“Yeah, stay off the main roads and don’t let anyone see your ugly farang faces.”
“Thanks, I needed that…”
Charly smiled and popped a grape into her mouth. She liked having the upper hand over MacMurphy. But she liked helping him even more. She was tired of flitting from one case officer to another, and the job was getting to her. She was also tired of fighting a losing battle with the drug lords, and she was especially tired of sex without romance.
She wanted Mac, but he was, after all, Mac... Life sucks, she thought. It really sucks.
Her mind spun. How could she get him out of this mess? There was only so much she could do. The rest would be up to them, but they were resourceful guys.
“Okay, keep coming south on the back roads. Head southeast toward a town named Ban Huai Kang near the Lao border, and then turn southwest toward Ban Khai then Ban Pa Kha. Have you got that?”
“Yeah, I’m writing. Keep going.”
“When you get to Ban Pa Kha, turn west toward Chiang Mai. Just before you get to Chiang Mai, you’ll go through a small village called San Sai. That’s where I’ll meet you. In San Sai. Got it?”
“Okay, that’s great, Charly. We really appreciate this. But be careful you’re not followed, and…”
“Don’t lecture me about security. I’ll be clean when I get there and I’ll have a clean vehicle. Just get there in one piece, hopefully without a dozen police cars on your tail.
“By the way, in case you haven’t heard, your exploits at the Orchid Lodge and the Wangcome Hotel are all over the news, and whatever you did at the warehouse in Mae Chan is soon to follow. That’s already in our channels.”
Mac was confused. “What happened at the Orchid Lodge?”
She looked around to make sure her maid was out of earshot before answering. “Your rental car was blown to bits in the parking lot with an American tourist inside.”
“Oh my God. I didn’t know. You said ‘a’ tourist. How many people were in the car?”
“Just one, a man. His wife was the one who told the police about you and Culler and the vehicle trade.”
Mac cast Culler a nauseated look. “Sonofabitch. I’m really sorry about that.”
“Of course you are. Now just concentrate on getting to San Sai safely. It should take you about three hours over those roads. When you get near the center of town—it’s not very big so keep your eyes open—you will see a long tree-lined driveway on your left. It leads to a burned out, abandoned charcoal factory. You can’t miss it. Go down that driveway and pull around back of the building. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Chapter Sixty-Five
I don’t know about you, Mac, but I’ve got to take a leak and we’ve got to get our Camelbaks and power bars out of the trunk. I can’t last another hour without food and water.”
“Me neither. Let’s find a secluded place to pull over and take care of our animal needs and cravings.”
They found a spot on a lonely stretch of the road on the outskirts of Ban Lao. There were woods to their left and fields to their right. They got out, stretched, and each selected a tire upon which to relieve themselves.
Mac popped the trunk and rummaged around looking for the Camelbaks and granola bars. He pulled them out and slammed the trunk shut just as a jeep drove by coming from the other direction. The jeep slowed and the two men in the front seat craned their necks in the direction of the police cruiser.
Culler and Mac tried to shield their faces as best they could by turning away and putting their hands up to their heads. They did not look back as the jeep passed them.
They hurried back into the cruiser and slammed the doors shut. Culler pulled the vehicle back onto the road.
Then Mac broke the silence. In a philosophical tone he said, “It never ceases to amaze me. You can be in the most remote spot in Asia, and as soon as you stop to take a leak someone comes out of nowhere to watch. It’s definitely a third world kind of thing.”
“Do you think they noticed us?”
“Hell, I don’t know. But it’s not good. We’ve got every cop and druggie in north Thailand out looking for us, and those idiots have to drive by while we’re outside of the car taking a piss on the side of the road. If we didn’t have bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all.”
“Mind if I go a little faster?”
“Just don’t get a ticket.”
Culler drove as fast as he could over the narrow back roads. They slowed as they passed through the little village of Ban Huai Kang and then headed southeast toward Ban Khai. There was very little traffic on the road, but when they did meet an oncoming vehicle they had to slow to a near stop and pull over to the side to let the other vehicle past.
The trucks were the worst. They hogged the road and drove way too fast, the drivers not caring one bit whether they drove the oncoming vehicles off the road. Mac wondered what would happen if two trucks met at a curve. But he knew the answer.
Truck accidents were the bane of Thailand. The drivers were often unlicensed and overworked, resorting to drugs to stay awake on their long hauls. And when an accident did occur, the drivers would simply disappear from the scene, leaving the injured and dead behind them, and going on to the next truck driving job.
The two men munched on granola bars and drank heavily from their Camelbaks. The road ran through heavy woods broken by fields and scrub brush, wild elephant country years ago.
They were feeling better and the police radio remained relatively silent, probably because reception was so bad in the hills, which was a good thing.
They passed through Ban Pa Kha at a crawl due to the gaggle of people and animals walking on the road. The people regarded the cruiser with mild curiosity, but the heavily tinted windows did not permit them to see inside.
They turned west on an improved, two-lane macadam road to Chiang Mai. They were thirty-three kilometers from their rendezvous with Charly Blackburn.
They arrived in San Sai at a few minutes before eleven in the morning, almost exactly three hours after speaking to Charly on the phone.
Mac said, “Look at that. Right on time. Charly sure does know this part of the world. She said it would take us about three hours to get here and here we are.”
“And I do believe that’s the tree-lined driveway we’re looking for. Up there on the left, in that field.”
They crept through the village of San Sai. It was larger than many of the others they had passed through, more like a small town. The road was lined with shops and open restaurants with cars parked in front along both sides of the road. People, dogs, goats and pigs milled about.
“My, my,” said Mac, “I do believe we have reached the suburbs.”
Culler turned the cruiser into the tree lined drive and headed toward the burned out charcoal factory. Everything was exactly as Charly had described it.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Charly Blackburn stood behind the factory where she said she would be, leaning up against a white Toyota Land Cruiser.
She was wearing tan slacks and a matching tan safari style blouse. Her rich black hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She looked crisp and fresh. She tilted her sunglasses down and peered over them as the men approached.
Culler pulled the police cruiser in behind the Toyota. Mac jumped out and hurried over to her. Grinning broadly, he embraced her and whispered in her ear, “God, you look great.”
Winking, she whispered back, “You stink like a horse, and what happed to your ass?”
“It’s not my ass. It’s my hip. See, right here.”
“Doesn’t look too bad.”
“That’s easy for you to say. It hurts like hell.”
Culler approached them from the other side of the car. He held his hand out to her, and she took it in both of hers. “So I finally get to meet the famous Culler Santos.”
“It’s all my pleasure, Charly. I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Thanks for getting us out of this jam.”
She smiled and put her
hands on her hips. “That’s my job, keeping people like Santos and MacMurphy out of trouble. But you’re not out of the woods—or jungle—yet, boys.”
Then she was all business. “Okay, guys, let’s get your gear into the back of the Land Cruiser. Pull the police car over there, Culler, close behind the building by that door where it can’t be seen from the road. Then let’s get the hell out of here. These villagers notice everything, absolutely everything.”
Charly drove and Mac sat next to her in the front seat while Culler stretched out in the back. She drove rapidly the last few kilometers into Chiang Mai, briefing them on the arrangements she had made for them.
“You can keep this car for as long as you need it. It was leased in alias by one of our most trusted Thai support assets. It’s as close to clean as we can get. When we get to Chiang Mai, I’ll drop you off at an unused safehouse. It’s a two- bedroom apartment in a nice neighborhood, not too far from the consulate. Lot’s of farangs live around there, so you won’t stand out too much if someone sees you. It was leased in alias by an American retired Navy Chief and used only once, for the debriefing of a Hong Kong station journalist asset, so it’s as clean as we can expect. It’s also quite comfortable. The Chief’s alias name is Harold Moscowitz, just in case anyone asks.”
“You’re the best, Charly,” said Mac. “Rest and food and a stiff drink, not necessarily in that order. That’s what we need most right now.”
Charly glanced over at him and then at Culler in the back seat, and pinched her nose with her fingers. “And a bath, boys—a long hot soak. You guys are ripe!”
Culler and Mac responded with sheepish and knowing nods.
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I brought some light disguises for you guys as well. They are in that blue sports bag in the back, Culler. They’re nothing great, but quick and easy to use and enough to blur your appearances. The good guys and the bad guys are all out looking for you, and they have your descriptions.”
Culler rummaged through the bag, examining the items she had brought, while she continued talking.
“You’ll see I brought a selection of different mustaches, two longish wigs, a couple of different caps for you to wear, an assortment of sunglasses and regular glasses that are big enough to hide your eyebrows. And, oh yes, some hair dye for you, Mac. That is unless you want to wear one of the hippy wigs I brought.”
“Hair dye? You want me to color this distinguished gray hair of mine?”
“Don’t worry, handsome, it’s not permanent. It’ll wash out over a week or two, and you’ll be back to your old, extinguished–I mean distinguished–self once again…and alive. That’s the most important thing.”
She drove into the outskirts of the city and soon pulled up to the underground garage entrance of a four-story, sand colored, brick and stucco apartment building on a quiet, tree-lined street. She pressed a remote above her sun visor and the door rolled open.
She pulled into the garage and parked in slot number 222.
“This is your space. Don’t park anywhere else, or the manager will come knocking on your door. People are very protective of their parking spaces in this building.”
The garage was almost deserted. Only about a quarter of the spaces were occupied with cars. She said, “Most of the residents are at work during the day, so if you have to come and go, this is a good time to do it.”
They grabbed their gear out of the trunk, leaving behind the heavy boxes of ammo and the assault weapons. “Don’t forget those two bags of groceries,” she said. “You guys must be hungry, and I came prepared to give you a pasta fix.”
She led them to an elevator near the middle of the garage and hit the call button. When the elevator arrived, she pushed the button for the forth floor. Thus far their arrival was unnoticed.
Soon they would be home free and out of sight inside the safehouse apartment.
When the elevator stopped on the ground floor to let in a Filipina maid dressed in a white uniform pushing a baby stroller, Culler and Mac shuffled to the back of the cab and tried not to make eye contact with the woman. The woman pushed the stroller and child into the elevator cab and turned it around, facing the door with her back to Culler and Mac.
She pushed the button for the second floor and the doors closed. No one spoke on the ride up to the second floor, but the woman made sniffing sounds and glanced around her on the floor for the source of the odor. When the elevator reached the second floor, she exited rapidly without looking behind her.
When the door closed, Mac broke the silence. “Murphy’s law. Do you think she’ll remember us?”
Charly frowned at him like he had lost his mind. “Oh yeah, she’ll remember you all right. No doubt about that.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Charly gave them a quick tour of the apartment and directed them to their respective rooms and showers. She found some Neosporin salve and bandages in one of the medicine cabinets and handed them to Mac. “Okay, clean yourselves up and slip into something more comfortable while I get started on fixing you something to eat.”
Mac pecked her on the cheek. “Thanks Charly. I’ll call you when I’m clean so you can dress my wound, okay? By the way, you didn’t by any chance bring us something to drink to go along with that pasta, did you?”
“Of course I did. Knowing your love of vodka and wine, I brought both. But you can’t have anything until you are shaved and clean. Then I’ll fix your scratch and you can have a drink.”
She busied herself in the kitchen, unpacking the groceries and preparing to cook the pasta. When she heard the water from the showers shut off, she grabbed three glasses from the cupboard, filled them with ice, sliced a lime and prepared three strong vodka tonics.
Mac padded into the kitchen barefoot, wearing gym shorts and a tee-shirt. He smelled of soap and shampoo, and his wet hair was neatly parted and slicked down. She offered him one of the vodka tonics and took another. “Cheers,” she said, clinking his glass with her own.
“Cheers!” He took a long satisfying drink, exhaled and then put his arm around her, pulling her to him. “This is manna from heaven.”
She moved into him and put both hands around him, being careful not to spill her drink. He looked down at her, deep into her eyes, and stroked her hip with his free hand. His breathing quickened.
“Am I interrupting something?” said Culler, entering the room.
She pushed Mac away and blushed. “Not at all. Here, I fixed you a drink.” She handed him the vodka tonic, and the three of them clinked glasses in a toast.
“To better days ahead,” said Culler.
“Hear, hear,” said Mac. “Now will you dress my wound? It really hurts, damn it.”
Culler laughed. “Go fix his ass, Charly. I’m tired of hearing him complain about it.”
Charly took Mac into the bathroom, slathered the four-inch long wound with Neosporin and bandaged it lightly. “It looks like a burn from a poker,” she said. “You’ll live. You don’t need any stitches. Just keep the Neosporin on it, so it doesn’t get infected. You’ll be okay.”
Later, Mac and Culler sat at the small kitchen table drinking their cocktails, while Charly busied herself preparing the meal. They filled her in on what had transpired over the past few days, and she briefed them on what had been reported in the local press and in Agency cable traffic.
“So the bottom line is they—and I’m talking about the police and Khun Ut—have your descriptions and know your alias names. They also know you escaped in a police cruiser, and as soon as they find it behind the charcoal factory in San Sai, which won’t take long, they’ll know you’re probably in Chiang Mai. That’s about it. There’s very little in Agency or State traffic, only a little reporting about the killing of an American tourist in a car bombing and some internecine fighting among the drug lords. As far as I can tell, no one at Headquarters knows you guys are here, other than Edwin Rothmann, of course. So I think you’re okay on that score.”
Mac got up to make r
efills. “We tried to do this without any support from you or the Chiang Mai Base, and the reasoning behind that decision was sound. Problem is we failed. We got a lot of people killed, including that young American kid—that really hurts—and didn’t accomplish anything other than to raise the ire of Khun Ut and his people.”
“Yep,” said Culler, “I expect we managed to piss them off real bad.”
“Well,” said Charly, “You’ve just got to be more careful from now on. You need to do what you’ve got to do, then leave.”
Mac took a long drink of his vodka tonic. He was feeling human again and the alcohol helped him to relax. “Tell me again about General Sawat. How much can we trust him?”
“The only person in Thailand you can fully trust is me, Mac, and I think you know that. But if you keep Sawat on a short leash and use him on a strict ‘need to know’ basis, I think he’s about as good as you can get around here. He won’t just decide to turn you in or blow your cover, but if Khun Ut puts the screws to him, he’ll squeal like a pig.”
“What about his ever present mistress, Noi?” asked Culler. “He takes her everywhere, her and that yappy mutt.”
Charly turned the heat down on the pasta and turned to face them, gesturing with a long wooden spoon. “She’s definitely a problem. Sawat bought her out of a massage parlor three or four years ago, when she was about seventeen. Her family is from northeast Thailand, around Loei, I think. A very depressed area. Her father sold her to the massage parlor in Chiang Mai. It’s a pretty common thing in these parts, a huge source of income for the impoverished. Now that she’s set with the general, I’m sure they receive some sort of a monthly stipend from him. Word is she’s very doting on him and extremely loyal.”
“But she’s basically a hooker, and you can’t trust hookers, right?” said Mac.
Charly raised her eyebrows. “Of course, she’s in it for the money, and if she gets a better offer she’ll take it. She’s clearly a weak link.”
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