The woman clearly knew what Steven was talking about. “Have big problem with those men. Not care which side of border make trouble. Deal in drugs, pay police, make people do whatever they say. Very bad men. Many came by a few hours ago. Six or seven jeeps travelled north to crossroads a mile or two from here.”
Steven looked at Gunn. “Guess they didn’t buy our exploding jeep going off a cliff trick. Still, your sweeping the road deception and our journey through the jungle obviously worked. We gained some time if nothing else. Unfortunately, it seems like they’re still looking for us. However, the lady says they’ve gone north, so if we go south we might lose them yet.”
“Maybe they split their party and went north and south at the crossroads,” Gunn suggested. “That’s what you and I would do.”
“I think you must be after a promotion. You’ve got it, I’ll give you a ‘raise’ later,” Steven said.
“That sound like sexist remark,” Gunn answered.
Steven said nothing more, his weak attempt at humour covering the realisation that his optimism had been unjustified. Thanking the kindly nurse, he placed ten thousand baht (£200/$300) in her hands.
A fortune to village people in Thailand, the woman protested her help was a gift like Buddha would make.
But Steven insisted, telling her to give some to the temple to thank Buddha if that’s what she wanted, and to use the rest towards her small child’s education.
The woman accepted Steven’s proposal and pressed her palms together in a traditional wai.
94
Bambi
Reaching the crossroads after two days travelling in the wrong direction, to avoid the warlord and his henchmen, the jeep finally made contact with the road to Chiang Mai.
Gunn remained alert with a UZI automatic on her lap, knowing that in the more remote regions of the far North of Thailand, law and order was a flexible concept.
Appearing slightly better than before, MontgomeryFairfax sat quietly in the back seat.
“If the warlord did split his forces, there’s probably no more than three or four jeeps for us to deal with,” Steven said, more in hope than certainty.
Gunn stared at Steven for a moment, a bemused look on her face. “Four guys per jeep, that’s between twelve and sixteen bad men against the two of us. Terrific,” she replied.
It was Steven’s turn to give a blank look.
“Even if the bandits did split their forces and the odds are halved, some of them will be up ahead,” Gunn said, concentrating on the immediate problem.
Steven turned and smiled at his beautiful young comrade. “I misjudged you. You’re about the best man I could have had with me on this mission.”
Gunn smiled back. “Not so bad yourself, Steven Hunt. But I not man, have pussy.”
“I remember,” Steven said, thinking back to more pleasurable times.
As dusk approached, the sun began its graceful arc towards the trees. “Naow, cold,” Gunn said, as the brisk evening air chilled her skin in the open-top jeep.
Suddenly the vehicle hit something, causing it to swerve across the dusty track. Steven jammed on the brakes and walked back to see what had occurred.
A small deer lay on the road whimpering in pain. Aiming the barrel of his service pistol between its innocent young eyes, Steven pulled the trigger. Picking the animal up, blood trickling from its lifeless form, he carried it back into the forest from where it had come.
“We hit a young deer. It was injured. Couldn’t cut its throat, it looked too much like Bambi. I hope no one heard the shot in case we haven’t lost the bad guys,” Steven said as he sat back in the jeep.
“Something will eat it within the next half hour,” Gunn advised without pity or emotion.
The humanised story of Bambi was a Western cultural icon, generating little association with the more practical, less sentimental society of Gunn’s Siamese background.
Despite the fact that Lord Buddha was a vegetarian, Thai people ate anything that ran, hopped, loped, crawled, slithered, swam or flew. This meant that Gunn, or any Thai person, would be unlikely to expend much sympathy on a dead animal. Just another of the contradictions which Siamese people manifested at times.
Gunn’s comment reminded Steven of a girlfriend from the past. When asked why she was not concerned about putting her hands in rock pools to harvest sea creatures that stung, replied that ‘she was not afraid of her food’. Thai people possessed an organic synergy with nature. Despite being hasip (fifty) percent farang, Gunn was no exception.
Leaning across the rear of the jeep, Gunn removed a bottle of mineral water from their luggage. Finding a plastic cup, she poured Steven a drink.
“You’d make a good wife,” Steven said. “But you possess many other talents, too.”
Rupert was asleep on the back seat, his head still now after miles of dirt road when it had a life of its own, involuntarily bouncing about every time the jeep hit a bump.
“Headlamps in distance.” Gunn suddenly said. “Maybe just a truck, but cannot take chances. Drive jeep close to trees at side of road. Switch off lights, just in case.”
Steven did as he was ordered and pulling Rupert from the back seat of the jeep, rolled the semiconscious, overweight government queen into a dip behind a grass verge, out of harm’s way. To make as small a target as possible, Steven and Gunn crouched low behind the jeep, UZIs at the ready. Steven checked the ammunition clip of his UZI and Gunn did the same.
“The dusk helps. We’ll see them before they spot us,” Gunn said as the sound of approaching vehicles grew louder and a blaze of headlights reflected through gaps in the trees along the narrow forest road.
“Just in case whoever’s coming towards us are local farmers delivering livestock, or truck drivers travelling up from Bangkok with the morning newspapers, don’t shoot until you’re sure they’re bad men armed to the teeth with guns or if you recognise the warlord,” Steven commanded.
“They might shoot first, particularly if they see the livery on Kronsky’s jeep. There can’t be anything like it in the whole of Thailand,” Gunn warned.
95
Good Guys, Bad Guys
From around a bend in the road some fifty or sixty yards away, a convoy of jeeps appeared with headlights blazing. Inside the jeeps, shadowy figures could be seen outlined against the moonlight sky.
“It’s them for sure, you can see the contour of their armaments,” Steven said. “Only three jeeps though, that makes the odds better than I expected. Make every round of our UZI shot blasters count.”
Standing in the front passenger’s position, an automatic in one hand and the other resting on the vehicle’s windscreen to hold himself steady, the warlord recognised the distinctive livery of Kronsky’s jeep and the outline of the farang who had destroyed his drug commissary. He immediately commenced firing.
Cool and determined, Gunn shouted a greeting in Laotian and returned fire. “Si mea moung. Fuck you.”
From a kneeling position, Steven aimed his UZI and joined the battle. Intermittently, the army of two reloaded their magazines to keep the attack going.
The warlord was first to die as the barrage of lead Steven and Gunn let fly peppered his body. The jeep’s windscreen shattered and the driver expired with his boss. With the dead driver’s foot locked in place on the accelerator, the vehicle continued forward. It turned over as it careered into some trees, whence any occupants still alive were crushed beneath the wreckage.
Gunn stepped out into the open, firing her UZI in an arc at the two remaining jeeps.
The second jeep collided with the first and careered out of control. Those able to jump clear sought cover from the fusillade of fire that Steven and Gunn pumped in their direction.
As the driver of the last jeep jammed on his brakes, Steven lobbed a stun grenade in its direction. The small explosion sent those inside to hell.
The element of surprise had worked, and Steven and Gunn used the half light and chaos to step into the open, pic
king off any foolish enough to try and make an escape.
A few stray shots whizzed by as stragglers from the once arrogant band of drug dealers made an effort to hit back.
Seeking cover, Steven and Gunn crouched low behind their jeep. Reaching into an ammunition pack at the back of the vehicle, Steven removed two fragmentation grenades. Handing one to Gunn, they simultaneously pulled the pins and hurled them at the few remaining bad guys. A gale of shards whistled across the road in all directions, embedding themselves in anyone still standing.
“Extrajudicial killing of drug dealers, that’s unofficially just about within the law since the Thai government’s ‘war on drugs’initiative,” Steven said with irony.
Confrontation over, a lone survivor ran up the road, the sound of his footsteps disappearing into the dark.
Silence reigned as the smoke from the grenades slowly settled.
Steven and Gunn looked at each other, relief and satisfaction expressed on their faces. “I guess the two of us outnumbered them,” Gunn said, her words dripping with irony.
Steven surveyed the carnage. The jeeps were now just so much scrap metal surrounded by dead bodies and bits of bodies, scattered along the rough country road.
Gunn stood beside Steven, UZI still at her side.
“The moonlight gives the place a ghostlike appearance. It’s just like a scene from a Universal Studios, black and white vampire movie from the nineteen thirties. Bela Lugosi for ever,” Steven concluded.
Gunn looked scared for the first time.
“Bad men and fight can handle, but talk of Pilloh (Dracula, ghost) make me frighten.”
Steven remembered that Thai people were scared of the dark, and just the mention of Pilloh massaged their imagination.
The leathery faced war lord sat slumped in the passenger seat of the first jeep, blood seeping from the many bullet holes which had invaded his body. That and the fact his left ear and eye were missing, had ensured a swift transfer to his next incarnation.
The eerie silence and death and destruction which surrounded them made Steven and Gunn peer into the semidarkness, seeking the presence of Pilloh. But of course, he was not there.
“Poor Jittrah, she’s lost her man,” Steven quietly said, regaining his sense of what was currently an unreal reality.
“A bullet for every injection he and his friends’ deadly needles gave my brother,” Gunn said, coldly.
“Thai people can hold a grudge for a long, long time,” Steven said. “I’m sorry about your brother.”
Gunn clasped Steven’s hand but said nothing.
“I hope your uncle can cover this up as some kind of inter-tribal feud. If not, we’re in trouble.”
“Field Marshal Chang have much influence in Thailand. He fix,” Gunn replied.
“You did great, best soldier I ever came across,” Steven said.
“Came across! How you mean that?” Gunn asked.
“I’m not sure,” Steven advised. “Freudian slip, perhaps.”
“You good too, like very much,” Gunn said, momentarily surprising Steven with her directness.
“On job for brother, but when see you on plane in London, know I care about you true. Not possible to reveal heart while job not finish.” Emotion made Gunn lose her mastery of the English language again.
Steven gazed at Gunn. “Never met a soldier so courageous and so beautiful before. You’re female too, always a bonus for a heterosexual like me.”
“I trained as soldier too. With Special Forces unit in Thai military,” Gunn confided.
“This is not the place for a love scene or to evaluate your resume. Too many corpses,” Steven said, darkly.
Gunn squeezed Steven’s hand again.
“Let’s make for Chiang Mai as soon as possible,” Steven suggested. Gunn looked up at her fellow commando and kissed him.
“That was nice but it’s time to go,” Steven confirmed. “We’ll drive through the night. The roads are bound to get better the closer we get to the city. Help me put Rupert back inside the jeep. He missed it all, fortunately for him.”
96
Easy Come, Easy Go
Early the following morning, the dirt track evolved into a slim, tarmac road. Fatigued, Steven stopped the jeep at the side of the narrow highway.
The sun shone warmly from a clear blue sky, and other than the sound of exotic bird calls and distant chattering monkeys, there was no sign of life in the beautiful Thai terrain.
“Let’s stretch our legs,” Steven said as he took Gunn by the hand.
Standing at the side of the deserted country road, the couple drank in the peace and tranquillity of the scene. Water-soaked rice fields and a few wild mango trees confirmed that Thailand would always be self-sufficient - as long as it kept to its traditional way of life and did not try to copy the West.
“We made a great team,” Steven said. “A shame about Kronsky’s three hundred million though, lost when the explosion at the drug commissary sent us all flying. That would have been a nice bonus considering how much money we’ve saved our governments. I’d have shared it with you.”
“Are you sure of that?” Gunn asked.
“Absolutely,” Steven advised.
Steven meditated on events. After Gunn had appointed herself Official Receiver and declared Kronsky and Co. bankrupt, forcing him to cease trading permanently, half the world’s supply of heroin had passed its sell-by-date and been returned to its manufacturing source
- the jungle.
“It was a real shame about the money,” Steven sighed.
“Cannot cry over spilt milk,” Gunn advised. “My father tell me this. Him farang, same same you.”
“Your father was wise,” Steven replied.
“We get Fairfax to hospital now,” Gunn said, firmly. “I not call him two bloody family names any more. Double-barrelled shotgun name very stupid affectation.”
97
Chuckles in Chiang Mai
Steven was dirty and unshaven as he checked into the Chiang Mai hotel, where they had previously stayed. Gunn was unkempt but her classic beauty still managed to shine through.
Rupert was conscious and glad to be somewhere remotely civilised.
“Had accident on mountain road, reason why we all so dirty. Lucky to have made it back alive. Farang not good driver. Poompooee man lose finger, need get him to hospital.”
Steven gave Gunn an old fashioned look as he heard her comment about farang driving standards, when in fact Thai people feature amongst the worst and most dangerous drivers on the planet.
“I will call for an ambulance. All farangs rich so I assume you have medical insurance or the means to pay,” the receptionist replied.
Despite the cynical nature of her statement about farangs being rich, the receptionist appeared genuinely sympathetic, and like many Thai people in administrative positions, had earned a university degree [*]. In addition, most Thai people were motivated by the country’s humanitarian, non judgemental Buddhist philosophy.
Looking like a drug-addicted dosser recently rescued from a derelict’s life in a cardboard box, Rupert sat silently in reception.
“It’s goodbye time,” Steven said. “I’d shake hands but I don’t think you’d be able to. Not with that hand, anyway.”
Rupert said nothing.
“I’m sorry about your hand, but you must have known the mission was dangerous before you came. I still don’t know what made you agree to participate. There must have been some way you could have avoided coming without blowing your career. You are well connected, you must have been able to pass the buck to someone else.”
Steven sought to discover why Rupert had allowed himself to become a part of the mission. Small boys could not have been the whole reason. But again, Rupert did not reply.
“Despite what you may have thought, we were concerned for your welfare. We didn’t get you cleaned up because you wouldn’t let us touch your hand for a while. After that we were trying to blow up the drug commissary.
Later on we had to get away from our pursuers. You were asleep or out of your head most of the time, we were in the middle of nowhere, and we thought it best to get a move on and leave it to the experts to clean you up.”
Rupert nodded. “I know you did your best.”
Steven was surprised, it was the first time Rupert had ever come close to paying him a compliment. But Rupert had not finished his conversion from arrogant British ex-public-schoolboy and government official, to borderline human being.
“You may be a pleb but you really do know your craft. Thank you for saving my life,” Rupert added. ”
“I didn’t do it on my own. Neither of us would have come out alive without our young Thai companion.” Steven said, giving credit where it was due.
“A compliment from a chauvinist, whatever next. But you forget, I am half farang. Nationality and passport Thai, but blood hasip hasip (fifty fifty),” Gunn replied.
“Thank you too, my dear,” Rupert said. Unused to speaking to the opposite sex with any degree of intimacy, Rupert’s appreciation was delivered awkwardly.
“If only you were a boy,” Rupert softly added, wistfully indulging in a momentary fantasy about the impossible dream of finding a young boy as lovely as Gunn.
“I’ll phone your uncle this time,” Steven told Gunn and asked the receptionist for a line. After a short break, Steven managed to get through.
“The Thai factor, your uncle wasn’t there,” Steven said, irony colouring his tone. “But we’ve already followed instructions by arranging treatment for Rupert locally. I asked his personal secretary to pass on the message that we’ll be staying here for the night. When Rupert’s better he’ll be transferred to Bangkok by the military. That should make him feel important.”
“An ambulance is on its way. After a few days convalescence and debriefing in Bangkok, you’ll be returned to London,” Steven told Rupert.
Rupert did not care. He was simply glad to be alive and no longer in pain. Albeit, in a sexual context he enjoyed pain.
Sleepless in Bangkok Page 26