It sounded too glib, too easy. No mention of nasty things like visas. But it seemed to be our only hope.
Su nodded. Then shook her head, as though to clear it. To provide impossible answers. At last, with a sigh, she asked,
“What happens with… with Panda?”
“We have to make sure he isn’t found too quickly,” replied Gudrun. “Give ourselves a chance to get away.”
Su waived her hands helplessly. Silent.
Suddenly, from our cyber genius, who until now had said little, “We must sink him.”
As we turned to look at the man who was the reason for our predicament, Gudrun said,
“Very good, Freddie. Any suggestions?”
“Yea. Fill his pockets with some of these stones...” He indicated the pebbles lying around the beach. “Take him into the lake. Dump him. Should go down nicely. And stay down.”
If this sounded callous, I had to remind myself that people with Asperger’s did not exhibit normal feelings.
Su started to howl. Great gut-wrenching sobs.
Then Freddie did something astonishing. He went over to his girlfriend and embraced her. Enveloped her. Stroked her head. For a man who had just suggested a most clinical way of disposing of our corpse, a man whom everyone agreed was an emotional desert, this was totally unexpected.
“Come home with us, Su. Please. Everything will be all right, I promise.” Freddie’s words seemed to calm her. The heaving sobs were replaced with sniffles as she buried her head in Freddie’s chest.
The rest of us sat there, silent, scarcely daring to move. If Su insisted on going to the police there was nothing we could do. Even Gudrun could not contemplate a second elimination. Su as a neutral might work: if she agreed to say nothing for a few hours, giving us time to get over the border, that would be better than nothing. But Su committed to Freddie was easily our best hope.
It would be a huge step to take. Abandoning family, fleeing the country, making herself a fugitive from a revengeful state... no one did such a thing without a powerful reason. It would appear that two lonely cyber souls had found that reason: each other. I could only hope that Su would stick with it if the going got rough, as I suspected it would. Or - most horrid thought of all - she was not simply biding her time and would denounce us at the first opportunity.
“Come on, love. Work to do.” Freddie eased Su gently off his chest.
She collapsed on the beach while Freddie got to his feet and started picking up small stones. Gudrun delved into Panda’s pockets and recovered his wallet. Also his car keys. We five fugitives should be able to fit into the rental car, so why not leave Panda’s vehicle in the car park? No doubt Gudrun had also got this worked out.
Freddie and Gudrun filled Panda’s pockets with stones. Sodden and full of ballast, it needed everyone except Su, who sat mournfully watching us, to heave him into the boat. Gudrun then told Alexei to ‘keep Su company’ - in fact to make sure she did not take herself off - while the rest of us attended to Panda’s interment. We could not afford to trust Su. Not yet.
I only rowed just far enough from shore to sink Panda where he would not be seen, then nearly capsized as we tipped him overboard. We collected Su and Alexei from the beach before setting course back to our starting point.
Gudrun had one last element to her plan. It would look suspicious if our group returned the boat with one person short, especially with another one soaked to the skin, so she instructed me to disembark Freddie, Su and herself at the far end of the village, from where they would make their way to the car park on foot. Alexei and I would return the boat, with miming gestures that the others had decided to walk back.
Everyone to rendezvous at the car park.
38
Our council of war was held in the rental car with the heater on. Gudrun, sodden and no doubt shell-shocked in spite of having planned it all, was trying to control her shivers. The rest of us, dry but even more battle scarred because we had expected nothing like this, were also glad of the warmth.
Gudrun began, “Listen carefully, people, this is what we do now. I must get back to the Hilton for a hot shower and change of clothes. Su and Freddie need to take their leave of the Academy without raising suspicion. Max and Alexei have to check out of their hotel. And we should do something about Panda’s car.”
“Can’t we leave his car where it is?” I asked.
“We could. But I have a better idea. Su will drive Panda’s car, with Freddie and Max, back to the Academy, where Su will explain that Mr Cho has been called away on an urgent business appointment and has already flown out of Dali airport. In view of his absence, she and Freddie have been given a few days off. We can’t afford to load up with too much baggage, so you two will collect only your valuables - and for goodness sake don’t forget your passports. You will then leave and meet up with me at the Hilton.”
As Gudrun said this, I ticked off the salient points. Su’s return to the Academy was unavoidable but also dangerous. If she changed her mind, that was probably where she would do it. Risks had been minimised by having Freddie by her side and me on hand if more help were needed.
Alexei then asked, “What about me?”
“You will come with me. First to the Landscape Hotel, where you will pay your bill and pick up your gear. Then on to the Hilton, where, on second thoughts, I may trade in a shower for a good hot bath.”
There was a pause as we digested this. The silence was broken by Su.
“What happens when we get to the Hilton?”
We turned to the Chinese girl in surprise, pleased to have her back with us. We had all been shocked by the morning’s events, but some more than others. Alexei and I had signed up for what promised to be a bit of an adventure. Freddie seemed to be dour to the point of being unsurprisable. But Su, a normal looking girl, had been rudely torn from her moorings of normality. No wonder she had flipped. If she was now regaining her equilibrium it was good news for all of us.
“What happens when we’re gathered in the Hilton is that we eat,” replied Gudrun. “Was it Napoleon who said that an army marches on its stomach? Well, we’re now a small army in hostile territory and should listen to Napoleon. It may be a while before we get another chance.”
“So after lunch we head for the border in two cars?” I asked.
Gudrun shook her head. “We load our baggage into my car, then drive both of them to Dali airport, a small place on the edge of town. Let’s give Max the honour of piloting Panda’s car on its last journey.”
“Last journey? Don’t like the sound of that,” I said.
Gudrun grinned. “I’m sure Alexei will make sure we don’t abandon you.”
“But I abandon Panda’s car at the airport?”
Gudrun nodded. “Leave it in the long-term parking. Lock it. Take the keys: or chuck them where no one will find them, I don’t care. The point is that when people start looking for Mr Cho, they will come across his car parked in Dali airport. There’s a lovely English word ‘verisimilitude’. When they finally locate Mr Cho’s vehicle, it will lend verisimilitude to the story Su has told them.”
“That Mr Cho had flown out of Dali airport to attend a business meeting,” said Alexei.
“Exactly. And hopefully give us more breathing space.”
Smiles all round. I don’t know why, but this twist in the plan’s tail raised our spirits. Napoleon was wrong. Armies don’t only march on their stomachs; they march even more on morale.
But there’s a fine line between high morale and over confidence.
39
Everything went according to plan, but by the time we had been fed it was already 2.30. We had no idea how long Panda would remain satisfactorily submerged or when any unforeseen factor might trigger a manhunt. Gudrun reckoned it would take about five hours to reach the border, so it was best not to dither. Our rental car was a white Honda Accord, ideal for five people and there was a full tank of fuel. We set off with guarded optimism.
Road maps are
deceptive because flat pieces of paper give no sense of those time-consuming ups and downs. If we had viewed our route from space - or, failing a personal space vehicle, simply consulted Google Earth - we would have seen that Yunnan province is home to the tail end of the planet’s most massive mountains, the Himalaya. Dali’s Changshan range, which peaks at around 13,000 ft, is scarcely Everest, but still a formidable barrier for a motor car. Even worse, we would be travelling against the grain of the geography, heading roughly west across ridges and valleys that run north-south.
Had we been doing this journey twenty years ago, it would have taken forever, but China is in the midst of a road building frenzy and by sheer good fortune Dali lies on one of the country’s main East-West road links, the G56 Hangrui Expressway - their word for a Motorway, Autobahn or Interstate. Soon we had paid our toll and were cruising along at a steady 70 mph. The G56 gave out shortly before Dehong, but by then most of the mileage was behind us. We rolled into the border town of Ruili just after 7pm.
We were now in the Ruili Border Economic Cooperation Zone, as its name suggests a place where China and Burma meet to do business. Although that country is officially called Myanmar, most people still refer to it by the old and familiar Burma, so I shall do the same.
We needed visas to enter Burma. Gudrun said these should be obtainable somewhere in Ruili, which turned out to be another large and confusing city. Probably too late to cross the border today, but we wanted to be on the doorstep first thing in the morning, so we sent Su into a filling station to find out what the score was. She returned in double-quick time, slumped back in her seat, said nothing.
Freddie asked, “What’s the matter, love?”
Between incipient sobs, she replied, “Border closed.”
“That’s impossible!” Gudrun was aghast. “This is the main crossing between China and Burma. Hundreds of trucks pass through every day. It’s big business: the reason they’re building that motorway we’ve just been on.”
“I tell you, border closed,” repeated Su, annoyed that Gudrun did not believe her. “Because of fighting on the Burma side.”
Gudrun moaned. “Gud hjelpe meg! Not again!”
“It’s happened before?” asked Alexei.
“Yes. But I thought they’d got over it. At least, here in the east.”
“What do you mean?”
“Many countries have ethnic rivalries, which can flare into violence. In India there was the Hindu - Moslem bloodbath during Independence. Sri Lanka’s Tamil Tiger war lasted for forty years. The Vietnamese Montagnards - the mountain tribes - tended to be against the Vietcong, so were given a hard time when it was all over. The list is endless.”
“The media have been on about the Rohingya crisis for ages,” Alexei pointed out, in a tone that came close to an accusation.
“I know,” Gudrun admitted. “But that’s in the north. Up by Bangladesh. Miles away from here.”
“No point in starting a blame game,” I said, in an effort to calm things. “We have to decide what to do.”
“Find somewhere to stay. Sleep on it,” said Freddie, who was starting to come out of his shell.
“Dinner and a couple of beers,” I suggested, with a levity I did not feel. “Sort it out in the morning.”
Su, in a whisper, “Hope no one find Mr Cho.”
It was a fear we all felt. But Freddie was right. The border was closed. We could hardly go back. At least, not tonight. Our only option was to bunk down where we were.
So we sent Su back into the filling station to investigate hotels. I was pessimistic about finding space in a busy transit town at such short notice, but on her return she was looking marginally more cheerful and reported that the crisis was working in our favour. With no one coming in from Burma and traffic from the east backing away as the news reached them, we were spoilt for choice. For foreigners they had recommended the Jiegao Jinlong International Hotel, had given them a buzz and booked us three rooms.
With instructions on how to get there, we found it easily enough. Alexei and I took one room, Freddie and Su another. Gudrun took the third and vanished to commune with her cell phone. Said there was a good signal and she’d knock on our doors when she was finished. Then we’d go out for a meal.
The hotel was modern, clean and very cheap, the only drawback being their rudimentary English. So far we’d been to places with some western tourists, but Ruili catered almost exclusively for Asian truckers and businessmen.
When Gudrun finally rapped on our door it was clear that the omens were not good. Her reply to our query was merely a grunt; and that it was ‘early days’. We collected Freddie and Su, went in search of an eatery, and found a gaggle of outdoor restaurants only a block away.
We selected one, sat down and were thankful we had Su to interpret the menu, as this was not as English-friendly a place as Dali. The other difference was the temperature. I don’t know how much altitude we had lost during the drive, but we were no longer in the highlands of Eternal Spring. This was the tropics.
With drinks in front of us, I said, “The latest Sitrep please, Gudrun.” I’d seen all those war films and knew the jargon.
Not amused, she replied, “One thing’s clear: there’s no prospect of the border opening any time soon. In fact, everyone’s very jumpy. Just a few hundred yards from where we’re sitting the Tatmadaw - that’s the Burmese army - are apparently all over the place. Road blocks. House to house searches. The works.”
“Who are they after?” asked Alexei.
“A good question. It might be the Myanmar Nationalities Democratic Alliance Army: the MNDAA. Or the Ta’ang National Liberation Army: the TNLA. Or the Kachin Independence Army. Even the Arakan Army, although why they should want to join the fun God only knows - the Arakan is miles away on the coast.”
“Are all these people against the government?”
“These are just some of the people against the government,” replied Gudrun, grimly.
“What’s their problem?”
Gudrun shrugged. “In olden days we had empires: Roman, British, Ottoman, Hapsburg, you name it. Not everyone’s cup of tea, but in their heyday they worked pretty well. Built roads or railways according to the age; made laws; banged heads together if the ethnic porridge under their control started squabbling. ‘Empire’ is now a dirty word and we’ve gone to the opposite extreme: fragmentation. The Soviet Union splinters into... I’ve lost count of the numbers. Ditto Yugoslavia. Scots are screaming to quit the barely United Kingdom. Catalans are threatening to leave Spain. Soon every damned village in the world will have its own flag, parliament and national anthem.”
Alexei, “And that’s what’s happening here.”
Gudrun nodded. “Burma has been dealt a poor hand. Occupied by all sorts of people, including the British and Japanese. Fought over twice during the last war and much of it laid waste. There’s dozens of tribes who’ve never liked central authority. Last but not least, the geography’s ideal for waging guerrilla war.”
“I’d have thought things might have improved now that Aung San... what’s-her-name... is in charge,” continued Alexei.
“Ah yes, Aung San Suu Kyi. Winner of the Nobel Peace prize.” Gudrun sounded sceptical. “I live in Oslo, which awards the Nobel Peace, so we take a special interest in the proceedings. Sometimes we’ve been horrified by the choices. Yasser Arafat, the terrorist. Kissinger, who bombed hell out of the Vietnamese. Al Gore, who fiddled his figures to ‘prove’ climate change. You don’t have to be a saint to win the Nobel. In fact, if you’re a saint you probably won’t win the Nobel. Gandhi never did.”
“That’s unfair,” said Alexei. It sounded as though she wanted to say more.
“Maybe. I feel myself becoming more cynical with age. I suppose you know who her father was?”
“Some politician...?”
“Aung San was the Father of the Nation, a revered figure. He was also a communist, who spent most of the war supporting Japan - a weird combination. Late in the
day he decided the Japanese were even nastier than the British and changed sides.”
“Sounds sensible. Not weird at all.” Alexei was beginning to show her irritation.
Gudrun shrugged. “I’m only saying the founder of Independent Burma was rather good at swaying with whatever wind happened to be blowing.”
“A pragmatist,” I suggested, feeling Alexei could do with some support.
“Whatever you call it, looks like it runs in the family. His daughter spent years opposing the generals. Now that she’s in charge, she seems intent on helping those same generals wipe out the Rohingya.”
“What’s this got to do with us being stuck here?”
It was Freddie, who did not often venture a question or opinion, so we all looked round.
Gudrun replied, “Alexei was asking why things had not improved since The Lady took over. I was trying to explain. Frankly, I think everyone’s puzzled. The generals had always clamped down hard on the ethnic minorities, but when democracy finally arrived it was reasonable to suppose there might be a change. Instead, the situation seems to have got worse. Now the army’s attacking not only the Rohingya, but also the Shan and Kachin, across the road from here.”
“Should have stayed at the Academy,” said Freddie. “Nice and peaceful there.”
I agreed with him, but saying so wouldn’t help. I was beginning to regret ever having met Gudrun. What if Alexei and I had set out that morning in Val Fornet a few minutes later than we did? Or taken a different run? What if...? We would still be trundling along in our cosy little ruts, instead of being on the run in a God-forsaken corner of China.
“I’m afraid accidents happen,” said Gudrun, keeping doggedly to her story that she had nothing to do with Panda’s death. “As foreigners in a country with xenophobia, we have to get out. You too, Freddie. No option.”
ROAD TO MANDALAY Page 16
