The Solitary Man (45 page)

'You think we can catch them before they get to Zhou's camp?' asked Chauling.

'I hope so,' said Carver. 'Come on, Home is getting nervous.'

JAKE GREGORY STRETCHED OUT his legs and rubbed the back of his neck, kneading the tense muscles with his knuckles.

He hadn't slept for more than twenty-four hours and he didn't intend to rest until the operation was over. He drained his can of Diet Coke and tossed it into the metal wastepaper basket. It was the sixth can he'd drunk during the night, for the caffeine rather than the taste.

Gregory was sitting at a field desk, on which were a radio transmitter and a map of the Golden Triangle in a clear plastic case. He stood up and did a few stretching exercises, then went to the tent flap and stared at the reddening sky. There were still a few stars visible directly overhead but the moon had disappeared. Gregory gazed up into the heavens. Somewhere up there was the satellite that was keeping a watch over the Golden Triangle, scanning for the frequency of the beacon carried by Tim Carver's mule. The satellite was being monitored by the National Imagery Office in the Pentagon, acting under instructions from the Vice President, and as soon as the beacon was located a man in the Pentagon would radio Gregory, who would send the Apaches on their way. Gregory looked at his watch, then turned to stare at the transmitter on his desk, willing it to burst into life.

There was a pattering sound on the roof of the tent as if someone was throwing small stones at the canvas. The noise became louder and more insistent and soon the rain was a solid sheet of water beating down on the tent. Gregory closed the flap and went back to his desk.

THE RAIN CAME DOWN in an incessant stream so that it felt to Hutch as if he were riding underwater. His horse kept its head down and its ears back and tested the trail with each step as if it feared that the path would be washed away in the downpour. Hutch couldn't see for more than fifty feet ahead of him and he followed the horse's example and kept his head down.

They left the jungle and rode across a field of burned vegetation, the soil turned into a liquid black mess by the rain. The field sloped sharply to the right and the rainwater cascaded down to the valley below. The guide took them up to the crest of THE SOLITARY MAN 371 the hill and they followed the ridge towards another thickly wooded area.

Hutch stood in his stirrups to take the weight off his aching backside, then sat down again. The horse grunted its disapproval. He could feel the transmitter against his stomach. He still hadn't decided whether or not he was going to activate it. He didn't believe that Tim Carver would come up with the half a million dollars; he had only brought money into the equation to convince the DEA agent that he was co-operating. Hutch couldn't care less about the money, all he wanted was to get out of his present predicament in one piece and to be allowed to start a new life. Whether that new start came from Tim Carver or Billy Winter made no difference to him.

The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun. Hutch's horse shook its head and snorted. Hutch patted it on the neck. The guide spurred his horse on now that visibility had improved. Eventually the trees began to thin out and the vegetation on the ground became less dense, then they emerged on to a hillside which had been planted with crops. The fields were dotted with tree stumps, and women in black jackets and wide-brimmed straw hats tended whatever vegetables it was that they were growing. The women paid them no attention as they rode up to the brow of the hill.

In the distance, Hutch saw a village: a scattering of wooden and straw huts on stilts at the edge of the tree line. A group of naked children were chasing a chicken through a patch of mud, laughing and shrieking in their excitement. They stopped when they saw the men on horses. For a few seconds they froze, then they turned and ran into one of the huts.

The guide took them through a rectangular archway built of wooden posts covered with carvings. It was about nine feet high and nine feet wide.

'Don't touch it,' said Bird from behind Hutch. 'It's a spirit gate.'

Hutch looked at the carvings. There were birds, animals, fruit, and, incongruously, two AK-47s. On one end of the crossbar was a carved man's face, with a woman's face at the other end. At the base of the gate were baskets and earthenware pots and 372 STEPHEN LEATHER rough wooden statues of a man and a woman with grotesquely exaggerated sexual organs.

'The Akha people believe that the gate keeps out everything bad,' said Bird. 'It's sacred.'

They rode through the gate and by a fenced-off area containing half a dozen sickly pigs. They dismounted in front of one of the huts, tethered their horses and went inside.

An old woman in a black skirt and a brightly embroidered jacket was sitting on a bed which was little more than a layer of logs with a thin mattress over it. Spread out on a low table in front of her was a meal: a wooden bowl of sticky rice, roasted ears of corn, smoked fish and bananas. The guide motioned with his hand that the men were to eat. They sat down around the table and helped themselves.

As they devoured the meal, the old woman took a three-foot-long bamboo tube from a hook on the wall. She opened a small metal tin and took out a ball of a sticky, black substance. It was opium, Hutch realised. As he swallowed handfuls of rice he watched the old woman prepare her opium and put her mouth over the open end of the pipe. The sickly-sweet smell rilled the hut and she exhaled with a drearily look on her face.

Harrigan watched her, enthralled. 'Hey, Billy . . .' he began.

'No,' said Winter.

'You don't know . . .'

'Don't even think about it,' said Winter. 'I've got to deliver you back home in good condition, Ray. And that means no dope.'

'It's only smoke,' protested Harrigan.

'It's opium,' said Winter. 'And opium is just one step away from heroin.'

'When did you join the anti-drug squad?' sneered Harrigan.

'Selling is one thing; using is another. Only dickheads use it, Ray. You should remember that.'

Harrigan said nothing. He continued to eat but kept his eyes on the old woman as she smoked.

SMOKE FROM CARVER'S CIGARETTE blew across Chauling's face and she coughed pointedly. 'Sorry,' said the DEA agent. He flicked the half-smoked Marlboro into a muddy puddle. It had stopped raining two hours earlier but they still wore the green plastic ponchos that Home had given them. The jungle was steaming around them and water still dripped from the tree canopy overhead. Home had dismounted and was talking to a group of hilltribe women in black jackets and wide trousers with baskets filled with firewood on their backs. One of the women pointed off to the west, smiling broadly.

'Do you think we'll find them?' asked Chauling.

'Having second thoughts?' said Carver.

'Absolutely not.'

'Home knows what he's doing. He's over here every week or so.'

'He's a smuggler?'

'He's a businessman who does occasional favours for the DEA.'

Chau-ling looked at him, her eyes narrowed almost to slits. 'You don't care who you use, do you?'

Carver looked stung by her remark. 'Hey, I'm here with you, aren't I? I'm trying to put this right.'

'Okay, but your organisation uses people, doesn't it?'

'They do what they have to do to get the job done.'

Home left the women and climbed back on to his horse. He rode over to Carver and they spoke in Thai. 'They're about three hours ahead of us,' Carver told Chau-ling. 'They must have stopped for a while. If we keep up the pace, we should catch them by this evening.'

Home moved off down the trail and Carver, Chau-ling and Lim followed him. Chau-ling drew up next to Carver and they rode side by side. 'You're not getting away that easily, Mr DEA Agent. You didn't answer my question. What gives you the right to use men like Hutch?'

'We have to fight fire with fire.'

'That's a cliche, and it's not even an appropriate one. Hutch isn't part of the problem, it's nothing to do with him. This man Winter was using him, and now you're doing the same. It's not fair.'

Carver smiled and shook his head in wonder. 'How old are you, Chauling?'

'Why?' she asked, defensively.

'Because you're old enough to know better, that's why. Life isn't fair. If it was, the warlords of the Golden Triangle and the cocaine cartels of South America wouldn't be flooding America with drugs. You don't beat these people by playing by the rules.'

Chau-ling opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak a shot rang out and the guide pitched backwards off his horse. Chau-ling's mount reared and she toppled from her saddle. She hit the ground hard and the fall knocked the breath out of her. Her frightened horse galloped off through the trees. There were more shots in the distance, louder than the first one.

Ricky Lim jumped off his horse and ran over to her. He knelt by her side and looked down at her. 'Are you hurt?' he asked.

'Just winded,' she gasped. 'What . . . ?'

A large chunk of Lim's head exploded in a shower of red and he fell across her chest. Warm blood trickled over ChauLing's face and she screamed. Lim's body trembled and then went still. Chau-ling pushed him off her and rolled away, still screaming. She scrambled to her feet and looked frantically around.

Tim Carver was still on his horse but he'd dropped the reins and was sitting with his hands up in surrender. Three men in jungle fatigues had surrounded him. They jabbed at him with the barrels of their rifles as they shouted at him in a language she didn't recognise. The horse was scared, its ears were back and its eyes were wide and staring.

Chau-ling backed away, then turned and began to run, panting in terror. She looked over her shoulder. One of the men fired, shooting Carver's horse at point-blank range. The horse dropped where it stood and Carver fell to the side, one of his legs trapped under the dead animal.

Chau-ling tripped and staggered against a tree. The men were kicking Carver, screaming at him with every blow. He curled up to protect himself, his arms up around his head. Chau-ling knew there was nothing she could do to help him; all she could do was to try to save herself and to go for help. She pushed herself away from the tree, then froze. There were two men standing behind I THE SOLITARY MAN 375 her, wearing the same sort of fatigues as the ones who were kicking Carver. One of them pointed his rifle at her face and said something to her. She raised her hands slowly. The other man grinned and stepped forward. He raised the butt of his weapon and slammed it against the side of her head. She fell without a sound.

\

THE SKY WAS DARKENING when Hutch saw the compound for the first time. They'd been accompanied by Zhou's men for the previous hour, hard-faced men in camouflage fatigues carrying M16s. The men had appeared from out of the jungle without a word and had kept their distance. They joined the convoy in ones and twos until there were a dozen of them, walking with almost no sound through the undergrowth.

'Don't look at them,' said Winter out of the corner of his mouth. 'Pretend they're not there.'

Hutch followed Winter's instructions, but it was difficult to ignore the men. Most of them had their fingers on the triggers of their weapons and Hutch doubted that they had their safety catches on. He fixed his eyes on the compound gates. Around the compound was a fence of sharpened bamboo stakes. Its entrance was guarded by two men wearing sarong-style trousers and camouflage jackets. To the right of the main gate were three wooden stakes, and Hutch saw with horror that there were bodies impaled on two of them, decomposed bodies that had been ravaged by birds and insects until they were virtually unrecognisable as human. The third stake was topped by a gleaming white skull.

He twisted around in his saddle. Harrigan was staring open mouthed at the grisly remains.

'Don't stare,' hissed Winter.

'Billy, what the hell have you got us into?' said Hutch.

'Relax. He's on our side,' replied Winter.

They passed through the gate and by a group of huts made from wooden planks with thatched roofs. Men in camouflage uniforms were lounging on small stools in front of the huts. Several were 376 STEPHEN LEATHER stripping down and oiling guns. They all looked up to watch the riders go by.

The largest building was in the centre of the compound. It was built on thick wooden stilts and had the relative luxury of a corrugated-iron roof. Nung led them behind the building to a corral where they dismounted and tied up their horses. Two small boys rushed forward with buckets of water which they poured into a wooden trough. Hutch stopped to admire a huge white horse.

'That's Zhou's,' said Winter. 'Watch it, it's mean.' Hutch walked slowly towards the animal. It snorted menacingly and stamped its hoofs, but Hutch spoke to it softly and reached out his hand. The horse eyed him warily but allowed Hutch to pat it gently on the flanks. 'He's a softie,' whispered Hutch. 'A big softie.'

'Yeah, well, let's see how you get on with its owner,' said Winter.

Nung went off to one of the thatched huts while Winter led Hutch, Harrigan and Bird to the front of the large building. Two men with rifles were standing guard at the bottom of the steps leading up to the entrance, and barred their way.

'Bird, tell them to be nice,' said Winter.

Before Bird could speak, music blared from inside the building. It was several bars before Hutch recognised the tune. It was Billy Ray Cyrus singing 'Achy Breaky Heart'. Hutch looked across at Winter in amazement.

'He's a country and western fan,' said Winter. 'Don't ask me why.'

The music suddenly increased in volume, so much so that the metal roof began to vibrate. Zhou Yuanyi appeared at the top of the steps. For a moment he didn't see the three visitors, and stared out over the compound, his hands on his hips. He was wearing black jodhpurs, riding boots and a white silk shirt and his eyes were hidden behind Ray-ban sunglasses. His right foot was tapping to the music, but it stopped dead when he noticed the four men staring up at him. He disappeared back into the building and seconds later the stereo was switched off. Zhou reappeared and shouted down at the guards, who stepped aside, and Winter led Bird, Harrigan and Hutch up the steps.