The Burma Legacy (33 page)

Harrison sat on his rock, disturbed at the speed with which he was becoming an irrelevance. He felt he’d opened himself up too much to this man and needed to justify himself again.

‘You know, all I really wanted was to be able to die with a clearer conscience,’ he explained. ‘That’s all. That’s why I came to Burma. Why I tried to help my wife. And free my son.’

Sam could think of nothing comforting to say. But there was another question that niggled him. He asked it in a voice low enough not to be overheard.

‘Tell me, how did you persuade Jimmy to help you with all this?’

‘Rip, you mean?’ Harrison cleared his throat, then let out a long sigh. ‘There was a deal.’

‘You don’t say …’

‘You see, there’s a suitcase of his. In the jeep. I promised to take it to Yangon when this business was over.’

Sam ground his teeth. Squires had planned to use his ‘old hero’ as a courier.

He rounded on his prisoners, noticing from the corner of his eye that they’d drifted back towards the guns.

‘Get away from them, Jimmy!’ He levelled the rifle.

Suddenly a shot rang out, cracking over their heads like a whiplash.

‘Christ!’ Sam ducked instinctively.

A fusillade of rounds smacked into the trees around them.

‘Down!’ Sam pushed Harrison to the ground as rounds ricocheted off rocks and chipped splinters from the trees. He glimpsed Squires and his gunman scampering away, the snatched-up weapons in their hands.

‘Shit!’ The guns attacking them were to his left, but they seemed to be aiming high. Squires however was to his right, and
his
aim would be straight to the heart. He darted towards the
zedi
for cover.

Suddenly he was felled to the ground, his breath exploding from his chest. A heavy weight, smelling of beer, pinned him to the earth. He heaved the body off him. It belonged to the Wa guerrilla who’d been on sentry duty on top of the ruins. The man lay lifeless beside him. Ludicrously, his hat was still in place, but the head below had taken a bullet through the front and was pumping out blood.

‘
Perry
,’ Sam hissed. ‘You okay?’

‘All right,’ the old man croaked, inching his way painfully towards him.

The crack of incoming rounds was matched now
by the heavier thump of returning fire. Jimmy Squires and his surviving henchman had opened up on their attackers. Burmese soldiers, he guessed. A Tatmadaw rescue party, summoned no doubt by his trusty driver.

‘Stay here Perry, and keep your head down.’

He crabbed left through the trees surrounding the clearing, looking for new cover. There were muzzle flashes to the west. The soldiers had come out of the setting sun. Sam was tempted to shoot back, to help hold them off so they could escape the other way. But he knew it would draw fire onto himself and reveal to Jimmy Squires where he was hiding.

It was a mess. Even if they held off the rescuers, he had no chance of regaining control of his prisoner.

Suddenly the attack stopped. There were cries from the woods to the west. The Tatmadaw soldiers had taken hits.

Peering back at the
zedi
from beneath a thorn bush, Sam could just make out three shapes lying on the ground at its base. Harrison, Kamata and the dead Wa sentry. No sign of Squires or his other gunman.

The night had become deathly still, even the wildlife shocked into silence by the shooting. The rifle he’d been gripping all this time was unfamiliar. He felt for the cocking lever and the safety, hoping to God he’d be able to fire the thing if he had to.

‘
Steve!
’ Squires’ voice rang out suddenly, hoarse and urgent. Not far away and behind him. It chilled his heart.

Sam lay still, hardly daring to breathe. He heard footfalls, half turned and saw a figure run past a few metres away, crouching low.

Squires.

The man stopped at the
zedi
and crouched over the bodies, checking who was who. Then he stood up and pointed his gun.

With a sickening jolt, Sam guessed his intentions. He jammed the rifle against his cheek, but in the gloom couldn’t see the sights to aim it.

And it was too late. A shot rang out. Then a second.

‘Christ Almighty …’ Sam’s stomach turned over. The men he’d come to save were dead.

Parakeets screeched in the trees above as Squires crouched down to check his work. Two targets. Two hits at point blank range. No witnesses to say he’d been here.

Except one.

Back on his feet, Squires peered into the darkness towards where Sam lay.

Silence returned. It was as if the place had been blanketed by snow.

Sam took up first pressure on the trigger, then eased it, knowing if he opened up he’d probably miss. But Squires wouldn’t.

A second man appeared, darting from cover. For a moment Sam thought the rescuers had broken through, but it was Squires’ surviving bodyguard. He grabbed his dead comrade’s arm and tried to pull him away.

‘Leave him there,’ Squires hissed, his eyes sweeping the darkness.

The gunman began tugging the corpse towards the trees.

‘Leave him!’ Squires knocked the youth away from the body, then shoved him into the undergrowth. ‘Start the car. We get the fuck out of here.’

He repeated it in the local language, then swung back, looking straight at where Sam lay. Levelling the rifle, he fired a wild burst. Bullets kicked close, spattering grit into Sam’s face. Then the gun jammed. Cursing, Squires drew something from his belt and began heading towards him.

Sam squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. The safety had stuck. He jabbed it with his thumb.

Then guns opened up from the west again. Three rounds snapping overhead. Squires spun round and sprinted for the trees and safety.

Silence once more, except for the slamming of car doors. Sam crawled to the foot of the
zedi
. Shading the beam with his fingers he shone his torch on the ground.

Kamata had a dark red hole in the centre of his chest. He swung the flashlight until he picked out Harrison’s sandalled feet. In the head this time. Smack in the middle of that troubled brow. A life of torment ended in a second. A double murder, carried out with a ruthless precision learned in the service of the Crown.

Sam charged towards the woods. From beyond the trees he heard the Mazda start up. He smashed his way through the scrub, ignoring the thorns ripping at his skin and his clothes. Emerging on the other side, he found the car gone. He ran to the edge of the slope
and looked down. There, near the bottom, were the tail lights speeding away.

He slithered and slid down the escarpment, then ran in the direction of the waterfall. Tun Kyaw was his only chance, but Philomena’s words taunted him.
If it comes to a choice
…

The Suzuki would be gone, he guessed. That was the reality. Particularly if it was his driver who’d directed the Myanmar military to this place.

He stopped, fearing he’d be running into the arms of the Tatmadaw. The soldiers had come from the west, from further along the escarpment. He shot a glance over his shoulder. Squires’ vehicle was still heading east. Open, flat ground for a kilometre or two.

He pounded on again, relying on starlight to avoid tripping over rocks. It was a disaster. Total mission failure. And he’d come so close. Now he was alone – probably. Without wheels, in an alien land. When the sun came up, he’d stand out like a boil on a baby’s backside.

He stopped for a moment. There was shouting up on the hill. The ‘rescue party’ had found the carnage. Would they see him if they looked down? Night sights on their rifles?

He began to run again, not sure where he was heading, but knowing this wasn’t a place to hang around in.

Then a blast of light blinded him.

‘Shit!’ His first thought was that Jimmy Squires had doubled back. He waited for the shot, wildly pointing the rifle.

But the shot didn’t come. Instead, the light went out and a hand grabbed his arm.

‘Quick, boss! Get in car.’

‘We not go road,’ the driver muttered as the Suzuki set off over the stony ground. ‘Army close it. Shoot first then ask who we are.’

Sam could just make out the shape of Tun Kyaw’s head in the glow of the dashboard lights. Impossible to see what the man was thinking.

‘Too damned right we’re not going on the road,’ he muttered. ‘We’re going after that car.’

The tail lights of Squires’ jeep kept disappearing and reappearing as the vehicle dipped through gullies and wove through the scrub.

‘Tun … you’re a good man,’ Sam growled, emotional with gratitude all of a sudden. At that moment he didn’t care if it was the Burman who’d alerted the military. The man might well have saved his life.

Tun Kyaw didn’t respond for several seconds. When he did, his voice was squeaky with tension.

‘What people in that car, boss?’

‘Bad people. An Englishman who’s just murdered two old men.’

There was the sound of sucking teeth. ‘Where they go, boss?’

‘To the Thai border, I think. The Englishman has a suitcase of heroin. Needs to get it out of the country.’ He was thinking aloud. ‘How far is it?’

‘Maybe seventy kilometre. But he can’t go there. Army. Many, many roadblock. Fighting.’

‘Over poppies?’

‘Yes, boss. Many, many. Control by Wa State Army, you know?’

‘Yes. I know. But the man who’s with the Englishman, driving that car – he might be one of them.’

More sucking of teeth. ‘This vahry dangerous, boss.’

He wasn’t backing off though, Sam noted. Still pressing on, driven by the dual need to earn his dollars and to get away from whatever was going on up on the escarpment.

Tun switched the lights off and slowed right down, hunching forward, as if being nearer the screen might boost his night vision.

Soon there was no more sign of the other car. Jimmy Squires had disappeared into the night. Sam remembered Midge’s tracking device in the lid of his rucksack and wished he could have stuck it on the Mazda.

Tun Kyaw was worrying him again. He wanted to know where the man’s loyalties really lay.

‘How come the military knew where to find us, Tun Kyaw?’

Silence. Then after a while, ‘Boss?’

‘You tell them about us going to the waterfall?’

Silence again.

‘Maybe somebody hear me when I ask how to find it, boss. In restaurant in Mong Lai. In every place is army spy. Man who listen.’

It was a plausible explanation. Just. And all he was going to get. He told himself to be on his guard.

The Suzuki rattled on into the night, slowing and accelerating according to how far Tun Kyaw could see. Swerving now and again to avoid clumps of scrub. Sam searched the darkness, praying for another glimpse of red.

‘Any idea where this takes us?’

‘No boss.’

Suddenly Tun slammed on the brakes, letting out a gust of garlicky air. They’d reached a line of trees.

Two choices, left or right. Because straight ahead was impenetrable.

‘Switch off,’ Sam ordered. He got out.

The night was windless. Sound would travel. He listened, turning his head like a directional antenna. From the way they’d come there was nothing, which was a relief. But there was nothing from any other direction either.

Squires’ jeep had several minutes’ start on them. And it had been driving with lights, faster than Tun. They’d lost the buggers.

Then he heard a faint rumble somewhere to their right. Engine noise.

‘Over there, boss.’ Tun had heard it too.

‘Let’s go.’

The scrub grew thicker. Tun Kyaw needed the
lights to pick his way through it. They bumped on for five minutes with no sign of the other car. Sam feared the noise they’d heard could have been military reinforcements moving in. He visualised Squires back on some tarmacked road by now, tyres humming as he raced for the frontier. And he thought of Midge Adams attending her conference on the other side, blissfully unaware that the man topping her most-wanted list was heading her way.

‘What’s that ahead?’ Lights on the horizon, moving left to right.

‘I think road,’ Tun announced.

‘Where’s it go to?’

‘From Mong Lai to Chiang Mai.’

In Thailand. The place Midge had flown to for her conference.

‘There’ll be army checkpoints?’

‘Oh yes. Many, many.’

‘And will we be able to …?’

Tun made a noise like a cat in pain. ‘I will try. But it is better you hide. On the floor at back. I put cover over you.’

‘They’ll find me. What’s the point?’

‘Because if they see foreigner sitting in car in this part of Myanmar they must arrest him. But if they don’t see, maybe they don’t bother look.’

Particularly when blinded by banknotes, thought Sam.

Five minutes later they bumped over a drainage gully and joined the roughly metalled road. After a couple more minutes Tun stopped the car, got out
and began clearing space in the back for Sam to lie on the floor behind the rear seats.

‘Soon there will be army. It better you don’t have gun, boss. If soldiers find …’

Sam understood his logic but was reluctant to part with the weapon. The men they were chasing were armed to the teeth.

‘Can’t take gun, boss,’ Tun Kyaw insisted, making it clear they wouldn’t be going any further if Sam resisted.

Stifling his fears that Tun Kyaw wanted him unarmed for his own reasons, Sam chucked the weapon into the scrub at the side of the road, then lay on the floor at the back of the Suzuki. The cover which Tun placed over him smelled of sweat.

He was desperately uncomfortable as they set off again and appallingly vulnerable. The back of his neck felt as if it had the rings of a target painted on it.

Within minutes they were slowing again.

‘Roadblock,’ Tun whispered. ‘Stay very still.’

Like the grave, thought Sam, except for his heart which had developed a mind of its own.

They stopped. He heard voices. Fierce, aggressive tones, followed by mollifying noises from his driver. Sam held his breath. Tun Kyaw sounded genuinely scared. Whatever this man’s relationship with the military, it wasn’t universally smooth.