. Still out cold.”
Sarah nodded and began to stretch. Reggie took her documents out to the officer.
“You come to our car now.”
Reggie went back in, unbuckled Tom, and maneuvered him out of the helicopter. Since no one offered to help carry him, Reggie hefted the full, limp weight over his shoulder. Sarah climbed down behind them, and they all made their way across the dry ground toward the immigration building. Midway there, the officer who had spoken to Reggie motioned for them to follow his partner to a police car.
Reggie set Tom up in the back seat.
The officer gestured for Reggie and Sarah to ride in back, too.
“With him? He might be dangerous when he wakes up.”
The cop stared at him blankly.
“What about handcuffs?” Reggie asked, trying to sound friendly and miming the action of handcuffing Tom, just in case the man really didn’t understand English.
The cop looked at Reggie like he was a sissy for worrying about an unconscious assailant, but he did handcuff Tom to the door of the car. Then Sarah and Reggie climbed in from the other side.
It was dark by the time Wang Chanthanasai claimed them from the Bangkok police station where they’d been dumped after their cramped and silent drive with the Poipet police. Tom was fully conscious now, but hadn’t spoken.
The silence continued as Wang drove them into Chinatown and led them down concrete steps into a basement room off an alley. Stooping between cloth flaps in the doorway, Reggie wondered if they were safe. This didn’t look like an official government meeting room. There were scattered metal chairs, a faded red rug, and large cardboard boxes stacked against one wall. The overhead light was a bare electric bulb. If someone wanted to quietly do away with a problem, this seemed like just the room for it.
Wang, who had taken charge of Tom, steered him into a chair, then nodded for the others to sit. Reggie sat and went over the day’s events in his mind. But Wang turned instead to Tom and asked, “What’s happened to your mind?”
Tom glared sullenly at Sarah and Reggie, then shook his head. “I don’t know. She did something.”
“I didn’t,” said Sarah. “Maybe those people—“
Wang silenced Sarah with a look, then spoke calmly to Tom, “The police said you were unconscious, drugged. Do you remember what happened?”
“She did something to my mind before that. She froze my whole body and suddenly I couldn’t hear the other teeps.”
“He was trying to drug me,” Sarah hissed. “He’d set me up to be captured by those people, and he was going to drug me unconscious.”
Reggie reached out to cover Sarah’s hand where it rested on her knee. While she seemed resigned and rational, he envisioned lifting Tom up by his shoulders and shaking him.
After a pause Wang asked Tom, “Is it so?”
Tom shrugged and looked at the floor.
Wang watched him with no expression. Then pulling back, like a cobra spreading his hood, he said, “I’ll need to call a few more people.”
Chapter 18
May 23, 2025 – Bangkok, Thailand
James paid the driver and stooped out of the taxi at Dr. Yu’s home office. Before he fully unbent, Yu was out the front door and down the stone steps. The cab nosed its way into traffic. People pressed at James. The sidewalks of Chinatown reviled personal space. James flattened his hands against his legs, and tried for stillness if not calm.
“Dr. Morton.”
“Dr. Yu.”
“Shall we walk?”
James nodded and the conversation switched immediately to tight telepathy.
“You know Tom Asawaroengchullaka?”
“Very slightly,” James replied, remembering to look ahead as he dodged diminutive pedestrians and ignored smells of soup and frying fat, despite his missed dinner.
“Tom’s a playboy, occasional diplomatic staff, the usual government connections. Today, he took a new teek émigré to visit Angkor Wat and supposedly tried to sell her to the Chinese, or someone claiming to represent them.”
“I’m not sure I want to know about this.”
“Ah, but I haven’t told you why we’re being called in. Tom lost his telepathy. He claims the teek did something to him. Wang wants me to examine him, and I thought your laboratory inclinations might be useful.”
“I doubt it’s genetic or even viral if a teek’s involved. But you could have just sent me samples—“
“Perhaps you don’t see. This could threaten us all. You and I may need to stretch ourselves a bit, but we are the community’s best chance for answers.”
“I hardly think—“
“We’re here,” Yu broadcast loudly, standing in front of an alley-side door.
Wang opened the door, “Come in. Thank you for hurrying. Be careful what you say aloud. The teek and her boyfriend are not cleared for anything, except scientific information,” Wang’s glance paused on James, “And Tom may well be compromised, but I believe his teep is blocked.” Then aloud, “Tom, the doctors have come to examine you. Can you tell them what happened?”
James was still descending the basement stairs as Tom began to talk. He told about Reggie shouting, Sarah freezing him, the loss of his telepathy, and being forced to tranquilize himself before James pieced together that they’d been visiting temple ruins in Cambodia. How had Tom ended up there with Sarah and Reggie, and why were they all discussing this in a basement storage room?
Th
en Sarah began talking, filling in for where Tom was unconscious. She told at length about being chased by Chinese agents, hijacking a helicopter, and being driven back to Bangkok by Thai police. James lost track of her words when he realized the mud spattered across her clothes was actually blood from a Cambodian helicopter pilot. Tom and Reggie were also spattered with blood.
Yu interrupted Sarah once to ask, “Are you sure the people chasing you were from China?”
She tilted her chin and looked at him, “No, but Tom didn’t deny it. They looked Chinese, and that’s the other government involved, right?”
James wondered if Yu might have his own connections to China. There were certainly rumors about the Chinatown teeps. Did he want to know? Could he avoid it?
As Sarah finished speaking her eyes were on James. He tried to look elsewhere, but since Dr. Yu was conducting a preliminary examination of Tom and Wang was pacing, blocking most of the room, James felt obliged to nod and look concerned. She’d certainly had a trying day, but James wished he was safely away from the drama. He caught himself beginning to tap the sides of his knees and folded his hands instead.
The silence stretched, both mentally and audibly, and James tried to think of something reassuring to say to Sarah. Then Wang said aloud, “Do you realize how much trouble you’ve caused the Thai government? Teeps, and some teeks, have worked quietly here for over a decade. You’ve hijacked two aircraft and upset two foreign governments in less than a month.”
“Would you rather they caught me?”
“I’d rather you found quieter means!”
“Look, I tried to live peacefully. Then the U.S. came after me, you guys sent Tom to recruit me, which led to the first airplane incident, and when he offered to show me Angkor Wat, I thought it was okay with you, which led to today’s whole mess. It’s not like I steal aircraft for fun.” Sarah’s voice squeaked at the end, making her sound very young.
“Nonetheless, it can’t happen again. Stay inside Thailand. Stay out of trouble. You’re not that important. You’re hardly even useful.”