“You’re intelligent, educated, resourceful and beautiful. The world could be at your feet. So what are you doing in the jungle putting your life at risk for a so-called upper-bracket asshole with backside problems?” Steven asked, curious to know why his beautiful young companion was currently in the jungle looking for someone she did not know, and if she did, probably would not want to.
Gunn hesitated before answering, doing little to assist Steven fight the bush with the butt end of her UZI.
“Story take too long.”
Suddenly, Steven turned to face his young companion.
“What is it?” Gunn asked in surprise.
Removing the small folded bank draft from his pocket, Steven handed it to Gunn.
“Hide this but don’t tell me where. If Kronsky creates any problems, if he decides to double cross us, I’m the first one he or his associates would torture to find out where the money is. But if I don’t know, I can’t tell. No one would guess that a Thai whore would be entrusted with so much cash,” Steven casually said, waiting for Gunn to react.
Gunn stared at Steven, accusingly.
“I only mean that Kronsky would think you were a Thai whore,” Steven added.
“What do you think?” Gunn asked, almost threateningly.
Steven evaded the question. “What I think about you is not important.”
Gunn raised her UZI and pointed it at Steven’s chest.
“You very bad man, Steven Hunt.”
“Pointing a gun at someone is against military procedure. That’s why women find it difficult to reach high office. Regardless of the profession, you’re all too emotional.
“Fuck you,” was the extent of Gunn’s reply.
“Exactly, you also do that in order to get ahead. It’s unfair and underhand. Not cricket, as Rupert would say. Take Monika Lewinsky. On second thoughts you take her, she’s too fat and ugly. Still, that wasn’t why the former president liked her. Sexual politics, it’s a game most women play.”
Gunn’s finger tightened on the trigger of her UZI.
“Very dramatic, but we both know you have the safety on,” Steven said. “Look, do you want this three hundred million or not?”
Gunn lowered her automatic.
“Hide it somewhere really safe but don’t tell me where. Not in or near your pussy, that’s the first place they’ll go to if they capture me,” Steven said with a smile.
Gunn gingerly accepted the small, ludicrously valuable piece of paper.
“You might be able to buy your way out if anything happens to me,” Steven explained as he walked ahead to clear the path.
“You say bad things most of time, but make backup plan to keep me safe. Why you do that?” Gunn asked.
Steven ignored Gunn’s question and recommenced hacking away at the undergrowth, attempting to keep on the trail of whoever had passed through before them.
55
Jungle Junkie
It was half an hour before Steven and Gunn reached a small clearing in the jungle. Taking care to stay hidden, the couple surveyed the scene. Roasting meat on a stick above an open fire, an old man sat in a well worn rattan chair in front of two wooden huts. A flickering oil lamp assisted the fire to illuminate the scene.
The sound of a transistor radio blaring inside one of the roughly built shacks confirmed Thai people’s love of loud music and the presence of others. A bicycle leant against one of the hut walls, and the ornately liveried jeep their toothy young Thai guide had driven earlier in the day, was parked close by.
Suddenly the young Thai guide appeared. Clearly smoking dope, he spoke abruptly to the older man who appeared to be deaf.
“What did he say?” Steven asked, quietly. “He’s angry and say’s all farangs have too much money. Told old man tip too small and he’s glad to pay us back by kidnapping stupid farang ladyman with funny voice. He says ransom money from British embassy will supply drugs for whole year. Also said he’d buy old man a hearing aid, so sparkling tooth not all bad. Old man is drug dealer when opportunity arise.”
“Nice neighbourhood,” Steven quietly remarked. “Stupid farang ladyman with funny voice has to be Rupert. There can’t be two strangulated vowels English poofters lost in this remote area of the jungle.”
“He said the farang katoi is tied up and he’s going to contact the British embassy in the morning. He’s got a mobile phone.”
“Probably bought it with our money,” Steven remarked.
“He says the embassy should pay much for farang ladyman’s return. He’s got Rupert’s passport so the embassy will know he’s not kidding,” Gunn explained.
The old man appeared not to hear all that sparkling teeth had said, and the younger man grew irritated. Calming down, he disappeared back inside one of the huts.
“Let’s change the situation around. I’ll ram the UZI in his face and frighten the shit out of him,” Steven said, menacingly.
“No, I’ll go in,” Gunn replied. “There could be other people inside, children even. Seeing a farang at night could create a panic. They would think you were a ghost. We don’t want innocent people getting hurt. If I casually walk in, they’ll think I’m from a nearby village selling something. That way they won’t be so alarmed. We’ll also gain the advantage of surprise.”
“It make’s sense but can you handle it? Our young friend seems pretty nasty and there may be others like him inside,” Steven said, concern for Gunn influencing his tone.
“Not helpless female,” Gunn advised. “Go round to other side of clearing so old man not see. Hide in bush where young driver go and watch door.”
Steven accepted his young companion’s authoritative advice and did as he was told. Gunn quietly entered the hut the young Thai guide had disappeared into.
56
APunch Up the Throat [*]
On the floor inside the hut, Rupert lay on the floor. Hog tied with a gag in his mouth, his ample girth made him look like a pig on its way to slaughter.
Illuminated only by an oil lamp, the young guide sat smoking a joint and reading a magazine. Abest-seller in Thailand, his journal detailed the most violent events of the week. Decapitations, bullet riddled bodies and traffic accidents in magnificent colour, the young guide was so engrossed in the lurid pictures and text, he failed to notice Gunn as she entered.
“ Sawasdi don yen,” good evening, Gunn politely said as she stepped forward with a clenched fist and chopped him in the throat.
The young man choked from the results of the blow to his throat and the dope which now clogged his mouth. But before he could even think, Gunn hit him in the solar plexus. As he slumped forward, the fragile looking Eurasian girl chopped him on the back of the neck. Following through, she socked him under his chin. Unconscious, the young guide slumped to the floor, narrowly missing Rupert, who laid on the floor trussed up like a pig.
Gunn ripped the gag from between Rupert’s yellowing teeth and forced it between the handsome youth’s whiter than white examples of the orthodontist’s art. Nature could be kind to some as the young man had never seen a dentist in his life. Untying Rupert, Gunn using the rope to tie the young Thai guide’s hands and feet.
Steven rushed into the hut and reviewed the situation. “The scuffling noise suggested he’d overwhelmed you. But you managed. I’m impressed,” Steven said with a mixture of admiration and surprise. Almost instinctively, he helped Rupert up.
“What a gentleman, helping a distressed lady to her feet.”
“Shut up Rupert, this is no time to be queening it around,” Steven ordered.
“So masterful,” Rupert replied.
“Must leave quickly and quietly. If his family or friends are in other hut, better they not find out what happen till morning. Not want to risk shoot out, too many people in hill country have guns,” Gunn said, a sense of urgency in her voice.
Montgomery-Fairfax looked down at his now incapacitated captor. “See how you like it,” Rupert said as he aimed a kick at the young guy’s ribs. “The bastard’s
still got my passport.” Rupert bent over to reclaim the document that would allow him to get out of the country. Thailand was somewhat less appealing now than when he’d fantasised about the trip from the safety of his Whitehall office.
“You shit, Fairfax,” Steven said, sharply. “If he makes a noise you’ll put us all at risk. If we’re quiet, we’ll be gone before they realise they’ve been had. Didn’t you hear what Gunn said?”
Deciding that the ex-public school queen was a case too far gone, Steven double checked the young man’s bindings.
“You don’t trust my work?” Gunn asked, pointedly.
“You did great. Just making sure,” Steven replied, respect colouring his words.
[*]. A Punch up the throat is an English expression for an act of violence against another. It has humorous, slapstick connotations.
57
Back To the Bush
The urgency of wanting to create as much distance between the young Thai kidnapper and themselves, ensured a fast return to the jeep. But as they reached the small clearing where the vehicle was parked, someone was sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Bastard, they’ve gone by a different route and got here before us,” Steven said, quietly but urgently. “I’ll fire a shot over his head and see if that moves him,” Steven said with a degree of menace as he aimed his service pistol.
“Let’s not announce our presence to the world,” Gunn said, pushing Steven’s arm down to his side. “It is only a monkey.”
“A minkey,” Steven said, imitating Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau. “Are you sure?” he said in his normal voice. “I’m afraid my eyesight’s not so good at night.”
“That because Mr. Hunt old man,” Gunn said, repaying Steven’s remark about her being a Thai whore.
As they approached the jeep, the monkey scurried away.
“We’ll break camp, don’t want to give our Thai friend and his buddies time to catch us. We have to reach the Burmese border then there’s a full day’s drive before we reach Kronsky’s encampment. That’s if we can find it. There’s enough light from the Thai moon to see where we’re heading. Let’s make tracks,” Steven commanded.
“Yes, sir,” Gunn said and saluted.
Montgomery-Fairfax looked relieved as he saw his crocodile patterned briefcase on the back seat of the jeep. Checking his pockets for the key, he opened it and looked inside.
Rupert almost sighed with relief as he saw the important envelope still sitting on the suede lining of his valise.
“Still there, good. That’s our lifeline.”
“Don’t you trust us, Rupert?” Steven asked, gratified that Rupert was still as inefficient as he had been in the military.
“Never,” Rupert replied.
“Then why the fuck did you want me to come along to guard you?”
“Oh my, a trick question,” Rupert replied, before snapping the case shut and placing it on the back seat of the jeep where he normally sat.
Steven gave a wry smile and again took the rise out of his ex-commanding officer, knowing full well that in their current surroundings, it was he who called the shots. “Now what would I want with three hundred million dollars?”
Rupert gave Steven a petulant glance. “Ask a silly question and you’ll get a silly answer.”
“You are feeling bitchy this morning. I’d have thought you would have liked being tied up by a handsome young brown skinned youth. You normally pay for that in your ‘special’ London clubs. We must have got you up too early,” Steven said, using humour to relieve the tension.
The look Rupert gave was so cutting, it would have castrated a bull elephant at fifty paces.
“Let’s get as far away from our friends as soon as possible, before they realise they’ve just lost a year’s salary,” Steven ordered.
“Yes, Mein Fuhrer,” Gunn barked as she clicked her heels and gave a Nazi salute.
“OK girls, up and at it,” Steven said as he returned Gunn’s fascistic salutation with a one-finger American version.
58
River of No Return
“There’s no going back once we cross the river,” Steven confirmed as he brought the jeep to a halt on the Thai side of the Mekong River.
Gunn stepped down from the vehicle and stretched her legs.
“The Mekong and its tributaries always look so dirty,” she said, gazing across the stretch of water which started in Tibet and meandered across the length of China, Thailand, Burma, Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam, providing a watery border along much of its long route.
“It fertilises many countries,” Steven advised. “The dirt is silt. It’s mineral rich.”
“Farang know everything,” Gunn said, subtly taking the piss out of Steven by acting like an Oriental bimbo.
Rupert wiped his brow. “We’ll be plagued by mosquitos at the river’s edge,” he complained. “OK Mr. Clever, how are we going to get across, it’s too deep for the jeep?”
“We'll travel up river a mile or two to see if we can locate a shallower section. It’s not the rainy season and there are sandbanks in some places. We may get a bit wet, but we could find a place to get across,” Steven replied. “If not, we’ll have to risk using our fake visas at an official crossing point.”
“That’s not much of a plan. So you are relying on luck,” Rupert said.
“Steven knows what he is doing,” Gunn said. “Ban San Ma Ked is the nearest semiofficial crossing point into Burma. It’s possible to cross into Burma via Lao, but other than Nong Khai, farangs can’t officially enter Lao by land without advance permission.”
“There’d be too many Thai troops and narcotics agents near Ban San Ma Ked because it’s close to the Wa tribe’s drug trafficking routes,” Steven stated, verifying he’d done his homework. “And we can’t cross into Burma at an official border post as they’d force us to hire a registered guide, then we could only go where regulations permit. That definitely wouldn’t include where hill tribes grow and process drugs. As to going in via Lao, even with advance permission vehicles are restricted to three day passes. We’d also be obliged to have an official tour guide. Too many problems. But where elephants cross so can we. We’ll see if we can find a shallower spot,” Steven explained.
“There are some unofficial crossings where rafts transport trucks across the river to service the illegal logging trade. They are not on the map but Field Marshal Chang’s operatives have pinpointed a few. There should be one not far from here. When they see a farang though, the cost will go up,” Gunn stated. “But I expect the British, American and Australian governments can afford it,” she added as an afterthought.
“You didn’t think it necessary to let me know Field Marshal Chang had provided you with the locations of various unofficial river crossing points?” Steven asked, annoyance colouring his tone.
“You were already going in the right direction and as its not too far from here, I thought I’d give you a nice surprise when we got close enough for it to matter,” Gunn replied.
“The lethal combination of Thai culture and the female mind’s lateral view of things,” Steven said, before mockingly repeating Gunn’s last remark. “I thought I’d give you a nice surprise!”
“The Thai factor. Always something missing, forgotten or hidden,” Steven thought, but decided against vocalising his irritation.
Rupert changed the subject, doing his best to reduce any conflict that might be brewing. He wanted both operatives working as one to keep him safe. “Will we be in Burma or one of the nation states the hill tribes make claim to?” he enquired.
“Both,” Gunn stated. “The hill tribes consider the land across the river their own, but Burmese authorities control much of it. That’s why there are so many conflicts. Farther down river, Lao has authority. Either way, illegal timber and drugs get across. But without drug exports the hill tribes people would starve.”
“The Burmese colonels would also not be so rich,” Steven said. “Western authorities should buy the drug
crop from the hill tribes instead of paying money to villains like Kronsky.”
“Steven finally uses his brain for things other than seducing beautiful young Eurasian girls,” Gunn said. “Rupert walks in government circles, he should suggest it next time he talks to your prime minister. Paying hill tribes not to grow it is more moral than paying taxpayers’ money to a known criminal to destroy it,” she added.
Rupert wished he’d kept quiet and did not reply. Under no circumstances would he consider taking the initiative in a government matter, least of all for people not of his race, class or religion.
“The problem is they probably wouldn’t keep to their agreement. They’d grow some on the side as well as accepting Western funds not to do so,” Steven stated. “Destroying it is probably the only guarantee the drugs crop will be removed from the market. That’s why we’re here. Why does everyone always try to get an extra edge?” Steven added.
“Human nature,” Gunn replied.
Steven walked back to the jeep. “Anyone need a leak, do it now. Then we’re off,” he ordered.
Gazing across the river for a few moments, the sound of the slowly flowing water and background wildlife relaxed his mind.
59
Ferry Cross the Mekong
Following Gunn’s instructions regarding the route to the nearest unofficial river crossing point - concerning her unexpected advice that she already had one picked out Steven brought the jeep to a halt when a small wooden ferry came into view. Little more than a raft with an engine, it was just about large enough to take a small truck.
“You know the ropes around here so you can negotiate the price,” Steven said. “Tell them we’re backpackers studying local wildlife and we’ll pay to get across. You’ll think of some suitable bullshit as to why we’re here. You bullshit quite well I recall. Hope they don’t have any connections with the authorities.”
“ Mai me ben ha, no problem. They won’t be any friends of the authorities,” Gunn Declared.
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