Death Trip

by Lee Weeks

  Shrimp found himself an empty seat.

  The live orchestra banged cymbals and jangled off-key percussions. After an hour Shrimp was no longer sat on his own, he was squashed beside a family who had brought their supper with them. They seemed keen to adopt him and share their dinner with him. There was a change of tempo in the music; something was about to happen. Then Shrimp saw El Supremo, ready for fighting. There was a big roll of the drums and clashing of cymbals as he stepped up into the ring, Coach at his side. Following them into the ring were two squaws, with thonged sandals criss-crossed up their legs and wearing very short, beaded leather dresses. One of them was carrying an open case full of money which she displayed to the crowd as she walked around the sides of the ring. There were gasps of excitement as the crowd surged forward to get a look at the prize money, more than five years’ wages for most. Then the list of contenders was read out. A few hopefuls came out and one by one they tried their luck against El Supremo. He annihilated each one in turn. The crowd were becoming glum and disappointed by the time Coach got into the ring and held up his hands for calm.

  ‘El Supremo is undefeated,’ he shouted. ‘Anyone else want a go?’

  There were murmurings but lots of head shakings until Summer stepped into the ring.

  ‘I have someone to fight.’

  There was a chorus of catcalls. The orchestra went mad with the cymbals.

  ‘Who?’

  Coach eyed Summer’s girls, who were standing behind her.

  ‘Me,’ Shrimp called out as he shuffled to the end of the row, amidst much support from his newfound family members. El Supremo watched him approach and began to laugh. Shrimp reached the side of the ring and slipped out of his trousers to reveal pink boxing shorts. The crowd went wild. El Supremo threw his arms up and refused to fight Shrimp, who had come without a teacher to observe the proper ceremony.

  ‘I’m here, honey.’ Summer stepped up and into the ring in pink glitter shorts and a sequined boobtube. She held the headband, a pink scarf with VOGUE written on the front, in both hands and bowed.

  Shrimp returned her bow. ‘Thank you, teacher,’ he said and there was a roar of approval from the crowds.

  ‘Do you know what I do in this bit?’ whispered Shrimp. The music struck up a cheery off-beat jangle.

  ‘You bow to me. Go to each corner, bow, pay your respects. Then go in the centre of the ring, kneel towards your home, Hong Kong, whichever way that is, and look like you’re praying. Get up, strike a pose, baby, and then bow three times. Then that’s it. Lots of luck, honey.’ She leant over, kissed his cheek.

  El Supremo was seething. He performed his prefight ceremony with ill-grace and when he came to Summer’s corner he stamped his foot aggressively. The crowd roared and booed.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Shrimp. Summer looked upset but kept smiling for his sake.

  ‘Don’t you worry, honey. Here’s your gloves.’ Shrimp held out one arm at a time for her to put them on.

  ‘Summer?’ Shrimp could see the look on her face.

  ‘Stamping means this is not ordinary fight.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It ain’t nice, sugar. He intends to kill you.’

  Shrimp heard music, Elvis Presley was singing about returning to sender. ‘Wait…that’s my phone. Check it for me, Summer.’

  Summer pulled the phone from Shrimp’s trousers at the side of the ring.

  ‘It’s a message, honey. From a man named Ng. You want me read it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It says: “Mann in trouble. Go to Mae Sot.”’

  Summer put the phone away and tightened up the laces on Shrimp’s boxing gloves.

  ‘You all right, honey?’

  Shrimp nodded. ‘Let’s get this over with, Summer.’

  ‘Such a brave boy…’ Summer kissed his cheek. ‘Now just remember, sugar, he may look mean and big, and he’s definitely ugly, but you got me and the girls on your side. Just do your best.’ Summer’s girls were practising their cheerleading routine. Only July really nailed it—June had no coordination at all.

  ‘They’re calling you over.’ Summer finished with the gloves.

  El Supremo made the first strike. He caught Shrimp off-guard with a turn and a flip foot in Shrimp’s stomach. As Shrimp doubled up, El Supremo brought his left-hook up under Shrimp’s chin. Shrimp hadn’t reckoned on it being so tough. As El Supremo launched another series of hooks and upper cuts, Shrimp blocked them with his foot and a screech of delight went up from Summer and her girls. For a second, Shrimp lost concentration and, when he attempted to block an elbow next time, El Supremo caught his foot in midair and twisted it. Shrimp felt the pain as El Supremo leapt in the air and brought his elbow in like a spur into the side of Shrimp’s thigh. Shrimp spun out of El Supremo’s reach to give him time to recover.

  It was then that Shrimp began to think that he may have been a little hasty in thinking that he could learn enough, quickly enough to give it a go. El Supremo came forward and Shrimp tried to distract him with a fluttering of arm movements. El Supremo mocked him and goaded Shrimp to punch him. Geed on by Summer, Shrimp jabbed El Supremo in what he thought was a good attempt, but El Supremo ducked and brought an elbow up into Shrimp’s throat. Shrimp staggered back and began jogging around the ring, skipping sideways to give him time to recover. The crowd didn’t like it but, without being able to throw a good punch, Shrimp was doomed. It had just dawned on Shrimp that he was actually going to be beaten to a pulp if he didn’t think of tactics soon. If he couldn’t use his gloves, he had to try the knee and, after making a few preliminary small kicks to the side of El Supremo’s shins, he leapt forward and brought his knee up into El Supremo’s jaw. Summer and the girls shrieked and started pom-pomming with their pink balls. But now El Supremo was hurt as well as irritated and he didn’t wait—he held on to Shrimp’s head and locked it down as he began an assault with his knee into Shrimp’s chest. But Shrimp was used to that. He had hardened his body, his abdominal muscles were like iron, he used the few seconds it gave him to plan his final assault. He could hear El Supremo breathing hard. Shrimp was tiring him out by making him chase him—now Shrimp had to do what El Supremo least expected. He expected Shrimp to use his feet. Shrimp knew there was one place he could cause enough damage to have a chance—El Supremo’s left eye, his blind spot. As Shrimp covered his face with his gloves and bent double to guard against the knees pummelling his body, he prepped his feet, made them solid, evenly weighted, and then he bent his knees and jumped as high as he could, knocking El Supremo back a few inches. Shrimp twisted his body in the air. Putting all his strength and force into the power in his arm and glove, he threw a punch into the left side of El Supremo’s head. El Supremo’s legs began to wobble, his arms went down to his sides; he fell to his knees and then flat on his face.

  A massive roar went up and Summer and the girls invaded the ring. A squaw handed him the case of money and Summer lifted his arm high in the air and paraded him around the ring. The girls came in for a group hug.

  ‘We gonna buy you a drink, sugar.’

  Shrimp raised up his hands to speak. The crowd fell silent.

  ‘All of you who were cheated into giving up your businesses, cheated by these men…’ He pointed to El Supremo and Coach ‘…and their masters, the corrupt politicians, the greedy police, the people who cashed in and sold your businesses and your homes from under your feet, they will pay. I want you to know that I have informed the international charities commission and have begun law suits on your behalf. When the world knows what these men and women did they will have nowhere to hide. Their time will be up and the money that should have been yours will be returned. The overseas companies involved, like NAP, will be forced to make amends for what they did. We will get your businesses and your homes back. These men are on the way out.’

  There was a big roar from the crowd. Shrimp turned to Summer.

  ‘I have to go, but…I’ll be back,’ he said in his best Arnie accent.
He handed the case of money to Summer. ‘Buy yourself a new bar and save me a stool.’

  97

  Sue felt the eerie stillness of the forest and eyes watching her as she pushed Louis’s body out into the current and watched it being quickly swallowed by the fast-moving river. She looked about her; she was scared. She had been in the jungle many times, but never on her own and never at a point that felt like the end of the world. Everyone dying, everything changing. Nothing would ever be the same. She was frightened to continue but a nagging voice in her head said she must. Something inside her urged her forward—if she had been meant to die, it would have happened already, and she desperately wanted to find Mann.

  She got out her map and compass and checked the coordinates that Mo had given her. Alak had given a pretty accurate description of their whereabouts when he had spoken to Mo. She had no need to take the detour to the old refinery as they had done before. Now she could follow the river and take a more direct route towards Gee’s village and hopefully she would find Mann on the way. Another half a day should see her there.

  She would give it till mid-afternoon. If she didn’t find any trace of Mann by then, then she would turn back.

  In the early afternoon, just as the sun began to make its way westward, she came across a place that had been a campsite. It had been used for a few days. It was definitely theirs; Run Run’s bag was there, Alak’s radio. Sue went over to see if it worked. It didn’t. There were the remnants of a fire. Several people had recently hung their hammocks here but now there was no one left, just their footprints. A monkey carrying its young stared down at her.

  Sue looked down towards the river. She wondered if Mann’s body had gone the same way as Louis’s. All around her she felt a sense of dread. She would speed along the way back and hope that Saw and his men did not find her first.

  98

  Mo smashed the rum bottle.

  ‘There will be no more drinking now.’ She had just finished listening on the radio. ‘That bastard Boon Nam is near. I heard him talking on the radio. He is tracking Saw Wah Say. He is going to kill the hostages. We must decide what will be best. We are not enough of us to attack both of them. We cannot take on two armies. We will track Boon Nam and trust in others to take care of Saw and recover whoever is left of the hostages. We will hope to give them one last chance. We will have our day of glory, huh, Phara?’

  Mo turned back to look at Phara. Phara’s eyes said it all, her lip quivering as she nodded, unable to answer. Mo sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and looked out on the swirling river that was taking away her daughter’s ashes. Now they circled and swirled as they met with Alak’s and joined. Mo shouted across the wide river, her voice breaking.

  ‘Listen to me, spirit of the river. I give you my only daughter, Run Run. You keep her safe and you give her all she needs and…’ She bowed her head for a few seconds, her shoulders heaved, then she looked up again and spoke, quieter this time. ‘You tell her to marry her love in the peaceful wash of your moonlit banks. Tell her to be joined forever with Alak. Look after her, river spirit.’

  As the plumes of ashes entwined and were swallowed by the rushing water, Mo turned away from the river.

  ‘Phara…call the women together. We go to war.’

  99

  Saw tied a rope around Jake’s neck and pulled him on. Jake’s legs stumbled, weak from the exertion and the beating he had taken from Saw. His head pounded and he could not lift his eyes without his vision splitting. He longed to look back at Anna but he could not. He felt useless. He hadn’t managed to protect Lucas. His best friend was gone, dead, and so were Silke and Thomas. Jake did not understand. Why had he kept him and Anna alive? What did Saw want from them? Wherever they were headed, thought Jake, this was the end of the road.

  It was well into the next afternoon when they reached the river. Saw left them hidden in the jungle whilst he sent his men to capture a boat. Saw’s men threw the fisherman overboard, along with his catch, and dragged Jake and Anna on board. They pushed off from the jetty and began their journey to Mae Sot.

  Jake watched Saw as he stood at the helm, his eyes always looking, his ears always listening like the animal he was, attuned to the jungle. He watched the flashes of gunfire light up the sky. His men sat pensive, quiet as the water lapped against the side of the boat and the engine droned. Saw’s men listened to the boom of mortar attacks and the rattle of automatic gunfire and they looked furtively from one another and to Saw.

  Anna and Jake glanced at one another and both knew what the other was thinking. For the first time in two weeks, they could hear the sound of someone fighting. It must be on their behalf, they thought, and so maybe there was hope. They smiled at one another. Maybe there was still hope for them.

  100

  Brigitte carried on walking all day, pulling down branches from overhead to eat their leaves as she went. Occasionally her trunk came back to investigate Mann. By late afternoon, the sound of fighting drew nearer. The tranquil air was peppered with the rattle and pop of automatic gunfire and the boom of mortars exploding and echoing through the hills. Plumes of smoke rose from the dense teak forests.

  ‘We are one more day from the river now, my friend.’

  Mann looked up through the gaps in the canopy overhead.

  ‘Why are we headed east?’

  ‘We must avoid the fighting, we must travel around it. We will hit the river further upstream but it cannot be helped. Mo is busy with the mortars I gave her; we will be caught in it if we are not careful.’

  He tapped Brigitte with his cane. She broke into a rolling trot. Mann’s body was still struggling to cope with soaring temperatures and endless muscle pain and fatigue. Now they seemed to be deep into jungle and far away from the river and Mann felt a sense of foreboding.

  ‘Do you think it is definitely Mo fighting?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I do. Mo is a brave woman. She is also a fearless fighter. She will seek revenge for her daughter’s death. She will keep Boon Nam busy whilst we try and catch up with the young people. He must be trying to head up to the mountains. He won’t escape Mo, she knows every path in these jungles and her women are fearless. I pity him when they catch him.’

  101

  It was late evening when Saw’s boat pulled up alongside the bank, a quarter of a mile before the bridge. In the distance Jake could see the braziers that lined the start of the bridge and the market. He heard the throng of people doing business.

  Handsome dragged Anna and Jake along the rough bank as they scrambled up along the edge of the river towards the market. It was eleven p.m., the night just beginning in Mae Sot. The lights of the market reached them as they entered the outskirts of Mae Sot. A few wary eyes watched the troop pass but none stopped their dealings to comment. Mae Sot had seen every type of creature in human form passing through, selling each other’s souls under cover of night. Saw, his wolf-pack and his two white-faced hostages were just a few more.

  102

  Magda peeked around the corner of the blind to see who was banging on the door of the PIC. Dorothy was standing outside, looking very upset. Magda let her in and locked the door behind her. Dorothy’s face was flushed with anger.

  ‘I saw the light on and knew it would be you,’ she blurted. ‘I was looking for you. I want you to come over to the NAP offices. I have something to show you. I cannot believe that Katrien has caused so much misery. It’s all coming out now. We are under an official investigation. It appears that the money from all those people who have been giving so generously over the past two years has been going straight into her own bank account. She’s been buying drugs from her friends in Burma to pass on to all those scumbag dealers here.’ Dorothy suddenly stopped and looked around at the mess all over the floor where Magda had been sorting out the boxes of old papers.

  ‘Oh God! What has happened here? Another break-in?

  ‘No, Alfie’s asked me to look into all of Deming’s affairs. He thinks we have something
that they want. Something that is connected to Jake and to Burma. I am trying to find anything that might help.’

  Magda looked so exhausted and distraught by it all, Dorothy’s eyes filled with concern.

  ‘Come on. I’ll help you.’ Dorothy slipped off her jacket and put it over the back of a chair. ‘Bring me the papers; I’ll sit here at the desk.’

  ‘Do you remember a company called the Golden Orchid?’

  Dorothy nodded. ‘Deming got most of his merchandise from there.’

  ‘What merchandise?’

  Dorothy hesitated and then shrugged. ‘I have no doubt that he made his money in a dubious way but the invoices all read the same—locally-sourced artefacts for export.’

  ‘What did that mean?’

  Dorothy sighed. ‘He said it was handicrafts, locally-made toys, souvenirs, jewellery, that kind of thing.’

  ‘You didn’t believe it?’

  ‘Yes, to a certain extent, but I only saw a small amount of merchandise arrive. There was a massive difference between the value of that and the amount of cash that Deming always had. He bought this place for you with cash. He bought the flat with cash. Plus, at that time, Amsterdam was full of heroin and Chinese businessmen—the two things went together.’

  Magda shook her head and closed her eyes for a few seconds.

  ‘I can hardly believe how bad this all gets. The more I find out, the less I like the man I thought I loved.’

  Dorothy reached over and squeezed Magda’s hand.

  ‘But the main point of this story is that Deming changed. I always suspected it was after he met you. He gave away a lot of his money to charities like drug rehabilitation units.’

  Magda pulled out the photo of Deming with the dark-skinned Asian man.