“Which was?”
“To stay in Thailand. And to come to terms with myself.”
“And you’ve done that?”
Doherty nodded. “I think so. I think I learned as much from them as I could. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life among the monks. I want to go home. I wanted to leave for some time, but it wasn’t possible without the right papers. The colonel’s contact in Bangkok has given me a new passport, the genuine article, too. He’s given me a whole new identity. What the colonel is doing is a chance that only comes along once in a lifetime and I intend to grab it with both hands.”
“You’ve got family back in the States?”
Doherty shook his shaven head. “None that I care about. That’s one of the reasons I joined the army. To get away from them. I sure as hell won’t be going back.”
“You enlisted?”
“Yeah. Even though I knew it meant going to Nam. In a way I think I wanted to go right from the start. To test myself.”
“So how did you end up in Thailand?”
“I’d had enough,” said Doherty wistfully. “I’d seen too many things I didn’t want to see. Too much hate. Too much needless killing.”
“That’s what wars are about,” said Lehman.
“Maybe. But you were what, an army pilot, right?”
Lehman nodded.
“I flew for Air America, Dan. And they were a different bunch, believe me.”
Lehman said nothing, he sat with the beer bottle held between both hands and listened. Doherty’s eyes seemed to blank out as he spoke in a soft, even voice. A Chinese family walked past carrying a roast pig on a platter which they placed on the ground and began surrounding with burning sticks of incense.
“I was a good helicopter pilot, one of the best. I signed up because I wanted to fly. I wanted to fly more than anything else in the world, but while I was in Vietnam I became totally disillusioned with the army, with all its inefficiencies and its egos. I got into a fight with one of my commanding officers. He was faking his log book to make it look as if he was flying missions when he was safely in his tent, making himself look good so that he picked up medals while I was seeing my friends shot to pieces. I beat the shit out of him and after that I ended up with only the most dangerous missions. I knew that it was just a matter of time before I didn’t come back. My tour of duty came to an end in ‘73 and I was approached with an offer to join Air America.” He smiled. “Nobody actually mentioned the CIA but it was an open secret that it was funded by the CIA and handled most of the covert operations into the countries around Vietnam. It meant more money and I could continue flying slicks. I thought I was made. That was what I thought, anyway. Turned out that Air America was no better organised and flying for them was every bit as dangerous as flying for the army. I kept being told to ferry Special Forces units into Cambodia and Laos, always as a volunteer but if you didn’t volunteer you didn’t stay hired. There was as much incompetence among the men of the CIA and Special Forces as there was in the army, only they were a hell of a lot more vicious. I was flying a slick once when two CIA men threw out a North Vietnamese prisoner they were interrogating. I’d already decided that when my twelve-month contract with Air America was up, I was going home. I’d had enough. Then I saw kids killed. Women and children blown away in a country where we shouldn’t even have been.
“I picked up a group of Special Forces men in the Huey you saw. I was supposed to ferry them into Laos, wait while they delivered a consignment, and then bring them back. Ship to ship. Turned out the mission was a drugs deal, the men I carried were delivering gold and picking up drugs, heroin I suppose. There was a double-cross, I don’t know who or why, but they started firing and didn’t stop until everyone was dead. Women and children, shot in the back. I saw the whole thing, and then they tried to kill me. I managed to get back to the Huey, but it was a close call.”
Doherty fell silent, watching the Chinese family pin small pieces of coloured paper to the roast pig. “I could have gone back to Vietnam,” said Doherty eventually. “But I figured that I’d either be court-martialled for leaving them behind, or they’d get out of Laos and come looking for me. Either way, I decided to call it a day. I went to Thailand.”
“You flew all the way from Laos to Thailand?”
“It’s not that far,” said Doherty. “And the Huey had been fitted with extra fuel tanks. I kept flying until I was sure I was well inside Thailand and landed where you found it. A few days later I built the hut around it and shortly afterwards I joined the monastery. I’d been interested in Buddhism for some time. I started by doing odd jobs for the monks and after five years they allowed me to join as a novice.” He grinned. “The rest is history.”
“That’s a hell of a story, Chuck,” said Lehman.
“And it’s true,” said Doherty. “Monks don’t lie.” He ran his hands over his scalp. “It still feels strange talking to an American again.”
“What about the tourists? The ones who visited your monastery, the ones who left the newspapers you read?”
Doherty shook his head. “I kept out of the way. News of an American monk would soon have got around, especially when the man involved was a deserter from the Vietnam War.”
“You weren’t a deserter,” said Lehman. “You flew for Air America, not the army.”
“You’re splitting hairs,” said Doherty. “And I couldn’t let the monks get in trouble for looking after me. We always knew well in advance when visitors were coming. I just remained in my room. It was no hardship.”
Lehman stood up and stretched, screwing up his nose at the sickly sweet smell that saturated the air around the temple. “You know what Tyler has planned?” he said, his back to Doherty.
“A robbery. A big one. We’re going to hit the racetrack and we’re going to use my old Huey. So far that’s all I know. Except that no one will get hurt.”
“He told you that?”
“I insisted. As I said, I am a Buddhist. I won’t be a party to killing. Not any more.”
Lehman turned to face Doherty. He shook his head, a confused smile on his face. “Robbery is okay, but killing isn’t. I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to, Dan. They’re the rules I live by, I’m not forcing them on you or anyone else.”
“Did Tyler say what part you’d be playing in the heist?”
“I don’t think he’s going to let me fly the slick, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been at the controls of a helicopter since 1974. You’ll be flying her, I’ll just be a passenger.”
“You really think she’ll fly again?” Lehman asked.
“You’ve got doubts?”
Lehman shrugged. “It depends on Lewis, and the parts. And a good dose of luck.”
Doherty shook his head. “You’ve got to have faith in the colonel, Dan. You’ve got to have faith.”
Lehman saw Lewis walking back, rubbing his stomach, and he looked at his watch. Mickey Mouse grinned up at him. “We’re going to have to go. Let’s catch a cab,” he said.
Within an hour the three men had showered and changed and were standing outside the door to Tyler’s suite. “Dan. Bart. Chuck. Come in,” he said, holding the door open for them. He was wearing a khaki military-looking shirt with epaulets and sleeves neatly folded above his elbows. As they entered, Lehman saw a man he didn’t recognise sitting on the patio with a glass of beer on the table in front of him. The man smiled and gave him a half wave. He was in his late thirties with a round, boyish face and hair that was neatly cut and combed. He looked like a Mormon missionary. Lehman was about to ask Tyler who the new man was when he suddenly saw he was holding the glass with a metal claw. It was Carmody, without his unkempt beard and trademark wraparound sunglasses.
“Larry?” said Lehman in amazement.
“No!” exclaimed Lewis in disbelief. “What happened to the beard? The hair?”
“Big difference, huh?” said Carmody. “It was getting on my nerves, what with the hu
midity and all.”
“It’s good,” said Lehman, sitting down at the table. Carmody looked a lot less threatening without the facial hair and the shades, Lehman decided. His eyes were a pale grey and there were smile lines radiating from the edges. His cheeks were plump and the skin looked surprisingly soft. Carmody self-consciously rubbed a hand against his cheek.
There was a knock at the door while Tyler was fetching beers for Lehman and Lewis.
“Get that will you, Bart?” Tyler asked.
Lewis reacted immediately and opened the door to admit Eric Horvitz. Like Carmody, Horvitz had changed. He was still wearing his sunglasses but his hair had been trimmed so that it was shorter and a good deal tidier, and his beard had been cut and shaped.
“What’s up with you guys?” asked Lewis, stepping aside to allow Horvitz into the room. “You visit the same hair-dresser or something?”
“Something like that,” said Horvitz and went out on the balcony to sit between Lehman and Carmody. “We had time to kill and thought we’d try out the barber shop in the Mandarin Hotel. Pretty good cut, huh?”
Lewis ran a hand through his own greying, curly hair. “Think I should give it a try?” he asked.
“Couldn’t hurt, Bart,” said Horvitz. “Couldn’t hurt.”
“Beer, Eric?” asked Tyler.
“Please, Colonel,” said Horvitz. Tyler uncapped a bottle of San Miguel and handed it to him. When everyone had a drink he stood with his back to the window and told Horvitz and Carmody about the Huey in Thailand.
“A real Huey?” said Carmody. “We’re going to use a Huey from Nam? Amazing.”
“It’ll arrive next week,” said Tyler. “I’ve already arranged a factory out in the New Territories where we can carry out the repairs with no risk of being seen. We’ll check out of the hotel tomorrow morning. Larry, have you got your driving licence?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Good. You’ll come with me first thing tomorrow to hire a couple of vehicles. I’ll meet you in the lobby at nine.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
Lehman could see that Carmody’s appearance wasn’t the only thing that had changed. He was sharper, there was more confidence in his voice and bearing and he seemed to have lost some of his bitterness. He did everything but salute Tyler.
Tyler stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped behind him. “As of tomorrow, you gentlemen should consider yourself on active duty. I don’t expect you to stand to attention or to salute, but I want you to act as if this were a military operation. When I give orders I expect you to carry them out speedily and without question. This operation has been planned down to the minutest detail, yet it will be revealed to you only on a need-to-know basis. If there is anything you are unhappy about, talk to me, but there will be occasions when I cannot give you the whole picture. I’m sure you understand why. I’m equally certain you know that you must not talk to anyone about what we are doing here in Hong Kong.
“Let me summarise the position so far. Next week the helicopter will be delivered to our factory. At about the same time the replacement turbine and gearboxes will be shipped over from the Philippines along with the other spare parts you wanted, Bart. We will have a little over three weeks to get the Huey into shape, at which point I will give you further technical details of the operation. I can tell you that it will involve us flying from the New Territories to the track here in Happy Valley, and then out to sea where there will be a ship waiting for us. Dan, you have no problem in landing at sea?”
“It’s pretty straightforward,” said Lehman. “But I’d like to get some practice in.”
Tyler shook his head. “Not possible, I’m afraid. In fact we’ll only be able to test the Huey on the ground. The first time it flies is on the day of the operation. Is that a problem?”
Lehman sniffed. “It’s not a problem, but you’re not making it easy.”
“I’d like us to be able to run through the whole thing from start to finish, but it’s just not possible. If we fly the helicopter we lose the element of surprise.”
“Understood,” said Lehman.
“Bart, I’m arranging for you to have a little extra help,” Tyler said to Lewis. “We’ll have a Chinese mechanic with us; he’ll be able to operate the lathes I’ve had installed in the factory.” He looked around all the men sitting at the table. “Bart will be in charge of the refurbishment of the helicopter and I’d like you all to assist him. There will be a great deal of work to do and you’ll all have to pitch in. Does anyone have a problem with that?” He was faced with a row of shaking heads.
Neil Coleman ordered a beer and leaned against the bar. He felt something cold and damp soak into the sleeve of his jacket and he straightened up, cursing.
“Fucking hell, CK, why don’t you ever clean the bar?”
The wizened old barman grinned at Coleman and half-heartedly wiped a cloth over the Formica surface before plonking down a bottle of Heineken so hard that the lager inside foamed and bubbled over.
“Thanks, CK,” said Coleman through tight lips. He looked around the police social club at the twenty or so expatriate officers, nodding to a few, studiously avoiding others. He saw Phil Donaldson drinking a Heineken from the bottle as he listened to one of the anti-triad officers. After a few minutes, Donaldson joined Coleman by the bar.
“Hiya, Neil, how are they hanging?” he asked.
“Straight and level,” said Coleman. “What’s new?”
“Not much. Loved the show the Hong Kong Standard gave the car bust. Did I miss it or weren’t you mentioned?”
Coleman scowled. “I didn’t even get a fucking invite.”
“I saw they interviewed your little spy, though.”
“Hui? Yeah. I’m starting to wonder if it’s the Commissioner he’s spying for and not the commies.”
“Could be. You said so long and farewell to Ian?” Ian Cormack was an inspector with Serious Crimes who was leaving after twelve years of service to join a private security firm in Bangkok. Coleman, Donaldson and the rest of the expat police contingent had been invited to his leaving party. There were, Donaldson noticed, no Chinese there except for CK, the surly and ageless barman.
“Not yet,” said Coleman. “I tell you, Phil, these get-togethers are getting more and more depressing.”
“They’re getting smaller and smaller, that’s for sure. It won’t be long before there’s just you and me.”
“Will you come to my leaving do?”
“Will you come to my mine?” asked Donaldson.
“Sure.”
“That’s good, because I’ll be out of here long before you.”
“Bastard!”
“There’s Ian now. Ian!” Donaldson waved his beer bottle in the air to attract Cormack’s attention. He came over, a portly man who, like Donaldson, was beginning to lose his hair. Unlike Donaldson, he made no attempt to cover his bald spot and, if anything, had his hair cut shorter to emphasise it. He shook hands with both men.
“Thanks for coming, guys,” he said. Whisky slopped over the edge of his glass and trickled on to the worn green carpet.
“Another rat deserts the sinking ship,” said Donaldson.
“It was an offer I couldn’t refuse,” said Cormack.
“I bet,” said Coleman. Everyone knew that Cormack had been looking for another job for at least twelve months, just like every other expat on the force. “I’m glad for you, Ian.” He raised the bottle and clunked it against Cormack’s glass. More whisky slopped to the floor. “If you hear of any other openings …”
“The only openings he’s going to find are in Pat Pong,” jeered Donaldson. “Between the legs of the hookers there.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too,” said Cormack. “Anyway, thanks for coming, guys. I’ve got to work the room.”
“Not much of a room to work,” said Coleman.
“It’s to be expected, I suppose,” agreed Cormack, “the rate the guys are l
eaving. And they’re only hiring Chinese.”
“Huh!” snorted Donaldson. “They can’t get Chinese to work for the police. I heard from a girl in Personnel that they wanted to hire 2,900 constables last year and only signed up 657. They wanted 160 to make up its inspectorate intake and you know how many they found? Twenty-six! Twenty-fucking-six! They’re crazy. They block our promotion, they say they want to localise the force so that everything’ll go smoothly after 1997, and what happens? I’ll tell you what happens, every police station in the fucking colony is undermanned, they’re down to about two-thirds of their establishment level and morale is lower than it’s ever been.”
Heads began to turn as Donaldson raised his voice, and Cormack backed away. “Hey, calm down, Phil,” said Coleman.
“Yeah, there’s nothing we can do about it,” said Cormack. “Nobody cares any more. Shit, I used to be so proud of the force, I really did.”
“The best police force money can buy,” said Coleman, with a grin.
“And look at it now,” continued Donaldson, ignoring Coleman’s interruption. “At a time when Hong Kong needs a strong police force, it’s weaker than it’s ever been. Hell, do you remember when the Commissioner’s house was burgled in broad daylight?”
“Yeah, and he assigned four uniformed constables to stand guard, round the clock,” said Cormack. “That’s more than they have patrolling most of the housing estates in Hong Kong. The man has no shame.”
“Who has, these days?” said Donaldson. “It’s every man for himself. And the last one out’s a sissy. I tell you, there’s going to be blood on the streets before long. Full-scale riots, the works. You know, Hong Kong used to be one of the safest places in the world, for expats anyway. There was trouble between the triads, sure, but they kept the violence among themselves. Europeans never got mugged, tourists could walk through the streets at midnight and be one hundred per cent safe, guaranteed, and it was almost unheard of for an expat’s house to be broken into. Now look at it. That woman on Disco Bay, the New Zealander, gang raped and cut up with a machete. Her house smashed to bits. That was just mindless. The Cathay Pacific pilot who was robbed at gunpoint. They roughed him up and trashed his house as well as robbing him. Tourists are being mugged every day, cars owned by Brits are being vandalised in front of their homes, their kids are getting beaten up at school. There’s an anti-British feeling the like of which we’ve never seen before and it’s going to explode. And who’s going to contain it when it does? The army’s pulling out, the police are leaving in droves. I tell you, it’ll be the little yellow men in green uniforms, they’ll be the ones restoring law and order and they’ll do it like they did in Tiananmen Square.”
The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Page 33