Thirty Six

Captain Vaenkeo didn’t like to be pissed off. First there was that Chinaman, taking on his elite with reckless abandon. Once the odds turned again his way, the brand new PC38 jeep disintegrated as it was lifted into the air, peppered with shrapnel from an aging bomb. Now things got even further complicated. Two farang westerners were coming into view. They were walking awkwardly, a clear indication that their sudden desire to step into an on-going pitch battle was being managed at the end of a gun.

The Blood Ravens presence out on the plain was no accident. The skilful sweep of Louise’s home in Portishead threw up more than her avid interest in Bristol City FC. They knew all about her dispatches to Laos, her quest for information on the errant Canadian father. Tracking the group to this point of the plain was simply a matter of a few scared witnesses pointing the way. Locals from a hill-top village were easily cajoled into directing them to a long forgotten track, talk of evil spirits guarding the way towards the shimmering hills. From there it was easy, not many visitors to follow in this part of the world.

Watching the theatre play out below him, a few of those careful laid out plans were close to unfolding. They still occupied much of the high ground and had the advantage of numbers plus better equipment, courtesy of generous expenses from the Vientiane administration. They also held one further advantage, one that would come to the forefront at any minute.

Rapid firing from each flank caused the captain to flinch. This was a sudden unexpected development. Who in the hell else was out here? Whistling bullets scattered the ground close to where the party now stood. A few hit the ground, wary for getting hit in the sudden melee. Clearly this was a show of strength, a display of muscle to indicate firepower superiority. Perhaps they were outnumbered. There was always the chance they could be ringed in, surrounded by a well-armed force. Another blow was struck against Vaenkeo’s carefully constructed plans. Through all this still the captain smiled.

All around him, green coated ravens searched the gully for further signs of action. More shots came, though they could see no silhouetted figures. To their front the man holding the two apparent hostages continued to make his way towards them. Even from this distance, the captain recognised the mild off-centre walk belonging to Kae. He seemed to lean lightly to the left, giving an image of being off balance, a present from a close hit and run sanctioned deep within the corridors of PC38 last year. At the time Vaenkeo saw the miss as an amateur cock-up, only now realising how lucky it was to keep Kae walking these past few months.

As the Chinaman moved closer to Kae, a wave of uncertainty ran over the surviving Blood Ravens, many lowering their guns as they sought instruction. With two farang in the theatre the rules were far from clear. Given their numbers and position, most would feel there was a clear shot on the Thai. Stopping him from pulling his own trigger on the two captives was a different matter. A delay in hitting the target, putting Kae down onto the floor, could put the farang out cold with him. Any dead-man’s spasm could easily depress the trigger and send all three to the floor. A lucrative army career with the PC38 elite would die with them.

“I’m going to shoot them if any man so much as moves. We have you surrounded and we’re not leaving until you load us up with what we want!”

With these words Kae was all too aware that the pivotal climax was in reach. The presence of so many Blood Ravens gave the situation a volatile edge. Even should they be fooled into believing their small but potent force was surrounded, there was every chance they might still favour a high stakes gun battle. Their unit was far from noble, more a renegade collection of elite assassins. Lowering their guns would show more than embarrassing loss of face. Their reputation for chilling reprisals and black ops skirmishes counted for much in the ranks of modern Laos’s legend. Likewise their current captives needed careful confinement. Must didn’t move, instead choosing to witness how their leader handled the changing mood.

The captain moved forward, still smiling. He was careful with his choice of words.

“Of all the people to see here, Kae. I heard your cafe was targeted by terrorists. Made a complete mess. Raw chickens in the kitchen came up charcoal brown. I saw the scene for myself. Might have thought a man would choose to run from that?”

Kae edged forward with his two captives, closing the gap with the approaching captain to a few barren feet. Vig stood in the wings, gaining a touchline view of the exchange to come. Unconsciously his index finger tugged reassuringly on the trigger. The direction he aimed depended a lot on how Kae handled his delicate negotiations. The Thai was hardly on fire at the moment, crass decisions since their promising departure from Vientiane were digging them deep within a mere. Any terms or conditions between them didn’t include suicide.

“It is always good to meet an open government representative such as yourself Vaeonkeo. I hope you kept a souvenir from your favourite cafe? I wonder if your party bosses logged how often you would lunch there? They might have noted the times other diners chose to eat, perhaps even those on their books!”

“You have no hold over me Kae. Who are you to threaten me?” The captain raised his hand in mock dramatic effect. “How many of those party elite also took up kind offers of hand rolled Havanas in carpeted rooms with no ears? We’re now facing each other out here, the fabled Plain of Jars and no eavesdropping official within a hundred miles.”

“You are wrong again Vaeonkeo.” This time it was Kae attempting to smile. It came less naturally than the captain’s. “You might have a few rouge troops watching your behind, but I have the high ground. One nervous gesture from you and they’ll cut you down.”

“I don’t see your army Kae? A few unreliable mercenaries could hardly threaten the Blood Ravens.”

As a gesture of intent, Kae prodded Rusty and Jean with his pistol, nodding at Vig as he did. Playing psychological games were a forte for Kae, but this was a dangerous stand-off, one he was still to enjoy.

“A brave man stands in the open and argues with an unseen gun at his head. A braver man risks the lives of innocents before him.”

“Come on Kae. I can’t talk openly with your farang between us. We need to have an offering, carry the risk so to speak. Why not pass one over, a gesture. You can keep the girl under your loaded barrel.” The captain brought out his hand as if he were to invite one into his own lair.

Kae was about to speak, but was cut short by the bulk of Rusty moving towards Vaeonkeo, taking the captains words as permission to cross the invisible line and move one step nearer to the Blood Ravens. It didn’t strike Kae as odd that Rusty was following the conversation, spoken in Kae’s native Thai. He was too focused on the immediate consequences for giving up a hostage. Being the closest to Rusty, he chose not to reach out, wishing instead to keep Jean under closer confinement. He perceived her as his jewel, the one great chip for the final hand. He pulled tight on Jean’s collar to bring her back towards him.

Vig measured he was in touching distance of the Australian. His arm went to grab Rusty’s sleeve, pull him back a yard or two, but missed as Rusty nimbly sidestepped and continued his way towards the amused captain. The speed and grace surprised Vig. He thought he caught a brief shift in the captain’s bemused expression, a brief glint of triumph. Kae began raising his pistol; pointing it towards Rusty the instant Vig levelled his own firing arm.

The skilful move shook them down. Within reach of Vaenkeo, Rusty quickly dropped as firing started. Vig’s carefully placed bullet slammed into the ground below Kae’s feet causing Jean to skip back in shock. It made the Thai turn sharply, losing his aim. Simultaneously the Captain kicked a planted automatic within reach of the Australian’s grip. He turned and fired twice, both bullets hitting Kae in the chest. The Thai fell back, hitting the ground hard. He tried to speak, only managing a hoarse hiss from deep inside, a low gurgle pronounced his final struggle for air. Vig fought to look away only to be drawn into Kae’s last piercing stare. He expected regret, fear or a final glance of dejected disappointment. All he found was anger.

Mike saw Jean run across towards them, her face still ashen white from her ordeal. It was not Jean he was watching. Rusty dusted down his jeans and slowly rose to his feet. He suddenly appeared bigger, more athletic, as if a hidden shape now strained to escape his cotton T-shirt. He nodded at Mike, a passing acknowledgment of their time navigating Asia together, before dutifully made his way towards Captain Vaeonkeo. How did Rusty know the renegade Captain? How much did the Captain now know? Thoughts of betrayal troubled Mike more than the deafening gunfight just witnessed.