“Enough with the missionary act.” Connie gesticulated at him with a skewer of roasted chicken and a menacing eye. They stood at the near end of the last bridge before the border with Myanmar, bending a weather eye in the direction of the two-story building holding down the far end. One line of traffic passed through the right-hand gate – pedestrians, peddlers, barrow pushers, but mainly out-of-towners who seemed primarily to want to pay twenty dollars US to get an exit visa stamp so they could re-enter through the left-hand gate for another six month stay in Thailand.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it figured out now. We cross tonight, sometime after dark.”
“Security looks pretty lax at the border control office. It’s like a steady stream of tourists making a visa run. They won’t give us a second look.”
“True, they probably won’t. But the way it works at this checkpoint is they only give you a day-pass to go shopping in Tachileik. They hold your passport until you return.”
“Why is that a problem? Our passports are fakes… might as well leave ’em behind.”
“Ordinarily, I’d agree with you.” Danko popped a roasted chestnut in his mouth, as if he were punctuating for emphasis. “But if I don’t return for the passport by the end of the day, they’ll have lots of time to scrutinize it more closely…”
“Right, and if they don’t know that Hsu Qi’s already crossed over, and they recognize you from the photo…” Connie pulled off the last shred of chicken with her teeth and flipped the skewer into the Ruak River.
“Exactly, even a fake passport, if it has my picture in it, will trigger a manhunt, and if they’re not ready…” Connie put a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay, big guy. We’ll find her. Obviously, we need to cross the border ‘unofficially,’ so to speak.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“I mean, the damn river’s only fifty feet across, less in places. All we have to do is ‘borrow’ a rowboat and, you know…”
“… avoid the patrols on the other side?”
“Yeah, that.”
Danko pulled her away from the railing overlooking the river and nudged her toward the market stalls on the alley leading back to their hotel. From a rise, they could see a panorama of pastel-colored buildings with red or blue tile roofs on the Thai side. Across the river, things were a good deal less colorful, even somber, as the economy had stagnated for decades under one junta after another. This was the legacy of colonial rule – even after winning their independence, the people of Burma lacked sufficient unity of will and purpose to sustain a civilian government.
“Can ‘the Lady’ really bring the country together?” Connie sipped from a bottle of the foul local beer, the two of them having found comfortable seats on the veranda the hotel staff referred to as ‘the relaxation area.’
Rain pattered on the roof, now louder, now softer, as the early evening downpour played itself out. This was what the tail end of monsoon season always felt like, rains you could set your watch by.
“It’s a tall order, especially with the resentment of Muslims that seems to be on the rise. There are some extremist sects among the Buddhists, and she needs to denounce them, without losing her base of support. It’s a tightrope act, no doubt.”
“It’s not a stretch to think the junta is egging the Buddhists on, in order to discredit her.”
“That’s why Hsu Qi is determined to rally the Shan tribes behind ‘the Lady.’ It may be the only way to stabilize the situation, and she can’t do that from long distance.”
“So what’s your plan to get us across the border?”
“It’s simple really. Once the rains stop – we get more beer, and maybe some of those fried fish bowls from the stand at the corner – and we wait until around midnight, and then take a stroll down this lane.”
“Danko, I swear if you make me walk through the red light district again, I’m gonna kill someone. This place is so much worse than the camps outside Mae La. I bought your story about the girl on the back of the scooter… but there’s no way, here…”
“I tell you what. We can come back here when this is all over, and you can go on a killing spree, really clean out the pimps and the ‘short-time’ hotel circuit. But for now, we need to cultivate a lower profile. A few hours from now, we walk down this lane, until we run into some folks by the river who want to rob us.”
“I get it. We take their boat back across the river, because they’ll have scouted the patrols on the other side for us. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”
The patter on the veranda roof grew louder, until it seemed almost deafening – it wasn’t, really, deafening, but it commanded a sort of silence from Connie and Danko. A stream took shape in the middle of the alley, with what looked like a rip current visible between the feet resting on the railing. Paper trash, assorted plastic items, and a child’s sandal, floated along, getting caught here and there. Danko roused himself to step to the end of the veranda and fish the sandal from the water, wedging it into the railing.
“What? Someone might need it.”
“You’ve come a long way… from black-ops merc working the Golden Triangle to muscular nanny looking out for the littlest among us.”
“What can I say? I never had a chance to have any kids of my own.”
“Me neither, big guy,”
Later, walking along the road past the ‘short time’ hotels, with Connie growling all the way, Danko stumbled and righted himself, then stumbled again, until she took his arm and rested it on her shoulder. His boots were still stained, even though the mud had mostly washed off. Her own boots were cleaner, darker – she paid more attention to her steps – without the canvas panels mud likes to cling to.
“It’s show time,” he whispered, as branches rustled off to their right. A smallish man in loose trousers and shirttails hanging outside his canvas belt emerged, brandishing a knife. He yelled something unintelligible, and two more men appeared behind them.
“Do you understand what he’s saying?”
“Not a word. It’s probably Lahu or Akha.” Danko patted his pockets and shrugged. “Just come a little closer, little man. You take him. I’ve got the other two.”
Dispatching their assailants was not challenging in itself – Connie stomped on the little man’s sandal and punched him in the face, crumpling him to the ground, while Danko turned and charged at the two who were following. One stood his ground, swinging a tree branch, until Danko disarmed him with a blow to the chest. He threw the branch at the other, striking him in the back of the head and bringing him down.
The trick, of course, was doing it quietly, and they may not have been as successful in this task. A porch light flickered on a few meters down, and Connie pulled her man into the underbrush on the opposite side of the lane, while Danko hefted both of his charges onto one shoulder. When Connie’s man recovered consciousness, he quickly gave up the location of their crossing, and a boat tied to some weeds along the riverbank below the road. Danko forced him into the bottom of the rustic craft while Connie ransacked the pockets of the other two.
On the far side of the river, it was short work to find the two motor scooters the gang used to make their nightly getaway, and Danko pushed the once again unconscious little man back across the river in the boat.
“What’d we get?” He asked.
Connie flicked on the mini flashlight she carried in her pocket and scanned their haul. “Looks like about fifteen thousand baht, a few hundred dollars, two key rings… and over here we have two scooters, one with a gas can strapped to the back.”
“Not bad for a few minutes work.”
“What the hell, Danko? You’re bleeding from somewhere.”
“Dammit, Connie. I thought you controlled his blade.” He shook the blood off his hand, and she looked him over with the light.
“It’s back here, just under your shoulder. Take off your shirt.” She tore off two strips and made a pad out of the rest, which she tied over
and under his arm. “That’ll hold it for now, but we’re gonna have to do something more permanent soon… and I did control him, dumbass. Must’ve been one of yours.”
“Fine. We only need to get to Kengtung.”
“What’s in Kengtung?”
“The Wa Army.”
“Friendlies?”
“Yeah, within limits, but we can trust them to get us to Kutkai.”
“Anything I should know about the Wa?”
“That’s hard to say. They’re moonshiners… and don’t get into a drinking contest with them.”
“Check. Anything else?”
“Nah, they gave up taking heads centuries ago.”
17
A Night on the Town
“I don’t think that’s quite posh enough.” Wu Dao glanced up from his smartphone to consider Emily’s outfit.
“It’s this or the uniform,” she said, hand on hip, standing in the door to the bathroom. “I don’t have anything else. Besides, this was an expensive damn sweater.”
“What about the gown you wore to the state dinner? You’re not holding out on me, are you?”
“First of all, if you must know, I had to give that back to the embassy… and get your nose out of my drawers.”
“Where Zhi Zhi wants to go… it’s not a casual club.”
“… and I don’t see you wearing a tux.” Without either of them noticing, the conversation floated between English and Mandarin, always seeking the path of least resistance. Despite this, Emily still had no feel for Beijingese slang, and her gaffes regularly brought a smile to Wu Dao’s face. Emily punched him on the shoulder – “I’m serious. Why do I have to be fancier than you? Oh… right, you want to have some fresh young, practically naked thing on your arm, is that it?”
“Don’t underestimate the effect of a pretty girl on the male ego, scantily clad or not… and we can pick something up for you in Guomao on the way over.”
“Let me guess, a skimpy dress, spaghetti straps… have you forgotten about the scars?”
Emily’s reminder gave Wu Dao some pause, while she stood in front of him, hands on hips. Didn’t she look good in a casual outfit, black jeans and cashmere? Rather continental, she thought, and no need for a thong, which would undoubtedly be necessary with whatever he had in mind. With a tap at the door, the old lady let herself in, as had become her habit.
“You have visitors, Daozi,” Mrs. Gao said, before whispering an addendum. “They arrived in a very fancy car.”
Of course, it was Zhizheng, who peeked in over Mrs. Gao’s shoulder, but Wu Dao stared at the old lady uncomprehendingly.
“Pardon me,” he said. “Have we met?”
“Please forgive me, Daozi.” Mrs. Gao looked quite embarrassed, her eyes fixed on Emily. “I did not realize you already had a guest.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Gao ayi. Allow me to introduce my friend, Wu Dao.” Emily gestured to Zhizheng, who stepped through with a very pretty girl on his arm, tall and slender in a red sheath dress designed to feature her legs. “And this is Miao Zhizheng and his friend…”
“Fan Xiao,” Zhizheng said.
Mrs. Gao nodded to the young people, perhaps feeling a trifle overwhelmed, and looking for an excuse to take her leave. Emily took her hand, gave it a squeeze and walked with her to the door. Out in the corridor, the old lady wanted to whisper a confidence.
“Do you know what you’re doing, Daozi, associating with these people?”
“I think so, Gao ayi. They’re just people, like you and me.” The irony was not lost on Emily – yes, she is just like Mrs. Gao and Zhizheng, even Wu Dao, though it wasn’t so long ago that Chinese operatives had hunted her across the face of the Earth on the assumption that she was scarcely human.
“But these people… I read about them in the papers. They are not at all like us.”
Emily laughed. “I know what you mean. They don’t live like anybody else. But they’re not really different, and Miao Zhizheng has been very kind to me.”
“The pretty one? Yes, he has nice eyes. But the other one, Wu Dao, I’m not so sure about.”
“Don’t worry about me, Auntie.” Emily kissed the top of the old lady’s head. “I’ll be fine.”
“And you’ll come to dinner tomorrow… don’t forget.”
“Your landlady is an odd old bird,” Wu Dao said, once Emily had pulled the door shut again. “When she kept saying my name…”
“Don’t be obtuse. That’s just how she reads the characters for my name.” When the three of them gaped at her uncomprehendingly, she scribbled two kanji on a piece of scrap paper, and Wu Dao laughed to see it.
“Of course… it hadn’t occurred to me that you would write Michiko that way, but why not… ‘michi’ must mean ‘the way’ in riben-yu, just like ‘dao’, and ‘ko’ means ‘child’, right? My grandmother used to call me daozi, too.”
“This other character is a bit daunting,” Zhizheng said. “Tianhuang… are you connected to the imperial family?” He paused to clear his throat. “I mean, many people of the older generations, like your landlady, will remember suffering under proclamations stamped with that character as a signature, and kids still read about it in school.”
There really is no escaping the past – the thought flashed across Emily’s consciousness. Is it worth lying about this? She reflected on the question for a moment and felt her eyes glaze over as the room went out of focus. The pleasure of being able to bring Princess Toshi to safety made her feel like she belonged to something ancient and powerful. But the moment she separated Gyoshin Heiji’s head from her shoulders, that connection felt like it had been severed as well. This was not the sort of explanation Wu Dao or Zhizheng needed to hear at this moment, and the right moment for it would probably never arise.
“It’s just a name,” she said, when Wu Dao touched her hand. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I thought we’d lost you there,” he said.
Eager to change the subject, Emily turned to Zhizheng. “Is this outfit really not expensive enough for whatever clubs you have in mind? Wu Dao thinks we need to make a stop in Guomao.” Of course, standing next to Fan Xiao, whose dress was stretched tightly enough to highlight her figure, and barely covered the top of her thighs, Emily’s outfit looked almost prim.
“Black capris and a red v-neck top…” Zhizheng stepped back to consider the effect of the ensemble on top of the black flats she had on. “They won’t throw us out,” he said, and then poked around in her closet, which she didn’t mind nearly as much as when Wu Dao did the same thing. “Put this Moto jacket on top and we’ll be welcome anywhere.”
Emily cringed to see all the neighborhood kids hovering around the two sports cars parked outside her building. That’s just what it meant to spend time in this circle – they did nothing quietly, and to be near them was to subject oneself to the same spotlight. How long could she keep this little fling from Perry’s attention? Or, did she have the nerve to use the ready-made cover story provided by Nyquist’s demand that she recruit Wu Dao? Her stomach churned the whole way over to the Olympic Stadium. Zhizheng favored a casual restaurant known for international food, nestled in a corner of the old parking lot. Wind whipped through her hair and the noise was exhilarating and deafening at the same time. An Italian sports car was not designed for conversation, and maybe that suited her mood.
In a mainly empty lot that could accommodate several thousand cars, thirty or so clustered around a newish structure made of glass and corrugated metal at one end. Zhizheng pulled his silver German roadster into the spot next to Wu Dao’s – how many cars did these guys own? It was scarcely worth inquiring about, since they’d never understand why it should seem strange to her to own even one sports car.
“That’s what I like about you,” Wu Dao said as they stood by the counter looking over a menu. “You’d be as content to have a fried bird claw on a stick as the best lobster, or a Japanese steak.”
“Are you saying I’m a cheap date?
”
“An exotic one. All of us are likely to order the most expensive things on the menu, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you get something with tofu.”
“I’m getting the prawns and scallops,” Fan Xiao said. “They’re flown in from the Chesapeake Bay.” Emily struggled not to snort her drink out through her nose. “What’s so funny?”
“Forgive me, Fan Xiao. It’s not funny, and bay scallops are very good, I’m sure. It’s just that I grew up in that area, and I’m not used to thinking of anything from the Chesapeake as a delicacy.”
“What do people from the Chesapeake consider delicacies, then?”
“Chinese food…” Emily paused to consider what passed for Chinese cuisine in Maryland. “… by which they mean stir fry served over rice with lots of soy sauce. They like Italian food, too, and Polish sausages.”
Zhizheng perked up at the mention of Italian food. “Tell me what Italian food is like in Maryland.”
“Lots of noodles in all sorts of shapes, tomato sauce with cheese melted over it… spicy sausages and meatballs… and they make the best ice cream. They call it gelato.”
“Surely there must be delicacies there that are not from someplace else.” Wu Dao peered at her over his menu.
“Well, yeah. Crabs… everyone loves crabs there, and you see people catching them in practically every river and creek. That’s the main thing… and sometimes they take the meat and form it into balls and fry them into crab cakes. I guess that’s my favorite.”
Zhizheng was already leaning across the counter to discuss the possibility of getting crab cakes, though with little success. Still, she was tickled to see him order soft shell crab. “You see,” she said, nudging Wu Dao with an elbow. “I’m not the only one who likes stick-food. I’ll have the same thing,” she called to the chef.
Wu Dao ended up ordering something called a Philly Cheese Steak, even though he found the western taste for cheese puzzling, to say the least. Fortunately, there were jalapenos involved, which kept him entertained for most of the experience. Fan Xiao eventually settled on a sushi assortment, which was probably wise, since she couldn’t really risk eating messy food in her outfit.
Girl Goes To Wudang (An Emily Kane Adventure Book 7) Page 17
