June 1975: On 9 June the British embassy became worried when two young technicians, on loan from the British Broadcasting Corporation to Radio Laos, hired the local Flying Club Cessna aeroplane, went on a farewell trip prior to leaving Laos for Britain and did not return. Since the Americans had left, many of the flying aids on which aircraft were so dependent had ceased to be functional. The technicians had filled in a flight plan for the Vientiane Plain and Vang Vieng, the small town at its northern end. The DA and Anthony Crosland made an air search in the Beaver and, overflying Vang Vieng, saw the Cessna on the ground there. Landing in the Beaver would almost certainly mean both aircraft stuck. They flew back to Vientiane and the Ambassador ordered Jason Rance to go to Vang Vieng by road to see what was what once the all-engulfing paperwork was ready.
On Wednesday, 11 June, the AN-2 left Vientiane for Sam Neua. It had to stop and refuel at Luang Prabang, and deliver a bag of mail to the garrison. It was met by Comrade Thong Damdouane and the military commander who brought some mail for delivery to Sam Neua. On board were the two henchmen sent by Nga Sô Lựự, going back to make a detailed report. At the royal capital, the Russian pilot and crew bade farewell to the two officials, thanking them for their security arrangements and confirming that they would see them on Sunday, 15 June, on the way back. As the two henchmen shook hands, neither of them could resist letting their gaze fall on the little finger on both men’s right hand.
‘Why did those two look at our hands like that?’ queried the military man. ‘Jealous of your ring and wondering why I don’t wear one, I expect,’ he said, with a hint of sarcasm.
‘Never tell with that lot,’ answered Thong with a levity he did not feel.
The church, not far from Rance’s villa, had been taken over by the new regime as a lecture hall so the remaining diplomatic community decided to hold services in people’s homes instead. On Sunday, 15 June, Leuam came to take Rance to the house of an Australian who lived on the other side of town. On the way there Rance glanced out of the car window and saw the AN-2 circling before landing. He was not to know that it contained three important men: Nga Sô Lựự, Tâ Tran Quán and Thong Damdouane and it was just as well for his peace of mind that he didn’t.
It was almost dark when he was driven back to his villa as he’d stayed on for a drink and a chat with the rest of the congregation – all three of them. As the car turned the last corner, he looked up past the driver and saw a figure on a bicycle leaving his house. There was something familiar about him but he was too far away to recognise. Then he was out of sight. Leuam stopped the car outside the gates, tooted on the horn and Khian An came out to let the car in.
Back in the house, Rance looked at his house boy and said, ‘You look worried. Anything wrong?’
Khian An hesitated. ‘I was in the back preparing your meal. My wife opened the door to a man she thought had visited you and spent a night but she wasn’t sure. He said he needed something from upstairs and she told him to wait while she fetched me. I was in the lavatory so wasn’t immediately available. He wasn’t there when I reached the door and I saw him as he went through the side gate and get on a bike, just before you blew your horn.’
‘Never mind. Bor pen nyang. I’m sure he took nothing,’ said Rance, going upstairs to change into something comfortable. On an impulse he had a good look round. On examining his stud box he found that his ring was missing.
Monday, 16 June: inside the Soviet embassy Colonel Vladimir Gretchanine interviewed a man who, despite having certain facts of an intelligence nature he could use, puzzled him. The man seemed vaguely familiar, both face and voice, although he could not place him. Many Asians looked alike to Gretchanine, that hirsute Muscovite, whose other tricky problem, alike for every diplomat, is to know whether a person who reports in with a story or a wish to defect is a nut-case or genuine. This man had reported to the Soviet embassy earlier in the day, obviously anxious to make contact with a third party and only using the Soviets as a go-between.
‘You tell me your name is Mana Varamit?’ The Soviet Attaché spoke English well but gutturally. ‘And you want to contact a certain comrade named Nga Sô Lựự who is near Sam Neua?’
‘Yes, that’s correct. I went looking for him but I didn’t find him.’
‘And you say you are a Thai national and have recently come across from Thailand?’
‘Yes. I’ve told you that already. Didn’t you understand? I have an urgent message for Comrade Nga Sô Lựự. I was on my way trying to find him when something happened.’
‘What happened? You lost your way or you became ill or what?’
‘Yes. Both. But I do know that Comrade Nga Sô Lựự is expecting me. Can you get a message to him for me, please? I want to see him urgently.’
‘Why come here? Why not go to the embassy of the Democratic Republic of Vietnam? Surely they are much more likely to help you with one of their nationals than we can? I do not understand why you should come to see me.’
Mana looked at the man, shook his head and tried again to explain his point. ‘It’s like I was trying to say earlier on. I was in the area of the British Attaché’s house. I wanted to get something out of his house that would convince the comrade of the truth of what I wanted to tell him. As I was leaving the area on a bicycle, I turned and saw Colonel Rance in his car. He saw me. I was afraid he would alert some of his men and try to look for me. I had tried to find the Vietnamese embassy but didn’t succeed and anyway I felt it far less of a risk to come here. No one would suspect I’d come here. I’ll be no embarrassment to anyone and I’ll leave you alone as soon as I’ve cleared myself with Comrade Nga Sô Lựự. I’m happy to wait for you to contact him.’ He smiled disarmingly. ‘You see, I believe I lost my memory but I have some vague recollection of a Russian doctor trying to help me. Comrade Lựự is expecting me. Won’t you help me?’
Vladimir Gretchanine knew that Comrade Lựự was, by then, in Ban Dong Nasok camp. It would be easy enough to check up without bothering Moscow. He had had nut-cases to deal with before but there was something in this instance that might be worthwhile following up. Besides which, hadn’t he mentioned the British DA? He’d play along with him. ‘Right you are. As you seem so keen on it, I’ll arrange for you to be my guest …’ He broke off. ‘Tell me, have you recently suffered from toothache and had a swollen face?’ Mana shook his head. ‘No? Well, as I was saying, be my guest but only until I’ve tried to contact that comrade of yours. Where does the British DA come into this? That’s what I can’t yet get.’
‘Oh. Don’t you see? He had the fourth ring. Comrade Lựự will understand.’
That same day a large preparatory conference was taking place in Ban Dong Nasok camp. It was an important meeting, chaired by Comrade Nga Sô Lựự, who impressed the others by his cold tenacity of purpose, his obvious inner strength and his mere presence, let alone those black baleful eyes. He had given his audience a résumé of how he envisaged the main conference to be held on Friday, 20 June, when he had an especially important announcement to make. It was pointless making it now because some of the comrades involved were not yet present. Security was paramount – there were still, it was believed, counter-revolutionaries and imperialists at work. It was against them he had had his hand-picked defence squad of twenty-seven men sent down earlier. They also had other tasks to do in connection with the revolution. Defence and protection were of particular importance and he would make a detailed reconnaissance of the conference venue next day. He thanked them for their devotion to duty and chillingly reminded them that vigilance could never be relaxed: ‘enemies are everywhere,’ he told them.
On Tuesday, 17 June, Rance went to the Ministry of Defence to try and seek an interview with the senior man there, the Deputy Minister, a man he had met many times already. It was virtually useless trying to arrange any meeting by phone as there seemed no system whereby anybody could fix an appointment on behalf of anyone else and even if such an appointment was made, there was no guarantee it would take place. Rance waited half an hour for the Deputy to arrive but found him less than normally cooperative when they started talking. What Rance, and a great many other people, had yet to understand was that in the Communist world even the most mundane and trivial of decisions needs a high level of consensus before it can be made. A person acting on his or her own always courted danger.
In the present affair, the decision to release the two men stuck in Vang Vieng would have to be taken by the Politburo after it had been fully analysed by the local worthies, each man jack of them scared out of his wits lest the least spark of initiative be construed by some other zealot as being counter-revolutionary or whatever the ‘in’ catchword was. In a world riddled by suspicion, even that with no trace of suspicion attached to it is viewed suspiciously because it is unsuspicious. So it was that even had the hapless Deputy Minister wanted to help, he would have been unable to. Instead he stalled, muttering platitudes and looking embarrassed, with Rance making no progress. After a fruitless fifteen minutes, Rance was told that if he wanted to try his luck and go to Vang Vieng, he would have to pursue the normal channels. Rance gravely thanked the harassed Lao, left him and went to the office where road permits were issued, expecting and finding nothing but bureaucratic dreariness. There were two men, supposedly one policeman from each side, and some armed sentries. They were polite, offering him a seat, and interested in him as a person but totally unconcerned with his request for a permit, a laisser passer to Vang Vieng. Eventually he managed to get them to laugh and then they went off for their meal. Rance said he’d wait because he was working on the orders of the Ambassador and had been to have a chat with the Deputy Minister of Defence.
He kept his temper and his patience, and eventually, hours later, got what he wanted from the full-bellied bureaucrats for himself, his driver and his car.
Comrade Nga Sô Lựự declined to see the Soviet official until 10 o’clock on the morning of the 18th. The Russian had given no details but had merely said that he had news that could be of importance. ‘What is it?’ the Vietnamese asked, once they were seated.
‘A man calling himself Mana Varamit’ – Nga Sô Lựự sucked his breath with surprise at the name – ‘came to call on me. He seemed to think that you wanted to meet him. He gave me the impression of being entirely rational but of having had some emotional disturbance some time or other which still gives him memory problems.’
Nga Sô Lựự collected his thoughts as Vladimir Gretchanine was talking. After his initial surprise, his face remained impassive as his mind raced. ‘Had he anything specific for me?’ he queried. ‘I know exactly who you mean and it is true I badly want to see him. It is really a question of how I handle him and when.’
‘Comrade. His message was to the effect that Colonel Rance, the British Defence Attaché in case you didn’t know, has the fourth ring.’
Nga Sô Lựự nodded tortoise-slow and appreciatively. ‘Thank you, Comrade. I am indeed grateful to you. I was half expecting something along those lines. It makes more sense to me now than it would had it come from any other source. To take full advantage of your news I must make careful plans. May I request you to tell Mana Varamit that you have met me, that indeed I am happy to meet him and have a long talk, that he is back with us again, that he’s better and that I will meet him just as soon as I can in the next day or so.’ He broke off. ‘I request you bring him here, yes, I want you also, at 1800 hours on 20 June, that’s Friday, the day after tomorrow. Here. You need not tell him that until shortly before the time. Can do? Can you keep him till then? Great will be our rewards because, in our case, I believe you would also like to get the edge on the British Colonen.’
The Russian looked surprised. ‘Yes, I can keep Mana until then, keep him quiet somehow, and I’d also like to pay off a few scores with that overbearingly rude Englishman. As this is, shall we say, rather personal, let us not make it official? Not yet, at any rate. I think you are indispensable in helping me with my dress rehearsal, probably more than even you can appreciate at the moment.’
That evening a message was sent to the LPF HQ in Vang Vieng. It warned that the British Defence Attaché was being sent up Route 13 by his Ambassador to meet the two Englishmen in custody there on 20 June. Under no circumstances was he to be allowed to see them. He was to be told that permission was expected on 20 June so he should report to the HQ in Ban Dong Nasok the day after, 21 June. An escort for the journey back up to Vang Vieng would be arranged.
In drafting the message Nga Sô Lựự reckoned that Rance would find nothing strange in this request and that no suspicions would be aroused. By getting Rance to visit his camp without a fixed time would make no difference to his planned schedule in order to bring his exposure of the Four Rings, the four traitors, even more conclusively into the open now that Mana had so providentially shown up. He had debated whether to see Mana before his conference or not and had decided that, for presentational purposes, he would arraign the Four Rings with every scrap of evidence that he had and then, as they squirmed to try and get free, he would produce Mana – who would be listening in to the entire proceedings out of sight – as a prime witness and a star performer. ‘Operation Four Rings’ would be a total success: nothing could prevent it now.
He had also decided how he would carry out the conference. The main building in the camp had been a school long before it had been decided to put some temporary huts and tents around it to make it the base of the Neutralisation Forces of the LPF. It was in the centre of the camp, which would have an increased guard on it. In the main hall of the building was a stage. He would sit at a table in the centre of the stage with his secretary and have a further two tables, the one to his left with four senior cadres and the Four Rings on his right. His special group of twenty-seven picked men would be seated on chairs facing the stage in a semi-circle, to be guard and jury to the terrible indictments that he would bring against the four counter-revolutionary traitors. He would not breathe a word about his plan to anyone. He would need to keep Le Dâng Khoã in the dark but that would be easy enough. He would arrange for the Russian to bring Mana along and be shown into the building from a rear door after, the time decreed for the meeting to begin, with Mana ready to be brought out from behind the stage when called. He dismissed Rance from his mind entirely as far as this operation was concerned. Once Rance’s car was away in the Liberated Zone he would arrange for something ‘permanent’ to happen to it and to him. He turned him mind back to other, and more pressing, problems.
Next morning, 19 June, at 8 ‘clock, he sent for Le Dâng Khoã. ‘Comrade. Come in and sit down. You are responsible for security in this camp. Let us discuss what arrangements you have made for tomorrow night. What have you done so far? Let me have a full briefing. Leave nothing out. I want to hear everything.’
‘Certainly, Comrade. The hall will have been checked to ensure no unauthorised persons have access. The camp security will, as far as the perimeter and gate protection are concerned, be as normal. There will be ten men in the guardroom, one section of seven men patrolling the perimeter and one section in reserve as stand-by in their sleeping quarters. As far as guarding the hall is concerned, I am detailing the group you yourself designated from Sam Neua. That is about the sum of it. Have you any comments or suggestions, Comrade?’
Nga Sô Lựự mulled this over, then said, ‘Fine, but I want the entire squad of twenty-seven men inside the hall because much of what I have to say is not concerned with immediate local security and covers our future political work. I want them to hear what I have to say from start to finish so you must find need extra men to guard the building during the session.’
‘Comrade. This will, of course, be done but I must have your clearance and written authority for all twenty-seven men to be present. As far as I am aware, some of them are not ranking cadres or even party members. My orders on this are specific. I will only allow them in if you so insist and order me in writing.’
Nga Sô Lựự stared at Le Dâng Khoã with an expression of disgust and disdain, black eyes flashing glassily. Insolent pup, he inwardly fumed, glancing unconsciously at Le Dâng Khoã’s right hand. Fancy daring to put me in my place. The mood passed and, with only a trace of hesitation, said, ‘Of course, Comrade. You are correct. I was about to say that. Can you arrange that to your satisfaction? Good. If there are insufficient men for the extra guard duties you will, naturally, call on our other resources, won’t you? Now, our own seating arrangements. I wish for three tables to be placed on the stage, one in the centre where I and my secretary will sit, and the other two to left and right of it. I am arranging for representatives from my office in Sam Neua, our forces in Luang Prabang and Vientiane on both of the other tables. I would like you, along with Comrades Tâ Tran Quán, Thong Damdouane and Bounphong Sunthorn, on the right of me.’
If Le Dâng Khoã had any reservations about the seating arrangements, he kept them to himself. ‘Right, Comrade. I fully understand what you require. I have no more questions so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and made some special passes for the guard that will be responsible for the security of the conference hall.’
Le Dâng Khoã, although he hadn’t let on to Nga Sô Lựự, was deeply suspicious of the seating arrangements. Two points had struck him as unorthodox: one that the group of men who had been billed more as security men than anything else from Office 95 were to be part and parcel of the main proceedings and the other was that the four of them who had perfectly adequate protocol placings were to be together on one table. Frankly, it stank. The glance towards his hand hadn’t gone unnoticed. There had to be something else that he needed to take into account. He thought back. There was only one telephone in the camp and there was a radio link with Sam Neua and other stations. There was also the Guard Commander’s report book. During the course of the day he would find out if there was anything that could help him determine what the danger was and where it lay.
He waited until Nga Sô Lựự had gone back to the hut he used as an office, outside which stood one of the men from Sam Neua as sentry. He went over to the guardroom and asked for the register. There, amongst others, was 124 CD 052, the Soviet diplomatic number, and a Colonel Vladimir Gretchanine had been written down as passenger. That was unusual. Foreign cars, even those of the fraternal bloc, seldom came into Ban Dong Nasok camp. Wasn’t that why they had met outside that one inconclusive night? He turned back and went into the telephone room. Most Communist organisations only boasted one telephone and it was easy to keep tabs on who wanted to contact whom and what was said. On his way over, he passed the main building and, on an impulse, made his way into the little room behind the stage. It had always been empty but now a table and two chairs had been put there. He sat down in one of the chairs, head in hands, pondering deeply. He heard a fatigue party moving about in the main part of the building. Some men climbed up onto the stage and started talking. They were easily audible and Le Dâng Khoã recognised the voices of the Sam Neua lot and also Nga Sô Lựự’s secretary who said, ‘You’ve put the chairs and the table into the room at the back, have you? Good. I’ll go and lock the door myself from the inside and you,’ obviously detailing one of the men, ‘make sure the outer door is locked from now on until our meeting. Here’s the key. It’s unlocked now. Go and get some oil and put some on the lock. Comrade Nga Sô Lựự does not want it to squeak during the conference.’
Le Dâng Khoã got up and quietly left by the outside door, quickly testing it and noticing that it did, in fact, make some noise. He went over to the telephone operator. ‘Just want to check if Comrade Soth Petrasy rang through yesterday. Can I see your list?’
The operator handed it over without question. Sure enough, at 1700 hours on the 16th, a call for the Black-eyed Butcher had come from the Soviet embassy. ‘No, he didn’t. Obviously he himself found what he was looking for.’ He gave the list back. So the Soviets wanted Nga Sô Lựự on the 16th and came over to see him on the 18th. Must have come when he was over at the other side of the camp. And what of the radio? The operator was a young lad who held all cadres in awe. At a guess but speaking firmly, he asked, ‘Have you had any confirmation of the message Comrade Nga Sô Lựự got you to send yesterday?’
‘I don’t think confirmation was required,’ he answered dubiously. ‘I’d better make sure,’ and opened a cupboard where copies of messages were sent. He flipped through a file. ‘Here you are. I presume this is the one you’re referring to as there weren’t any others.’
Le Dâng Khoã quickly ran though it and found nothing suspicious. ‘You’re right. Well done.’ He smiled. ‘That’s why none has come. I’ll remind the Comrade that no confirmation was requested. Thank you.’
He left the radio room, nodding at the sentry, who was also one of the recent influx. He sensed that he had two advantages: one that Nga Sô Lựự would not recognise any of the new guard he’d be getting and the other that nothing would be done to alarm him until the comrade was ready. And he was sure that that would not be until 20 June.
One of the problems facing Charlie was how best could he get quick enough warning to take advantage of any situation that could make his job easier. He had had information about the meeting on 20 June but, despite his having been able to infiltrate the staff of the camp, it had not yet been possible to move his men there. He had had a meeting with one of the comrades who had some how got to know him during this period of uncertainty and restlessness. The hut he’d had his second meeting with a member of the camp was not far from Ban Dong Nasok. He had been just a little surprised when the Russian DA had turned up that first time but he had gathered that, in Bangkok, the Russians never thought they were achieving anything unless there was a great deal of mystery and an equally great deal of secrecy.
Charlie had pondered for a long time just what line to take when he had first been given this mission of neutralising, if not eliminating the twenty-seven NVA ‘hit men’. He had the wherewithal to masquerade as government troops or as PL. The speed of the PL advance had made him concentrate on the PL aspect and he had already done a lot of homework on various personalities in the LPF hierarchy to be able to talk authoritatively enough to be accepted as one of them and his intelligence work had given him sufficient background data he needed to make himself and his men seem genuine. He also knew that, by and large, the administrative side of the LPF was sufficiently weak for any rapid checking, especially during this present period of flux. He had posed as one of the left-wing Neutralists from somewhere up north in far Phong Saly province who had brought his men down on a training mission to Sayabouri province and then had been given orders, probably garbled as it was turning out, to go to Vientiane. He had come down the river by boat but the necessary paperwork had gone astray. He was hoping that the tenuous link he had fixed, Phoun through Leuam, thence to a comrade in the HQ by the Morning Market and finally to a comrade in the other camp would prove solid enough to last him out. Their presence had been accepted without query and the line that Charlie had put across was that he was an ardent nationalist and a Vietnamese-hater, had something against the Communists that burnt inside him. If and when an opportunity came, the comrade would infiltrate him into the camp. He would then, and only then, be able to make his plan, obviously on the tenuous basis of chance. It wouldn’t have been possible anywhere else in Asia but where else in Asia was there another Laos? He would pick his moment, take his chance and hope that by then he could formalise getaway plans. He was just a little worried by Colonel Rance who was either deep and devious or shallow and stupid: whichever was the case, he was glad that the Englishman had nothing to do with anything that really mattered. Charlie was his own master.
Late on the evening of Thursday, 19 June, Phoun and the other man who had infiltrated, rode into their temporary camp on bicycles, with orders for the whole squad to proceed, as soon as possible, to the LPF camp.
Well after dark that night Le Dâng Khoã met Charlie’s group at the main entrance of Ban Dong Nasok camp. He welcomed them in a manner that would not cause the Guard Commander any suspicion. This was not difficult; odd packets of men dressed in PL uniform were constantly coming and going, acting as police or escorts for important people or merely on patrol. Copying the Chinese army, none of the PL wore any badges of rank or regimental distinguishing marks so it was impossible to tell what unit a person did belong to. Although the Neutralisation Forces had been stationed in Vientiane for twenty months, there was a constant trickle of changes so new faces were a commonplace. Charlie’s contacts in the world of intelligence had allowed him to be prepared with the necessary documentation so, unless any nasty situation blew up, he and his group should easily escape attention. He had studied, in detail, the camp plan that Rance had provided so had a good knowledge of its layout. There was a hut in the far corner from the main entrance. Le Dâng Khoã led the group over to it and told them to sort themselves out. He took Charlie to one side for a briefing.
‘This corner of the camp is less crowded than the other parts. Tomorrow evening is the critical time for action. There is to be the meeting we have long talked about. It will take place in the old school building. I’ll show you when we get a chance. I’ll leave the details for you to work out but it won’t, I’m afraid, be as straightforward as I’d have liked. I suspect our Russian friend will be coming despite assertions to the contrary. Whether he’ll be alone or not is uncertain. There is some plan to hide him in the room at the back of the stage – him and one other, I suspect, because a table and two chairs have been put there without my being supposed to know although I am in charge of the security details. There’s something afoot. But about the room. I’ll show you the obvious things such as the light fuses. You have explosives with you? I’m concerned about the blowing up of the place. It’s not the messiness you’ll understand but myself and three like-minded men are to sit at one table on the stage and a man you may yet to have heard about, Comrade Nga Sô Lựự, known as the Black-eyed Butcher, probably the most senior and influential cadre along with certainly a secretary and possibly another senior Lao cadre. Their arrival from Sam Neua has made me most uncomfortable. On the other side of the stage from where I’ll be is another table with another lot, probably four, of senior cadres. I’d be more than happy for that lot to go but I wouldn’t want us four to go with them. I’m sure you understand that.’
Charlie said he did then asked, ‘Will the twenty-seven “hit men” be at the meeting and, if so, will they be carrying their weapons with them?’
‘Yes, both. I’m afraid they will so your task will be that much harder.’
Charlie nodded. ‘I’ll have a good look around tonight and again when it’s light early tomorrow. Rather than explosions, too chancy, I’ll concentrate on shooting them, which is less chancy. In my mind’s eye I can see the easiest solution to be I and my men hiding in the room behind the stage and when I judge the best moment – quite how I’m not yet sure – I’ll switch the fuse off. Immediately you four leave your chairs and move almost faster than you’ve ever moved before to the back of the stage and get into the room. Just as soon as you’re in, I’ll move my men out onto the stage and do what I have to. Of course I can’t guarantee killing or even maiming all of them in the dark but Phoun and I will work something out. That will leave you four to get away, so I’ll also be looking for a place for my getaway somewhere at the back. I haven’t checked yet but on the sketch map I have been given a gate is shown. Locked on not, I don’t yet know. I’ll only be able to check on that, though, when people are concentrating on the security of the meeting. Can you detail my group to be responsible for the gate sector of the perimeter? I’d like to be undisturbed while I’m leaving through it. I may not have a key for any lock but I do have some strong wire cutters.’
‘I am sure I can fix it. I’ll confirm that later.’
Friday, 20 June, dawned fine. The British Defence Attaché’s paperwork was at last ready. Leuam drove round early to collect Rance who had packed an overnight bag, as a precaution. He also carried his passport, his Attaché’s identity card and the laisser passer for the journey to Vang Vieng. Leuam had his own separate documentation and the vehicle’s various bits of paperwork so that even the most regulation-bound and bureaucratically-minded functionary would not cavil but be appeased. They set off up Route 13, Khian An anxiously watching them go. Traffic was light and they reached the first barrier in good time. It opened as they approached it, no doubt impressed by the flag fluttering in front of the big white car. Troops manning the barrier paid him little attention, which struck Rance as odd but everything today was a gamble. It was the day Le Dâng Khoã had warned him about and he had told Charlie to be especially careful. He was worried about the disappearance of the ring – it just could not have been Mana, surely? – and certainly not Charlie. But neither man could have any idea that he, Jason Rance, had it nor, even if somehow they did have knowledge, where he kept it. He had never mentioned it to Khian An, certainly, but Leuam knew he had it. Talisman or incubus? How would Leuam react on learning it had been stolen? He was worried about the relationship between Leuam and Bounphong, even though they were brothers. He had yet to place Phoun in the chain between Charlie and Le Dâng Khoã. Could it just conceivably be coincidence? Could it be that Phoun was playing a deeper game than he, Rance, had been led to believe? If Phoun were a PL agent, was he safe in Charlie’s group? If not, was it to be expected that Phoun would have been in the hut that night? But he was still not certain sure about Charlie. Had it not been for Le Dâng Khoã’s presence he would be even more worried but, as it was, nothing was sure. What was Leuam’s real relationship with Phoun? Did it really matter and, whether it did or didn’t, what could he do about it? He teased these thoughts around in his mind. The road led over a small hill and, just beyond the ridge, the PL manned a large barrier which had a notice written in big letters, Liberation Zone. The car crawled to a stop. In front were a few lorries and a couple of taxis. When their turn came, the sentry stood in front of their car and another armed man came and beckoned Leuam out and to follow him up the bank to an office. Rance sat still, waiting. A third armed man came and opened the back door. He saw the overnight bag and searched it thoroughly. Rance kept quiet and the man ordered him, in halting French, to follow him. They went up the steps together and, after having seen Leuam’s face look forlornly at the laisser passer, Rance realised that the document he had so sedulously acquired, had not been accepted. The unexpected comment about it was that, as it had been issued in Vientiane which was not yet in the Liberated Zone, it had no currency outside Vientiane.
When Rance remonstrated and quietly pointed out that one of the signatories had actually written Lao Patriotic Front under his name it still made no difference: Vientiane was not in the Liberated Zone therefore nothing it produced could be valid. Rance had just begun to give up hope when he changed tack. He congratulated them on their soldierly appearance and said that he presumed they realised that he was the Attaché for all Laos, not for one side or the other, and that he had been to Sam Neua and met So-and-So, none of which had any bearing on the actual problem of being allowed through the barrier into the Liberated Zone. However, it must have convinced whoever was empowered to give the order to raise the barrier because the ‘laisser passer’ was countersigned, returned and Rance was allowed to continue on his journey – a whole hour later.
Comrade Nga Sô Lựự was busy that Friday morning, 20 June. He had once more rehearsed his points for the conference that evening. He had checked with Le Dâng Khoã that the security arrangements with the reinforced guard were in order. He had walked round the camp, had the new security guard pointed out to him from a distance and had once again been to the scene of the evening’s conference. He had been shown the small room at the back of the stage. He had tested the door to see if it squeaked and had expressed himself satisfied. Now he was in his office with his secretary. He felt a deep thrill inside him which he could scarcely contain. Tonight, at long last, he would reveal the treachery of those four so-called comrades and then, to put matters right, he would deal with the Englishman. ‘I know we have our hands full for today but there is another problem we must give our attention to. The Englishman, Colonel Rance, has been meddling too much. I have asked him to come to the camp tomorrow but I’d like confirmation that he has gone to Vang Vieng to meet those two other meddling Englishmen. Will you make sure that, whatever happens, he does not turn up tonight. Just to make absolutely sure he does not come here,’ and he turned to one of his bodyguards, ‘you, Comrade, in case you didn’t hear what I just said, are responsible that the British Defence Attaché, in his car 24 CD 050, does not enter this camp tonight.’
The bodyguard acknowledged the order and took a step to the rear.
Nga Sô Lựự continued talking to his secretary. ‘After he gets to Vang Vieng today, he’ll be kept there long enough to make it impossible to get back during our conference.’
In the Soviet embassy, Vladimir Gretchanine was talking with Mana Varamit. The Russian was intrigued with what the Thai had to say and Nga Sô Lựự’s reaction. He was not so concerned with Mana’s background, which he could find out about later, but with what Mana had to say about Rance. Gretchanine had, like so many other Communist cadres, been particularly busy with more pressing business now that the programme for complete Communist domination of Laos had to be speeded up, so he had paid less attention to Mana that otherwise he would have. Now he was trying to pump him.
‘What were you saying about a ring?’ he asked when they were having a chat over a cup of coffee after their midday meal that same Friday. ‘You haven’t yet told me anything that can really justify wasting so much of my time on you. Ring? That sort of stuff is more for women, not men. You’re not one of those Thad Luang tarts like we thought the Colonel was?’
There was something about Mana that intrigued yet repelled him. The Russians were never much good at handling Asians and Vladimir Gretchanine was no exception. His hectoring tone annoyed Mana who, as a Thai, felt rudeness was the one fault that could never be forgiven and, also as a Thai, could keep his emotions so bottled up that he personified the ‘inscrutable oriental’. Mana was not going to tell this coarse man anything that would put at risk his pent-up emotions. He knew that once he started talking it would be all or nothing. With a sudden spurt of anger, he pulled the stolen ring out of his pocket and gave it to the Russian. ‘Put in on and show it to Comrade Nga Sô Lựự when we meet him this evening. That will make sure you’ll learn everything. Don’t let’s talk about it till then. I can’t bear the thought of having to say everything twice over.’
Rance’s car drove round a bend and there was a village, the last one before Vang Vieng and one from which a feeder road led away into the hills to the northeast, towards Meo territory. The road junction was in the middle of the village and, in the middle of the road, was a rough booth that had not been there before and a crowd of some fifty locals milling around a couple of LPF officials, one of whom turned at the sound of the car. He held out his hand in a gesture that meant halt. Rance told Leuam to stop the car short of the booth, got out and went to see what the hold-up was. He wanted to stretch his legs and Leuam could have a break.
There was an air of disquiet among the small crowd. They looked at the Englishman as he came up to them and then some looked away again. Rance gave the PL his laisser passer to examine and asked if he could drive on.
‘No.’
‘Are you in charge here?’
The man looked at him, unsmilingly. ‘We two are both the same,’ and turned away.
Rance went into the booth and showed the other man, the elder of the two, his documents. The man glanced at them. ‘Don’t mean a thing to me,’ he said. ‘None of you can move on from here. You can’t, they can’t,’ and he indicated the crowd around him.
‘I’ve been allowed this far,’ Rance ventured. ‘I have to go to Vang Vieng and meet two Englishmen who are there. I have seen the officials concerned and have their permission to go and see them. How long are you going to keep me waiting here?’
The senior cadre, with one eyebrow cocked higher than the other, had taken off his uniform shirt and Rance was intrigued beyond measure to see a star of Tonkin tattooed on his shoulder. A memory stirred. After the war in 1945 looking for Vietminh with the Japanese – that man hiding in the ditch … wanting to shoot us up from the rear. The British Defence Attaché, feeling hot, took off his hat and stared at the man.
The functionary looked at Rance and his malevolent stare became even darker. ‘I remember you but you probably don’t remember me. You, many years ago, ordered some Japanese feudalist soldiers to piss on me. You had three puppet soldiers with you. You bound me and led me away. The French lumps of merde tortured me but I managed to escape. The man’s voice grew thick with rage. ‘I’ve a good mind to bind you and piss on you, here and now. If you don’t get out of here within five minutes that is what I’ll do. Get out of my sight here and now and stay out.’
To Rance here was a prime example of the world’s most dangerous man, the over-educated idiot whose education outruns his common sense the day he learns how to sign his name. He was probably working under some sort of orders and Rance wondered if it could be connected with a rumour he had recently heard of NVA troop movements in the vicinity directed against alleged Meo rebels. There was no option but to return to Vientiane. It was a pity he had been unable to penetrate up the road as far as Vang Vieng but he realised that there was so much in Communist bureaucracy that militated against the right hand ever knowing what the left hand was doing, it would have been a wonder had it worked out as hoped for. He walked back to his car, got in and ordered Leuam to turn round and drive back. It was still early and he was in no particular hurry. If he got the chance he’d stop and give someone a lift. Might conceivably learn something of interest. One never knew …
‘There is no sign of this Englishman. What do you think has happened?’ The Deputy Commander of Vang Vieng camp asked the Commander. ‘Do you recommend we try and contact Ban Dong Nasok Camp?’
‘No, leave it till tomorrow. They are much too busy to bother about him and anyway the troop movement in the area will have slowed him down.’
In Ban Dong Nasok the Four Rings were talking together. Bounphong Sunthorn and Soth Petrasy had come across from their office near the Morning Market. This was the first occasion all four Rings had been together for a long time. Le Dâng Khoã looked casually around and, seeing nobody else, said, ‘We are now in a critical situation. Nga Sô Lựự suspects us and I fear he will take some dramatic action this evening. It is just possible that he will delay doing whatever he has in mind because he has been referring to a “dress rehearsal”. However you may, almost undoubtedly will, experience some shooting tonight. Play it completely orthodoxly. Remember – nothing is sure until it has happened or proved to have happened. For our own safety, keep separate until we meet naturally and normally. Before we go, I must say that I am delighted that Tâ Tran Quán is well and among us again. And also there is one favourable omen: remember that the Great Master said “right not left”. Our table tonight is on the right of Nga Sô Lựự, not the left. As for the rest of what he said, who would have thought that the English Colonen would have found out about us as he did? And been the help to us he has? It’s the greatest shame he can’t extract us from our predicament tonight. No Mana: no Rance. It’s up to us – now or in another thirty years’ time, despite what His Holiness read into the divinations. But one thing is certain sure: only with that Black-eyed Butcher out of the way will we pertain as prophesied. If only the English Colonen could come to our rescue. If it does come to a choice between him and us, it will have to be him, come what may.’
They dispersed and Le Dâng Khoã went in search of Charlie. It was late afternoon, overcast and a monsoon downpour looked imminent. The senior cadres of the LPF carried umbrellas and, as a few spots of rain spattered down, he put his own up. It was not made of cloth but of oiled fibre that made more noise when rained on than did the cloth type. He reached the guardroom and went inside. ‘What orders have you had, Comrade?’ he asked the Guard Commander. ‘I want to check and confirm everyone is ready and talking with the same voice.’
‘I have orders to expect a diplomatic car in at around six thirty. Its number is,’ and he turned to the ledger by the window. ‘Bother, some rain has splashed the entry. Is it 124 CD 050 or 124 CD 052? Whichever it is, that’s the only one.’
* The diplomatic plates of the Soviet and British embassy vehicles were as given in the text.
Le Dâng Khoã nodded sagely. ‘Yes, that’ll be the one,’ he said and turned away, making for the hut where Charlie’s men were. Under the umbrella he was just another pair of legs wearing green. He passed some men he recognised as Charlie’s, already on duty in the vicinity of the main building. He continued until he was about thirty metres from Charlie’s hut when he saw another figure nearing the hut from the other direction. As the other man lifted his umbrella he saw Nga Sô Lựự and paused momentarily before moving on. Le Dâng Khoã’s heart missed a beat. Act normally, he told himself, as he also made for the hut. About ten metres from it, he saw Nga Sô Lựự open the door, look inside and heard him say something he couldn’t catch as the rain was, by now, noisy on his umbrella. As Le Dâng Khoã reached the door, Nga Sô Lựự turned round, faced him and said, ‘Don’t waste your time here. I’ve checked it,’ and, almost as though he meant to say something else, changed his mind and stalked off in the direction from which he had come. He probably did not hear Le Dâng Khoã’s ‘No matter, Comrade. Just a routine check.’
Once the senior cadre was out of sight, Le Dâng Khoã opened the door and looked inside. There were Charlie and Phoun. He looked quizzically at Charlie who was looking bemused. ‘What’s up?’ the Vietnamese asked.
‘I am baffled. The man who looked in here a moment ago said, “You’re earlier than I expected. When,” and I did not catch the name, “comes, go and take your seat in the room behind the stage. I’ll call you.”’
The storm that hit Vientiane in the late afternoon spread down from the hills to the north and northwest and made Rance’s drive back slower than he had reckoned on. The road quickly lost any semblance of dust and turned into red mud that bespattered the car. The rain washed some of it off but the number plate stayed patchily mud-streaked. Leuam stopped the car a couple of times to wipe the windscreen and it was then that he was approached by the odd person to give them a lift and this he had willingly done, chatting with them and finding them friendly. When he reached the barrier into the Neutralised Zone, he was waved down and checked. Leuam was just about to start up and drive on when a man came hurrying down the steps from the guard tent and beckoned Rance to open the door for him. This Rance did and the man got in, turned to the Englishman with a smile and said, ‘I liked the way you spoke this morning. You said you were here representing your country and not taking sides.’
Rance looked at the man and said, indeed, that was correct but surely he hadn’t come out into the rain only to tell him that?
‘No, but I’d be most grateful if you take me to Ban Dong Nasok camp. The rain has delayed me. Can you get me there by 6 o’clock? Don’t mind, do you?’
Rance looked at his watch. ‘No problem. Glad to be of assistance. Away we go, Leuam and turn right near KM 5. We’ll take the short cut up the track that leads straight to the camp and that should get us there by,’ he made a calculation, ‘around 6 o’clock.’ He turned to his companion and continued, ‘if we were to go round the long way, we’d only get in by about half past and you’d be late.’
They drove off and, just as it was getting dark in the gloom of the overcast evening, reached the camp. The sentry looked as the dirty number plate, making out the 24 of the CD followed by 050, behind the red mud. The passenger opened the window and shouted out, ‘It’s all right, Comrade. I am the senior cadre in the main check point on Route 13.’
The sentry opened the barrier and, as the car drew level with him, put his head through the window and said, ‘Drive round to the left of the main building.’ He then turned to Rance and said, ‘Go in by the back door and wait till you are called for. That’s what the comrade said.’ He withdrew his head and beckoned the car on. Rance wondered who was to call him and why.
The cadre leant forward to Leuam and gave instructions as how best to go where directed. The lights of the car flashed against the window of the building as it neared, then swung away to the left as the cadre said, ‘Here we are. Halt, will you? I’ll get out and go by foot from here. I really appreciated the lift, Tan Colonen. Great help. Would have been in a fix if it had not been for you.’
He got out and walked away. Rance hesitated. The situation intrigued him but something was wrong somewhere. He told Leuam to switch off the engine and his lights. He got out and saw the door. He went up to it and opened it. There, to his intense surprise, was Charlie with several armed men. As he entered, Charlie whipped round and gave a little yelp of surprise when he saw who it was. He put his hand to his lips and went up to him. ‘Go away. Get out of here. You’re in mortal danger,’ he hissed in desperation. He looked outside and saw the car. ‘Continue round the block and leave. Drive as quickly as possible. For God’s sake go,’ and he turned the astonished Rance around and gave him a shove. Rance went to the car, pulled the door to, gave Leuam instructions and they drove off. Rance leant forward, thankful he’d memorised the plan of the camp. He directed Leuam and in a short time they were at the guardroom. Again the Guard Commander waved his down. ‘That was quick, Comrade. Dirty night, this. Back to the embassy? Long live Lao-Soviet friendship,’ and waved them on.
Inside the hall, the delegates ready for the meeting. The twenty-seven ‘hit men’ sat in the body of the hall near the stage in a semi-circle. The senior cadres had taken their places at the three tables on the stage and, even as Nga Sô Lựự was shuffling his papers, a car drove past, making the hall brighter and casting shadows. Nga Sô Lựự permitted himself a little smile of triumph: it’s working out well, he thought, although they have come separately. He had planned to give the main lecture first and then turn and rend those four traitors. Melodramatically he withdrew his pistol from its holster and put it on the table, checking once again that it was loaded as he did. He moved the safety catch to the fire position. The audience was armed but, except for him, none of the men on the stage carried weapons. He stood up, cleared his throat and started. ‘Comrades. Welcome. There is serious business tonight. During the evolvement of our Glorious Revolution …’
The Soviet car, driven by Vladimir Gretchanine with Mana in the front seat, passed Rance’s car about five minutes from the camp. The rain was still heavy and the lights of both cars obscured the other’s passengers’ view. At the gate the car was flagged down. The sentry came out into the rain, stooped below the barrier and beckoned the driver to lower the window. ‘What do you want?’ he asked in halting French. ‘No one is allowed here. You must go away.’
Vladimir Gretchanine remonstrated. ‘Don’t be so foolish, Comrade. I have already received clearance from Comrade Nga Sô Lựự. I came to the camp on 18 June, two days ago. Look at my number plate and check your records. Hurry up, my man, I’m a bit late as it is.’ He turned to Mana. ‘You tell him from your window. Bloody apes. None of you can ever do anything right.’
Mana said nothing and waited until the sentry returned from checking the records in the guardroom. ‘What’s wrong, Comrade?’ Mana asked.
‘Been a balls up somewhere. We’ve just let a car in with a European and a Lao. Sorry, you can’t go into the camp although the number’s OK, 124 CD 052, like the last car’s, except that its final number was 050 but as my records are smudged I believe that one and not this. Stay here. I’ll go and ask the Guard Commander.’
Mana translated that to the Soviet Colonel who cursed and swore but other than break the barrier or open it himself, there was not much he could do about taking the car in. Grumbling madly, he opened the door of the car and got out, a tall, heavily-built, silver-haired man with blue eyes. ‘Come on, then, Mana. Let’s walk it. Nga Sô Lựự said something about going round to the back of the main building. I’ll contact him and let you know. I’ll go in and ask him what the hell this is about.’
The Guard Commander joined them and the three men splashed their way towards the building. Charlie’s men on guard met them twenty metres away and challenged them. ‘Go to hell, you bloody Wogs,’ retorted the Soviet, thoroughly uncomfortable in the wet. ‘I’m going in there whatever you may urge to the contrary,’ and he indicated the closed door of the conference room.
‘Comrade Guard Commander, go back to your duty in the guardroom,’ said the senior man of Charlie’s group. To the Russian, ‘You cannot go in there. I order you to leave the camp immediately. Get out!’
With another oath, the Russian moved forward, taking not the slightest notice, this time for the main door, Mana following. The senior man acted swiftly and decisively to stop him from going inside. In one deft movement, he moved forward and kicked him hard in the back on the knees. Vladimir Gretchanine fell down heavily, getting plastered in mud. His temper snapped and he started threshing about, cursing hideously. By then Charlie and Phoun had reached the main door. Charlie saw what to do. ‘Phoun. Go back now. Off with the main switch when you hear me shout or any firing’
Inside the conference room, Nga Sô Lựự’s rhetoric and his obvious cold-blooded sincerity of purpose, let alone his deep-set black eyes with their glassy stare, had fully engaged the attention of the audience. The Four Rings, being on the side of the building nearest the door became aware of a rumpus before the others did. Le Dâng Khoã, in his capacity of being responsible for camp security, should have made an effort to find out what was happening but, in the belief that any initiative he took should be nicely balanced between prudent official reaction and his own survival, maintained a discreet silence. It was one of those nasty situations where whatever he did, he would probably be wrong. He gently nudged his neighbour, Thong Damdouane, who, turning, saw the sweat on Le Dâng Khoã’s upper lip. Some of the twenty-seven ‘hit men’ also heard the noise and started fidgeting, looking towards the door. Their inattention was suddenly noticed by Nga Sô Lựự who stopped abruptly in mid-sentence, cocking his head from side to side like an indignant hen. In a sudden hush there was an unmistakable English expletive.
‘What on earth’s that noise?’ he snapped as he looked at the door with fiendish intensity. ‘This is completely unforgivable. I won’t stand for this sort of thing under any circumstances.’ He took a step forward, lifted the pistol off the table, quivering tensely, and gave Le Dâng Khoã a villainous glance of concentrated hatred. ‘Comrades! Be fully alert. Be ready to take any action necessary but do nothing until I order you to.’
His voice was raised to a shrill bark of barely-suppressed emotion. The ‘hit men’ fondled their weapons, waiting for action. Hadn’t they been warned that Vientiane was a dangerous place? Luckily they were ready for anything – and anybody. One or two of them fixed their gazes on Le Dâng Khoã, wondering, as the Comrade in charge of security, how his system had broken down. Tension mounted. The noise grew louder and more confused.
Charlie was taken aback as any by the turn of events and, in the drizzle and confusion, found it hard to take in what was happening and who was involved. He saw the mud-bespattered Russian was on the point of opening the door. Once inside he would spoil everything and ruin Charlie’s plan so he had to be stopped. Charlie reached him before he could grasp the door handle and hit him really hard, on the side of the head, with the butt of his weapon. The Russian staggered and, in trying to regain his balance, caught hold of the door handle with his left hand, turning it, so the door swung open, into the room. He put his right hand around the lintel. ‘Muck me about?’ he snarled. Everyone inside saw him clearly and made ready to repel this new and still unexplained danger. Some of the cadres had risen to their feet, hands clutching weapons, crouched in an exaggerated pose, their eyes flicking from door to leader to door, waiting for the sign that would launch them into action.
Those sitting at the two side tables were gazing horrified at what they saw, and what Nga Sô Lựự also saw, and understood, as those on the nearer table understood but were helpless to do anything about. There, on the little finger of the tall, slumping European who had mouthed that English expletive, was a ring, their ring. The three who wore rings instinctively covered their own hands as though by so doing they could ward off inevitable disaster. Why had the Englishman tried to thrust himself on them so grotesquely, so out of character? They then, almost as one man, glancing at the Political Commissar whose eyes were riveted on that pink hand that pawed the lintel, almost caressingly with epicene stroking. And, in that moment, the Four Rings knew with sickening clarity that the senior Vietnamese cadre knew … as he raised his pistol. I’ll get that cursed Englishman, scum that he is. If ever a man was expendable … he thought savagely, almost beside himself with rage and the desire for revenge for the months of frustration and fretting. Then a head came round the door, a European with blue eyes, staring, fixed, frantic and malevolent, his grey hair streaked with blood. At that very moment the hard edge of Charlie’s rigid right hand struck him on the brachial plexus nerve bundle at the base of the neck. The Russian went limp and slumped. Simultaneously Nga Sô Lựự aimed between those maddened eyes, squeezed the trigger and killed the intruder with a single shot, exulting as he did so that he had got rid of one enemy, a fool and an interfering meddler. Now he would get rid of the others.
The Russian crashed forward – and, as Princess Golden Fairy had prophesied so long ago, ‘died a savage death’ – and Charlie saw a new Nga Sô Lựự, flushed and snarling, turn towards the table between him and the door and draw a bead on Le Dâng Khoã. Charlie fired. Nga Sô Lựự took the bullet between his coal-black eyes and his shot went madly wide, hitting Mana who had appeared in the doorway, standing over the dead Russian. Mana staggered back with a shriek and fell at Charlie’s feet. The lights went out and pandemonium ensued as the rest of Charlie’s team opened fire at the twenty-seven ‘hit men’, who, seeing nothing and not knowing what to do, blundered about, bumping into each other and firing at imaginary enemies they could not see, making the already unmanageable confusion into a nightmare of chaos. The guards and sentries from the other parts of the camp came doubling up to the conference hall to do battle with any renegades left alive. In the dark Mana made a supreme effort to rise and wrest Charlie’s weapon from him. Charlie turned back and finished Mana off with one bullet, never realising that the man he had killed was his own look-alike but unseen-since-babyhood elder brother.
Charlie dashed back to the rear of the hall, called his men off the stage and switched the lights on. Firing ceased. His men gathered behind him, he stepped onto the stage. In a commanding voice he shouted for calm at the moment that Le Dâng Khoã, arms waving for silence, quickly moved back onto the stage to join him. Wounded men moaned and struggled to rise.
‘Quiet! Silence! This meeting has to be cancelled,’ shouted Le Dâng Khoã. He had been joined by the other three Rings who loudly approved that decision.
Eventually order prevailed. Without waiting for the normal Communist practice of convening some sort of meeting, Charlie took the law into his own hands. ‘I will arrange to evacuate the body of this Russian and dispose of it properly. You’, he pointed to senior unwounded ‘hit man’, make arrangements for gathering the dead and the wounded, taking them to hospital and immediately informing the Politburo.’
He turned to his own squad. ‘Lift him up and carry him to the guardroom. If his own car is not there I’ll think again. Hurry. The quicker we get him away, the safer for everyone here.’
They lugged the body to the front of the camp and, yes, there was the car. Charlie felt in the dead man’s pockets and produced the ignition key. Put him in the front seat and I’ll drive,’ he said. ‘Three of the squad sit in the back, the rest find your way over the river to Nong Khai. Once there wait for me.’
Before Charlie drove the Soviet DA’s car away, Le Dâng Khoã, who had been following close behind, took the ring off the corpse’s finger, wiped it on his trousers and put it on his own hand. Charlie and he waved farewell to each other and the Thai drove away to Thad Luang where, in a piece of delicious and unintended irony, he parked the car in front of the shacks where the quarrelling and vicious catamites lived. Dousing the lights, he and one of his men shifted the corpse over into the driver’s seat, quietly shut the door and left on foot.