Emerald Buddha

Chapter 11

The Airbus A330-300 jet banked on approach to Suvarnabhumi International Airport and slowed as the pilot cut airspeed. The flight from Hong Kong, the connecting point for the trip from Los Angeles to Thailand, had been mercifully calm compared to the uncomfortably rough slog across the Pacific. Allie yawned and peered out the window, and Drake tried not to be too obvious in his admiration of her charms, which were still holding his attention as they neared their twentieth hour of travel.

“How are you doing?” Drake asked.

Allie shrugged. “Okay. I wish we had gotten more sleep. That part completely sucked.”

“Yeah, well, it is what it is. We’ll be on the ground soon.”

“I was reading about Bangkok on our layover. It’s supposed to be pretty modern.”

“Probably the last we’ll see of running water or flush toilets until we’re back out of the jungle.”

“Still a romantic, huh?”

Drake was momentarily at a loss for words at Allie’s ability to throw him with her abrupt shifts. By the time he’d decided on a response, he’d lost her to the Bangkok skyline glittering below in the morning sun.

The landing gear lowered into place with a thunk, and then they were dropping toward the ribbon of tarmac that stretched before them. The big plane seemed to float for an instant just above the runway, and then landed with a rough bounce before steadying as it slowed.

Spencer smiled at them from across the aisle as the aircraft neared the gate. “It’s showtime,” he said with a theatrical flair. “Bangkok awaits the great white hunter.”

“If you’re referring to me, it’s not necessary to flatter,” Allie said. “Although you can use ‘Goddess’ if you absolutely must.”

They disembarked and filed to the immigration area, where stern clerks stamped their passports. Once finished with the formalities, they waited by the baggage carousels. Alex joined them, and after collecting their things, they moved out to where the drivers were gathered, holding signs and jabbering loudly. Alex turned his head toward Drake as he led them to the barrier that separated travelers from the waiting Thais. “We have a guide. I’ve worked with him before. He’s a character, but knows the ins and outs of Thailand like the back of his hand.”

Allie and Drake nodded, wondering what a CIA veteran would describe as being a character, and didn’t have long to wait. A gaunt man of indeterminate late middle-age, with pecan-colored skin, his gleaming ebony hair slicked back with gel, and a Fu Manchu mustache that would have been the envy of any B-movie bad guy stood behind the barrier, watching them approach expectantly.

Alex’s face relaxed for a split second as he neared the short Asian, who offered a crisp bow, the traditional wai greeting. Alex returned it and introduced them, and the guide bowed in turn to each.

“This is Uncle Pete. Uncle Pete, meet Allie, Drake, and Spencer,” Alex said.

“Most honored,” Uncle Pete said in heavily accented English, and then turned and snapped at a porter, who ran over and began stacking their luggage on a rickety hand truck. “My truck parked outside,” he explained. “I have policeman watch it. About only thing they good for these days, besides take bribes and shake down innocent driver.”

“Can you fit everyone?” Alex asked.

“Of course. I rent SUV just for you.”

“Lead the way.”

Uncle Pete marched briskly toward the departure terminal exit and then slowed so the porter could catch up. He nodded to Alex and grinned, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “Been long time, no?”

“We can catch up later. What’s the word on the permits?”

“Still wait. You know how that go. Someone holding out for more baht. But we promise we have tomorrow.”

“Plan was to get into the field this afternoon,” Alex said.

“Missionary man say, man propose, God dispose, right?” Uncle Pete said, his English suddenly improving. “In the meantime, I book you into top good hotel.” He regarded Allie. “First time in Thailand?”

“Yes. I’ve heard lovely things.”

Uncle Pete gave the porter and then the throng of locals meeting travelers a sour look. “Not from me. Lazy crooks.”

Alex laughed, the first time he had since they’d met him. “Uncle Pete’s a perpetual optimist.”

“Bangkok full of snakes in grass,” Uncle Pete snarled, and then cautioned the porter to hurry up.

“He’s the hospitality committee?” Spencer asked in a low voice. “Couldn’t they find a hungry crocodile?”

“Pete’s charm grows on you,” Alex said. “Like fungus.”

The rental turned out to be a silver Nissan Armada, with just enough room for Alex to sit in the passenger seat and the three of them to cram into the rear. Spencer gave Allie a half smile as she tried to get comfortable. “You can sit on my lap if you want.”

“I imagine I’m not the first girl to get that offer,” Allie said. “Has it ever worked?”

“You might be surprised.”

Drake chuckled. “Nothing surprises me after a ride in your Lambo, Spence. Although I still think that some orange shag carpeting would dress it up nicely.”

“Maybe some fuzzy dice?” Allie quipped. “Ooh, how about one of those ‘Ass, grass, or cash, nobody rides for free’ bumper stickers? We have them in every color of the rainbow out in cow country.”

“I liked the car,” Drake said. “Very Hollywood Eurotrash, if that’s what you were shooting for.”

“Screw all of you. It does zero to sixty in under three seconds.”

Allie elbowed him. “Hey, at least it’s practical for hauling groceries or lumber or whatnot…”

Uncle Pete might not have been the slowest driver in Thailand, but he was certainly in the running for the title. By the time they made it to the hotel, it was well past lunch time, and they were grateful to crawl from the cramped rear seat.

The hotel lobby was opulent, and two bellmen scurried to take their bags. Uncle Pete stayed in the car, obviously feeling out of place in the lavish digs. He had given everyone a card with his cell number on it and told them to call if they needed anything. After confirming that they were being attended properly, he pulled away at the speed of a geriatric snail.

“Want to try the hotel restaurant?” Drake suggested as he signed the register.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Spencer asked. “Why not find a hole in the wall and try dining like the locals?”

Allie made a face. “Two words: monkey brains.”

“I believe you can special order them if they’re not on the menu,” Drake said.

They took the elevator to the penthouse level after getting settled in their rooms, and had a delicious medley of Asian fusion cuisine, each dish better than the last. When they were finished, Spencer burped audibly and patted his stomach. Allie looked horrified, and he shrugged.

“In many countries burping is intended to express satisfaction with a good meal,” he said.

“I can’t wait to hear what other bodily emissions might be celebrated,” Drake said.

“In Thailand, nose picking is also considered acceptable in polite company,” Spencer added.

“How charming,” Allie said. “I’m sure you’ll feel right at home.”

“It’s important to understand the culture if you’re going to get the most out of a trip to exotic lands.”

“How about we find the statue and leave? Does that work for you?” she fired back.

“I can see you haven’t gotten into the spirit yet.” Spencer drained his water glass and raised it to the waiter, who nodded and rushed to retrieve a frosted steel pitcher. “What do you make of Uncle Pete?”

“He seems harmless enough,” Drake said. “Although kind of a schemer.”

“That’s to be expected. He’s making ends meet however he can. You get to know the type after a while. They get addicted to the easy money of being snitches and facilitators. The agency depends on that, I bet.”

“I think he’s sweet,” Allie said. “I wonder what color Lambo he drives?”

“Definitely not mustard,” Drake said solemnly.

“You just can’t let it go, can you?” Spencer griped, but they could tell he was enjoying the ribbing.

“You should see if they have a lift kit for it, like my FJ. That would be radical. Off-road rubber. Mud and snows.”

“Ha, ha.”

A server arrived with the water and replenished their glasses. Another one spirited their plates away and was back moments later with a dessert menu. Allie waved him off with an eye roll. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m going to take a nap. I forgot how much fun it was to miss a night’s sleep.”

“I’m with you there. Spencer?” Drake asked.

“Might as well. Doesn’t seem like anything’s going to happen until tomorrow, at the earliest, judging by what Uncle Pete said about the permits. I’ll leave Alex a message and let him know we’re going down for the count. We can check supplies tomorrow, and then if we’re still waiting on the bureaucracy, at least make it to the border so we’re ready to rock when we get the okay.”

Drake’s room was on the same level as Allie’s; Spencer’s was two floors above, and he said his goodbyes and left them in the elevator.

“Wild about Spencer’s situation, isn’t it?” Drake asked, making small talk so they didn’t stand in silence.

“He’s a big boy — he got himself into it. He can dig himself out. My money’s on Spencer rebounding.”

“Sounds like the hedge fund may have lost his money.”

“What’s the old saying about diversification? Pigs get slaughtered?”

“Ouch. But you’re right.”

The polished steel door whispered to the side, and they stepped into the marble-floored hall. “Allie, I wanted to tell you that… Kyra? She’s just the neighbor. Nothing else.”

Allie sighed. “I’m beat, Drake. Can we discuss it some other time?”

“I thought it was important to clear that up.”

“I hear what you’re saying. But I’m pretty overwhelmed by everything that’s happening right now. Let’s talk about it later.”

Drake took the hint. There was no point pushing the subject. Fatigue, overload from responsibilities, adjusting to new circumstances, being in a strange country where she didn’t speak the language and couldn’t understand what people were saying, trepidation at going into the jungle again… Drake tried to imagine what was going on in her head, and sneaked a look at her as they walked together toward their rooms. He didn’t have a clue.

“This is mine,” she said, stopping at her door. “Sleep well. Maybe ring me around dinnertime.”

“Okay.”

Drake wanted to say more. Much more. He wanted to tell her about how she haunted his dreams, how he had imagined being with her, how much he wanted to hold her, to feel her lips on his, press her against him.

None of which he did, instead continuing to his room, feeling as alone and dejected as he could remember.