Protector--The Final Adventure

by Robert A Webster

  Dave heaved a sigh of relief and said. “Vitchae said everything here appears all clear, but he will call in reinforcements to check around the perimeter of the Imperial Palace. He said the women and children are fine and watching TV, but he will wait with them until another Tinju Warrior came.” He pointed at the unconscious man. “Vitchae said he would find out more and we should make sure this one doesn’t escape.”

  “Looks like his mates have gone,” said Stu pointing at the man, “he isn’t going anywhere, see if you can bring him around Dave, maybe he will tell us how many others are here.”

  Dave knelt down and slapped the man’s face and he groaned.

  “Well, at least he isn’t dead,” said Dave.

  Spock moved a chair closer. “Let’s get the twat into the chair.”

  He and Dave hauled the man onto the chair, which looked weird with just his torso visible and his head slumped down. They didn’t want to remove the rest of the suit, thinking he was naked underneath and not wanting his tackle waving in the breeze.

  “He’s going nowhere,” said Spock and looked at Dave. “We will stay here and make sure he doesn’t; why don’t you go check on Sid and the others?”

  Dave smiled and nodded. “Thanks Spock.”

  The lads pulled over two chairs and sat in front of the slumped man.

  “Huh,” said Spock smirking. “He wasn’t hard to find. Mind you, I crapped myself when I saw those bloody eyes floating in front of me. Did you see how quick I moved?” He punched the air several times and chuckled. “Like a striking snake.” He looked at Stu. “What are you looking miserable about?”

  Stu shook his head, “I aren’t looking miserable, I am just wondering why it was so easy and why only one? According to Dave, they were impossible to see and many attacked Sid’s family.”

  Spock shrugged. “Maybe there were more, but scarpered in case I gave them a knuckle sandwich.”

  “Hmm,” said Stu and rubbed his chin. “Perhaps.”

  “Is Sid okay?” Spock asked minutes later when Dave came back into the kitchen.

  Dave smiled. “Yeah, he’s happy playing with his Gameboy.”

  “What’s that?” Asked Stu, noticing a small clay pot in Dave’s hand.

  “Vitchae gave it to me,” said Dave and pulled over a chair. He opened the pot and smeared a mixture that gave off the smell of ammonia under the man’s nose.

  The man coughed several times, spluttered, opened his eyes, and looked dazed.

  He shook his head clear and felt the sharp pain in his shoulder from the dog bite. The man winced when he felt the deep wound and blood oozing before he looked at the three glaring at him.

  Dave felt anger welling inside, knowing this man might be one of those responsible for killing his and Sid’s parents.

  The man glared at them and Stu asked. “Do you speak English?”

  The man continued staring at the three.

  Dave, unable to control his anger, slapped him, and with a snarl in his voice said. “Answer the question. Do you speak English?”

  The man spat out blood and again stared at them before putting his hand down his invisible waistband and into a pocket.

  “Allah is great, death to the infidels,” said the man sneering.

  “Oh well, at least we know he speaks English,” said Stu leaning forward and glaring at the Arab.

  The man then smiled.

  “What are you looking so pleased about Ab-dab?” said Spock, and he heard a click.

  The man grinned and chanted, “Allah is great. Allah is merciful. Allah is... uhh, urgh.”

  He looked wide-eyed at the three with shock and confusion written across his face.

  “No!” he screamed, and the lads saw his body swelling.

  The lads looked agog as they saw the man bloating up like a puffer fish. His eyes bulged from their sockets and he let out short croaks as he inflated like a tyre.

  Struggling for air, he grabbed his throat and choking he fell to the floor convulsing; now appearing like a brown Michelin man.

  “What the fuck?” Said Spock watching the swollen man writhing and convulsing on the floor. Finally, after several minutes, he went still.

  The three look stunned.

  Dave gasped. “That’s how Sid’s Mam and Dad died, but nowhere near as quick.”

  “When he put his hand down his invisible pants I heard a click. Maybe he has something in a pocket,” said Spock bending down and pulling the dead man’s swollen hand from his invisible pocket.

  “What’s that stuck in his thumb?” Stu asked noticing a key fob.

  “It looks like a key torch,” said Spock, removing the small item stuck in the man’s swollen thumb and inspected it.

  “It pricked his thumb,” he said seeing a small needle protruding from the centre of the button that he showed to Dave and Stu.

  “Hmm, it must be a miniature autoject,” said Stu, recalling from his Navy days the atropine autoject system used by service men should they be infected with biological or chemical agents.

  “He must have committed suicide,” said Stu, amazed by the minute size of the needle. “He was one of those fanatical Ab-dabs and martyred himself.”

  Spock looked at the bloated corpse. “Yeah, but he looked surprised when he injected himself. It didn’t look like he expected that to happen.”

  Stu shrugged. “Probably pissed off about not taking any of us infidels with him.”

  Dave furrowed his brow and looked puzzled. “If he is an Arab Islamic extremist, then why are they attacking us? They have no reason; we are a peace-loving people and have never harmed them.”

  The lads shrugged, also feeling dumbfounded.

  Dave looked down at the corpse and said. “Whoever they are, they are becoming sloppy. We saw his eyes here, but in the UK, I saw nothing.”

  He bent down, tore off a piece of the assassin’s invisible suit, rubbed the unseen material between his fingers, and said. “This must be Tusen.”

  Spock and Stu looked around the floor to where Dave had put the man’s mask and top half of his invisible suit, but seeing nothing, shrugged.

  Spock scratched his head and stared at the invisible half of the dead man.

  Dave, although still confused, walked to the door and shouted to the Tinju.

  “We must warn Pon,” he said, walking back over to Spock and Stu.

  Stu nodded, took out his phone, and called Pon’s number.

  Two Tinju came into the kitchen, went over to the grotesquely disfigured dead man, and removed the corpse.

  Pon answered and Stu, sounding anxious, said. “Pon, we have just been attacked.”

  Stu put the phone on speaker so Dave and Spock could hear.

  “What?” Pon asked sounding dismayed, “is everyone okay Stu?”

  “Yeah, don’t worry, everyone’s fine.”

  “We captured an Amanussa,” said Dave. “He looked like an Arab.”

  They heard Pon gasp and then he said. “Arab’s, how many were there? and what about the others?”

  “We found no trace of any others,” said Dave, “but the Tinju and police are looking around the Imperial Palace grounds.”

  Pon went silent while he considered the ramifications.

  “Maybe it is as I thought, and that nutty Sheik Mohammed’s kid is behind all this,” said Stu furrowing his brow.

  They heard Pon sigh before he said. “Perhaps, but why attack descendants elsewhere and not just here?”

  No one could answer that question, so there was an awkward silence, broken minutes later by Pon.

  “Has the prisoner said anything? If not, get Master Vitchae; he knows what to do.”

  “He’s already snuffed it,” said Spock, “He committed Harry Kari.”

  Pon, unable to decipher Spock’s foible asked, “Pardon?”

  “He’s dead Pon,” said Dave in understandable English.

  While Spock and Stu listened, Dave gave Pon details on the attack and about seeing the assassin’s eyes and the
key fob in his pocket that he had used to kill himself.

  Pon listened, went silent for a moment while he thought, and said. “Do you still have the device?”

  “Yes,” said Dave. “But we don’t know how it worked. It just looked like a small triangular torch on a chain. Like the ones used to find the key hole on dark nights.”

  “Give it to Khun Taksin, perhaps he can figure out what was in it and how it worked.”

  “I will Pon,” said Dave and Spock handed it to him.

  “Thanks Dave, I am glad that everyone is okay. Thank you for the warning and I shall be extra vigilant from now on.”

  Spock looked concerned. “How are the Thai Chapati and the little Thai girl?”

  They heard rage in Pons voice as he said. “The Gopetu is angry, and like us, he wanted answers and revenge.”

  The lads heard Pon sighing before he said, “Lek, the young girl still hasn’t spoken. She just clung to Manhut her Gopetu and stared blankly into space. Even with Master Cenat’s words of comfort reassuring her that the ghosts aren’t coming back, she still looked terrified and confused.

  Dave thought about Sid, so he understood the anger the Thai Gopetu must be feeling. Spock and Stu stared at the phone and heard the hurt and anger in Pon’s voice as he said. “Manhut felt better, so we moved them both to comfier surroundings earlier. I am just going to check on…”

  Spock, Stu, and Dave looked at one another shocked, as they heard dogs barking and snarling in the background, with people hollering in Thai.

  A chill went up their spines as the call abruptly ended.

  The lads from England looked at one another and felt helpless. They all knew what was now happening in Salaburi.

  ****

  Pon arrived in Salaburi the previous evening.

  The Wat and grounds, now surrounded by large walls, cut the monks and temple off from the now thriving Salaburi village.

  Master Cenat met Pon at the helicopter, and after it took off, the pair chatted as they walked to the monk’s quarters. Manhut, the Gopetu, slept on a mat tended by two monks. The little girl, Lek, sat crossed legged at his side staring into space.

  Cenat told Pon. “Manhut told us little before the Aroona poison took hold.”

  “Will he be okay, Master Cenat?”

  Cenat nodded. “He’ll be fine Prime Master. Our herbs and remedies will soon expel the poison.” Cenat pointed to Lek. “I don’t know about her though. She has been like that since they came.”

  Pon looked at the girl who appeared an empty shell.

  “Is there anything we can do for her, Master Cenat?”

  Cenat shook his head, “Only reassure and comfort her until her Gopetu recovered.”

  Pon looked at the sleeping Gopetu and the frightened little girl by his side. He and Cenat left and walked into the Wat where Pon explained to Cenat what had happened in England and Cambodia.

  Cenat, looking concerned, asked, “What are we going to do Pon?”

  Pon shook his head and looking forlorn said. “I don’t know Master Cenat. I don’t understand why any of this is happening. All I know is that we must prepare for a possible attack.”

  The old monk nodded, and after a few hours of meditation and chanting, Pon organised the Tinju Masters and Warriors.

  They realised that the walls surrounding the Wat made an ideal fortress with only one large gate for entry.

  Early the following morning, Pon had bamboo spikes tipped with Aroona root placed on top of the large wall as an extra guarantee.

  The Tinju spent the day shoring up the Wat’s defences and making small fire pits around the grounds using evergreen leaves, branches, and tree sap for fuel.

  The villagers brought their dogs to the Wat and Tinju Warriors patrolled around the grounds with them during the day.

  While Pon and the Tinju Masters sat in the quarters going over details, a Master asked. “Do you think they will attack us here Prime Master? How would they know where the Sanctuaries are?”

  Pon looked at the Master and sounding wistful said. “I don’t know, but they found the descendants.”

  “But why?” asked another Master looking puzzled.

  “I don’t know,” said Pon furrowing his brow, “but I think if any attack came it would be at night, so we had better be prepared until we find out what’s happening and why.”

  Pon and the Masters chanted for protection and late afternoon Pon went to see Manhut and Lek.

  Manhut, having regained his strength, told Pon and Cenat more details about the events in Bangkok.

  Pon arranged for comfortable furniture brought in from the village and Manhut and Lek moved into his quarters while he and Cenat went to the Wat to chant before dusk.

  Once dark, Tinju Warriors stood by each fire as white smoke billowed around the Wat’s grounds drifting on the slight easterly breeze.

  Wearing face protection made from hornet’s nests and hardened resin that filtered the smoke and protected their eyes, the Warriors stood with their bows arrowed watching the smoke and listening.

  The Warriors with dogs walked around and two stood at the large gate on vigil. Masters patrolled the grounds with their swords out ready to react to the slightest noise. Pon patrolled along with the Masters and occasionally went to his quarters to check on Manhut and Lek.

  Now dark, the glowing fires lit up the grounds with the smoke swirling around like fog.

  Apart from a crackle of burning embers, the Wat’s grounds were silent as the Tinju looked around for any sign of intruders.

  Pon stood with Master Cenat outside the Wat watching the grounds of their fortress when Stu called.

  ****

  Pon put the phone in his cassock pocket and ran to where the dogs barked. Tinju Warriors converged with bows and arrows and Masters stood with swords and Juglaves drawn.

  Pon drew his sword and looked around with the other Tinju.

  Tinju Warriors ran back and forth in front of the smoke barriers, while the dogs, now let loose, snarled, barked, and run towards what they had detected. The Tinju watched the dogs as they ran into thick clouds of smoke near the main gate. They heard a man screaming before the dogs emerged into clear air and appeared to be dragging someone yelling toward the gathered Tinju.

  They saw the outline of a screaming figure bathed in smoke and wincing eyes floating in mid-air.

  The Tinju encircled the figure as a dog ripped a chunk of flesh from its leg before several Tinju grabbed the dog’s leashes and pulled them away. The figure slumped to the floor on all fours, wailing in pain.

  A Tinju Master raised his sword and about to cut off the head when Pon yelled. “Wait!”

  Putting the blade of his sword against the figure’s neck and now feeling the solid flesh, he shouted. “Leave this one and look for others.”

  The Warriors and Masters went to search for other raiders while Pon stood over the figure. He recalled what Dave had told him and as he heard a man wailing, he grabbed the head and pulled off a hood.

  A man looked sideways up at Pon who saw the pained expression on his face before Pon hit him with the hilt of his sword, knocking him unconscious.

  Feeling for the man’s back, he sliced the top of the Tusen suit and pulled it off before he went to join the Tinju searching for others.

  With the dogs now quiet, Pon soon realised this was similar to the palace attack. Either any others fled, or there was only one.

  Pon and Cenat, along with two Warriors carried the unconscious man into the monk’s quarters.

  The Warriors put him onto a chair and cut off the rest of the Tusen suit. Pon glared at the naked man slumped in the chair, rubbed his face, and thought. ‘He also looks like an Arab.’

  “Prime Master, this was in a pocket,” said a Warrior handing Pon a key fob.

  “Hmm,” said Pon as he looked at the triangular shaped object.

  Cenat wrapped the large gash on the man’s leg and smaller dog bites with brown pleasant smelling gauze and covered him with a sheet.<
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  Cenat took a small ceramic pot from his cassock and smeared a little balm from it under the man’s nose.

  The Arab spluttered, raised his head, and looked in a daze.

  Looking at the four monks glaring at him, he felt no pain as Cenat’s medicinal herbal gauze contained strong local anaesthetic properties.

  The man grabbed the sheet and pulled it tighter around his shoulders while he glared at the monks.

  Pon leant over, stared at the man, and with rage in his voice, asked. “Do you speak English? How many are with you?”

  The man just stared at Pon.

  “Perhaps he doesn’t speak English,” said Cenat. “Maybe we need to find out where he is from and get a translator from Bangkok.

  Pon furrowed his brow, “Perhaps,” he said and watched the man’s eyes as he dangled the key fob in front of his face and asked. “What is this?”

  The man’s eyes widened and he looked surprised but remained silent.

  Pon sighed and said, “Even if he spoke English I doubt if he will tell us anything; the one they caught in Bangkok didn’t before he died.”

  The man in the chair gasped when Pon said that, but he said nothing.

  Pon smirked at the man and Cenat went over to him and smeared contents from another pot under his nose. The man glared at the old monk before falling into a blissful induced slumber.

  “What are your plans Prime Master?” asked Cenat looking at the sleeping man.

  “Tonight, we need to keep up our vigil. Tomorrow, if Manhut felt strong enough, I will take him and Lek to the Imperial Palace and give this to Taksin,” he said dangling the key fob. “They have one in Bangkok, but that had been used, so I will see what he can find out about what’s inside them.” He pointed at the Arab slumped in the chair and said. “I will take him with us and see what he tells us after further interrogation.”

  Cenat nodded and said. “Very well, Prime Master.”

  He nodded at the Warriors. “The man will sleep for several hours but these two will stay here and guard him.”

  “Thank you, Master Cenat. I know you and the other Masters are more than capable of defending the Wat without me, and it is urgent I find out more.”

  The old Master and the Warriors wai-ed Pon and after returning the wai, he walked to his quarters and called Taksin to tell him what happened and arrange a helicopter.