March-June 1975: It was the unexpectedly early fall of Danang, four hundred odd kilometres north-northeast of Saigon, announced on Sunday, 30 March, 1975, that sent shivers down many a spine – chillingly for those fighting against the Communists and those who were feathering their nests like so many of the Lao hierarchy were, despairingly for the countless thousands who were fed up with the years of misery, joyfully for those Communists who had been labouring so long for victory. Conventional wisdom on both sides of the political divide saw the battle for Saigon six months later, while those who thought they controlled events and men’s destinies saw the fall of Laos as ‘Saigon plus two months’. It was this eight-month period that needed careful orchestrating in Laos and Nga Sô Lựự had to give detailed thought how best to direct the LPF cadres who, for the past eighteen months, had been beavering away under the surface with their subversive activities among students, the armed forces, police, minor functionaries and many others including those working for the American aid mission, USAID. He licked his lips in anticipation of tormenting the imperialists. It was also time to put another of his contingency plans into action now he had heard that the British DA had been extended in post. Maybe his Soviet comrades could lend a hand. The new Attaché, Colonel Vladimir Gretchanine, that tall, grey-haired, the KGB official who was working in Paris when Rance was learning French with Yvonne Grambert in London, was reliable and clever: Nga Sô Lựự had learnt that the Englishman had been a target of a ‘honey pot’ operation set by Yvonne as ordered by Gretchanine as well as another, set by someone else, soon after his arrival in Laos.
Meanwhile, along the whole length of the two zones that divided Laos, more and more land was won back by the PL, eroding the morale of the RLA troops on the ground until, as Rance noted during his routine visits, the will to defend their homeland was almost extinguished. By the end of March almost only a smidgen of territory that the LPF had held at the time of the 1962 ceasefire was not in their hands again.
By 11 April each ministry had a member of the opposite faction as deputy and Prince Lanouk was much incensed with the PL soldier escort who was never far away from his office. It angered him each time he saw the sentry in the passage. The Minister had called Rance to meet him and Rance could see that he was worried.
‘I am glad you could come this morning, Tan Colonen. I am most concerned about something I have recently learnt. I need your advice. There are twenty-seven Vietnamese “hit men” in the PL camp at Ban Dong Nasok, where the Neutralisation troops live. You know the one I mean – not far from the Wattay complex.’ Rance said he did. ‘They have only recently arrived from Hanoi. The advice I need from you is shall I try to have them exterminated or not?’
Rance, used by now though he was to so many of the unusual aspects of Lao methods, was taken aback. Before he could answer, Lanouk continued, even more surprisingly, ‘I will do whatever you advise. If you advocate extermination, it must be complete, leaving none alive. Whatever you advise will have an ineradicable effect on the future of the country. I don’t know what forces your embassy can arrange – I understand your Mr John Chambers might have some good ideas – but, whatever else, I am relying on you. Come round to my villa on,’ he looked at a calendar, ‘Monday of next week at 6 p.m. and tell me your plans.’
Rance, knowing in advance that nothing official could be done, merely told the Minister that he would see what he could do.
Rance gave Leuam his orders. ‘Listen. It is time we started making plans for the future. I am going to Luang Prabang tomorrow, 16 April, for the New Year ceremonies, and returning on Friday 18. I am flying both ways, so won’t be needing you. While I’m away I want you to contact your brother or Le Dâng Khoã. I am sure that you have to report my activities from time to time.’ He noticed that, at that remark, his driver looked ill at ease when he glanced up at him. ‘Don’t worry about it, Leuam, but I am right, aren’t I? Stands to reason you’ve got to. Well, feed them some tidbits. So pretend that you have news of me you have to impart: that I was recently invited to drinks by Lanouk na Champassak at his villa. During our talk that morning in his office, he told me that he had no intention of leaving the country and going to Paris. But, between you and me, he also said, “What I want is a sketch map of Ban Dong Nasok camp, showing where the recently arrived twenty-seven ‘elder brothers’ live, work, eat and sleep. I want the answers by whenever it is convenient to my two friends.” Can you do that? If anyone hears you or becomes suspicious of you, drop it if you can. If you can’t, though, tell those two you’ve heard of a mad plot – we know there are many rumours in the air so they’ll believe it and you’ve come to get a map of the wrong place so that the plotter won’t harm the Comrades and will go to the wrong place so be easier to defeat. Now, have you got that? Let’s go through it together, slowly, once more. You must contact …’
The journey up to Luang Prabang for the New Year of the Hare celebrations was regarded by many of the foreign diplomats and ancillary aid staffs as an unnecessary bore. The recent news depressed them and rumours of a PL ‘march on Vientiane’ alarmed them. The small British contingent took two embassy pool cars and drove in convoy with an armed escort organised by the Ministry of Defence. It was not so much an endearing trust in the ability of the Lao military to protect them but rather a desire of the travellers to see part of the country till than inaccessible to them that made the more adventurous opt for that mode of travel.
The celebration was an unhappy one. Nobody seemed to be enjoying it and even the procession of virgins seemed jaded. Not far from the royal palace, Rance joined a group of officials, representatives from both sides. One of the LPF was saying, ‘Now there is a socialist victory in Indo-China there is no need for any more fighting.’
A member of the right-wing objected to that remark and a heated discussion developed. They were joined by another man who Rance saw was Thong Damdouane. By now the LPF had discarded the traditional form of Lao greeting so Rance merely greeted him as ‘Comrade’, followed by the inevitable handshake. He and the British DA drifted away from the main group and chatted for a while, then Thong said, ‘My boss is going to hold a conference, so I’ve come to learn, down your way in Vientiane. Nothing has been mentioned to the Politburo yet but he has mentioned it to Tâ Tran Quán – could be to see if he passes it on so that you get to know of it. He says he wants to discuss policy matters during the next stage of developments, once certain preparations have been made. He has already sent twenty-seven of his top men down. I believe Tâ Tran Quán is also going to attend and I may be roped in: rather strange. I wonder … we’ll try and keep contact with you these processions are most traditional, don’t you think, Tan Colonen,’ in a slightly louder tone of voice as another LPF official came with possible hearing distance. ‘I’m sure a man like you appreciates so we four may be there together and the rain kept off. I thought it was going to pour at one stage, important cadres of “elder brothers”, might be our chance but I like the boat races better. There’s a bit of cloud still …’ but Rance, left gasping trying to follow two conversations as potential eavesdroppers came and went, never did learn whether Thong referred to a real or metaphorical cloud as, from behind, they were joined by the PL military commander, the man who had flown to Sam Neua in the Beaver that time, to tell Rance how the PL were cooperating with road convoy protection measures for the return journey next day.
That evening in the palace, the atmosphere was unsettled. The procession of lights went off at half-cock and the banquet was ill-prepared. Rance met Golden Fairy’s mother who seemed worried about her daughter. Rance had never written to her, more out of reticence than conviction and he asked her mother to remember him most kindly to her when she next wrote. The King’s sister-in-law became upset at the mention of mail and it suddenly occurred to him that, like everywhere else, disturbing tales of post office mail tampering were worrying her. Things must be coming to a pretty pass if palace mail was being mucked around with. ‘I don’t want to alarm Inkham but if you were to hear that anything that was not as it should be with us here, I’m sure I could rely on you to tell her about it.’
Rance had never found the royal family so worried or forthcoming: for him it was a thoroughly depressing day with the foreign guests worried about the safety of the return convoy.
The journey back, as far as the Brits and other armchair heroes were concerned, had to be rearranged. The Beaver would make three trips, the remainder were to be put on an RLAF Dakota that had been especially laid on to cope with the problem and Rance would travel by road in one of the two otherwise empty cars. The prospect didn’t perturb him particularly. It’d be a long day but should be interesting to see how the protection measures worked. In the event he only saw a sprinkling of PL soldiers mixed with RLA men.
As the convoy made its way down the final slopes into the Vientiane plain, it got hotter, dustier and more uncomfortable. There were a lot of vehicles on the road and, once the flat ground of the plain itself was reached, there emerged a kind of race as the more impatient drivers tried to overtake vehicles in front of them, both to escape the dust and to get home before dark. Rance managed to get his two cars into a side street in a small village where he ordered bowls of fish soup. By the time he and the drivers had finished that and washed some of the red cake of sweat-laden dust from their faces at a standpipe, the convoy was so far ahead that the road was dust free. Their onward journey was, however, far slower than normal as one of the vehicles developed engine trouble which the driver correctly diagnosed as a blockage in the fuel system. He had to wait until the engine had cooled down before he cleaned it and it was dark by the time they reached the outskirts of Vientiane. The same engine then hiccupped and stopped functioning so the driver freewheeled to the side of the road and, with a curse, got out and had a look under the bonnet. ‘As I thought,’ he announced with another curse, ‘dud battery.’
Rance summed up the situation. ‘You go back to the embassy garage and get the fitter out here with another vehicle, a charged battery if he has one, and a towrope,’ he instructed the driver of the other vehicle. ‘I’ll stay here till he arrives. Oh, and warn my house boy that I’ll be late for my evening meal. The telephone number is 2362.’
After the car had gone, Rance and the other driver chatted for a while then the DA said, ‘It’ll take an hour or so to get help. I’m so cramped. I must stretch my legs. Stay here and I’ll be back soon. I won’t go far and I’ll certainly be in earshot so, if I’m not back by the time you’re ready, give me three toots on your horn.’
He wandered away in the gloom, retracing his steps up the road. He came to a track that branched off to the left and, on the spur of the moment, followed it. There was just enough residual light from the town in the distance and the night sky to be able to pick his way without too much trouble. He saw headlights to his left, coming up the road towards his car, half a mile or so away. Back quicker than I expected, he thought to himself, but the car drove on and swung into the track. On an impulse he moved into the bushes on the left so the sweep of the headlights wouldn’t pick him out. Instinct told him to lie flat on the ground as it passed. The occupants couldn’t have seen him. He picked himself up and watched the rear lights dance and flicker through the undergrowth, then come to a halt. He heard the slam of the doors – at least two passengers, he noted – then silence. He was intrigued. It wasn’t normal for any vehicle to be so far out of town after dark, although it was still early. He decided to go and investigate, if only for the hell of it. He saw a light shining in a hut. He picked out the car in the shadows and approached it cautiously. No chauffeur. He looked at the number plate: 124 CD 052. So it was the Soviet DA’s car! Hoping that there wasn’t a dog around to give notice of his presence by barking, he moved close enough to see who was inside the hut. There were five men sitting around an improvised table that had a hurricane lamp on it. Two were Europeans and he recognised one as Colonel Vladimir Gretchanine, tall with silver-grey hair and red face – he was not to know that the gallant Colonel, a member of the KBG, had been instrumental in getting Mme. Grambert to try and compromise him in London. The other he couldn’t place but he noted him and would pick him up from John Chamber’s ‘Rogues Gallery’. The other he couldn’t place but he noted him. John Chambers would pick him up from his ‘Rogues Gallery’. The other three were Asians, wearing the drab green of the PL. They must have come from the PL camp at Ban Dong Nasok which was quite near but in the opposite direction. They had their backs to him so he moved round till he could see them. What he saw made him more inquisitive. He thought one of the men was Charlie but he was not sure as he was almost unrecognisable, with hat pulled well down over his eyes, collar turned up and a puffy face as though he had toothache. He was obviously hiding his knowledge of English, but the others? One looked like Phoun, the barber. The third man he could not place – could it just be Le Dâng Khoã? Surely not! He crept forward, painfully slowly, almost as though he were mesmerised by what he saw. He got as close as he dared and listened intently. The conversation was in bad English and muffled. Charlie must have been hiding his knowledge of English as the Soviet DA said something that obviously was not understood by the others so he repeated himself. No joy. He then behaved as many people do when what they say hasn’t got over to their audience – he raised his voice. Rance heard ‘dress rehearsal’, which puzzled him. He knew that none of the Soviet mission spoke Lao although some did speak Chinese and Vietnamese. Time to go, so he crept away, back past the car. On the spur of the moment he let the air out of one tyre and the spare.
He reached his own vehicle, hoping against hope that the recovery car would reach them before the Soviet DA’s car came back, although he could comfort himself that the deflated tyres could delay him for a while. He sat in the back, deep in thought. This was a completely new ball game. He had never thought out how it was that Charlie had been able to say so confidently that he could mount an operation, presumably he’d have to have some nefarious contacts but surely not the Soviets? Or did it mean that Charlie was playing a two-edged game, acting as a double agent? Again it was scarcely credible. Lights appeared from the direction of Vientiane and the relief car drove up. The new battery the fitter had brought did the trick and they were soon on their way – had the party in the hut seen the lights? Had they noticed the broken-down vehicle’s British embassy number plate? At least it was not Rance’s personal car so there might be no suspicion about who had let the air out of the tyres. But Charlie and, to an extent Phoun, worried him badly. Just suppose that Charlie had hoodwinked his foster father – just the thought of such an occurrence would probably kill the old boy. No, the more he thought of it, the more he realised that he had to play it so close to the chest no one at all should be told about who he had seen and what he had heard.
The fall of Phnom Penh, two weeks later, on 17 April, following news of the NVA thrust south from Danang, made a deep impact on many people in Vientiane. Neither side had envisaged that events would move so quickly, no one forecast the fall of Saigon before the rains, still some months off. Nevertheless, certain precautions were being made with great urgency
In Ban Dong Nasok camp on the western side of Vientiane, Comrades Le Dâng Khoã and Bounphong conferred with some recent arrivals from Office 95. In the guise of sending some of their garrison troops back for re-assignment, the AN-21 had been allowed to fly into Vientiane from Hanoi with an equivalent number of men. The Protocols specified the number of troops both sides could retain in Vientiane – not that the LPF had any scruples about not sticking to the agreed figure – and, although it was easy to bring in or take out a few at a time in the AN-2, it was a different matter flying in a larger amount, by AN-21. The body that regulated the functioning and implementation of the Accords, the ‘Joint Mixed Commission’, had given clearance for the flight. The LPF were scrupulous about observing certain political points. There are none more vehement than those recently converted or when fanatics regard politics with as much fervour as a religion there are certain limits which they will strive to attain and other limits beyond which they will not go. Thus it was that an unplanned influx of twenty-seven men had to be fitted, somehow, into an existing political framework – framework to some, loophole to others.
It was the arrival of these men that had been reported to Lanouk. With the inability either for accurate assessment or for reliable information, this group had been reported by the remnants of Lanouk’s intelligence organisation as military advisers to help PL troops based in Vientiane take over the town in one swift action if and when an opportune moment presented itself or if not, to advise on selected assassinations. This was true for some of the group. The remainder were political cadres, reinforcements for the time when Vientiane had been fully liberated and the workload would be unusually heavy.
By then the Black-eyed Butcher had had a report back from Sam Neua. The men he had sent had seen the records in the wat, written in early April 1945, and yes, the original birth-given names of two boys from Tâ Lang had been changed to Le Dâng Khoã and Tâ Tran Quán. ‘Anything else’, the Political Commissar asked. ‘Yes,’ came a rage-engendering answer, ‘we had to pay for the answer. The correct codeword to find out is “the Black-eyed Butcher”.’ Nga Sô Lựự ground his teeth in rage. So that’s where my cursed nickname originated.
Among the twenty-seven men was a two-man cell sworn to secrecy by Nga Sô Lựự who were to shadow Le Dâng Khoã – a suspect even without a ring – and Bounphong Sunthorn and see what foreigners they contacted and, without causing any suspicion, to see if either had a particular tattoo mark on the inside of their little finger on their right hand: rings can be lost but tattoos, and their erased traces, cannot be kept secret. This particular tattoo mark was not easy to discern, as it happened, as the dye used was old and faded, and had stretched as the boys grew up. The colour of the skin also hampered any detection, nevertheless efforts to establish the fact were to be made. Nga Sô Lựự had told the two men half the truth during his briefing: these two men had needed an identity sign to establish themselves as members of some esoteric cult that had to be penetrated in the name of the Cause, that die-hard initiates might try to expose them to the Cause’s disadvantage if the sign was still there and that secrecy was imperative, though quite why Nga Sô Lựự skilfully kept secret. He also hinted that it was a kind of test of their ability. He would ask Le Dâng Khoã and Bounphong later if they had twigged to what was happening. In the over-secretive and arcane Communist world, any piece of rubbish can be made convincing. It was these two men who were conferring with Le Dâng Khoã and Bounphong. On some excuse that their ring covered too much of the map to make it easily legible he had persuaded them to take it off, something that they did even if, inside, both felt a pang of something sinister but yet to be understood. It put them more on their guard from then on. That way the two men did see what they sought when the two suspects opened their fingers wide as they poured over street maps and lists of possible people who needed removing.
The Communist victory, consummated on 30 April by the capture of Saigon, stunned the world by its speed: speed of advance and speed of demoralisation of the South Vietnamese. Any hopes of a ‘Third Vietnam’ under Air Marshal Ky had evaporated and stark reality prevailed. The appalling stories emanating from Phnom Penh had already struck terror into so many hearts that rational thought was hard to come by, even though the North Vietnamese had allowed an escape corridor from Tan Son Nhut airfield for the remnants of the American embassy staff. It had to be Vientiane’s turn next, come what may and come it would. Laos would never be the same again. Or would it?
In the caves of Sam Neua a high-level Politburo meeting was under way. It was tense, tenser than usual, because now it was time to take full advantage of the previous day’s victory news and make urgent plans that would finalise their conquest of Laos. Then the old imperial French dream of a united Indo-China would pass to the Vietnamese based in Hanoi although the Communist leaders there wrapped it in so much polemic gobbledygook that it fooled many people. ‘Saigon plus two months’ had been a firm rallying call and a useful planning date but now it was openly admitted to be completely unrealistic. With so much that had to be done, total liberation of the rest of Laos by 30 June was out of the question. 12 October, the 30th anniversary of the liberation of Laos after the Second World War, was chosen as the new deadline.
It was further decided that the long-standing invitation to the King to visit Sam Neua be extended once more, as a matter of cosmetic urgency, with an announcement that it was to discuss arrangements for the coronation – ‘“Will you come into my parlour” said the spider to the fly,’ quoted Rance to John Chambers later when that news reached them. But there and then in the caves it was not time for the hard men to show their faces: that would wait until the necessary political deadwood had been cleared away and this, despite his proposed visit to his loyal subjects in Sam Neua, meant deposing His Majesty, King Savang Vattana, the last King of Laos, still uncrowned. Comrade Nga Sô Lựự had been included among the delegates at the meeting, along with his Lao counterpart and Tâ Tran Quán. They were coming to the end of their session and the chairman was summing up.
‘So, Comrades, there you have it. We will plan on our cadres in Luang Prabang and Vientiane continuing to prepare the masses for the ultimate but, naturally, in the stages we have so carefully planned and meticulously laid down. To that end, territory that has yet to be liberated, less the two neutralised towns, will be taken over starting on 11 May. That day will also see the start of the Cultural Revolution. Finally, to coordinate the Vientiane end of our activities, Comrade Nga Sô Lựự, who has been working so selflessly for the Cause for so long, will go there. I understand that Comrade Nga Sô Lựự will be taking Comrade Tâ Tran Quán with him and that, having made certain enquiries in Luang Prabang, will continue down to Vientiane with Comrade Thong Damdouane. Once there they will meet up with certain officials, including Comrades Le Dâng Khoã and Bounphong Sunthorn so that will mean four of our brightest hopes for the future will be able to combat the revolution at first hand. We also need to maintain our close liaison with our Soviet comrades – here I am particularly thinking of Comrade Vladimir Gretchanine – and when Comrade Nga Sô Lựự has laid his plans, he will convene a meeting with those I have already mentioned. We have already had one tentative, preliminary meeting in Vientiane and our next could almost be said to be a dress rehearsal for when we final and definitively make the announcement that the People’s Democratic Republic of Laos is fully Communist.’ He sat down to deafening applause and then asked Comrade Nga Sô Lựự if there was anything he would like to add to what had already been said.
Desiccated and deadly dull in manner, feverishly fervent as a Communist apostle, the Vietnamese representative of Office 95 shuffled his papers, looked around the assembled gathering, cleared his throat and, black eyes blacker than ever, said, ‘Comrades. All of you here are fully aware of the gravity of the situation, its uniqueness and its glory. We are on the verge of complete and total socialist victory. What I am planning on is the final analysis of results that my office has managed to achieve since it was established because, once we have reached a certain stage in the revolution, we can channel our full efforts into constructing nation-building and many of our staff can be directed towards different targets. There are, as you may have guessed, a number of traitors and counter-revolutionaries lurking in the fleshpots of the den of iniquity, Vientiane. Some are even disguised as senior cadres. They represent a real and ever-present danger and must be ruthlessly rooted out.’
He waxed indignant for several minutes, giving a performance for which he was justly famed and of which he was justifiably proud. He finished up, with more applause, ‘For speed and efficiency, therefore, I have decided that the plan I have outlined will be put into operation next month. The dates I have picked are, on 13 June to Luang Prabang, 15 June to Vientiane and on 21 June … we start.’
On the evening of Sunday, 4 May, Rance had had his meal and was reading when Singha barked at a visitor’s approach. The bell rang. Rance shouted to Khian An not to worry and went to open the front door. There stood Charlie, looking less smart than on previous occasions, but dressed so that he could pass muster in a crowd of locals.
‘Come along in, Charlie. Had a meal? Sure? Then what can I get you to drink?’ Charlie plumped for whisky which Khian An brought. If he was surprised to see Rance’s visitor, he didn’t show it. ‘Cheers! Good luck!’ and the houseboy went out of the room, leaving them alone.
‘I hadn’t expected you so soon, somehow. No difficulty? Before we go any further would you like to spend the night here? The guestroom is ready.’ Charlie declined. ‘Well, the offer’s there should you change your mind. What buzzes?’
‘Colonel. This situation is developing faster than I expected. I’ve got my men with their weapons safely on the other side of the river. I’ve yet to work out where we’ll stay until we’re needed against the twenty-seven “hit men”. My men are Thai Isan, men from the northeast of Thailand, who are, in fact, first or second generation Lao, so the problem of being spotted is not quite as fraught as if I had “native” Thais with me.’ Rance nodded. ‘Ideally, what I would like to happen is to get them installed somewhere unobtrusive before the PL move and cut Vientiane off from the rest of the country, as I’m sure they will pretty soon. You, with your knowledge of the possibilities, may have some ideas that I’ve overlooked.’
Rance had been undecided whether to ask Charlie if he had had any contact with the Soviet DA but now he felt he just had to know. ‘Charlie, there is something I must ask you. On my way back from the royal bun-fight on the 18th …’ Charlie looked at him quizzically as Rance told him what he had seen. ‘I thought I saw you, hat down over your eyes, collar up and puffy faced, with Phoun and Le Dâng Khoã. It would make me feel happier if I knew one way or the other if my eyes were deceiving me or not.’
‘You are right to ask if you are worried. I would hate you to think that I was where I was for reasons unconnected with what we are both hoping to achieve. However, from the little the Soviet DA could see in the ill-lit room it is more than likely he would never recognise me again. Now, please help me out with a location,’ he said, in a defensive tone of voice.
‘There is a camp not far from here, one that I walk past quite often, that has been set up since Vientiane was neutralised. The last time I went that way it was empty. You might, possibly, but how I don’t know, use that as a base. It used to hold a company – walked round with the boss once – so certainly you’ll fit into it. Any other country I’ve ever been in I’d never have thought of such a solution but round here right now there seems to be so little direction from above and also local commanders have so much discretion, I quite honestly believe you’d cause no worry to anyone if you just went and squatted there. Of course, you’d always have to have a fallback position wherever you were. Think it over: don’t condemn it out of hand.’
Rance got up to pour him another whisky. ‘Have you got a map of the town handy?’ Charlie asked. ‘I didn’t bring mine and I’d like to get my bearings.’ A tropical storm that had been threatening to deluge the place rumbled ominously.
‘Charlie, stay the night. We’ve lots to talk about. The impending rain storm is a reason and an excuse not to return so late. You may want to come back again and a night here now could allay suspicion that the LPF might harbour,’ and he nodded towards the servants’ quarters.
‘Thanks, Colonel. It’ll also make a pre-dawn getaway easier. Thanks for the offer.’
Rance went to fetch his town map. On his way downstairs he met Khian An on his way up to shut the windows. ‘This rain has spoiled my friend’s chances of getting home dry. Turn down the guestroom bed and put out a flask of hot water and the coffee things for an early morning brew – like you do for me at weekends – so that my friend can get an early start without disturbing you. I’ll let him out when I go for my run. Don’t wait up for us. Good night.’
They spread out the map and Rance showed Charlie where the camp he had suggested was. The rain started lashing down and they smiled at each other. ‘I like it but,’ and he shook his head dejectedly, ‘it’s a big area. I’ve only got fifteen men, counting myself. Also it’s too far away. I think it’ll have to be in Ban Dong Nasok camp itself. John Chambers told me that Lanouk had given a sketch map of it to you. If you have it handy please show it to me.’
‘I’ll get it. Unusually I have it upstairs, hidden away.’
‘I have already made contact with some of the inmates of the camp but if only I could get information, spot-on information, where these guys live, eat, sleep and work, I’d be a much happier man. I had presumed that my target would be smaller.’
First thing next Monday morning, Rance went to see John Chambers. They had a lot to catch up with. They had taken to each other early on in their acquaintance, each recognising the other was a dedicated professional, Chambers having the advantage of having known about Rance ever since before he became an Attaché. They greeted each other warmly. Rance asked John how he was settling in. ‘Fine, thanks, Jason. Make haste slowly is the rule of my game. I got a lot of help from Gordon and had that invaluable interlude in Bangkok. This country, from what little I have seen of it, nearly defies description. Can’t think how you have managed to keep sane for so long, to say nothing of having found out what you have and establishing such a fantastic network. As you know, I’ve been following events from Day One. I’m vastly impressed.’
‘Kind words, John, and I thank you for them. It has been fascinating, frustrating, rewarding and revolting. Quite where we’re going to now I’m not sure. I’ve got a couple of matters to discuss. Can you spare the time now? Or would you like to clear any telegrams first?’
‘No, they can wait. What have you for me?’ Rance first reminded Chambers about his talk with Lanouk as regards the target he had described, then went on to say that Charlie had contacted him and he, Rance, had given him the sketch map of the camp he had been given by Lanouk. Now it’s up to him, not us, surely?
John Chambers agreed. ‘Tell me. Any news of the Four Rings?’
‘The last message that I had was passed on by my driver on my return from Luang Prabang. He reported that Tâ Tran Quán had got where he was wanting to get, was in reasonable health and then my driver became nervous and I got the impression that none of us, the Four Rings and myself, are out of danger. That doesn’t alter any decision we might come to or any plan we might make. What does matter is that we keep our collective noses clean.’
‘Indeed so,’ said Chambers and anything else he was going to say was interrupted by his secretary knocking on the door and excusing herself as she came in with a telegram. She gave it directly to the SIS man who read it. ‘Fasten your seat belt, Jason. Mana’s escaped.’
Colonel Gretchanine made one of his periodic tours of the residential areas in other parts of the town. He had a habit of keeping his eyes skinned for anything unusual. As he drove slowly past one particular house, although it was by then dark, he saw two men come out, one of whom he immediately recognised as John Chambers and the other, he thought, might be the comrade he had met up with in the hut – thinner in the face – that night he mysteriously found two tyres without air in them but no puncture. And then he recalled something that had only been an unconscious memory since then: that car by the side of the road that was there on their way up but not on their way back was a British embassy car, 24 CD something. He knew John Chambers was not in it and the Colonel Rance was the only person from the British embassy who came down by convoy. He’d follow that one up and get equal somehow.
Escape from any ‘open’ institution, such as a hospital, is relatively easy. The American air base at Utapao had many Thais working on or near the premises, some as servicemen in parts of the camp where ultra tight security was not considered paramount, like sentries on outer perimeter gates as well as hospital orderlies, others as civilians, who worked, with entry permits, as servants, mechanics, drivers and cooks, while the rash of bars, massage parlours – that did an ever-thriving business despite the local camp radio’s frequent pronouncements of ‘You cain’t get Demarb with a Blarb on your Narb’ – souvenir shops and soda fountains attracted the mean, the merry and the plain unscrupulously nasty, everyone of them, of course, clothed in an aura of Thai politeness and out for a quick buck. The USAF mingled with this throng in varying degrees of density, depending on how many or how far their activities took them from the actual business of flying or maintaining aircraft.
Mana, therefore, had no problem in giving the hospital authorities the slip so confident were they that he was back to what they had supposed to be pre-accident normal. When it was discovered that he had disappeared, urgent but cautious steps were taken to try and recover him. Messages flashed, watch was kept on possible contact points and tabs kept on people he might, just, try and meet. Gloom deepened as nil report followed nil report.
As for Mana himself, isolated as he had been for so long and cocooned against news of developments, he felt he needed time to think. He had managed to get his hands on some money during his stay in hospital and had also picked up some more from the pockets of a careless orderly so he was not broke. The countryside around Utapao was pleasant. It was near the coast. There were fishing villages near the beach and the locals were used to seeing folk from many parts of Thailand. It did not take him long to find himself a pleasant young thing to shack up with and work off much of the surplus energy and frustrations that had accumulated with enforced inactivity. He stayed with her for a week then made his way to Bangkok, only one hundred and seventy-seven miles away. As he arrived there late one evening, he made some discreet enquiries and, later that night, rang the bell of a room in the area of Lumphini Park in the south of the city and was let inside by its resident, Kaysorn Bouapha.
Mana, not used to excitement or action as had been the case, was content to stay quietly in Kaysorn’s room while she was away working. On the first Saturday after his arrival they had the whole day to themselves. She was a great chatterbox and he listened with half an ear until, for no apparent reason, she mentioned the British Defence Attaché in Vientiane as an example of whom she had had as a pupil.
‘Such a gentleman, Tan Colonen Rance. I used to visit him when he was learning Lao. He was out one Sunday when I brought him some temple rubbings. He was so long coming back that I had a lie down in his guest room. Shouldn’t have, really, I suppose but I had a good look round first. I mean a girl has to be ready for anything, doesn’t she? Such a lovely ring I found in his bedroom dressing table drawer. Big, looked old, had kha written on the inside. Quite took a fancy to it. It was in a little green leather case where he keeps his studs and cuff links. There was one pair of little crossed knives in silver. Real dinky …’
Mana only half listened after that as she banged on. Vientiane next stop, he decided.