Emerald Buddha

Chapter 46

The journey south, even with the night vision goggles, was brutal with two injured travelers, and it was obvious by the time they’d arrived at the halfway point that Christine wasn’t going to make it in one go. They found a spot by a stream and decided to wait until morning, when the danger of a misstep was lessened — she’d almost gone down twice on the trail, which would have been incapacitating with her clavicle broken.

Allie inspected Spencer’s wound, which, as she’d feared, was showing signs of infection. They had no medications and couldn’t even use the stream water to clean it due to its questionable origins, so all she could do was commiserate.

Spencer put a brave face on it, but they all knew that time was of the essence in reaching anything remotely resembling civilization, because in the jungle the progression from infection to sepsis could be all too rapid.

Spencer lost the hushed argument with Drake about who would stand watch while they slept, and soon was dozing, his breathing deep and regular. Christine was slumbering with her back against a tree, and Drake sat up the bank, where he could spot any threat before it reached them — at least, that was his hope.

After half an hour, Allie rose and joined him. They sat side by side in wordless communion, exhausted from the events but relieved to be safe, their ill-fated adventure hopefully nearing its end. As time wore on, the clouds dissipated and the stars came out, and Allie inched closer to Drake so her voice wouldn’t wake the others.

“No Uncle Pete,” she observed in a whisper.

“He’s a big boy. I’m sure he’ll be along, if he wants to.”

“If he wants to? Why wouldn’t he?”

“Beats me. I gave up trying to understand anything about this place about three days ago.”

“Horrible about Joe, isn’t it?” Allie said.

“He pretty much saved us all. Just goes to show you can’t tell how anyone’s going to react when it comes down to the clinch. I would have bet he’d sell us out in a blink.”

“Not me. Uncle Pete, on the other hand…”

“He’s not so bad. Little gruff, but hey.” He turned to her. “What about you, Allie? How are you holding up?”

“Pretty good, all things considered. But if you’re asking whether I’d do it all over again, that’s a no.”

“Me either. Hope Spencer’s going to be okay.”

“We need to pick up the pace tomorrow and get him to a doctor as soon as possible. Even in the moonlight I can see it’s going the wrong way.”

“What about Christine? What do you make of her?”

“She’s not super talkative. Then again, I think if I had a bunch of broken bones and was strung out on heroin, I might not be all that chatty, either.”

“Good point. Did she say anything while you were in with her?”

Allie shook her head. “Not much. She told the Red Moon thugs we didn’t speak English, so we didn’t want to risk much discussion.”

“Quick thinking. Wonder what her deal with the computer is?”

Spencer moaned in his sleep, and they exchanged a worried glance. “How long until first light?” Allie whispered.

Drake looked at his watch. “Four hours.”

“You going to make it with no sleep?”

“After what we just went through, I’ll be lucky if I ever sleep again.”

“It was pretty ugly.”

“My ears are still ringing from the shooting.”

Allie laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. “At least we made it.”

“No Buddha, though.”

“Least of our worries.” She closed her eyes. “You still have the camera?”

“Uncle Pete gave it to me. Wish he’d done the same with the phone. I could use a helicopter lift right about now.”

“You and me both.”

Jiao looked up as one of his men returned from where he’d been watching the Americans by the stream. The Chinese had stayed out of the battle at the factory, preferring to let the Shan soldiers spill their blood to free the senator’s daughter. Now that she was no longer protected by a contingent of armed guards, it would be child’s play to snatch her, interrogate her, and bury her in a shallow grave.

“They haven’t moved,” the man said.

Jiao looked into the brush with an annoyed expression. They were waiting for Uncle Pete to appear so he could assist them with the woman — if they had someone on the inside, the likelihood of her being killed too soon was reduced, and the Thai could learn whether she had anything that would help them without her suspecting anything. The forced interrogation would only work to a point with someone who was already badly weakened, as she clearly was.

They’d tailed the group from the factory, keeping a safe distance, but Jiao was growing impatient. He was sick of the constant rain, the heat, the insects… in short, he was done with the whole damned jungle and wanted to finish his mission and return to civilization for a decent shower and meal.

For all the Chinese technician’s confidence, the man had yet to penetrate the DOD’s network, and tolerance of his continued failure was eroding with each passing day. If the woman possessed information that would enable them to penetrate it, Xiaoping had made it painfully clear on the last call that Jiao was to obtain it and return, wasting no further time.

As if it were that easy. Jiao glanced at his wristwatch and made a decision. He stood, and his three men joined him. “We won’t wait any longer. Something must have happened to the Thai. Maybe he was wounded, or he couldn’t pick up the trail. Remember what I said — the girl must not be harmed. The rest? Kill them, but try to do so silently. We don’t want to attract attention if we don’t have to.”

The men checked their silenced weapons while Jiao screwed a suppressor onto a Ruger 9mm pistol. While the danger from the Red Moon group was now neutralized, they were getting closer to populated areas, and there were other predators in the jungle. Prudence dictated that they carry out the operation with a minimum of fanfare, so as not to invite the curious to investigate if they could help it.

Jiao shouldered his pack and nodded to his subordinates. This would be a lightning strike, in and out in seconds, leaving nobody alive but the target.

Drake blinked away his drowsiness while trying to avoid moving, lest he wake Allie. After days without sleep, he was near the end of his rope, but he comforted himself that soon they would be safe, at which point he could rest for days if he wanted. His thoughts turned to his situation with Allie — once they were home, he wanted to spend some serious time with her, renewing their connection and establishing a relationship that was more than sporadic phone calls.

He tilted his head at a sound from up the bank. It was faint, almost inaudible with the tinnitus still plaguing him from the gunfire, but unmistakable. Part of him wanted to dismiss it as the burble of the stream, but after living in constant danger, he resisted the urge and murmured to Allie.

“Get your gun and wake Spencer. I heard something.”

Allie opened her eyes and gave him an unfocused stare; then realization spread across her face and she reached for the AK by her side. “Spencer,” she whispered, and crawled toward where he was sleeping.

She shuddered when a voice called out from the dark tree line in broken English: “Drop guns. Now, or I shoot.”

Allie locked eyes with Drake, and he nodded. They both lowered their rifles slowly, with careful movements so as not to trigger gunfire. Spencer started awake at the sound of Allie’s rifle striking the stones and groped for his gun, but a warning shot, hardly more than a spit, whined off the rocks near his head and he froze.

Four black-clad forms emerged from the brush, their weapons trained on the group. Christine stirred and opened her eyes, and then cried out when she tried to rise and her shoulder bumped the tree.

“You have given me quite a bit of difficulty, young lady,” Jiao said quietly, his Chinese melodically hypnotic. He looked at Drake and Allie, and frowned. “Kill them.”

The staccato pop of rifle fire rang out from the jungle, and rounds thwacked into the two nearest Chinese. Jiao dived for the bank as the other gunman twisted and fired at where Uncle Pete stood, shooting a Kalashnikov one-handed on full auto, brass arcing in the moonlight as he fired. A bullet caught the third man in the throat, and he gave a strangled cry as he spun.

Jiao squeezed the trigger of his pistol as fast as he could, and two shots struck Uncle Pete, who fell backward and dropped the gun. Jiao brought his pistol to bear on Drake, but he was a split-second too late. Drake’s rifle barked three times, and the handgun clattered onto the rocks as Jiao clutched at the spreading red stain on his abdomen.

Spencer was up in a blink, rifle in hand, moving to where the fallen Chinese lay. He kicked their weapons away after confirming that they were dead, and stopped at Jiao, whose eyes were screwed shut with pain.

“Who is he?” Spencer asked Christine.

“I don’t know. Chinese intelligence, probably. He’s a native speaker.”

“Why would the Chinese be trying to kill us in the Myanmar jungle?” Drake demanded as he moved to Uncle Pete. The little Thai’s unblinking gaze was fixed on the new moon, and Drake knelt beside him and shut his eyes with a trembling hand. Drake bowed his head over his body for several seconds and offered a silent prayer, and then reached into his backpack to retrieve the satellite phone and camera.

“Damn,” he muttered as he pulled the ruined handset from the bag. It had split open when Uncle Pete fell and was now junk. The camera had fared better, and he pocketed it before turning to Christine. “Well? Why are the Chinese after you?”

She sighed resignedly and met Drake’s stare.

“It all started with a boy named Liu.”