After having breakfast together, Cavalier and Natt checked out of the hotel and visited the Thailand–Burma Railway Centre near the war cemetery, which was run by Rod Beattie, an Australian ex-pat. Cavalier took notes, interviewed former engineer Beattie, who claimed to be the world expert on the railway, and then drove on Highway 323 with Natt to the Hellfire Pass Memorial Museum at Konyu, which the Australian government had established in 1998.
During a coffee break in the museum’s cafe, Cavalier opened his iPad. He didn’t have to turn to Thaivista.com this time. The overthrow was worldwide news.
‘The coup is official,’ he said quietly to Natt. ‘The military has sacked the government and taken over.’
‘Had to happen,’ she shrugged. ‘Do you want to go back to Bangkok?’
‘No. We go on to the border, as planned.’
‘Do you still wish to see the Weary Dunlop Park and the Tiger Temple?’
Cavalier glanced at his watch. ‘Just the Dunlop Park,’ he said, ‘I can go to the temple and pat the tigers any time.’
Natt backtracked a few kilometres south to the well-manicured park that a Thai had set up in memory of famous Australian POW surgeon Lieutenant-Colonel Edward ‘Weary’ Dunlop. Cavalier did a tour of the memorial and was back in the car just as a busload of Japanese tourists arrived. He looked at his iPad again.
‘Weird,’ he murmured. ‘The generals and their “National Peace and Order Maintenance Council” are shutting down TV news services and stations. They may even shut down Facebook. They’ve arrested some local journalists in Bangkok. Hmmm,’ he continued, ‘been at a few war fronts, but I’ve never been in a coup before.’ Checking his phone, he saw he had two messages, from Driscoll and Gregory, urging him to leave Thailand.
‘Will your cricket matches still go ahead?’ Natt asked.
‘I think so, at least in Chiang Mai.’ Cavalier watched the Japanese tourists wandering into the park. ‘What would they be doing here?’ he asked.
‘The railway was a big engineering feat,’ Natt commented.
Cavalier glanced at her to see if she was being sarcastic. She wasn’t. ‘I guess that’s right,’ he said, ‘it was a spectacular construction in such a short time. Pity they had to murder hundreds of thousands of humans to do it.’ He took pictures of the tourists. ‘The museum’s a wondrous exhibition for the Japanese, especially as the propaganda on the walls doesn’t mention the numbers slaughtered.’ His gaze returned to his iPad screen. ‘It’s just a pity the place is named after a true Australian hero.’
While Natt drove back to the highway heading north Cavalier searched for more information on the coup. ‘Huh!’ he grunted. ‘The generals are going to pay off the rice farmers.’
‘They should!’
‘That’ll get some of the red shirts on side.’ He flicked through several more websites. ‘Your new rulers are thinking about cutting off access to the internet,’ he said, scrutinising the screen.
Natt showed little reaction as they motored on towards the mountains at the border. After several minutes, in which Cavalier scribbled notes, she asked, ‘Did you gather enough for your article?’
‘I did,’ he said, ‘thank you.’
Cavalier took photos of the impenetrable jungle, with thick, interlocking vines and scrub. ‘Wouldn’t get two metres into that,’ he muttered, ‘no wonder not many diggers tried to escape.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, ‘I was thinking aloud.’ He slid his fedora over his eyes and slumped in his seat, pushing the backrest to a forty-five-degree angle. ‘Wake me when we reach the mountains,’ he added and fell asleep within minutes. Three hours later, he awoke to them winding around the mountains on a narrow road leading to the Three Pagodas Pass and the Burma border. As he righted his seat, Cavalier clutched his back and groaned.
‘What’s wrong?’ Natt asked.
‘I’m afraid,’ he said with a grimace, ‘shagger has returned.’
‘What?’
‘Shagger’s back. It’s a nasty condition caused by contorting your back in positions it’s not used to.’ He managed to wince a smile at Natt. ‘I’ll need a remedial massage, a good one, and about two hours’ manipulation. It usually only lasts a day or two but better book two separate rooms again. I’m afraid I’m in for a restless night.’
They arrived at 6 p.m. at a resort on the Song Kalia River in Three Pagodas Pass at the Thai–Burma border. The resort, surrounded by mountains, was not luxurious but tranquil and pleasant with views along the river, which seemed more like a series of lakes.
‘The Pass has historical importance,’ Natt informed Cavalier as they waited in his room for the masseuse. ‘The Burmese have used it for invasions of Thailand since the war between the two countries in 1548.’ She paused and asked, ‘Why do you do research here?’
‘The Japanese built the railway through this mountain pass into Burma and there’s a memorial to Australian POWs here. There was also a slave camp here, but I think the river waters have swamped it over the decades.’
Rose, the masseuse, arrived. Her jet-black hair, dark skin and black–brown eyes indicated she was Burmese.
‘I’ll have a meal in the room later,’ Cavalier said to Natt, ‘and then I’ll sleep. See you for breakfast at 10 a.m.? I’ll try an early morning walk to see if I’ve recovered. And can we meet in the village? I’d like to sample the local food.’
‘What else do you wish to do tomorrow?’
‘Stay around the area, rest a little.’
‘And then?’
‘It’ll depend on how fit I am and what’s happening with the coup.’
Natt nodded, hugged him and left.
Cavalier stripped to his underpants and lay on the bed. He spoke to Rose in Thai and explained his problem. After about twenty minutes of probing and manipulation, she had alleviated the pain. He asked her if she was from one of the hill tribes.
Rose hesitated. ‘I can’t say,’ she said coyly as she continued her work.
‘Why?’
‘There are visa issues sometimes.’
‘Let me guess,’ he said, turning his head to look at her, ‘the hill tribes don’t have citizenship in either country. You don’t have a visa?’
Rose blushed but did not respond.
‘I want to visit Burma,’ he said, lying flat again.
‘When?’
‘Tonight.’
Rose didn’t respond and continued massaging. After an hour, she asked him to test his back. He walked around the room, gingerly at first and then with more confidence. When he stretched, there was now only a marginal twinge. Rose then worked on his back for another twenty minutes.
‘Would you like a complete massage?’ she asked.
‘Thank you,’ Cavalier said. Rose proceeded to work on him, demonstrating surprising strength in her hands. He had to ask her to ease back when she worked on his Achilles.
‘Bit weak there,’ he explained.
‘You have had injuries,’ she observed. ‘Snapped?’
‘One, partially,’ he said.
‘How did it happen?’
‘Er . . . army exercises.’
‘You are in the Australian army?’
‘Air force, briefly.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘About thirty-five years ago. But there have been many recurrences.’
‘In war?’
Cavalier twisted to look at her again. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I think you have foreign bodies there. Bomb fragments, perhaps?’
‘Christ! Have I?!’ He sat up and ran his hand over his right Achilles. He couldn’t make out anything except what he had always thought of as hardened scar tissue on the tendon.
‘A surgeon could remove them,’ Rose said.
‘No,’ he said adamantly and, thinking of his recent prostate biopsy, added, ‘I’ve had enough of surgeons.’
‘I do not mean to restring the tendon. Just to clean it up.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said, resuming his prone position.
After Rose had finished, he bounced off the bed and reached for his wallet. ‘I feel terrific,’ he said, ‘you’re a genius! How much?’
‘For two hours, a thousand baht.’
He handed her the money and took out another two thousand baht.
‘If you can get me across the border tonight . . .’ he said in a half-whisper, nodding to the notes.
Rose shook her head. ‘Too dangerous,’ she whispered.
‘Why?’
‘Border guards are trigger happy.’ She stared at him, assessing his reaction. ‘Why do you wish to go?’
‘Just having a look. I’m told the hill area is really beautiful.’
‘You don’t have a visa?’
‘Not even Thais can cross, because of the coup. Foreigners have no chance.’
Rose was still hesitant.
‘How do you go home?’ he asked.
She turned her head away. He pushed the money into her hand.
‘Tonight? Now?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
Rose sat on the bed and made a phone call in Burmese. Cavalier couldn’t comprehend everything, but it was clear that she was making an arrangement. He began to prepare his backpack. The conversation went on so long that he was packed and ready to go when she ended the call. He asked her to move quietly past Natt’s room. ‘I don’t want her to know what I’m doing,’ he whispered.
Rose looked at him but said nothing. He followed her to the front of the hotel and her motorbike. He hopped on the back and she drove a few kilometres to the riverbank, where she hid the bike in foliage. The sky was cloudy but the moon poked through and lit up the area.
‘I do this every night,’ she said, seeing his concerned look. She pointed up to a rickety wooden bridge. ‘Crouch low and follow me.’
Cavalier felt vulnerable as they climbed a ladder to the elevated structure. He froze when a searchlight flowed over the bridge and the water five metres below. It took four minutes to creep the couple of hundred metres to the other side.
‘Welcome to Myanmar,’ Rose said with a smile.
Cavalier remained watchful. He stopped when he saw movement about fifty metres away on the bank they had just reached. He tapped Rose on the shoulder and pointed. She squinted into the blackness. People were placing boxes and bags on a row boat.
‘Drug runners,’ she said with a shrug, ‘happens all along the border at night.’
‘What drugs?’
‘Methamphetamines and heroin.’
‘Don’t the border guards do anything?’
‘No,’ she scoffed, ‘the Myanmar government officials are all bought off by the producers. If you are on any of the roads tomorrow, you’ll see them in their big, expensive cars. They, in turn, buy off the guards.’
‘Don’t the Thais do anything?’
‘In some places, but not here, or at the Golden Triangle.’
They moved along a path.
‘Don’t talk about the Thais,’ she said firmly as they reached a wider dirt road. ‘They are up to their necks in it, especially the hospitals.’
‘How?’
‘They sell millions of cold and flu tablets made from pseudoephedrine to the Myanmar gangs. They use the tablets to produce methamphetamine. They then smuggle it back into Thailand, where people have more money. China is becoming a big buyer too.’
‘Christ! What a merry-go-round! Where’s it produced?’ Cavalier asked. He wanted to take notes but was worried she might clam up.
‘There are factories. One is near here.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I do remedial work in the hospitals. I see it happening every time I’m in one.’
‘It’s so blatant!’
‘If everyone is involved and bought off, there is no one to stop it.’ After a pause, Rose surprised him by saying, ‘I know you are a journalist.’
‘Oh?’
‘Nattanun told me. She said I had to report on what you said to me. I did not like that. Sometimes the Thais can be arrogant towards us.’
‘Did she say what I was researching?’
‘She said you were writing something about history. She didn’t sound convinced.’
‘It is history.’
‘I looked you up on the net. You do not write history.’
‘No, but this is a story about—’
‘I see more and more young Thais in the hospitals,’ she said, interrupting him, ‘drug addicts. They have more money than my people, but we are seeing addiction on the rise too. It needs to be cleared up. You should write something to expose what’s happening.’
Cavalier wanted to tell her that was part of his mission, but thought better of it. ‘Where exactly is this drug-making factory?’ he asked.
‘The only way to reach it is by a track on the mountain that goes up about two kilometres and then down again on the other side.’ Cavalier pulled out a notepad and she scribbled a crude map. ‘Just follow this track up to a fork and go right. But be very careful. Trucks are coming from the bunker and there is no room on the path for anything but them.’
‘Bunker?’
‘We call it that. The factory is underground. It was constructed to be out of sight of aerial reconnaissance. Everyone is paranoid about drones that sweep over the area.’
Cavalier thought of the aerial photos of Mendez’s Chiang Mai compound. ‘What will you do now?’ he asked, looking at his watch. ‘It’s 10 p.m.’
‘My brother will be here soon. He’ll drive me to our parents’ house, which is about twenty kilometres away. And you?’
‘I’d like to take some photos.’
‘I thought you would wait until the morning. Rest your back.’
‘My back is okay, thanks to you.’
‘You can stay at our home.’
‘Thank you, but I’d like to do this tonight.’
‘But how will you return to the hotel?’
‘I’ll find a way.’
‘You can’t return over the bridge. You’ll have to go another route.’ She came close, looking at him intently. ‘We came across at a certain hour. After midnight there are more guards. Sometimes they shoot to kill. It’s too much of a gamble. Especially now, with curfews and closed borders.’
Cavalier hesitated. He trusted this woman because of her diligence as a therapist and her concern about the drug problem. ‘When do you return across the border?’ he said.
‘The safest time is just before dawn. The guards are drunk, or drugged or asleep.’
They heard the rumble of a vehicle.
‘That’s my brother. If you won’t come home with us, it’s better he doesn’t see you.’
‘Okay. I’ll meet you here at 5.30 a.m. Got it?’
Rose nodded.
‘I need your phone number,’ Cavalier said. After punching it into his phone, he walked briskly down the track and was out of sight only seconds before the car arrived.