by Peter Nealen
Gao shook his head. The drug operation was entirely on the side, officially unknown by the United Wa State Party, which had come out to condemn the drug trade in the United Wa State. He was sure there were a few in the Party who knew; he knew that they did, since he paid them.
“Then, as long as your men are disciplined enough, or isolated enough, there will be no targets for the imperialists and their puppets to pursue,” Park said. “This is only the beginning, commander. In time, you will be able to make the United Wa State truly secure, despite the short-sighted panderers in the Party who would compromise with the Burmese who oppressed you for so long.”
Park didn’t think about the words. He’d learned many years ago not to. They were the Party Line, and the Party was always right.
Finally, Gao nodded, his gaze far away. After a moment, he nodded again, more surely this time. He was probably imagining what he could do with the money he hadn’t had to pay the Thais with.
Park stifled his disgust. Gao was a thug, despite his patriotic words about fighting for the Wa and the other ethnic Chinese in northern Burma. The UWSA got plenty of support from the Chinese, under the table. Gao was in the narcotics trade simply because he wanted more.
But that was often the price of doing the people’s work, Park mused. A true member of the Party couldn’t let outdated things like scruples interfere.
Turning his back on the devastation along the road, Park started back down the slope, to join up with Kim and the rest of the small contingent he’d brought south. It was time to get back to their base of operations.
COMING SOON
