“No good wondering what might have been,” I agreed. “We must face the facts. Which look pretty dire. Panda is dead and will remain so. At some stage - probably sooner rather than later - they’ll find his body. Or wonder where he’s got to. The search will then inevitably turn to us. If, by that time, we’re not safely out of the country, we’ll be in deep shit.”
“Nicely put,” said Gudrun. “Which is why I’m working with my Stockmann colleagues to resolve the situation.”
“Don’t see how you can,” said Freddie. “We can’t go on. We can’t go back. Are you a miracle worker?”
I sensed mutiny in the ranks. Until now we’d looked on Freddie Ricketts as a passive person: a computer geek who had to be extricated from the jaws of the Chinese dragon. But under the influence of foreign travel and a new girlfriend he was showing signs of independence. I wouldn’t put it past him to persuade Su to hop on a bus and go back with him to the Academy. And damn the consequences.
Brushing aside Freddie’s fears, Gudrun said, “Know what tomorrow is?”
No takers.
“Tomorrow is May the First,” she explained. “Labour day. When the world takes a holiday. Especially places devoted to the gospel according to Saint Marx. Places like China.”
“So what?” I asked.
“So for the next thirty-six hours nothing will happen,” she replied. “Except maybe some street celebrations. Which will allow me more time to fix things with Stockmann.”
“You’re suggesting we take tomorrow off?” asked Alexei.
“Everyone else will. Except me. I’ll be working my mobile. Planning a way out.”
“Need any help?” I asked.
Gudrun shook her head. “Why don’t you all have a good night’s sleep. And enjoy yourselves tomorrow. We’ll meet up in the hotel lobby at... say, six in the evening. By then I should have some good news.”
We finished our meal with attempts to remain cheerful, although I don’t suppose any of us had much faith in her forecast of ‘good news’. It was difficult to see how she could dredge anything positive out of the mess we were in.
As we returned to the hotel, Gudrun took me aside, whispered, “I’ll be busy tomorrow, so I’m relying on you and Alexei to make sure we don’t lose Freddie.”
“Yea, sounds like he might be thinking of jumping ship. We’ll do our best, of course, but if he’s really determined I don’t see what we can do.”
“You can damned well stop him!” She hissed. But with no guidance on how I might accomplish that.
With that we drifted off to our rooms. To sleep... perchance to dream. If only. At least I had no nightmares. You can’t when your brain remains in overdrive, while delivering no solutions. I spent the night periodically crashing into Alexei, who had similar problems.
40
CHINA/BURMA BORDER. MAY
Mayday in Ruili dawned with some light cloud and already warm. At this time of the year, in days of empire, the British Raj had already taken the whole paraphernalia of government away from the searing heat of their capital Calcutta to the cooler hills of Simla. During the weeks before the monsoon breaks and brings relief, the plains of Northern India and Burma become a furnace. Mercifully, Ruili was a hill station. Although not at Dali’s permanently spring-like altitude, it was high enough for bearable temperatures. If we ever made it over the border, we would be descending into an oven.
Everyone had therefore changed into their tropical gear; Su in a light skirt and blouse, Freddie in shorts and sandals. Gudrun was nowhere to be seen - hopefully busy waving her magic cellphone to try and extricate us from our predicament.
The rest of us met for a leisurely breakfast, before wandering out to see what Ruili had to offer. From the upper floors of our hotel we could see the ‘port’, a pagoda-like structure with a hole in the middle, through which traffic would normally exit the PRC - the Peoples Republic of China. It could not have been more than a ten minute walk away, but might as well have been on the moon for all the use it was to us now.
There was no point in adding to our frustrations by taking a closer look, so we set off in the opposite direction, towards downtown Ruili, to see what it had to offer in the way of Mayday excitement. We knew from newsreels that Communist countries did this rather well: there would be rocket launchers, tanks and goose-stepping troops on the ground; overhead a flypast of the latest military jets.
Not in Ruili. We came across a small group of people waving banners, which Su said was something to do with a trade union - did they allow such in China? Apart from that, the town seemed to be asleep.
Around lunchtime things started to stir. By now in need of sustenance, we got Su to ask around and were directed to an eating street, where we sat down for a snack. As we ate, our surroundings came to life. Particularly eye-catching was an establishment across the road, the ‘Golden Dragon’, which started to sprout garish lights, even though it was midday. It did not appear to be a restaurant, so we were intrigued. Especially Freddie. Having finished lunch and with nothing better to do, we went over to investigate.
In contrast to the brightly lit exterior, the inside was unexpectedly dark, even in broad daylight. There were tables and chairs, a bar serving drinks, a couple of slot machines, but no evidence of food. The few customers we could see were mostly young. Young and female. Even though it was warm outside, their dress code was ridiculously skimpy...
Su, Alexei and I must have sassed it out at the same moment. But not Freddie, who announced it was time for his first beer of the day and sat down at the bar. As he did so, a lady of about fifteen years of age appeared beside him.
I expected Su to do something - say something, but like us she dithered. Just watched as Freddie’s new companion asked,
“You like drink?”
The town was not flush with English speakers, so this girl must have been specially selected to attend to Freddie.
With barely a pause, he replied, “That’d be great.”
To this day I don’t understand why we still did nothing. Did he really think she was offering to buy him a drink? Then I realised this was exactly what he did think. A lad who has spent his whole life looking at a screen in his bedroom is unlikely to be worldly-wise.
Because Freddie had not specified any sort of drink, whatever potion they put in front of him would not only cost a king’s ransom, it might also be laced with something nasty.
As the first of us to wake up to what was happening, I approached the bar, put a hand on our genius’s shoulder and said,
“Come on, Freddie. Best be going.”
At which the girl started waving her arms and squawking loudly in Chinese. This woke Su out of her stupor, but as she joined me at the bar we became aware of another figure.
He was large for a Chinaman, not much under six foot and wide with it. His arms, like well filled sausages, were bare to the shoulders and decorated in a multitude of tattoos, many with dragon motifs. His wispy goatee beard was starting so show strands of grey.
There followed an exchange of rapid-fire Chinese. When it had finished, Su turned to me with a shrug,
“He says the drink’s been ordered, so Freddie must pay.”
On cue, a waitress appeared and plonked a glass with a scarlet coloured liquid in front of him.
“What’s that?” I asked. It looked expensive.
A short exchange with mine host and Su reported,
“He says it’s their special cocktail.”
A similar drink then appeared in front of the girl. Hers would doubtless be only coloured water, but you could bet your bottom Yuan it would be just as expensive.
“He didn’t order one for her as well,” I protested.
Mr Tattoo must have understood my comment - I was beginning to suspect he could actually speak some English - because before Su could interpret, he launched into another tirade.
When he had finished, Su told us: “He says his girls always get a drink with their customers.”
‘Her
customer’ indeed!
I should have been much quicker on the uptake. Here we were in a border town, a place they called the ‘port’, although the only water around was the sluggish Ruili river. Such places attract a constant flow of itinerant workers, whose demands are simple and threefold: food, alcohol and a woman. I don’t suppose the Golden Dragon usually opened this early, but Mayday was a public holiday, so there might be business opportunities, even at lunchtime. It looked to be paying off, when a naïve young European walked in.
“Okay, Freddie, but only this one drink,” I said. “And we’d better find out how much it costs. Pay the bill.”
Mr Tattoo definitely understood some English, because he immediately said something to Su, who seemed startled, and asked a question back.
She translated his repeat. “He says three hundred and forty Yuan.”
“That’s nearly forty quid!” I yelled. “For one drink! Can’t be right.”
Another rapid reply from Tattoo, which Su relayed on,
“That’s for two drinks and half an hour with Milly.”
“Milly?”
“Her!” Su pointed at the girl, as though she was a piece of dirt.
“But he doesn’t want Milly...” I turned to him: “Do you Freddie?”
Beginning to realise what he had let himself in for, he shook his head. Said nothing.
Which was the signal for Milly to clutch Freddie’s arm and start to sob. Well trained.
It was all a scam of course. But if you’re fugitives in an autocratic foreign country and don’t speak the lingo, you’re in a poor position to argue. Our only option was to pay whatever it took and extricate Freddie with as little damage as possible.
I rummaged through my wallet: 130 Yuan – about £15. Not enough. We had just paid for lunch and hoped to be out of China by daybreak. Everyone was running down their stock of Yuan. Freddie, Su and Alexei turned out their pockets. Grand total 295 Yuan. Still not quite enough.
I held out our collection of crumpled notes, hoping Tattoo would accept what we had. He shook his head. Grinned. He’d not had so much fun with Gaijin barbarians for years.
With what I hoped was an inspiration, I again went to my wallet. Found my Mastercard. Offered it up. An even wider grin from Tattoo. An even firmer shake of the head. Who’d ever heard of a brothel accepting credit cards? In this age of plastic I thought many would, but Tattoo was determined not to.
“We need an ATM machine,” I said, desperately. “Su, please ask for directions to the nearest one is.”
Without waiting for a translation, Tattoo rattled off instructions, which Su then explained to us.
“Do you mind, Alexei?” I asked. “I’d better stay here to keep an eye on things.”
Alexei saw the sense of this and set off in search of cash. She had to make her way through a throng of bystanders who had been attracted to the free entertainment we were providing. Mayday in Ruili was not particularly exciting and they were curious. But perfectly friendly. So far.
As Alexei departed, Tattoo said something to Milly, who abandoned her charade of weeping on Freddie’s shoulder, turned to us and asked;
“You like drink?”
“Certainly not!” If I was brusque it was because I was pissed off with Freddie and not a little scared. Publicity like this was the last thing we needed.
“You give no more money,” said Milly.
“Free drinks?” I asked suspiciously.
Milly wiped away the last tear from her sob scene and, with a giggle, offered up her English master-phrase, “On the house.”
I was badly in need of a stiffener, so why not? We were being forced to pay for what a dozen standard priced drinks would have cost. A couple for us would go some way towards redressing the balance. I glanced at Su, who nodded, so I replied,
“Okay then. As long as they’re really on the house.” Remembering how they had caught out Freddie, I added, “And no girl.”
Milly’s eyes opened wide. “No girl? You sure?” In an instant she had turned from a weepy into a flirt. Quite a little thespian.
I smiled. “My girl is on her way to find some money. Can’t afford another one.”
Maybe Tattoo felt he had overplayed his hand, because from then on the atmosphere improved. Became almost chummy. The drinks helped. I don’t know what went into mine, but it had quite a kick. Under its influence I nearly suggested Freddie get his money’s worth with Milly. Then I remembered Su. A cat-fight between the two of them would only round off a day of disaster.
Perhaps ‘disaster’ was putting it too strongly, but Freddie’s foray into the sex industry would be the talk of Ruili. If rumours of a mysterious disappearance in Dali then reached their ears, it would not be difficult to put two and two together. Our departure from China was more urgent than ever.
41
Our drinks led to a thaw with Tattoo. Within minutes he had gone from a threatening figure to a genial host. Milly had some fun practising her basic English. And when Alexei returned with the cash, she joined us with a ‘free’ glass of the coloured stuff. Friendship between China and Britain blossomed. By the time we left I’d almost forgotten we’d been robbed blind.
But I was sober enough to realise it must now be straight back to the hotel. We could take no more chances with Freddie’s unpredictable behaviour. Alexei and I were bringing up the rear and it struck me what an odd couple they were: Su, pigtailed and neat; Freddie, shambolic and hairy-legged. They were holding hands and, with Su a head shorter, they looked like a ship with a list to port.
The holding hands was encouraging. All of Gudrun’s group was suspect. Any one of us might decide to take our chances and go our own way. But Su, heading for a foreign country with a boyfriend she scarcely knew, was surely the one with the most to lose. That the boyfriend had just shown a taste for ladies of the night might have been expected to accelerate her departure.
That she had not done so, but on the contrary seemed to be even more attached to him, suggested, I hoped, that she had passed a personal crossroad. In the cloistered confines of the Academy, Freddie might have seemed a fairly normal genius - if such an animal existed. But out in the big wide world he had demonstrated such a startling naivety, that he would probably need support to survive. He would need mothering. And if it’s one thing the female of the species loves, it’s the call to be mothered.
We were back in our hotel by mid-afternoon. Gudrun had said nothing about where she might be, but I felt she should be made aware of our recent fiasco, so, on the off-chance, rang her room. She answered within seconds and listened while I brought her up-to-date. Made no comment beyond saying she would discuss it later. When I enquired if she had made any progress, she repeated,
“Talk about it later. Remember, six o’clock in the lobby. It’s important, so don’t be late. Make sure we’re all there.” And rang off.
Suddenly I felt very weary. I don’t think Mr Tattoo laced his drinks, but mine had been very strong. A siesta was indicated. Alexei was already flat out on the bed. I knew no more...
42
...until the phone jangled in my ear. Alexei sat up and rubbed her eyes. I looked at my watch. Five past six! I picked up the phone and apologised.
“The others are already here,” said Gudrun from the other end.
Again I said sorry. Went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. Used the facilities, gathered our wits, and were down in the lobby by ten past.
“I’ll explain everything over drinks and dinner,” announced Gudrun. “Usual place. Come on.” And marched us out of the hotel.
When food had been ordered and drinks were in place, Gudrun announced, “We leave for Burma tomorrow.”
“How?” I spoke for everyone.
“We walk.”
“Walk!” Again, I yelled for the group. I should not have been surprised; should have realised this was now our only option. But, as usual, my head had been in the sand.
“You put one foot in front of the other,” s
aid Gudrun, sarcastically. “As we’ve been doing for a few million years. Quite easy.”
“But it must be miles to... wherever we have to go.”
“We could be in Burma within minutes,” she continued. “But of course that’s impossible. Not only is the port closed, but this is a major transit point, so everyone will be on the lookout. And on the other side it’ll be swarming with troops. We must find somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“All official border crossings within several hundred miles of here are closed, which means we’ll have to enter Burma unofficially. Fortunately, it’s a long border and mostly jungle. Impossible to police.”
Freddie piped up, “Seen lots of them jungly films. With snakes and leeches and scorpions. And everyone seems to get dysentery and malaria.” His enthusiasm for this ghastly catalogue seem almost enticing.
“The jungle can be your friend, if you know how to use it,” countered Gudrun.
Was this woman as much of an expert on the jungle as she was on snow and in the water? Wouldn’t put it past her.
“What timescale are we talking about for this jungle jolly?” I asked. “Hours? Days? Weeks?”
Gudrun considered the question. An ominous sign. Finally replied, “A few days should do it. At least for the jungle part.”
An unconvincing reply. But no point in scaring the troops by pressing for a realistic estimate, so I let it pass. Instead, asked, “Where are we aiming for?”
“Mandalay... eventually. That’s where our main back-up will be waiting.”
“We have back-up in Burma?” Su sounded relieved.
“Of course. What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“What sort of back-up?”
“I represent an international organisation called Stockmann...” Gudrun stifled Su’s question with a wave of the hand. “No you won’t have heard of it. Stockmann keeps a deliberately low profile. But is most influential. Has contacts in all the right places.”
“And you’ll have people to meet us in Mandalay?”
ROAD TO MANDALAY Page 17
