Return to Tomorrow (15 page)

“I will never be afraid of riding in a boat with a motor on it again,” Ahnle said fervently.

Rachel choked back a laugh that was half a sob. “Neither will I.” She leaned over to trail her blistered hands in the cold water. “We can't stay here. We have to head north, find a village or a road that leads to Chiang Khong or some other town.”

“We must start soon,” Ahnle agreed, looking around her. “The hills are very steep. They come all the way down to the river bank to sip at its waters.”

“We'll only walk far enough to find shelter for the night.” Rachel studied Ahnle's face more closely. “Are you ill?”

“No. Only tired.”

Rachel forced herself to climb out of the boat, stiffening muscles protesting every move she made. “Hand me the bags, and then the baby. We'll fill the water bottles a little farther upstream and look for some kind of pathway into the hills.” To head south from their present position would lead them into the bandit-controlled areas around Nan. They couldn't take that risk. If they headed north, toward Chiang Saen or Chiang Khong, they might be lucky enough to come across a party of “trekkers” doing one of the hill country jaunts that operated for tourists out of Chiang Rai.

Or they could meet up with the warlord, Khen Sa.

“I'll take the baby for the first bit,” Rachel said, still worried at Ahnle's feverish appearance. If the girl was coming down with malaria, they must find shelter, and
soon. “Untie the silk from the boat. We…” She stopped talking abruptly.

“What was that?” Ahnle was looking into the hills where the echo of gunfire had broken the pattern of bird calls and rushing water.

“Guns.” Rachel took the baby from Ahnle's slack grasp. She'd been deceiving herself that all would be well, now that they were back in Thailand. Desperate, ruthless men stalked these hills, just as they did in Laos, and unless they were very lucky indeed, they were about to come face-to-face with some of them.

 

B
ILLY
T
ODD DROPPED
into a crouch behind the trunk of a great teak tree where Brett was already concealed. He was dressed in camouflaged fatigues, as Brett was, and sweat ran freely down his face and neck. He was breathing hard from his rapid descent down the hillside. He rested the butt of his gun in the soft, mossy soil around the tree and took a few deep breaths.

“How many are there?” Brett asked, his eyes raking the dense forest cover on the other side of the narrow trail in front of them.

“Six or seven. The usual.”

“Thai Rangers?” Brett took his eyes from the jungle a moment to make sure his friend was all right.

“Border patrol.” Billy nodded, his eyes narrowing, as he spied a smear of blood on Brett's forearm. “Jesus, you're bleedin'.”

Brett shook his head. “It's a scratch, really. Ricochet. Tree bark, probably.”

“Who the hell do they think they're shootin' at?” Billy took him at his word about the wound on his arm.

“Us,” Brett said, his voice devoid of humor.

“Don't they know whose side we're on?”

“'Fraid not.”

Billy's head snapped around. His eyes bored into Brett's. “What the hell does that mean?”

“No one knows we're out here. At least, no one who's going to do anything about it if we're caught.”

“Oh, Christ. We haven't even met up with Khen Sa yet and the whole damn deal's about to go down the tubes. What the hell's the use of havin' all them friends in high places if we get our heads blown off six hours out on the trail?”

“I don't think they're going to put up much more of a fight. If we can keep 'em pinned down until dark, we can slip away. How about the ponies?” The last thing he needed was for Khen Sa's gold to fall into the wrong hands.

“There's a cave, sort of, up on the hill above the trail. Lonnie's there with the ponies. Naga and Chan are up there, too. They'll all keep an eye on each other.”

“Then we might as well make ourselves at home.” Brett didn't move from his crouch behind the tree but pointed with the barrel of his rifle. “They're there, and there and there.” Billy nodded, sharp, jungle-trained eyes noting the small disturbances in leaves and branches that betrayed the presence of the Thai Rangers. “If we don't give them anything to shoot at, my guess is they'll melt away an hour or so before sundown.”

“And if they don't?” Billy prepared to move himself to a vantage point about twenty yards away.

“Then do what you have to do to stay alive.”

 

R
ACHEL AND
A
HNLE MOVED
cautiously along the steep, faint path leading up into the hills. It was little more than an animal track but it was the only route they had to follow. They had heard no more gunshots, but Rachel couldn't tell if they were walking into the cross fire or not. It really didn't matter. The hillsides were too steep and littered with moss-covered boulders to attempt straying from the dubious safety of the slippery path. They could only move north and west—they had no other choice.

And Ahnle needed to rest. She was feverish and growing weaker with each step, although she denied it. The baby was also starting to fuss again. Rachel hitched him higher on her hip, balancing the heavy
yaam
on the other side, and crooned softly in Hlông under her breath. They needed to find shelter. The day had grown uncomfortably warm but the night would be damp and cold in the higher elevations. They needed warmth and food and some kind of roof over their heads.

The track they were following disappeared in a stand of bamboo nearly as big as pine trees. Rachel stopped a moment, listening, and Ahnle almost walked into her. She turned and studied the girl's fever-bright eyes and pasty complexion. “We have to keep going.”

“I know.” Ahnle swayed a little where she stood. “I will not hold you back.”

Rachel pushed into the bamboo, hoping to pick up the narrow track on the other side. It didn't branch right or left to skirt the stand, at least not that she could discern. It simply disappeared. When the bamboo thinned, she understood why. It wasn't an animal track they had been following. It was a smuggler's trail down to the river.
In front of her was a wider track, better traveled, with evidence that men and horses had recently passed by. Which way to turn? Which way to go? Did danger lie to the right or to the left?

As before, Rachel knew there was no real choice. They had to keep moving toward the more populated areas. She turned right, onto the steeply rising path and started walking once again, putting one foot in front of the other and praying that Ahnle did the same. She'd given up praying for help to come. They were on their own.

 

L
ONNIE
S
MALLEY STOOD JUST
inside the entrance to the big, rock overhang and kept his hand on the pack ponies' muzzles to quiet them. A quarter of a million dollars in gold and only five men to guard it. What if Khen Sa just took the money and ran, cut them down where they stood? He'd be glad when this whole deal was over and done. Maybe then he'd take one more stab at getting his life in order, kicking the habit. He stroked one of the rough-coated little mountain ponies and listened for footsteps outside the cave. Chan and Naga were reconnoitering the trail above them, looking for a way past the patrol of Thai guards that had Brett and Billy pinned down on the slopes below him.

This whole deal was too risky. He wished Brett would tell him what it was really all about, but he couldn't be trusted with the details. Brett knew that and so did he. It was too easy to talk when he was high, even easier when he was on the way down and looking for a fix. It was better for all of them if he just went along for the ride, like he always did. That way he didn't have to think too
much or fear too much. That was the way he'd lived his life for a lot of years. It got him through the days and the China White got him through the nights…and the nightmares…gave him other dreams to replace them. And he liked those dreams.

Voices. Lonnie swung his head in the direction of the sounds. The ponies nickered, stamping restlessly. He soothed them with an absent hand. Was it Brett and Billy coming back or Naga and Chan? Or was it the Ranger patrol? Or Khen Sa? Had his friends all died while he stood here in the half darkness of the cave? A baby started crying somewhere close by.

“What in hell?” He muttered into the pony's ear. “There ain't no babies out here.” He pulled his gun out of its shoulder holster and released the safety. His hand shook and he made a conscious effort to still the tremors. He pushed back the fall of vines and creepers that hid the scooped-out opening in the side of the hill from the view of the trail directly below it. It had been one hell of a scramble getting the ponies inside. He looked out, cautiously, at the stretch of trail visible from the cave mouth.

What he saw gave him quite a start. Two women and a baby were being dragged along the trail by Naga and Chan. One of the women looked ready to collapse, the other, the one carrying the baby in a sling on her hip, looked ready to put up a fight. Naga silenced her protest simply and effectively. He merely pointed his gun at the baby and jerked his head in the direction he wanted her to walk. The implicit threat worked. The woman started to climb.

Lonnie felt sweat break out on his face and under his
arms. He knew them. They weren't two hill women, somehow lost in this unpopulated area. The first woman, being half shoved, half carried up the slope by Chang, was the young Hlông girl from the Teak Doll. The other woman was white and her face was even more familiar.
Rachel Phillips.

“Jesus,” he said reverently. “What a mess.”

He crouched in the opening of the cave mouth, ready to lend a hand when they got close enough. The sooner he got them under cover, the better the chance none of the Thai Rangers on the trail would spot them.

Gunfire erupted from below. There were shouts in Thai and some dialect Lonnie couldn't understand, horses neighed, and behind him in the cave, their own ponies whinnied uneasily. The Hlông girl whimpered and fell to her knees, skidding backward on the steep path. Lonnie scrambled farther down the slope, hoping to God that the Thai Rangers were too preoccupied to take the opportunity to fill him full of lead. He motioned Naga to help Chan carry the girl into the cave. He held out his hand.

“Get a move on, Mrs. Phillips.” She didn't budge, although another burst of automatic weapon fire shattered the jungle calm.

“Lonnie Smalley?” Her blue-gray eyes were big and scared-looking. She stared at him as though he were a ghost.

“Yes, ma'am, and if you'll pardon my French, get your sweet ass up this hill before you get it shot off.”

 

B
RETT WAS BEGINNING TO
wonder what in hell else could go wrong that day. The trouble was, he knew
exactly what else; either he or Billy or both of them could get their heads shot off. The godforsaken stretch of jungle trail in front of him had turned into rush hour, Thai hill-country style. The fifteen or twenty armed men and half a dozen heavily loaded mountain ponies now engaged in a firefight with the hapless Thai Rangers had literally come out of nowhere. Brett sprayed the trees above the Rangers' position with a burst from his M16 just to let the newcomers know he was friendly. He didn't have to wonder who they were. Only one man could command uniformed, armed patrols of that size other than the king of Thailand: Khen Sa.

He worked his way toward Billy's position at a crouching half run. “What do you think?” he asked under cover of the double barreled blast of the sawed-off shotgun that Billy preferred above any other weapon.

“I just got a glimpse but I'd swear the guy with the AK-47 down there is one of Khen Sa's lieutenants. He sat across from me at that banquet last spring. Remember? The one with the roast bats and cobra's blood.”

“You sure?”

“Sure as I can be from this distance.” He ducked as a stray bullet ricocheted in the trees above their heads.

“My guess, too. Those ponies are probably loaded with raw opium. It ought to be to our advantage if you've met the man in charge,” Brett said consideringly, weighing their options, planning his strategy with one part of his brain while the other stayed alert to the danger surrounding them. It was a skill a line officer learned early on in Vietnam or he went home in a steel-lined box. Or his men did.

“I'm thinkin' if those Rangers down there value their
hides, they'll be fadin' off into the jungle pretty damn soon and quit tryin' to be heroes.”

“Let's hope so. In the meantime, we've got to make an impression on Khen Sa's lieutenant or he may not stop shooting long enough to figure out we're not with the good guys.”

“Dang, and I left my black hat back home.”

“Don't get cocky,” Brett growled.

Billy grunted a wordless curse and shoved two more shells in the chamber of the shotgun. “You're walkin' a mighty fine line.” He pulled the trigger and the branches of the tree above where two of the Thai Rangers were hidden disintegrated into a shower of leaves and bark. Before Brett could answer, more gunfire followed from the direction of Khen Sa's men on the trail.

“We've got no choice, man. This bunch is headed back to the general's main camp and the refinery. We're going to get ourselves invited along.”

“You're crazy, man,” Billy said, shaking his head. Someone shouted an order in Thai to fall back. Just to reinforce it, Billy emptied the shotgun into the jungle canopy in the general direction of the shout.

“Got any better ideas, Sergeant?”

“No sir, Colonel.” Billy's face was stony but excitement sparked in his eyes. “None at all.”

Brett gave a curt nod. “When the shooting stops we'll go down and introduce ourselves. With any luck at all, we'll be in Khen Sa's camp in time to join the general for dinner.”