“Neil, I had a great time with you, and I’m happy to go out with you again …”
“But?” he said.
“What do you mean?” She was beginning to sound tense.
“It sounded like there was going to be a ‘but’ there.”
She sighed deeply. “What I was going to say was that you shouldn’t take what we did so seriously.”
“Debbie, you made love to me. That means something.”
“Yes, it means something to me, too. It means we had a good time. And I like that, I like having a good time. But you scared me when you asked me to get engaged, Neil. I mean, we’d only been out four times.”
“Six,” corrected Coleman.
“Okay, six. But I’m too young to settle down. I just want to enjoy myself.”
“That’s what I want, Debbie. But I want to enjoy myself with you. I don’t want to go out with anyone else.”
“But I don’t want that, Neil. Not right now. When I’m your age, maybe I will, but right now I’m only twenty-three and I don’t want to be committed to one person.”
“Not even to me?” asked Coleman. She didn’t answer. “Debbie, I want to talk to you.”
“We’re talking now,” she said sharply.
“I mean face to face. I want to see you. I want to touch you.”
“I told you, I’m busy. I’ll call you next week.”
“Jesus, Debbie, I can’t believe you’re like this,” complained Coleman. “No one has ever made love to me like you did. You can’t turn me away now. I love you …” Hui walked into the office, sat down at his own desk and opened a file. Coleman flushed, wondering if Hui had been listening outside the door.
“Neil, don’t be so immature,” said Debbie. “We had fun, that’s all.”
There was so much that Coleman wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t do it while Hui was in the room. “You’ll call me next week?” Coleman asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “Look, I’ve got to go. Bye.”
The phone went dead. “Yeah, that’ll be great,” Coleman said to the buzzing line. “I’m sure we’ll have a terrific time. Bye for now.”
Hui looked at him as if he’d seen right through the charade. “You seen this?” Coleman asked, walking over to Hui’s desk and handing across the congratulatory memo.
Hui nodded and grinned. “Got one myself,” he said without reading it. “Good to be appreciated, isn’t it?” He passed it back to Coleman.
Coleman went back to his desk, crestfallen. He’d assumed that he’d been signled out for special treatment. He hadn’t thought that everyone involved had got a memo.
“Great bust, Neil,” said an east London accent behind him.
“Whotchya, Phil,” said Coleman, without looking round. He sat down and picked up his cup of coffee. “News travels fast.”
“Twenty triads under arrest, six stolen cars recovered and three smuggling boats impounded! You should be bloody pleased, mate. You going to be at the press conference?”
Coleman frowned, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “What press conference?”
Donaldson looked at Hui and back to Coleman. “Three o’clock this afternoon. The Commissioner’s meeting the press. They’re putting the cars on display; it should get a great show in tomorrow’s papers.”
“Yeah,” said Coleman, confused. He looked at Hui. “Did you know about this, Kenneth?”
Hui looked embarrassed. “The press office called earlier. I have been asked to attend.”
“They didn’t say anything about me?” Hui shrugged and said nothing. “Fucking terrific,” said Coleman. He scowled at Donaldson. “You know what’s going on, don’t you?” he said.
“Yeah, I know,” said Donaldson sympathetically. The force was continually playing down the importance of the expats and it was clear that Coleman’s role was being side-lined. Neither wanted to voice their opinions in front of Hui, however.
“Shit,” said Coleman.
“Maybe the Commissioner will give you an honourable mention,” said Donaldson.
“I’ve already got a memo,” said Coleman bitterly.
“Yeah, well that and a dollar will get you a ride on the Shau Kei Wan tram,” said Donaldson.
“Hey, can you do me a favour?” asked Coleman.
“Maybe,” said Donaldson cautiously. “What is it you want?”
“Can I borrow your car for a few days? I’ll be careful.” Donaldson owned a six-year-old Suzuki Jeep which he mainly used to go windsurfing at weekends.
“Till when?”
“Saturday morning? Is that okay?”
Donaldson considered his request for a while and then nodded. “Just take care of it, okay? And put petrol in it, will you? And please, please, please, don’t fuck up my police radio.”
“Thanks, Phil,” said Coleman.
“The lovely heiress not picking you up in the Jag?”
“Don’t ask,” said Coleman.
“You know me, mate. The epitome of tact. So what’s wrong, not getting your leg over, then?”
“Just give me the keys, Phil. Just give me the keys.”
The small plane banked steeply and dropped like a stone towards the airfield far below. Lehman’s stomach lurched and he grimaced at Lewis. Lewis scowled back. “I hope this guy fucking knows what he’s doing,” he said.
The wings waggled up and down giving Lehman a good view out of both sides of the plane as it made its approach. There were rice paddies with men and women in wide conical hats tending green shoots, and bullocks pulling wooden ploughs through brackish water. In the far distance were hills which were too rugged to cultivate and which had been left to the jungle. Overhead the sun beamed down from a cloudless sky.
“Yeah, I hate small planes,” agreed Lehman. “Give me a helicopter or a Club seat in a 747. Anything in between makes me want to heave.”
“You’re always complaining, Dan,” laughed Tyler from the front, where he sat next to the pilot – a middle-aged Thai who gave the impression of having trained on air force dive-bombers and who hated having to ferry three farangs around in a thirty-year-old single-engine Helio-Courier. “Beautiful little planes these,” continued Tyler as the pilot lined up the nose with a thin dirt runway. “CIA used hundreds of them during the war. You can land one of these babies in just 120 feet.”
“I’ll just be grateful if we get down in one piece,” said Lehman.
“No problem, my friend,” said the pilot, dropping another hundred feet and slowing the airspeed so that the tiny plane was going no faster than a family car. He dropped the right wing and put his foot down hard on the left rudder pedal which put the small plane into a forward slip, allowing him to lose altitude at a faster rate. The altimeter spun around and the ground rushed at them. At the last minute the pilot straightened the plane so that it was aligned with the runway. The wheels kicked up puffs of dust on the bone-dry dirt and the plane came to a dead stop in next to no time, just as Tyler had predicted. “See,” said the pilot, beaming. “No problem.”
The only buildings on the airfield were a corrugated iron shack, a big circular fuel storage tank and an empty hangar large enough for three planes the size of the Helio. In front of the hangar was an old blue Mercedes covered with a thin layer of reddish dust. It crept forward towards the plane and stopped about twenty feet from it, its doors closed and its engine purring.
“That for us?” asked Lewis.
“Yeah, we’ve still some way to go,” said Tyler.
“I hope it’s got air-conditioning,” said Lewis, breathing in the hot, humid air. He mopped his wide brow with the sleeve of his khaki shirt.
Tyler had been secretive about their ultimate destination, telling Lehman and Lewis only that they would be going north for a couple of days and that they were to bring with them just a flight bag with a change of clothes. They’d left Horvitz and Carmody in Bangkok and picked up the Helio at Bangkok Airport.
“You want to tell us where we are now?” Lehman asked.
“Nearest town is called Udon Thani,” said Tyler. “The border with Laos is about fifty klicks to the north. We’re heading east.” He spoke to the pilot in Thai and the man nodded.
“The plane’s going to wait for us?” asked Lewis.
“Hell, Bart, we can walk if you want to,” said Tyler, grinning.
“Plane’s fine by me,” said Lewis. New beads of sweat were already forming on his forehead and he wiped it again with his sleeve.
“Let’s get in the car,” said Tyler, “you’re gonna melt.”
The driver of the Mercedes had switched on the air-conditioner for them and Lewis and Lehman climbed gratefully into the back of the car and stretched out, enjoying the cold air. Tyler got into the front and spoke to the driver in Thai. They set off down the road which led away from the airstrip and towards the wooded hills. Tyler took a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it. Lehman peered over his shoulder and saw that it was a hand-drawn map.
“When are you going to tell us why we’re here?” Lehman asked Tyler.
“We’re here to get a helicopter.”
“Out here?”
“If my sources are right, and they usually are, we should find just what we need about twenty klicks away.”
“I don’t understand,” said Lehman, frowning. “Why do we have to come all the way out here to get a chopper? We could hire one for a few hundred bucks.”
“Because we can’t hire one without a hell of a lot of paperwork, and while we could fake it there’s too big a chance of us leaving a trail that can be followed. There’s another reason, too. We’re going to be using it in Hong Kong and it’s a very small place. If we fly a chopper in it’ll be noticed and recorded.”
“You’re saying we’re not going to fly it to Hong Kong?” said Lehman, totally confused.
“That’s right. Assuming the chopper we’re gonna see is okay for the job, I’m going to arrange to have it shipped to Hong Kong. That way, when we come to use it it’ll come as a complete surprise. You see what I mean? If we take off from Kai Tak, we’ll be followed all the way by air traffic control. But if we keep it under wraps in the New Territories and only fly it on the day of the mission they won’t know what it is or where we’ve come from. Confusion, Dan, that’s what we’re aiming for. We want the enemy confused so that we have time to get in and out before they can get their act together.”
“And what sort of chopper is it?”
Tyler winked. “You’ve got to let me have some secrets, Dan. Besides, I want to see the look on your face when you see it.” He settled back in his seat and concentrated on the road ahead while Lehman looked out of the side window at the farmers in their rice fields. The road they were driving on was practically deserted. Once they overtook a rusting yellow bus loaded with villagers and livestock but other than that they saw only farmers with bullock carts and once an elephant being ridden by a small boy. The car climbed away from the rice farms and up into the mountains where whole areas had been stripped by slash-and-burn hill-tribe farmers, leaving the red soil exposed. In some places attempts had been made to repair the damage done by the farmers by replanting acres of fast-growing pine trees, giving the area the look of a poorly patched quilt.
As they drove through the hills they kept catching glimpses of small villages tucked away in the valleys, pretty wooden houses with steep roofs, and everywhere there were small farms with men, women and children working in the fields.
The Mercedes began to descend, the double-track road winding down through the hills until it plateaued. There were farmland and rice fields on either side of the road, but in the distance they could see semi-evergreen forests which had yet to fall victim to the slash-and-burn farmers, rich green mixtures of chestnuts and oaks, ferns and bamboos.
After half an hour’s driving, Tyler spoke to the young driver in Thai and the Mercedes turned off the road and on to a narrow dirt track clearly designed for foot traffic rather than cars. The Mercedes rocked like a boat as it bucked from pothole to pothole. Lehman wondered how Tyler knew that a helicopter could be found in the middle of nowhere. His thoughts were interrupted when the Mercedes braked suddenly, throwing him and Lewis forward so violently that Lewis banged his face on the headrest in front of him.
“Fuck’s sake, man, what’s happening?” he said.
“Elephants,” said Tyler. “They get right of way in these parts.”
Lewis rubbed his nose, tears welling uncontrollably in his eyes, as two big, grey elephants strode slowly across the track, waggling their ears and swinging their trunks to and fro. A bare-chested teenage boy, sitting with his legs either side of the first elephant’s neck, grinned and waved at the driver of the Mercedes with a small stick. Thick chains around the necks of the two giant beasts were attached to logs which they dragged behind them. When they had crossed, the Mercedes started up again, following the track as it twisted and turned through the countryside. Tyler kept looking at the milometer and peering out of the window to the left, and after they crossed a small stone bridge over a clear blue stream he spoke to the driver in Thai. The driver nodded and pulled the Mercedes off the track. He switched off the engine while Tyler twisted around in his seat.
“Okay, this is it,” he said to the two men in the back.
“This is it?” said Lehman, looking around. He couldn’t see anything that looked remotely like an airport or a landing strip.
“Assuming I’m reading the map correctly,” said Tyler. “Come on.”
The three men got out of the car and stood on the dirt track. Lewis wiped his brow with his shirt sleeve again. “Just like Baltimore in the summer,” he said. “Hot and wet. Weather like this, one murder a day, guaranteed.”
“This way, guys,” said Tyler, striding down a narrow path which led away from the track. An old woman carrying a wicker basket looked at them with wide eyes, astonished to find three farangs walking through the remote countryside. Tyler put his hands together under his chin and bowed and said something to her in Thai and the woman almost dropped her basket in surprise. Tyler spoke to her and she pointed along the path, nodding her head vigorously. “Yeah, this is the way,” Tyler said to Lehman and Lewis.
The path took them through a rice field and alongside a small farm where all the buildings had low, thatched roofs. A group of naked children were playing in a stream, jumping in and splashing each other, their laughter carrying across the fields.
The path took them away from the farm to a large lake, fringed by tall palm trees and ferns. In the centre of the lake was an island, and on the island was a collection of buildings built haphazardly around a stone pagoda-like structure. It was capped with a gold spire which gleamed and sparkled in the light. Between the shore and the island was a long, narrow wooden bridge, wide enough to allow two men to pass shoulder to shoulder. Where the bridge met the island were two large dragons, their bodies covered with glazed tiles of the deepest blue and turquoise.
“Wow,” said Lehman. “What’s that?”
“It’s a wat,” said Tyler. “It’s a sort of a monastery and a place of worship for the local villagers. The tower in the middle, with the gold spire, is what they call a chedi. It goes back to the twelfth century and is supposed to contain a real relic of the Lord Buddha. It’s a holy place, but so isolated that it doesn’t get many visitors. The other buildings are a school, a library and an ubosoth, where they ordain novices.”
Five thin monks in saffron robes were walking slowly around the chedi, heads bowed, and they could hear the banging of a drum.
“And these monks are going to lend us a helicopter?” said Lehman in disbelief.
“Are you saying you don’t believe in miracles, Dan?” said Tyler. He winked at them. “You guys wait here. There’s someone I have to speak to.”
He slipped off his shoes and socks and walked barefoot along the wooden planks. Lehman and Lewis sat down on the lush green grass at the side of the lake to wait.
“You believe this?” sai
d Lewis. “He brings us all the way out here to speak with a group of monks. Are we crazy or is he?”
“I dunno, Bart. He’s come through so far, but this is weird. Really weird.”
They watched Tyler walk slowly along the bridge and on to the island. Lehman shaded his eyes with his hand. He could see a bespectacled old monk, bow-legged with sagging shoulders, hobble from one of the buildings to where Tyler stood. Tyler put his hands under his chain again and bowed low; the monk returned the bow, but it was the merest inclination of the head, an acknowledgment of Tyler’s respectfulness and nothing more. They spoke for a while and then the monk led Tyler away into the shade of a wooden building with a red-tiled roof.
They waited. The hot afternoon sun became unbearable so they moved underneath a large palm tree and sat in its shade. They watched colourful birds fly from the jungle and across the lake, flashes of blue, red and yellow, and they saw huge dragonflies and butterflies, the insects almost equal in size to the birds. Lewis lay back in the grass, closed his eyes, and soon was snoring gently. Lehman sat with his back to the palm and put his hands behind his neck. Like Lewis, he couldn’t understand why Tyler had brought them to north–east Thailand. What use would monks have with a helicopter? And what would tempt them to part with it so that the Americans could use it in a robbery?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Tyler walking out of the building with another monk. Like the first, he wore a saffron-coloured robe which went over his left shoulder, ending just above his knees, but this monk was only an inch shorter than Tyler. They walked together to the wooden bridge, Tyler speaking and the monk nodding. They stopped when they were halfway along the bridge and stood facing each other. The monk’s bald head had a dark halo around it as if it had been several days since he’d shaved. He had pale skin for a Thai, suggesting that he spent most of his days indoors, and he had a slight stoop as if he resented his height. His hands were clasped in front of him as he spoke and he seemed to be asking Tyler for something because Tyler was shaking his head and holding his hands out as if trying to ward him off. The monk shrugged and made as if to go back to the wat. The American reached out to touch the monk but then jerked his hand back as if realising that it would be sacrilege to lay a hand on the holy man. Tyler said something to the monk, and the monk nodded and smiled. Tyler spoke for some considerable time, his face serious. All his body language was negative, he folded his arms across his chest, he kept turning away from the monk and twice he clasped a hand to the back of his neck which Lehman knew was a subconscious signal that Tyler was suppressing violent thoughts.
The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Page 25