The Solitary Man (44 page)

Water splashed up over Hutch, drenching him and obscuring the lenses of his glasses again. It dripped down his face and into his open mouth and he spat over the side. The boat kicked and bucked and for a second it was out of the water and then it crashed down, knocking the wind out of him. He wondered how much punishment the small craft could take. One thing was certain: it wouldn't survive a collision with the army launch.

The boatman slammed his body against the prop handle and the boat turned almost immediately. Hutch realised what the man was trying to do: the long-tailed boat could turn on a sixpence and while THE SOLITARY MAN 363 it couldn't beat the launch for speed it had the edge when it came to manoeuvrability. The sudden change of direction was taking them behind the launch. Suddenly the air was split by the sound of gunfire, miniature explosions a fraction of a second apart, and bullets whizzed overhead. The boatman sat down heavily, holding on to his baseball cap with one hand.

'Jesus Christ!' shouted Harrigan. He was staring white faced at the launch. Two men were standing at the stern firing assault rifles from the hip.

'Keep your head down!' yelled Winter. There was another rattle of gunfire and more bullets shrieked overhead. The launch began to turn and the searchlight lost them. They raced through the darkness, the bottom of the boat juddering on the rough water. The boatman turned them towards the shore once more. The engine was screaming at full throttle, its pistons rattling and shaking as if trying to break free from their cylinders.

The searchlight beam flashed across the water ahead of them. The boat veered left, away from the murky brown oval of light and into the darkness. There were more bullets and shouts from the launch. Hutch looked over his shoulder. The army vessel had almost turned. There was no one manning the large gun on deck but the soldiers with the assault rifles had moved to the prow and put their weapons to their shoulders. Their aim didn't appear to have improved, though: the bullets were still going high. Suddenly he was blinded by the searching glare of the searchlight as it came to bear on their boat. He turned away, blinking to clear his eyes. Bird and Winter were silhouetted in the brilliant white light.

All three of them saw the floating log at the same time, but only Bird had time to shout a warning before the long-tailed boat slammed into it. Hutch grabbed at his seat but the shock of the impact tore his fingers from the wood and he felt himself start to fall. The boat toppled to the right as it soared through the air. Hutch pitched into the air, his arms flailing, and something banged into his leg, hard. He saw Winter fall backwards, his arms going up to protect his head, and then Hutch hit the water and went under. He managed to hold his breath at the last minute but water still forced its way into his nose and he felt a searing pain in his forehead. He kept his eyes closed and tried to stay under water 364 STEPHEN LEATHER because the propeller would be flailing somewhere overhead but he felt his lungs start to burn and so he kicked for the surface.

He coughed and spat and started to tread water. The long-tailed boat was on its side, its prop sticking out of the water and the propeller screaming like a tortured animal. The boatman clung to the side of the boat, his legs in the river. The boat remained fixed in the centre of the searchlight beam and harsh Thai commands were screamed over the loudspeaker. Hutch's stomach began to cramp with the effort of keeping his legs moving. His training shoes had rilled with water and his wet clothes were starting to drag him down. He looked around frantically, kicking hard to try to raise himself out of the water. He saw two dark shapes off to his left. Winter and Bird. Then another shape, coughing and spluttering. Harrigan. Hutch began to swim towards them. He tried the crawl but his wet shirt was too much of a drag so he switched to breast stroke.

The shore was only fifty yards away and Hutch was a good swimmer, so he was confident that even in the fast-flowing river he'd have no problems making it to the bank. His main worry was the army launch. The soldiers must surely have realised that there was only one man with the capsized boat.

Hutch caught up with Winter and the rest. Winter was panting and Bird was helping to keep Harrigan afloat. Winter forced a grin when he saw Hutch. 'Good job I wasn't wearing the suit, hey?' he said. A wave sloshed over his face and he shook his wet hair out of his eyes.

'Can you make it?' asked Hutch.

'Yeah,' said Winter, 'I think so.' His breast stroke was passable, Hutch could see, and he didn't appear to be panicking. So long as Winter kept his head he'd be okay.

'Where's Nung?'

'On his way to shore. Swims like a fucking fish.'

'Okay. You go ahead, I'll help Bird with Ray.' Winter nodded and concentrated on swimming. Hutch swam over to the two men. Harrigan was on his back, making no attempt to swim, while Bird dragged him by the collar. Harrigan had his eyes closed and was breathing through his nose, snorting like a frightened horse. There was blood on his forehead and a gash on his cheek.

Hutch got on the other side of Harrigan. He grabbed him around the neck and started scissor-kicking. Together they made their way towards the bank, fighting the current all the way. Hutch had to stay low in the water to support Harrigan, so he couldn't see where the launch was, but he could hear the dull throb of its engines. Water splashed over Harrigan's face and he began to choke. Hutch tightened his grip on the man's neck and kicked harder. Hutch's kicks were more efficient than Bird's and he realised he'd make better progress on his own.

'Bird, you look after yourself,' Hutch said. 'I can handle him.'

Bird immediately let go of the Irishman and began to breast stroke towards the bank, which was now only fifty feet away. Hutch took a quick backwards look. Winter was already clambering out of the water.

'Soon be there, Ray,' Hutch said encouragingly. 'Try to relax.' To Hutch's surprise, Harrigan did as he was told and lay limply in the water. The searchlight beam flashed across them but it didn't return and when Hutch finally felt the slippery riverbed under his feet the bank was in darkness.

Hutch struggled to his feet, supporting Harrigan under his arms. Bird slithered across the mud and together they pulled the Irishman into the undergrowth. All three men lay on their backs, gasping for breath. In the distance they heard the rattle of gunfire but no bullets came their way. Harrigan rolled on to his front and began to vomit. Hutch patted him on the back. He heard the rustle of bushes being pushed apart and a figure stumbled towards them. Hutch lifted his foot defensively, ready to lash out, but he realised it was Winter.

'Well done, old lad,' Winter whispered. He touched Bird lightly on the shoulder. 'You okay, Bird?'

Bird opened his eyes. 'Right as rain,' he said. He grinned. 'English humour, right?'

'Almost,' said Winter. He knelt down beside Harrigan, who was still spewing up yellowish liquid. 'That's it, Ray. Better out than in.'

'How did they miss us?' asked Bird. 'They had us right in their sights.'

'Just be thankful they did,' said Winter.

Hutch got to his feet, his wet clothes sticking like a second skin. 'Is Nung here?'

Winter gestured with his thumb. 'This way. He's not a happy bunny. We're about half a mile away from where we're supposed to be and we're going to have to hurry.'

CHAU-LING WAS SITTING WITH her head in her hands when Colonel Suphat appeared at the entrance to the tent. He seemed agitated and went over to the filing cabinet and poured himself a large measure of whisky without asking if anyone else wanted a drink. Tim Carver stood up. He dropped the butt of his cigarette on to the floor and ground it out with his foot as he waited for the soldier to speak.

'I am afraid it is a case of good news and bad news, Miss Tsang,' he said slowly, his French accent less pronounced than before.

Chau-ling said nothing. She remained seated and looked up at the Colonel, expectantly. Ricky Lim stood behind her, his arms folded and his face impassive. He had barely moved during the five hours that they'd been in the tent.

'There was an attempt made to cross the river tonight,' said the Colonel. 'So your information was correct. We have apprehended the boatman and the vessel they used.' He paused, swirling the whisky around his glass and staring at it as if hoping to find some relief from the embarrassment he was clearly feeling. 'Unfortunately, the men on board managed to elude our launch. They have crossed into Myanmar.' He drank from the glass, a swift movement that was almost robotic, but didn't swallow immediately. He rolled the liquid around his tongue several times, then tilted his head back as he swallowed.

'Thank you for trying, Colonel Suphat,' said Chau-ling. She turned to Lim and spoke to him in Cantonese, then she asked Carver to wait outside for a few minutes.

Carver nodded and the two men left the tent.

Chau-ling smiled at the Colonel. 'Suppose that someone wished V THE SOLITARY MAN 367 to follow the men, Colonel Suphat. How would such a person do that?'

'That would be difficult, Miss Tsang. Not to say illegal.' For the first time he met her glance.

'Of course, but hypothetically speaking?'

'One would need a guide. Someone familiar with the area. And a boat. But neither would be a problem in Fang. You ... I mean such a person . . . would have to hire someone. I, of course, could not allow one of my men . . .'

'Of course,' said Chau-ling. 'But suppose such a person were to attempt a crossing tonight?'

'Ah,' said the Colonel, as if only just getting the point. 'That would not be a problem. I have already ordered my men to withdraw from the area. And the launch is needed elsewhere.' He drained his glass and went over to the filing cabinet to pour another. 'May I offer you a drink?' he asked.

'Thank you,' she said.

He refilled his glass and poured her a large measure of Red Label. He smiled benignly as he handed her the whisky. 'I would warn you, Miss Tsang, and I mean you as opposed to the hypothetical person to whom we were referring, that the Golden Triangle is a very dangerous place. Be careful.'

She took the glass and toasted him. 'Don't worry, Colonel Suphat,' she said. 'I will.'

HUTCH SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY IN his saddle. The horse he was sitting on wasn't much bigger than a donkey and it had a jerky walk that meant he could never relax. He looked over at Winter and grimaced. 'How come you get the big horse, Billy?' 'Rank has its privileges. Anyway, you're a dog man, right?' 'Yeah, I should just be grateful that you didn't give me a St Bernard.' Hutch looked over his shoulder. Harrigan was sitting slumped in the saddle. His horse wasn't much bigger than Hutch's. Harrigan gave Hutch a half-wave. Bird was bringing up the rear and seemed to be having a hard time keeping up.

They were winding their way along a trail through thick jungle. Dawn was just about to break and the tree canopy was full of bird song. Something small settled on Hutch's neck and he slapped it. They had been riding for the best part of six hours, stopping only to allow the horses to rest. Nung, the Thai who'd taken them across the river, had handed them over to a Burmese guide, a short, bowlegged man in his early sixties who was wearing camouflage fatigues and had a rifle slung over his shoulders. He hadn't said a word to the Westerners; he'd simply pointed to the horses and grunted. By the time Hutch, Winter, Harrigan and Bird had mounted, the Burmese guide was already riding off down the trail.

'How much longer to the camp?' asked Hutch.

'A day. Depends.' Winter ducked as a huge dragonfly sped by, its shiny purple body as long as a man's hand.

'Depends? On what?'

'Zhou has got several camps, he moves between them. I don't even know which one we're going to.'

'What's he like, this Zhou?'

Winter grinned. 'He's difficult to describe. He's what you might call a character.' Winter's horse stumbled and he pulled back on the reins to steady it. 'But make no mistake about it, Hutch, he's a vicious bastard. Be careful what you say around him.'

TSANG CHAU-LING STEPPED OFF the boat and slipped on the bank, falling on to her hands and knees. 'Careful,' said Carver behind her.

'I didn't do it deliberately, Tim,' she said coolly. She clambered up the bank and wiped her hands on her trousers. The clothes she was wearing were too large, but they were all that Carver's guide had managed to find late at night. The boots she had on were several sizes too big but she'd put on three pairs of socks and they didn't rub too much.

Ricky Lim followed her up the bank, a look of disgust on his face. He and Chau-ling had had a furious argument earlier that evening, and the bodyguard was still bristling. Lim had at first THE SOLITARY MAN 369 /

refused to go with her and had threatened to call her father but Chau-ling had told him that if he did that then she would leave him behind. Lim had been furious, but eventually he'd had to admit defeat.

Tim and the guide he'd picked up in Fang climbed out of the long-tailed boat and it sped away back to the Thai side of the river. The guide was a thin man with gaunt features, called Home. The DEA agent said he was one of the best guides in northern Thailand and that most of his family still lived in Myanmar. Colonel Suphat had given them a map showing where Hutch had crossed the border and Carver and Home studied it in the moonlight.

Lim loomed over Chau-ling. 'It's not too late to change your mind,' he said.

'I can't,' she said.

'I don't understand why you're doing this,' he said.

Chau-ling bit her lower lip. She hadn't told the bodyguard why she and Carver were so desperate to reach Hutch, and she thought it best not to enlighten him. 'I'm sorry, Ricky. I really am. But I have to go after him. If you want, you can go back. You can wait for me in Fang.'

Lim barely managed to suppress a sneer. 'Do you have any idea what your father would do if I let you go in alone?' he said.

Chau-ling looked away. She knew. Lim stood glaring at her until Carver came over. 'Ready?' he asked.

Chau-ling nodded. Lim grunted.

'Home can get us horses from a village about a mile away. He reckons he knows which trail they've taken and he's a good tracker. They won't know they're being followed so they probably won't be hurrying.'