Chapter Twenty Four

Kae was expecting a car to pull up outside, something neither new nor sporty. Darkness was close by. It meant that once again Vig was efficiently following his directions. The deep deliberate note from the engine suggested a diesel, presumably a four-wheel drive. They would need it. He pushed the blinds back just sufficiently to have a limited view of the parking lot Vig was instructed to use. He heard no accompanying commotion, so was comfortable that the authorities weren’t putting in a surprise visit. Twilight was setting in but he could see what he needed. He noted the top-heavy figure of Vig jump out from the front door and kick away some discarded boxes to make space. The parking lot was in reality the rear of a noodle bar, rubbish included. He saw the head of a passenger, only to feel a tinge of disappointment. He was hoping the ever-reliable Vig would have enlisted at least two stooges for their journey ahead. They were likely to require expertise in several departments, muscle and gun-handling a pre-requisite. He now knew what they were up against.

He turned to watch Jean return to the room. Her hair was cleanly knotted together; matted from the warm shower from which she came. Most Laos hostels only offered cold water; having a hot tap was a temporary luxury. Her spare clothes were still jammed in her discarded rucksack, hastily abandoned beside the bus, probably now being sifted through by forensics in some government compound. Instead she was sporting a long cotton shirt from Kae’s own labelled collection with a pair of pressed shorts. Looking more like a camera-wielding cruise passenger than a missing backpacker, she looked comfortable in her new attire. She accomplished a brief twirl, an act bringing a genuine smile to Kae’s tired face. During Vig’s absence he had invested much talk and plentiful charm on Jean. It was important, if not imperative, that she trusted them. Jean was one of the few advantages they held and he was not about to allow any haste or clumsiness undo their trump card. Her playful twirl brought him real pleasure, for it proved she was now on-board, fully and unwittingly signed up to Kae’s enlarging crew of gold-diggers. It occurred to him that a harmless piece of flirting might seal the day, something he held little experience of when it came to women. Instead Kae put on one of his entertaining looks and brought his hands together in mock applause.

“You look good, Jean. Who would have thought my thrown-together clothes would suit you so well? Now, any minute Vig is going to arrive. He’s brought with him a friend who will help us. I think that we should lose no more time. I know that it’s late in the day. Once you are ready we will get going.”

“Do you think that we’ll find them?” Her voice held a plea much like a lost pupil searching out a classroom on her first day of school. This was very tough for her.

“Of course we will. We’ll retrace their steps and get you that reunion sooner than you could hope for. You just need to stay brave and we can all work on this together. We’ll get your friends back. As we speak my fellow guests have just returned.”

The coded knock caused Kae little consternation this time, having already witnessed Vig neatly park between the boxes without a flotilla of Vientiane’s finest at his back. He wasted no time in loading the battered Chinese jeep with the few essentials he possessed. On a last run to the apartment he was briefly able to collar Vig.

“Why only one?”

“There you’re wrong,” Vig replied with the quiet confidence of one who knew they were in the right. “I have another man already employed, someone with surveillance skills and a mobile phone. A suspicious Hmong left the museum earlier. These guys don’t hang around those sorts of places. They’re tribal people; most of them can’t even read. Why the museum? I can’t see it being a cultural outing. I just have a hunch that it could be tied in. My other man is watching him as we speak. It could be useful. I trust him enough to report what he sees. He’ll be discreet.”

“OK, but make sure he keeps in touch and doesn’t stray too far. I don’t want the risk of someone cocking this up any more than it has been already. If I give the signal for any reason, I want him pulled. He should be watching our asses, not scooting through Laos on a whim of yours.”

“Naturally Kae,” Vig replied, with formal deference. “You’re their employer and if you pay well can be their king. I’ve told him to keep in close contact. He’ll make sure he’s not seen, like I say, discreet.”

As they left the apartment for the last time a neighbour’s radio was loudly broadcasting a weather bulletin. A gloomy outlook was being forecast, local flooding and light structural damage possible. Neither man paid too much attention to talk of summer storms. They needed all their focus and wit to get out of Vientiane without PC38 burying them in a lonely ravine.

With darkness descending, the jeep jolted its occupants whilst reversing over an open drainage trench. If Jean felt any fear or discomfort taking a ride into the Laos countryside at night with virtual strangers she showed no sign. Something that would have previously set off deep anxiety pangs tonight caused her minimal concern. All she wanted was to see Mike and Rusty once more. She had no choice but to place all trust in Vig and the man who called himself Kae. She stared blankly ahead, barely curious as to why they travelled by night. The headlights picked out jumbled roadside stalls and cyclists hogging the road, oblivious to all motorised transport. Vig cut one up savagely, causing the man to raise his fist in futile rage. Cursing, he reached into his pocket for his phone. There were few traffic laws and none concerning phone use.

The conversation was curt; a few grunts from Vig signalled the end. Jean understood nothing but Kae picked up most of it. Vig’s covert tail was earning his money and appeared to have hooked into something. The Hmong had been seen pedalling away on a bicycle in the direction of a certain hijack investigation scene. It was over twenty miles, a long way on a ratty old Marxist bike. The tail was thoroughly pissed off when told to commandeer suitable wheels and get on his bike. As there were no telecom signals outside of the capital, the luckless guy was instructed to make contact with the ageing Chinese jeep on the road. There would be few vehicles to confuse it with. Most of the population chose to leave the roads alone at night.

Vig took a less direct route out from the city, one involving more pedestrians and cyclists. The back streets would offer greater protection from PC38 informants. No longer constrained by time, they could relax their journey speed. It was important to keep the cycling Hmong in front of them. He would act as their slow-moving beacon. One specific street appeared quieter than most. Partway down a man emerged waving a baton. The peaked hat bore the same emblem as the ubiquitous traffic police.

“Little fucker!”

Vig floored the labouring diesel and swerved in the man’s direction. He clipped the outstretched baton, knocking it clean from the man’s commanding grip. The impact pushed the man back onto the rough sidewalk. Jean saw the uniform and gave a short intake of breath.

“What have you done? That was the police! You could have killed a cop!” she said, her voice trailing away in shocked disbelief.

“Stay steady there, Jean.” It was Kae with the reassuring voice. “I would bet good money that he was no cop. You can buy those uniforms at the Friday market. A few yokels jump about dark streets pretending to be the law, dishing out fines to line their pockets. It can be a lucrative industry.”

Kae knew this happened in India and other parts of South Asia, but suspected the practice was more restricted in Laos. The communist government dealt out tighter controls, preferring heavier chains to rein in the more innovative citizens. The chances were it probably was a lowly law enforcement officer kicking his heels at being sent out to patrol the Vientiane backwaters. The last thing they wanted was to get a tug on their way out of the city from a bored cop. The way that Kae was feeling right now it would be all too easy to panic and put a bullet through the patrol officer’s white ironed shirt. His jitters were far from cured with PC38 still looking to smother him. Vig did well in running the officer off the road. The poor bastard probably got a few trophy bruises out of their encounter. At least he looked to be acting alone and wasn’t sharp enough to get in a few shots at their jeep. To counter any such threat Vig decided on pulling a few sharp weaves over the uneven road. It did little other than churn the occupants’ stomachs up that much further.

The remainder of the journey, rolling through the north Vientiane suburb, passed without excitement. The roads remained quiet, save for a few stray dogs howling as they passed. Kae was aware that they were not in a position to charge ahead and make up time. They were playing third fiddle to a bicycle chase. He was also aware that a call needed to be made.

As the first serious tree clusters marked the border between city and country he started to breathe a little easier, knowing that the risk of any police chase was fast diminishing. Within a short distance neon lights and plastic chairs indicated a small roadside bar, a crudely erected thatched awning providing cover from some of the elements. Kae got Vig to pull over and ventured in, searching for a payphone. He was surprised that a few large droplets of rain caught his head as he sought out the owner. It was rarely wet during the long summer.

His overseas call was fraught with delays and difficulties. Whilst Kae quietly swore, the others huddled around cups of warm green tea, wondering why their anointed leader was becoming increasingly hot under the collar of his neatly ironed Ben Sherman shirt. Kae was facing frustration on two fronts. Getting outside lines from rural Laos was burning up his patience and when he did finally get through the professional in England was unable to provide much more than was already reported. His rummage through Louise’s room in leafy Portishead did little more than confirm what Kae already pretty much knew. Louise was in touch with the jungle-dwelling Canadian pilot who called himself Dad, but whether she knew much more than this remained a blank. Since their last talk the overpaid thief spent more of Kae’s expenses getting a memory stick decoded. During the break-in he was under very strict instructions to leave the PC intact but grab any removable media they could subsequently trawl through. Kae saw little point in letting others know exactly where they were looking. As expected, there were downloads of Louise’s CVs and party pictures, some bank letters and benign messages, but nothing on what ‘daddy’ had been up to in the jungle all these years. It was now all down to the bicycling mercenary and hapless Mike to pull in the goodies. He hoped any groping attempt by PC38 to dig information out from Portishead would be equally uninspiring. He knew that if they had not already been to the Pembertons then they would be very close behind. He wondered what tactic the agents would employ - probably something low key. They wouldn’t dare risk drawing attention to a missing backpacker case in Laos. No point whetting the appetite of bored local journalists.

With their enforced break at an end, Kae called for them all to follow. He was in a decidedly worse mood than before, leaving his temporary following little option but to fall in behind him. The rain was falling all the heavier when they got back into the jeep. Large potholes were filling with murky water, masking the true depth. Frequently Vig hit a deep rut camouflaged by the muddied water. The road ahead became more river than tarmac, slowing them further. Parts of the surface were washing away into the crudely dug channels either side, widening with the increasing torrent of water. The lights were only good for the first few feet.

“How far?” It was Jean who asked the question, her nerves now returning. The darkness and unfamiliarity with the road were making her edgy. The relative silence during the journey brought with it its demons. It gave her thinking time. For the first time since losing her friends at the ambush she was able to piece together the frightening events. Certain things did not add up. Her current companions were more than eager to help her, which was beginning to bother her greatly. Even in the friendly villages in New Zealand’s south island the residents weren’t so communal in their desire to help. Perhaps the locals in Laos were genuine Samaritans, but they were going out on a limb with this one. They had even bought a jeep for her purpose, not a pretty one but it came with wheels and an engine all the same. And why were they so keen to get the search underway in the pitch black? It was tipping down with rain; you’d have to be insane to kick-start a search. Was it to avoid police suspicion? She still found it hard to buy that the baton-waving cop back in Vientiane was nothing more than a cash-strapped local trying his luck. She began to question her sanity for trusting this enigmatic entourage so hastily.

“With luck we’ll get to where that bus of yours was hijacked before too long. With the weather being so bad we have to take our time. Don’t worry, we’ll find them. I can’t see them straying too far.” It was Kae who came back with the reassurances. He had detected an edginess to her voice. He no longer needed her full co-operation now that they were out of the city, but any screaming fit might still pose a danger and would prove a definite annoyance. He forced a smile, thankful that the dimly lit cab would show little of his insincerity. He figured that if they were not so far out of town, Jean might at that moment have bolted and made a run for it.

The next twenty minutes passed with little small-talk. Kae continued to entice Jean along with false promises; “not long now” and “can’t be far” featuring heavily in his curt dialogue. He doubted whether she took much notice, though the fact that she was still here suggested that there was some impact. As Kae was framing something more to keep Jean sweet, the lights picked up a black shape. Vig slammed his foot hard on the brakes.

“Shit!”

“What was that?” Kae asked, trying to keep alarm out of his voice.

“That was our very own spy, sent out on his bicycle to track the Hmong,” Vig replied. “With this weather it’s hard to see. It was nearly his very last ride. The idiot has no lights. I’ll have to check why he’s coming back this way.”

Vig pulled the jeep over and barked out a few commands. The cycling mercenary stopped at the window. He looked soaked and miserable. Vig spoke with him for a few minutes. With a final grunt he waved the man away. He turned to Kae, speaking in his boss’s native Thai.

“He came back to meet us in case we blundered into the other Hmong. Looks like my hunch was right. Our fleeing museum visitor was carrying a package for some Hmong up ahead. I’m not sure what they know of the hijack, but it’s put fear into their bellies. They maintained a base not far off the road up ahead. Looks like they’re ducking out in a hurry, probably shit-scared the army will come looking for them. Our contact watched the last truck pull out up ahead. Seems they kept a few rusting heaps hidden off the road. The better news is that not all of them have got away. The wheels have become bogged down in the mud. Sounds like the engine is having problems in all this bloody rain as well. Probably seeped through to the electrics. If I were a betting man I would say that the farang have caught a lift with them. They’re not skilled survivalists. There is nowhere else for them to hide out here.”

“Good work, Vig,” Kae replied, keeping to his mother tongue. “I think you are right. I have worked a relationship of trust with one of them. Once he picks up a signal on his phone he should give me a call. I might drop him a text to prompt him into doing so. That will confirm whether or not they’re cooped up with our friends here. We can then best decide how to use Jean.”

“Might I ask what it is we’re following them for?”

“Soon, Vig. If I told you right away even you might buckle at the knees under the burden.”

Vig found it hard to tell whether he was being mocked or not. He felt a burning sensation on the back of his neck and fought to ignore it. He gestured for the cyclist to remount and direct them to a safe spot where they might get close to viewing the Hmong’s truck up ahead. Within a short distance they were directed to stop and he killed the engine. The rain was easing up a bit, but still hitting them hard enough to get a soaking.

Vig reluctantly left the dry jeep and followed his cyclist on foot. Without the aid of light it was very difficult to see much. They followed a sharp bend and stopped. Vig could now make out the taillights of a truck. Only from here could he hear the coughing engine. The driver was revving hard, burying the near side wheels further into the wet mud. Whoever was behind the wheel was no expert in the craft of driving a heavy vehicle through poor conditions. They really needed to let it tick over, dry it out before using the torque to pull them out. He tried to make a quick tally of those he saw, but gave up. He would have to be closer. Guessing, he thought probably only a handful - an easily manageable number. He made his way back to give Kae the news.

Leaning through the window, he could tell Kae was thumbing through the options.

“We need to know how many there are,” said Kae.

Vig was hoping Kae would respect his greater operational experience. “I think waiting until the imbecile driving works out how to coax a truck out of a rut is going to be our best plan of action. We could then discreetly follow where they take us.”

They were both alerted to a sudden noise. It sounded to Kae like a sound he once heard on a trip to Central Europe, a cross-country skier moving over melting snow. He quickly turned. Jean was running through the rain towards the Hmong up ahead.