Silent Vengeance

Chapter 8

The snaking Chao Phraya, a major river in Thailand, flowed through Bangkok, then emptied into the Bay of Bangkok, the northernmost part of the Gulf of Thailand. Old, flat, push- or pull-type barges, once used to transport rice, grain, and sugar, were docked in a row near the mouth of the river, along the south side of the mainland. The vessels were sent to this floating "graveyard" after being replaced by newer ones, engine-powered.

Most hulls had been ravaged by wood rot, leaving the vessels partially submerged. Except for one that stood out among the rest. It was engine-powered, and had traveled from Vietnam. At 120' x 40' it was considered small. A reinforced, raised deck had become a helipad. Hand winches with wire ropes attached to anchors were at port and starboard, fore and aft. At the stern was a steel-made wheelhouse, allowing easy access to the deck below. The below deck space, seven-feet in height, was turned into temporary living quarters with only cots, chairs, one desk, one short wave radio. The forward section was storage for large and small weapons, ammunition, grenades, replacement parts for the chopper, M14 mines. (The M14 was relatively small compared to other anti-personnel mines. Its design was to disable, not kill. The military nicknamed it the "toe popper.")

Several long-tail boats exited the mouth of the river. Redesigned for fishing, carrying passengers or supplies, many traveled between Thailand's islands. The boats were powered by noisy automobile engines, and built with lightweight, long, canoe-type hulls.

Passengers leaned out from under canopies, hearing the sound, and finally spotting the approaching chopper. The Huey was on its approach to the helipad after it's second flight from Saigon in three days.

While the pilot and co-pilot began the after-flight checklist, four others exited from the cargo bay. One carried a briefcase, two unloaded several cardboard boxes, one secured the aircraft with tie-downs. They gave the area along the dock a quick once-over. Nothing out of the ordinary caused them concern.

After unlocking the wheelhouse door, they quickly entered, flipped a light switch on, and went to the lower deck. A quick inspection proved nothing had been disturbed. But experience dictated they continue wearing the brown leather side holsters, with their M-1911 pistols. Single action, semi-automatic, recoil-operated, chambered for the .45 ACP cartridge, the weapons were bought from the black market in Saigon.

The next task was to set up the antenna outside the wheelhouse, which was just a matter of feeding the pole through U-shaped metal fasteners.

The men were members of the PNA (Peoples National Army), an armed wing of the Communist Party of the Philippines (CPP). The Maoist group conducted its armed guerrilla tactics based on the principles of Marx, Lenin, and Mao Zedong.

Its leader was Danilo Artadi, who headquartered the group in Olongapo. When the U.S. pulled out of Vietnam, billions of dollars worth of large and small arms, aircraft, choppers, gunboats, medical supplies were left behind in the South, scattered throughout the countryside.

Artadi recognized an opportunity to strengthen the group's ability to rid the U.S. from the Philippines. After collecting enough money from revolutionary taxes, he sent six of his top men to take up residence temporarily in Ho Chi Min City (Saigon): Rodel Mendoza, Bayani Salazar, Reynaldo Flores, Crisanto Mercado, Mindo Bolivar, and Carlo Reyes.

They were to circulate through the country, and start buying American weapons and equipment. The more they bought, the more contacts were made, and they were being trained at the same time. Once the arms and equipment were on Philippine soil, the PNA could then step up its guerilla activities, especially against the Americans.

In the midst of this, the drug yaba got Artadi's attention, presenting him with a more immediate way to begin his quest, and increase the group's cash reserves.

Mendoza and Salazar had only needed one week in Bangkok to start the operation. They roamed around the inner city, staying within the area of Soi Patpong, the heart of the red-light district, where most of the raunchy and unruly night spots had sprung up over the years. Within the first day, they bought a rundown building, purchased pill-making machines through the black market, and hired workers right off the streets. Simple modifications were made to the building. The operation was up and running.

With rooms available on the second floor, an initial plan was to use the space whenever the group came to check on the operation. But Bangkok authorities were always searching for "underground" drug factories around the city. If the operation was located, a new operation could be set up quickly and easily, but the men themselves couldn't afford to be discovered or identified. The idea was discarded, once the barge and Huey became part of the equation. If the apartment was discovered, the barge could become a "floating factory," always ready for departure.

Rodel Mendoza had taken flights from Bangkok to Subic Bay, transporting the pills, delivering them to his contact. The group already had buyers of yaba in Saigon, and most of those buyers were ready to begin their own distribution businesses. The PNA's coffers were growing dramatically.

Mendoza set his briefcase on top of the wooden table next to a short wave radio. The only light came from a single light bulb hanging overhead. He looked over his shoulder at the five men. All were in their early 30s, of Spanish descent, and dedicated to the PNA.

He motioned for Salazar, his second in command. "Bayani, drive to the facility. Check that production hasn't slowed, and be sure to bring me the latest records. I want you to specifically verify that the ingredients were changed."

Salazar pointed at two of the men. "Carlo. Mindo. You two stand watch outside. Reynaldo, Crisanto, come with me."

Taking a notebook from the briefcase, Mendoza scanned a report for the last several months. The production supervisor at the factory, Nimuel Quibin, had been a member of the PNA since its inception in 1969. For the last eight years he'd been in control of the PNA's collection of revolutionary taxes from businesses within the provinces where the group operated. The principle reason Mendoza selected him to run the operation in Bangkok was his remarkable skill with numbers.

Those skills didn't prevent Mendoza from worrying about the accuracy of records kept, but was merely all the more reason to be vigilant. Once his men brought back the latest figures, he'd have the tedious task in making comparisons.

But a different train of thought began interrupting his concentration. He threw the book on the table, then angrily shoved the straight-back chair away from him as he stood. Anyone on the carrier, especially longtime users, had to have been affected. Was it possible the ingredients in the last batch of drugs had never been altered? Without any announcement being broadcast on television or in newspapers, without any word from the Americans, what other explanation could there be?

Two hours later, the wheelhouse door opened. Salazar was the first one down the stairs. He walked toward Mendoza and handed him a faded blue notebook, but Mendoza slapped it aside. "What did you learn?!"

"Everything was running smoothly."

"I meant the ingredients! What about the change of ingredients?! And was that delivery made to Subic?!"

"He confirmed ingredients were changed to your specifications, and delivery was made on schedule."

Mendoza rubbed a hand back and forth in frustration over the top of his dark brown hair. "I don't understand why nothing has been reported by the Americans!"

Salazar sat on the edge of the table. "Maybe I'm wrong, Rodel, but I'm getting suspicious of Nimuel."

Mendoza's brow wrinkled. "What makes you say that?"

"You know he's usually confident in the way he runs the operation. And we've never had reason to doubt his ability. But he acted very different today, especially after we found a few pills on the floor near the back of the room."

"What about them?"

"They were red."

Mendoza pounded a fist on the table. "He's making money on the side."

"It looks that way. What should we do?"

"What should you do?! You go back! You squeeze every bit of information from him! I want to know who he's selling to, locations, how much he's made, and where he's hiding that money!" Mendoza motioned Salazar closer, then poked a finger against his chest. "Above all, Bayani, you confirm again that he made that change!"

What Mendoza was asking, the way he was ordering, Salazar had to be sure. "He's one of us. How far do you want me to go?"

"If he's done what we suspect, Bayani, he's no longer one of us."

Salazar nodded. The men started to leave, when Salazar asked, "Do you want Carlo and Mindo to stay on deck?"

"Yes. Now, go," Mendoza motioned with a backward flick of his hand.