"You surprise me."
"Go in." Yeah, really. Like she was gonna just crawl on into a box with a gorilla without no romancing or nothing.
"Gas first. Then we can…you know."
Oh boy did he know. The gas was in back of the guard post in big metal drums. He held an empty beer bottle under the spout and danced on the foot pump till gas come out. Pumping was plain uncomfortable given how excited he was. He took the bottle over to his hut and crawled inside.
"I got your gas, honey. Honey." No honey. Now where the hell had that girl run off to? He'd lose his job if they found her hanging around the houses. Even he wasn't allowed in there. He couldn't go no more than ten yards from his hut. So, he couldn't even go looking for her. Damn women. No wonder he'd strangled his mother.
Now what was he gonna do with the ox boner she'd left him with? He paced up and down to take his mind off it, waiting for unemployment. She'd be back.
But she wasn't back for another twenty minutes. He was in his guard post keeping his boner entertained. She snuck up on him.
"Am I disturbing you?"
He fell off his chair.
"Where you frigging been? You ain't allowed in there. I told you that."
"Yeah. But your boss called me over. Didn't you see?"
"The boss?"
"That's right."
"You sure it was the boss?"
"Chinese looking. Short grey hair. Gold tooth. Name of …"
" …Koonnay Yort. Right. That's him. What did he say?"
"He said it was kind of you to help me with the gas. He asked me on a date. I guess he liked me. He wants me to go home and get dressed up and come back later. So, if you’d give me the gas. He said there's no charge for it."
"Oh, all right." He went over and got the bottle.
"You gonna let me out?"
He unlocked the gate.
"What about his wife? Didn't she say nothing?"
"His wife? No, she seemed to like me too."
The gorilla slammed the gate harder than it needed. How come the rich, smart guys always got the cute girls, and the dumb, ugly, poor guys with bad breath ended up jerking off?
53
She was on her way back to Mukdahan. Of course she hadn't met the boss. He was busy in the barn with half a dozen other shady looking guys. But she did talk to the kids. They was in a barred room at the back of the house. There was four of 'em including the two latest. All girls. All scared out of their minds. She talked to them through the bars and found out where three of 'em come from. The other one was too freaked out to speak. One of 'em heard the guard say they'd be taking 'em to Bangkok on Friday. This was Wednesday. She had a day to do something, whatever that was. She wondered if Wilbur had lost interest now his war was going bad. She wondered what she'd do if one of them mortars landed on him.
There wasn't nothing familiar about the house. This wasn't where they'd brought her to when she was smuggled. And she didn’t recognize the boss. By the look of his place and the cars in the yard, smuggling kids was a boom industry. He must of took it over.
She almost missed her CIA bike in the shadows. It looked like the guy she'd done the deal with didn't have no gas neither. She switched back and the borrowed gas was just enough to get her to a little gas station. They had a phone there. She rang Wilbur's number so long it croaked. You'd think a spy would have a goddam answer machine wouldn't you.
But she had more luck calling Mrs. Porn. She ate up everything Saifon had to say. She took down details of the place, the names and the connection from Savannakheth, and told her to call back the next day to see what they got.
Saifon was excited and anxious at the same time. The acids was flowing in her veins. This was all stimulating stuff. She couldn't wait to tell Waldo all about her day. But it looked like she'd have to. When she got back to the apartment, the door was open and he was gone.
She went down to ask the old landlady if she'd seen him. In his state, he shouldn't of been out. The old lady had gotten into a rogue batch of betel nut and been high as a crow all day. Her eyes was still going round. She couldn't remember nothing.
So Saifon sat upstairs and waited. It was weird. There weren't that much you could do in Mukdahan. Half an hour and you would of seen everything there was to see. But she sat for an hour and there was still no sign of him. And why did he leave the frigging door open? That wasn't like him. And how come the refrigerator and the cupboards was bare?
She went down and tried Wilbur again. There was still no answer. Then she wondered if the cops had heard about the shooting at Ma Marlon's and dragged Waldo in to help them with their inquiries. So she went to the police station, and the hospital, and the doctor's surgery, but no one had seen him.
The mystery was solved when she got home. There was a note pinned to the door. It was in Thai. She couldn't read it. She thought the landlady had left it so she went back down. The woman was o-d'ing. She had so many betel nuts crammed in her mouth she couldn't talk. She was belly up on the floor choking and giggling. A betel nut o-d would be a horrible way to go. Saifon had never seen nothing like it.
"Where did you get the nuts, mother?"
"Gurgle. Gurgle."
Saifon helped get the nuts out of her mouth so she could speak and flushed her out with tea before she could get any sense out of her. If she didn’t know any better, she'd say them nuts was spiked.
"I just found 'em on the doorstep this morning. Don't know where they come from. Delicious but."
"Can you read this for me?"
It took her some time to focus cause the letters was running around the paper. But when they settled down they give up a terrible secret.
"We've got the American. Give us one million dollars and stop bombing Laos or we'll kill him."
Saifon was shocked. How the hell do you kidnap a 300 pound guy?
54
Waldo was in the kitchen of the kidnapper's place eating cake. It didn’t fit in his diet but extreme times call for extreme measures. The kidnappers was all nice guys, polite and all, and they all spoke English pretty good. But they was torn. Three of 'em thought they should truss him up and bruise him some. The others wanted him dead. It weren't nothing personal. They wasn't killers. They just needed to make a political point now they'd screwed up the mission. Being 50-50 they decided to let Waldo have the casting vote.
-o-
They knew they'd blown the job as soon as they saw the big guy propped up on the bed. It was either a great disguise or this wasn't no CIA operative.
"Hi, guys. What can I do for you?"
Most people would of been disturbed to see a bunch of masked men carrying semi-automatic weapons come bursting in through the door. But Waldo saw the funny side of it. Weren't very much that could shock him no more. And besides, he was already on life overtime he didn't have no right to be claiming. If it hadn't been for Saifon, he'd already be up listening to Jelly Roll and all them other dead guys, live.
"What do we do?"
"Hell if I know."
They switched to English.
"You stand up."
"Sure thing, young fella. I guess I stopped bleeding enough." He pulled back the covers and they could all see the bloody dressing round his gut. It just made matters worse.
"He's injured."
"What do we do with him?"
"Let's just leave."
"We can't go without him."
"Why not? He's not who we came for."
"How do you know that?"
"Look at him. Does he look like CIA to you?"
"Well he must be. They wouldn't let him stay in the secret CIA apartment if he wasn't."
"Perhaps he's a general."
"Even the Americans wouldn't have generals this size."
"You guys mind if I sit back down for a spell while you sort this stuff out?"
"What? Okay. Sit."
"Much obliged."
"We can't leave empty handed after all the planning."
"I reckon we can sti
ll get a ransom for him."
"And what do we do? Carry him out in a blanket?"
"I'm not carrying him."
"Me neither. I got a bad back."
"Maybe he's scared enough to come without a fight."
"He doesn't look scared to me."
"I'll ask him."
"Mister."
"Uh hu?"
"Are you afraid of us?"
"I don't reckon I am. No offence intended."
"Is OK. Would you mind coming with us?"
"Where we going?"
"I can't tell you."
"Is this like one of them kidnappings?"
"Kidnap? Yes. That's the word." Waldo laughed.
"Now who do you think would be interested enough in me to give a shit?"
"The CIA?" He really laughed at that.
"Hell, boy. They wouldn't give you a slab of bubble gum for me."
"I told you."
Even through the masks Waldo could see this look of disappointment come over all their faces. He felt like he'd let 'em down. He didn’t like letting folks down, old Waldo. So he thought about the situation for a while.
"I guess the US embassy in Bangkok might be concerned about one of its citizens, specially with all the secrets they're trying to keep and all."
"You really think so?"
"It's worth a try. You'd need some publicity mind. Maybe some photos. You private or affiliated?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You members of a group?"
"Yeah. Communist Party of Thailand. This is a stand against what your government is doing in Laos."
"And Vietnam."
"And Cambodia."
"OK. Well, I can see a point in that."
"You can?"
"Sure I can."
"So, you'll come with us?"
"I reckon I could. Hand me that pen and paper over there. I just need to leave a note to a friend of mine. Don't want her worrying none."
"He can't leave a note."
"Why not?"
"Are you kidding? A kidnapping's supposed to be scary. The people who find him missing are supposed to panic. That's the point."
"You're right. We'll let him write it then come back for it."
"OK. I guess that's about it. I don't suppose you guys wanna give me an address or a telephone number I could … No. I guess you wouldn't." He put the note on the pillow. "We'd better be off. One of you guys wanna grab that tray of medicines and dressings over there? And you can get me some fresh underwear and clothes from the closet. You got anything to eat at your place?"
"Not much."
"Well, we better stock up. Bring anything you can find out there in the kitchen. There's some juice and stuff in the refrigerator. Help yourselves."
It turned out Waldo was every bit as good at organizing a kidnapping as he was at quality controlling at Roundly's. They helped him to the door and down the stairs. The landlady was high on the opium-laced betel they'd left her so there wasn't no witnesses.
-o-
He'd been in on the discussions from the start. They needed to send some photos to the US Embassy to show they wasn't messing about. They all agreed on something of him looking tortured and holding the daily newspaper. It was the killing they couldn't agree on. They had this camera, see, belonging to the brother of one of the guys, and he wanted it back that night. So they decided to shoot his gory murder as well as the newspaper pictures, just in case the embassy didn't come up with the million.
They spent most of the evening on it. Waldo had 'em in stitches. Then they started passing round the rice wine. They had a hell of a good time. The boys was all ex-university students from Bangkok. They wasn't expecting to be rebels and terrorists. They just wanted to be Communists. But with all that was going on in the countries around 'em, Communist was a dirty word in Thailand.
55
It was naughty of 'em to take Waldo's note from the pillow, but they was confused, so you could forgive 'em, right? But it left Saifon with two mysteries on her hands, and she was starting to feel like she was doing it all on her own. It wasn't till she lost Waldo she knew how important his being there was to her. She had a rough night with all them thoughts and problems going around in her head. Didn't sleep for a second.
So, by six she was already on the phone to Laos. Wilbur's number rang a thousand times before he answered the darned thing. He was drowsy. Sounded like he'd been up for a week.
"What?"
She was so relieved to hear his voice she blurted out both stories in Technicolor and didn't give him no time to answer. When she was done she felt kind'a faint. It crossed her mind she hadn't done enough breathing. Wilbur didn't answer right away. He was likely considering about everything, or maybe he went back to sleep. Then he said,
"Wow, Saifon. You make my war pale into insignificance." But that was probably sarcasm.
"Yeah. I'm sorry, Wilbur. I know you got problems of your own."
"No, girl. A promise is a promise. I'm sorry I let you down with the truck." He was starting to wake up. "Look, I'll level with you. I haven't got anyone in Mukdahan free to stake out the smugglers' place on short notice. You know anyone that could tail the truck as far as Bangkok?"
"I might have. I gotta make a call after this. Can you do something from Bangkok onwards?"
"That I can promise. And I'll show you how you can get through to my field telephone. Now, as for Waldo. Anyone chooses a 300lb guy with a bullet wound in him as a kidnap victim has to be lacking in some of the finer skills of hostage taking. So I wouldn't worry too much about getting him back. I want you to call the embassy in Bangkok. Talk to a lady there name of Demetria. She's a very cool person and she can solve that problem for you I'm certain. Tell her you talked to me and explain what happened. Use the word 'communist' a couple of times."
"You think the commies are behind this?"
"Who knows? Just say the word. If you can find a fax machine anywhere, send her the note you got. OK?"
"OK. Thanks."
-o-
At the USIS offices inside the grounds of the US embassy in Bangkok the phones did so much ringing the staff only looked up when they was quiet. It was like everyone wanted to know what America was lying about, 24 hours a day. The information service took on four extra staff to read out press releases and make intelligent guesses as to what Mr. Nixon might want 'em to say to the international reporters camped out on Wireless Rd. It seemed like there was always two more phones than there was people to answer 'em.
Now, phones just ring, right? They don't ring different for different callers. You can't tell from the ring if it's your aunt Ada or the Queen of Scotland at the other end. Well, embassy people got a knack. They know when there's trouble coming over the phone. Demetria Johnstone knew. She got a tingle just before she picked up her phone that told her she'd be better off ignoring it. But she didn't.
"Hello?"
"Can I speak to Demetria?"
"Yes, speaking.'
"I was given your phone number by Wilbur Groves.
"Oh, oh."
"I just sent a fax to your office. It's a copy of a ransom note."
"Ransom? Whose?"
"His name's Waldo Monk. He's an American citizen. I sent a copy of his passport too."
Still holding on to the phone, Demetria tried to get across to the fax but the cord was too short.
"Hold on." She put down the handset and retrieved the two sheets at the top of the tray. She was reading the note as she picked up the phone. "Oh, my."
"Can you read it?"
"Yeah. They teach us tricks like that."
"Well you know what?"
"What?"
"The kidnappers. They're communists."
Wilbur knew in that embassy full of paranoid people, Demetria was the paranoidest. Just the sound of the word set her teeth chattering.
"Communists?"
"Sure as I'm standing here holding the phone." She was sitting down.
"An American citizen in the hands
of desperate communists. Heaven preserve us."
"Amen, sister. Amen."
"Listen, dear. Word can't get out about this. It would cause a great deal of panic in the expatriate community. Where are you?"
"Mukdahan."
"OK. Just sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I have a liaison officer at the Thai Ministry of Interior. I think we’ll need him there too. Don't forget. We keep this just between us. Don't do anything silly."
"No, ma'am."
Saifon put down the phone in the post office, walked over to the fax and arranged for the press release to go out to all the wire services.
56
Things started to move fast after that and it wasn't just cause I suddenly noticed I ain't even close to finishing this here story.Demetria and some Thai secret service guy flew to Udon Thani that same day and drove all the way across to Mukdahan in a rental car.
Saifon met 'em in the evening. Demetria was a big, happy saddle-brown woman who'd spent most of her sixty-two years in government service, following her husband around the world. He went and got himself killed early on in the Vietnam conflict by looking the wrong way. He was a general, the type that couldn't ever find a desk to suit him. Demetria and him could of retired long before Vietnam but they wasn't the retiring type, I guess. After walking away from a thousand battles without a scratch, he walked himself under the front wheels of a number twenty-one Saigon municipal bus. He must of forgot they drove on the right over there.
The secret service guy, Sisamone, he was just too good looking to be real. He was the type they cast in movies to play the hero. You know them guys you never see in real life? Saifon never did trust guys that looked too damn good. She was always looking for reasons to hate 'em. Most made that easy.
Once they was checked into the old Hotel Muk, they listened to Saifon's story about how they'd come to the region to trace a dear aunt in Laos who had sadly passed away before she could talk to her, and how she'd misplaced Waldo. (Wilbur told her not to say about the kid smuggling if there was a Thai service guy there. He was probably the most trustworthy man you could meet, but better safe than sorry.)
Pool and its Role in Asian Communism Page 16
