Thirty Seven

Before Mike could begin taking stock of the situation Louise was at his side. There was the usual intense clear flicker to her eyes, a deep clarity always bringing ample life to her face, though this time sharper, a streak of anger directed at him. He thought of putting up a defence, perhaps simply turning away, but knew what was coming and would bite his tongue; knew also how much would be true.

“Hell Mike, what kind of friends do you choose? Anyone else you’ve dragged around South East Asia I should know about? How many other hoodlums did you sweep off the streets of Bangkok! Did you see him handle that gun? This isn’t some tanned beach guru from Australia. This guy is dangerous! When we took you in to our trusted camp, rescued you from the jungle wilderness, we took Rusty in as your friend. We bowed to your choice and judgement because I respected that. Who knows what he was up to whilst he was with us!”

Mike allowed the words to wash through him, sullenly looking away as he took in his guilt. Sure, how could he have known about Rusty; their chance meeting in Bangkok no longer the accidental encounter he imagined. Still, the betrayal cut at him almost as much as it did Louise. The carefree conversations, the talk of moving up north to search for Louise - all of it planned. He was stopped from dwelling any further on self-regret by the presence of the new look toned Australian. Muscles previously invisible were easily apparent through the green striped T-shirt. His shadow cast a new menacing pose in the glaring heat.

“Don’t feel so glum Mike!” There was an edge of genuine conviction in Rusty’s voice. It was all he could do not to tap Mike’s back. “Everyone must work for someone. Look at you? Think you are the roaming free spirit, the carefree independent traveller? What of the suburban Pembertons, paying your lodgings and fair. Think you would be here without them? Bloody hell, you knew nothing of the Pha Bang. You were just over here to track down an ex-girlfriend, and well, you’ve found here haven’t you! This isn’t a comic adventure Mike. It never was. Something as big as that gets noticed. You have a paymaster, well so do I. They might not be so acceptable to your world of crystal ethics but mine is not like that. I have talents and experience, trades learnt in the hard graft of Australian special forces. I can’t use them in a bank so I might as well lend my services to the captain here and his fellow band of Blood Ravens. Ethics aside, they are part of the government here. Maybe a little elicit, tucked out-of-sight, but part of the system nevertheless.”

“They’re renegade Rusty, don’t delude yourself.”

It was Louise who chipped in, one arm comforting Jean, still nursing a look of bewildered shock.

There was no time to respond. Vig stood some feet away, largely ignored. His pivotal warning shot to stun Kae spared any immediate plans to stake him to a tree. He was looking over towards where the cave mouth burrowed back to the promised resting place of the Pha Bang. For perhaps the first time in many months his expression exposed a glimpse of genuine surprise.

“Who the hell?”

His question remained unanswered. The group emerging through the cave opened up with a barrage of automatic fire. Loose rock dislodged, showering their party with dusty scree as the men honed their sights on the surrounding Blood Ravens. Vig levelled his gun. This time no warning shot was given. He fired twice at the figure nearest to him. Captain Vaenkeo wasn’t even watching, his focus on reorganising his remaining troops, those not currently in full retreat over the hill. The captain’s body slumped forward as Vig’s bullets drilled their target, puncturing through Vaenkeo’s torso. His body fell heavily to the floor.

Turning away, Mike could see the stocky figure of Pin moving slowly away from the cave. He crouched low to the ground, moving with the stealth akin to a Sumo, aiming his Russian AK47 towards the few remaining Blood Ravens. Low on numbers and lacking leadership, they skulked away, their arrogance lost in the humiliation. Dan stood with the remaining Hmong, charged with un-syphoned adrenalin. They looked hungry for a fight, reluctantly standing down once Pin lowered his aim. Smoke from the skirmish shrouded the cave, concealing the entrance with a mystical veil. Perhaps this was how it should look when the early rays of sun gently stoked the morning dew, on days when strangers stayed away. A silent calm befell the plain, like a vortex collapsing the air of charged violence before a fragile normality returned, whispered conversations and sorrowful pleas.

Mike clear forgot that the Hmong search party was still in hearing distance. They were looking for a second entrance behind the mass of granite forming the upper end of the gully, a promising back way in to unveil the Pha Bang.

With the pistol from Vaenkeo clasped in his hand, a golden ticket to exit the gully, Rusty forced a thin smile. Rather than the intended amicable face he hoped to pull his attempt at a passing smile reeked of conceited guilt.

“Sorry guys, looks like my pay-cheque needs chasing. I’ll check for you in one of those open-fronted bars off the Koh San Road when I reach Bangkok. Been quite a ride!”

He backed off, slowly at first. The gun pointed safely down, still in range if the situation broke. They knew he could skilfully weald it from before. Mike tensed, hoping the Hmong would hold back. A few yards out Rusty braved one last nod, before turning his back to continue his long journey back to Vientiane. If a priceless Buddha were not taking centre stage they might still have walked out friends.

Louise went to say something; a need to unleash a final volley before Rusty slipped away forever then held back. The moment for anger was passed. He was now gone, all the harm and deceit moving with him. He would need acute and delicate bargaining to get anything from PC38, including his life. Rusty would fare better keeping away from the public gaze. The Blood Ravens were returning home minus an irate captain and without the prize Buddha. The secret walls of Vientiane might ring louder with more than the sounds of shouting.

Silently she took Mike’s cue and followed him, gingerly making her way down the steep gully towards the cave. She held Jean’s hand, guiding her down to the safety of Dan and Pin. Passing the upturned jeep prompted her to check for Vig. The gnarled Chinaman chose not to follow. He raised his arm to wish them well before disappearing, again a free agent hoping to connect with the next paying cause. If lessons were learnt he might be choosier over his next employer. From out of the long shadows two armed fugitives stepped, trailing Vig silently. Without him they would still be trapped in a bloody stand-off.

Around them lay the ugly scars of recent battle. The tarnished smell of spent gunpowder, sweetened with acrid cordite drifted through them, the burnt odour lingering long enough to cling to their clothes. At one point Mike carefully brushed a limp arm aside least Louise or Jean made contact. The owner lay partly concealed with a neat nine mm hole through the jaw bone, the sole blemish of an otherwise peaceful mien. Above the hawks and vultures gathered impatiently for rich pickings. Smaller birds scurried on the ground close by, less cautious than their hovering counterparts.

As the gully flattened out, leading to a gentle rise towards the cave, Pin’s group by the entrance no longer looked the relived victors they had moments earlier. There was a newcomer. Whether it was the drifting smoke from battle or mist rolling out from the plains, a plume of hazy vapour hung off the figure, clinging like a wizard’s winter coat.