Girl Takes Up Her Sword (6 page)

Chapter
8

In the Golden Triangle—Twenty Three Years Ago

“I can’t believe you bought that thing,” George snorted. “Sensei told you it was junk.”

“It’ll come in handy, you’ll see.”

“If the blade doesn’t snap off in your hands.”

David sulked and fingered his new prize. He pulled the strap over his head, so the sword rested diagonally across his back, and snugged it up with a sharp tug.

The motor on their inflatable growled in the background, loud in George’s ears, but probably inaudible twenty meters into the jungle. The air over the river was heavy and sound didn’t carry far.

The plan was simple enough. Follow the Mekong river north of Chiang Saen, backpack over to the Mong Tai army encampment in the mountains across the border in Burma, hit them fast and hard in the night, and get out before dawn.

The getting out was the tricky part. If Meacham’s intel was faulty, if Khun Sa’s main force was still in the camp, if the vault wasn’t where the source said... so many things could go wrong. George wasn’t particularly worried about the battle looming with whatever units remained behind. Six heavily armed men against twenty or thirty irregulars, that was manageable, especially with the element of surprise in their favor.

But without air support, or any other support, for that matter, they couldn’t risk a hot pursuit. The trek back to the river would take several hours on foot, and their boat was slow. The ride to the nearest airport, in Mixay Savang, would take almost two hours. They needed to leave as quietly as they came.

“Are you gonna keep an eye on him?” Danko whispered in George’s ear. “If he gets out of control...”

“There’s so much that can go wrong with this mission,” Javier said. “Like how do we know Khun Sa even took the bait?”

“Or that Moh Heng will keep him occupied long enough?”

George shook his head.

“This is Meacham’s big score. At least fifty million. You don’t think he’s worked this out every possible way?”

“As long as we get our cut, I suppose...”

“Just make sure your cousin doesn’t screw this up,” Javier growled.

The hike over the Daen Lao mountains brought them to a rocky outcropping overlooking the camp just before sunset. From that vantage, it looked as if only a small contingent remained. So far, at least, Meacham’s intel was accurate. They would wait a few hours before descending.

No moon that night, even the sky was in their favor. Javier and Daniels took control of the front gate, Danko and Cantorini took out the men in the guard towers as quietly as possible. They were seasoned soldiers, good at what they did. All four had been killed in action several years earlier. At least, that’s what any records said about them.

Once the compound was secure, David and George went from building to building, the messy business of suppressing whatever resistance might emerge from groggy, freshly wakened men. George killed a few, mainly the ones who managed to find their weapons. Mostly he preferred to bind them with zip ties. In their disorientation most were compliant. Who knows what Khun Sa’s people would do with them on his return? That wasn’t his immediate concern.

David killed wherever he could, relishing each opportunity. In the first barracks building, which was little more than a wooden floor and frame supporting a tent roof, he drew his sword from over his shoulder and slashed at the sleeping figures on the floor. One man, roused by the groans and gurgles of dying men, lunged at him. He pivoted, swung the blade through the man’s neck, and watched as he toppled backwards, his head lolling to one side like a drooping flower. Another man charged at him as he admired his handiwork. A quick thrust forward, through the chest, and David found himself face to face with the dying man, watching as the life fled from his eyes.

“That’s enough,” George hissed at him. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Aww, and things were just getting interesting,” David replied sardonically.

Still no general alarm had been sounded. They went to the next building, and a similar scene unfolded. There’s too many men here, George thought. At least fifty so far, maybe more. David’s thirst for death was unquenchable.

They saved the main building for last. With its pagoda-style roof, it looked more like a temple or a palace then a camp building. Stone walls and columns were surrounded by a full wooden veranda. Toys were visible near the front entrance. Danko had already shot the two guards from his position in the trees. They looked like they were sleeping on duty. No sign of any other soldiers.

George found the vault room. A heavy steel door built into the stonework. Opening it might prove more difficult than Meacham thought. He signaled to Danko and Cantorini to bring the explosives. David looked through the rest of the rooms on the first floor.

“I’m not sure what we brought will have enough pop to get through that door,” Cantorini said. “This isn’t your typical piggy bank.”

“Maybe we can use something from their weapons cache. How about that artillery piece in the yard?”

“Yeah, if they have any shells for it. It looks pretty old.”

“Danko, get Javier to check the stores.”

“Shit. What’s he up to now?” Cantorini asked at the sound of muffled screaming.

Danko and George followed the noise up the front staircase. A hideous scene unfolded before them. In the main corridor one woman lay dead, evidently stabbed in the back. She was holding an infant, also dead, probably by the same stroke. Nearby, another woman lay dead against a wall, a gaping slash across her chest, blood pooling around her. A third woman cringed in a doorway, too frightened to scream. David stood over her, dripping sword in his hand. The cries of children in a backroom seemed to have frozen him. He raised the sword to strike.

“David,” George barked. “That’s enough!”

Danko stepped toward him and David moved, wild-eyed, as if to strike him with the sword. George stepped in, blocking the blade with the barrel of his rifle. He slammed his cousin’s hand into the stone wall. The blade shattered, just as Sensei said it would, and fell to the floor in pieces. George turned to see his cousin swinging a knife at his face. He blocked and punched him in the center of the chest just as Danko struck him with a rifle butt on the back of the head. David fell to the floor, unconscious. Their eyes met in a moment of mutual understanding.

“It’s too bad we can’t just finish him,” Danko said. “Our lives would be so much simpler.”

“Yeah, well, he’s Meacham’s little project. He cares more about him than about the money.”

“I guess so. He’d probably have us all shot.”

Danko went down to help with the safe while George reconned the rest of the upstairs rooms. The sound of small children whimpering led him to a hinged panel hidden behind a curtain. A study, perhaps, or a safe room? He paused at the door. Would there be any guards inside? Probably not. And if there were, he guessed they wouldn’t risk a fire fight around the children. And whose children were these, anyway? If they were Khun Sa’s, or his Lieutenants’, and the women were their wives, then this operation just got a whole lot more dangerous. Taking his money was one thing, but harming his family... he’d want to settle that score.

He pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. In the light that followed him in, he could see several little faces cowering in a corner. Three more young women tried to shield them, weeping and clearly terrified. George put one finger to his lips and held out the other hand in a gesture he hoped would calm them down. It didn’t have the desired effect.

In the corridor, the last woman was now crouching next to the dead, stroking the hair of the infant and sobbing heavily. George went back out to her, raised her up and tried to communicate with her. Somehow he made her understand that she would be safe. Together, they carried the bodies over to a nearby couch. She pulled a sheet over them. He led the woman back to the room with the children and gestured to her.

“Keep them inside. You’ll be safe here.”

She nodded. Perhaps she understood. She seemed to find something reassuring in his eyes. The panel clicked shut and he went back downstairs.

Javier and Cantorini had managed to find shells for the little field piece. It was much too heavy to lift up the steps. They used a jeep to position it on a little rise and aim it through a window. Three shots and the vault door fell off its hinges.

“Holy crap!” Javier said, once the smoke and dust cleared. “That’s way more then fifty million.”

“I think our shares just went up,” Danko mused.

“Must be why they left so many men behind,” George said.

“What the hell are we gonna do with the gold? It’s too heavy to carry on foot. Cantorini, what are these things worth?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see. Feels like a kilo or so, with a Chinese government stamp. I’d guess around fifty thousand, maybe more. We’re not gonna be able to carry more than a hundred of these.”

“Shit, there must be ten times that in here. What about the jeep? We could take ‘em all in that”

“We can’t drive it over the mountain,” George said. “And the only road takes us further into Burma.”

“What about the horses out back? There must be a dozen of ‘em. Maybe we can rig up packs.”

Getting the horses over the mountain was slow, but much easier than George expected. They were placid and accustomed to carrying heavy loads. David remained unconscious the whole way, strapped to the back of a horse like a rolled up carpet.

Down in the plain, they decided to ride the extra horses even though Daniels hadn’t been able to find any saddles.

“I can’t ride this thing bareback,” Cantorini moaned.

“Shut up and get your fat ass up there,” Daniels snorted.

“Fine. Give me a leg up, asshole.”

“Stop wanking. It’ll be a hoot,” Danko said. “And we’ll make much better time.”

As it turned out, the ride was diverting, even for Cantorini, though he’d never admit it. They galloped, cantered and trotted across grassy foothills, rifles slung across their backs like bandits. Daniels and Danko rode out front with particular gusto, while George brought up the rear, his cousin still strapped down unconscious behind him.

“Hey, guys, not so close,” Cantorini cried out. “You’re gonna spook my horse.”

“Ah, give it a rest,” Danko said. “That horse is too tired to cause any trouble.”

As if on cue, the horse stopped suddenly and Cantorini squawked as he felt himself slide forward and off. He hit the ground with a thud and an oath. To add insult to injury, the horse snorted in his face. Two more falls and they finally made the river, two hours earlier than expected. Daniels and Danko were merry, Cantorini was in a foul mood, when they dismounted.

“I swear this horse has it in for me,” he grumbled. “He bucked me off that last time.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular bronco buster,” Daniels snorted.

Cantorini slapped the horse on the back and shooed it off once they’d unloaded everything.

“Yeah, you better run, stupid nag. I ought to put a couple of rounds in your ass right now.”

George yanked the rifle barrel down.

“Stop screwing around and help us load the damn boat.”

By the time they pushed off the riverbank, it was broad daylight. The boat rode low and slow. It was a good thing they’d scavenged extra pack cloth to cover the bulk of what they were carrying. The gleam of the gold made them all suddenly alert to the need for concealment. Meacham’s pilot didn’t need to know the details. On the plane, Cantorini started counting.

“Drug lords tend not to be forgiving. Khun Sa’s definitely gonna come after us,” Danko said. “This must be the bulk of his fortune. I hope Meacham’s got a plan for that.”

“I doubt it,” George said. “He had no idea it was gonna be this big. But I’m more worried about the women. He’s not gonna let that lie, not if they were family.”

Danko just shook his head and stared daggers at David, who sulked at the other end of the cargo hold.

“Your cousin is gonna be the death of us all,” he muttered in George’s ear. “What he did back there was just plain wrong. Some dogs need to be put down.”

George nodded. He knew Danko was right. It was clear, even by the rather obscure moral sensibilities of black-ops justice.

“Even leaving half the gold behind, we’re looking at over four hundred bars here,” Cantorini announced, having just completed his inventory. “The cash is about three hundred million Australian, and there’s almost as much in yen and dollars.”

“I say we each keep fifteen million in cash, and maybe a few bars,” Javier proposed. “Meacham still gets way more than he expected and doesn’t need to know that our cut got a teeny bit bigger.”

They all nodded.

“Fine,” George said. “But we might as well just tell him. He’ll probably find out anyway. And that way there’s no misunderstanding between us.”

“Whatever,” Cantorini said. “Just as long as you’re the one to tell him.”

“Hey, why don’t we let David tell him?”

They all laughed.

In the event, George turned out to be right. The prospect of something more than four hundred million in untraceable cash, and almost twenty million more in gold, left Meacham in a very generous mood. He knew the size of the haul meant they wouldn’t be able to make anymore raids into the Golden Triangle. What mattered to him was that he could continue to fund his shadow operations for at least another decade, even without any sleight of hand with the NSA budget.