Rogue Angel - Restless Soul Part 12

She had other questions on her mind...where was Luartaro's body, where was Zakkarat, what about the gunmen...where were the two thugs she'd left alive? How long had she been out? It was still raining; she could hear it rhythmically strike the roof. It didn't sound quite so hard as earlier.

Someone had brought a lantern or two into the schoolroom, the glow filled with gnats and illuminating the concerned faces of the villagers and the craggy visage of the doctor. She remembered Zakkarat saying someone had gone to get a doctor who lived nearby. A white man, though well tanned. He was clearly not Thai.

"Nigel Willingson...or Doc as the Thins call me."

British or Australian from the sound of his accent. She could better pinpoint it when he talked more. "Thank you for taking care of me, Dr. Willingson. Where are-"

"Nigel will do, or just Doc. Nothing formal for me anymore. Doc, actually-I prefer that."

Definitely British, Annja decided.

He glanced over his shoulder at a broad-shouldered woman with a careworn face and spoke quickly in what Annja a.s.sumed was the Thins language. "They want to know why the men came after you. What you did to make those men so angry they would shoot you...and kill little Kiet's dog. They want to know where you came from and when you will be leaving. These are a peaceful people, Miss Creed."

"Annja," she said. "Nothing so formal for me, either."

He smiled, revealing crooked teeth stained yellow by smoking. "We can deal with their questions later... Annja. Right now I need to deal with your wounds. I've already plucked three bullets out of your calf. I have one left to go. They tore into your muscle and did some damage, but nothing you can't recover from. It certainly could have been much worse. You could have lost the leg. And I want to get those bamboo splinters out of your arm. Give you a teta.n.u.s shot just in case...or have you had one recently? There's a good risk of infection, all the mud and muck you were rolling in. Have you had a teta.n.u.s shot?" He didn't wait for her answer, sticking a needle into her leg. "Then I need to see to your friend."

"My-"

"Mr. Larto." He butchered Luartaro's name.

Her heart leaped. "He's not dead? Lu is-"

"Ah, Lu...much easier to p.r.o.nounce. I like that, Lu. No, he's not dead. But he does have a concussion. He's on another table, er, desk. You can't see him for all the Thins. Nearly half the village has managed to fit in here. Curious, they are. Your Lu said one of those bad men hit him hard on the top of his head with a machine-gun stock. I have him resting. You're my immediate concern." He spoke more to the broad-shouldered Thins woman, punctuating his speech with a clacking sound that a few others nearby echoed. "Yes, we'll deal with their questions shortly, Annja. I want to finish patching you up and make sure you're cleaned up properly and are strong enough to travel. We need to get you to a real clinic."

Annja realized most of the mud she'd been wearing had been washed away. She lifted the blanket and dropped it back down. She was naked. Looking over the edge of the table, she saw a wooden bowl filled with muddy water and her pile of mud-caked clothes.

"That would be Som's work, Annja. I asked her to clean you up a bit. You must have been wearing ten pounds of jungle mud. Som will find you something else to wear." He paused and leaned close. "You should be in a hospital, actually. A clinic doesn't have near the facilities. You and Lu and two of those disagreeable fellows-who you took out with a sword, Som tells me-should all be in a hospital. But there are few roads, and they are all flooded, and it's still raining and dark as pitch outside, so you'll have to settle for my ministrations at the moment. But we'll put you and Lu in an ox cart in the morning when hopefully the weather lets up a little bit and we'll get you to a proper place where people far more skilled than I can look after you. Don't know what we'll do with the two disagreeable fellows. The ox cart won't hold all of you."

"Listen, Doc, I-" A wave of dizziness washed over her and she slumped back flat onto the table.

"No, you listen. You're my patient. Much as I'd rather you not be. Much as I'd rather none of you folks were injured in this village. I'm not a medical doctor, Annja. I'm a veterinarian, a retired one at that. Retired to this beautiful country to be left alone and not to be bothered by people shooting at one another."

"A veterinarian? Retired? I don't-" Annja finally succ.u.mbed to the sedative he'd given her.

13.

Annja's head was pounding when she awoke the next morning, feeling the sun stream in on her face. She wasn't on the table in the school any longer. She was on a thick sleeping pallet in one of the villagers' homes. Luartaro sat next to her, propped against the wall, eyes closed and head wrapped in a pale pink bandage that had a bloodstain on the side. It took her only a moment to realize he was sleeping, his breathing deep and regular. He was wearing different clothes-a pale green tank top over baggy trousers that had cargo pockets down the sides. He'd stuffed the pockets with something so that they looked like the jowls of a chipmunk that had been foraging. The trousers looked several inches too short for his tall frame, the green tank a size too small. She smiled; the latter made his muscles stand out. He was barefoot, his mud-caked boots sitting nearby.

Her arms ached, though not as much as they did the night before, and she felt a dull pain in her right leg, the numbness having worn off. All in all, however, she p.r.o.nounced herself in more than reasonable condition given what she'd been through. Her stomach rumbled; Annja tended to eat a lot because she was active, and she hadn't had anything since very early yesterday morning. She needed food to help her recover.

"Gotta find something to eat," she said. She made a move to get up and realized she was still naked under the blanket. "Where are my clothes?" she muttered.

Doc poked his head in the door. "Being washed, though I'm not sure they're fit for anything more than rags, what with all the bullet holes and rips. Som is finding something that might fit you well enough. Give her a few moments. She was going to tend to that last night, but got distracted. Things tend not to be immediate here."

He came in and stretched, and Annja saw that the circles were dark under his eyes, as if he hadn't been to sleep at all during the night. He was wearing the same shirt and jeans he'd had on yesterday, all of it spotted with blood and mud, the sweat stains deep under his arms.

"Lovely morning," he went on. "It quit raining about an hour ago. About d.a.m.n time, eh? Sometimes it rains so much here I expect to see Noah pulling up with his ark." He came to her side, stooped over and reached for her hand, taking her pulse and looking at his watch.

"You heal quickly, Annja. Quite a remarkable young lady, you. I'd like to say it's my medical skill responsible, but I don't think so. I thought for certain the lot of you would need a hospital." He nodded toward Luartaro. "He's faring all right, too. But he will probably sleep away a chunk of the morning-in fact, he should. He insisted on being in here with you last night. Quite the fellow you have not to leave your side."

He dropped her hand and shook his head. "I couldn't save one of them, you know. The fellow with the broken arm bled out on me last night. Internal injuries, too, judging by all the bruising on his chest. From what the Thins tell me, you hit him pretty hard with a sword and kicked him for good measure." He paused. "Not that he didn't have it coming."

Annja didn't say anything. She just waited for him to continue, which he eventually did.

"The fellow with the maimed hand, he'll be all right. Missing all but the thumb, though. Couldn't find the pieces in the mud to even try to reattach them. Sleeping now-I sedated him pretty good. I'm limited in what I have to work with, you understand. I used some tranquilizers that work on oxen on the fellow, on Lu, as well. Used up most of my medicines and supplies on the lot of you, and I'll probably have the devil of a time replacing them. Retired and all. And not licensed here anymore. Just never bothered to get it renewed."

He gave a shrug of his shoulders and rubbed his lower lip. "Couldn't be helped, though, I suppose, using my supplies. I just couldn't let you all lie there untended."

"Thank you," she said, "for taking care of me and Lu."

He gave another shrug. He was a thin man wearing an overlarge shirt. "Don't expect things like this to happen in the jungle. Violence is city stuff. That's why I retired here, for the peace. Used to work in Chiang Mai, you know. It's the largest city in the north. Some years back I came here on a holiday to see the temples and decided to stay, settled in Chiang Mai. The wife had pa.s.sed. I converted to Buddhism when I fell in with some monks. Learned to speak Thai-not the easiest language to master, don't you know. And then just learning one dialect won't do. There's Lanna, or lower Thai. And the people in Northern Thailand have their own dialect called Kham Muang, though most of them understand regular Thai. Then you have the hill tribes, of course, which all have their own languages, like these Thins. Took me more than a little while to master 'Thinspeak,' as I call it. Still don't know all of it, but enough to get me by. Anyway, I eventually quit my practice in London, shipped some stuff over and started a limited practice up in Chiang Mai. Didn't make near so much the money, but the climate suited me better." He tugged up the blanket and checked her leg, blotting it with a rag dipped in peroxide.

"Did some work in Chaing Rai also, which is where Thailand kisses Laos and Myanmar, and in Mai Sai, Nan-which is surrounded by mountains, such a pretty place Nan is. Spent a month or so in Pai, then in Phitsanulok, which is between Bangkok and Chiang Mai, a gate to the Sukhothai Park it's called, which you should see while you're here. I even hung out my shingle in Mae Hong Son for a brief time, though it is a spit of a place. Tiny, but with a beautiful vista. It's where the tourists go who intend to do some trekking to the various hill tribes. Did some trekking myself, and that's how I decided to settle out here in the middle of nowhere. The Thins helped me build a house about a year back. Have two rooms, that's quite the thing, don't you know, two rooms."

He checked her arms next. The right one had a strip of gauze wrapped just above her elbow; it had taken the brunt of the bamboo splinters when one of the men had shot the building.

"You're lucky they found me at home, Annja. I still travel...to Chiang Dao, Chiang Khong, Thaton for the boat rides, Mae Salong and the national parks. As I said, the climate here agrees with me and I can still get around pretty well. Might as well hike, eh? At least while my legs can still carry me. No TV reception out here. Northern Thailand is considerably cooler than the rest of the country, and I like that it is a virtual melting pot of cultures-folks from Myanmar and Yunnan... China."

Annja enjoyed listening to him, liking the sound of his accent, which was still thickly British despite the years he'd obviously spent away from the country.

"You know, for quite a long time most of Northern Thailand was considered off-limits to anyone but the natives. There were lots of Communist insurgencies that made it not so safe. Couple that with drug issues from Myanmar-Burma-and all the little civil wars that spilled over the borders. There still are some tiffs from Myanmar that vex these hill tribes and the backpackers, but it's not near the problem it used to be. Drug trafficking has been seriously cut. Still, one has to be a little cautious when traveling near the border, especially if you're in Tak or Mae Hong Son." He rocked back on his heels and looked to the doorway. "But I do babble, don't you know. Wonder what's keeping Som? Shouldn't take her that long to find something suitable for-"

As if his words had been a gentle summons, the broad-shouldered woman entered, holding some folded garments in front of her. She smiled warmly and handed them to Doc, bowed, said something Annja couldn't decipher and left with a few backward glances over her shoulder.

He held the clothes out to Annja.

"I've been talking up a storm," he said. "I shouldn't let my tongue wag so. It's not polite. How about you do a little talking for a change? How about you answer some of the Thins' questions...like what you did to get those men so angry, and what brought you three out here to the middle of nowhere in the first place."

"It would only be polite," Annja said. She let out a deep breath, the air whistling between her teeth. "All right. Sure. I am an archaeologist, Lu, too." She proceeded to tell him about their trip to Tham Lod and then hiring Zakkarat to take them on a little more adventurous caving expedition, and about her plans to do a special for Chasing History's Monsters Chasing History's Monsters on the teak coffins and the remains. She left out the part about the voice in her head and finding the skull bowl and the dog tags, but she did mention the treasure and the need to tell the authorities about it and the gunmen. on the teak coffins and the remains. She left out the part about the voice in her head and finding the skull bowl and the dog tags, but she did mention the treasure and the need to tell the authorities about it and the gunmen.

"I think they were Vietnamese, all the men with the guns, though they might have been Laotian, I suppose." She didn't tell him about the ones she'd killed on the mountainside, or that there might be more of them with the treasure.

"And so the men were shooting at you because they didn't want witnesses to report their ill-gotten gold," Doc finished. "Or who might come back and steal it. Not such a lovely vacation for the two of you, eh? Relic traffickers you ran into, no doubt, come from Myanmar or Laos, going to Myanmar or Laos or China and using the cave as a stopping point while arranging for buyers. It sounds like the same operation some folks used to follow for drug trafficking. And poor, beautiful Thailand is once again caught in the middle. And the unfortunate Thins were the victims yesterday." He folded his arms. "Two villagers were killed during the ruckus. Two young men shot dead, leaving their families to grieve."

14.

Annja's eyes grew wide. She hadn't seen any villagers get shot, but after a moment she realized what had happened. "In the school. The bullets went through the wall."

Doc nodded. "Two boys...well, two young men. Boon-mee and Tau were their names. I know most of the villagers here, and I'd gone fishing with Boon-mee on more than one occasion. Friendly chaps. I'd put them in their late teens. They don't really keep track of age around here, so I can't say exactly. Too young to die in any event. They will be buried later today. Good boys, they were." He leaned forward, fingers gripping the edge of her pallet. "And the saddest thing is, Annja, the Thins couldn't give a whit for treasure. They couldn't care less. They live simply, want for little and wouldn't pay the proverbial rat's a.s.s for whatever those men were smuggling. They're not interested in Lu's wealth or your celebrity."

He turned his back to her. "I'll leave you to dress, and then I'll meet you across the way. If you're going to the authorities, you'll want to talk to the man with the maimed hand to get some information. He speaks a little English...was mumbling it while I worked on him. I've got something left that'll bring him around."

Annja watched him leave, looked at Luartaro, who was still sleeping soundly, and then rose and got dressed. The clothes she'd been given had belonged to a boy, she guessed from the cut of them. She wondered if they were from one of the two who had died. The gray pants fit snugly and hit her just above the ankles, and the shirt, made of coa.r.s.e green broadcloth, rubbed a little uncomfortably against her skin. There were no pockets she could put her hands in. She couldn't complain, though. These people had showed her compa.s.sion in spite of what she'd brought into their village, and she doubted they had a lot of clothes to spare.

She blamed herself for the two boys' deaths and for Luartaro being injured. Had she done things differently, she could have confronted the gunmen in the jungle.

"Maybe I could have," she said. "Hindsight is always perfect."

She wondered about Zakkarat. She'd check on him, too, and ask Doc if his ankle was sprained or broken. But first she'd see to the remaining gunman. Doc was right; she wanted some information from him. She'd also want to borrow that old motorcycle she'd been offered yesterday, and retrieve the map someone had been drawing. She slipped on a pair of sandals that fit her surprisingly well. They were made of woven reeds with a strip of ox hide for a sole.

Taking a last look at Luartaro, she left the hut, nodding to Som on her way out. The broad-shouldered woman hovered nearby, talking to another woman and c.o.c.king her head back to no doubt indicate Annja and Luartaro. Annja headed to the building she'd been brought to the previous night. Several villagers were out, all of them pausing to watch her before they went about various tasks. Children were seated on the benches, none of them playing this morning. One pointed at Annja and talked animatedly to her companions.

Annja smelled something cooking. She couldn't tell what it was, but it smelled wonderful and her stomach rumbled again to remind her she was famished. Thirsty, too. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt a little swollen.

"Doc?" Annja peered inside the doorway, seeing the Brit hovering over the remaining gunman. He was on the same table she'd been put on yesterday, and she saw that the top of it was stained from the blood. The windows were open, letting in the scents of jungle flowers, whatever was cooking and the almost overpowering odor of the moist loam. Light streamed in from all directions, giving the large room a much different appearance from her previous visit. At the end opposite from Doc and his patient was a slate board across part of the wall. Artfully rendered letters about six inches high stretched across it. She thought their alphabet much more beautiful than English or some of the other languages she was familiar with. It looked more like art than words.

There was a globe on a stand next to the teacher's table, and there were other accoutrements any cla.s.sroom would have: rulers, mugs filled with pencils and paintbrushes, a skeleton hanging from a pole-plastic from the look of it-and jars filled with gra.s.s and insects. The details had been obscured yesterday by the storm and all the people gathered inside. In addition to the student tables and benches, there were a few plastic chairs like someone might find in a department store's garden department. There were also a collection of toys in the far corner-a dump truck, a Raggedy Ann doll, a few brightly colored pails and shovels, a faded basketball and three Barbie dolls with badly shorn hair.

"Doc?" she repeated.

He nodded and said something to himself. He rubbed a cotton swab under the man's nose, and the eyelids fluttered. Annja came close and heard the floor creak behind her; Som and the woman she'd been talking to hovered curiously just inside.

"His name is Ba An Dung, according to the papers in his pocket." Doc pointed to a wallet next to the p.r.o.ne man. "So definitely Vietnamese. From South Vietnam, maybe, if he is the second child."

"I don't understand," Annja said. She stood opposite Doc, looking down at the man, who had yet to regain consciousness.

"In the southern part of the country, the second-born son is given the name Ba, Ba, which means 'third'...the third member of the family. But in the north, which means 'third'...the third member of the family. But in the north, Ba Ba is given to the third child. is given to the third child. Ca Ca goes to the oldest, goes to the oldest, Hai Hai the second. Just a bit of trivia for you. the second. Just a bit of trivia for you. An Dung An Dung means 'peaceful hero,' but I wager this fellow is neither peaceful nor a hero." He scratched at his nose. "I spent a year in Vietnam, right after my wife died. She was Vietnamese. We'd always talked about going to visit her sisters. Just never got around to it while she was alive." means 'peaceful hero,' but I wager this fellow is neither peaceful nor a hero." He scratched at his nose. "I spent a year in Vietnam, right after my wife died. She was Vietnamese. We'd always talked about going to visit her sisters. Just never got around to it while she was alive."

"You're an interesting man, Doc," Annja said.

"Not near so interesting as you, Annja. An archaeologist you said. And a TV personality? A treasure finder and the target of a Vietnamese army."

"I'd hardly consider them an army," Annja said.

"They had the firepower of one, eh? Ah, here he comes. He definitely could benefit from a hospital, and your friend Lu should be checked out there, as well, I suppose, or at least a clinic. I dare say you're mending well enough on your own that you won't need one." He wagged a finger at her. "I want none of you suing me now because I'm not a real medical doctor. I did the best I could." He took several steps back from the table to not interfere with whatever she planned for the man.

"You did great, Doc. Really great."

Annja leaned over the man. He stared up at her, a snarl forming on his lips. Still, he made no move to menace her or to get up.

"Ba An Dung," she began. "Tell me all about the treasure in the mountain." Annja asked him plenty of other questions. How many men were involved in the smuggling operation, what he thought the remainder might be doing now, would any more be coming after her and her companions, where did the gold come from and where was it ultimately headed?

He gave her nothing, just a string of curses and threats that were clearly intended to frighten her. The fingers of his good hand clenched and unclenched, and veins stood out along his neck and temples.

"What about the skull bowl?" she asked, her eyes daggers aimed at him. "And the American dog tags?"

This interested Doc, who took a step closer.

She saw no spark of recognition on the man's face, and so she described the bowl, thinking perhaps he did not know it was made from a human skull. He didn't react but he showed recognition when she mentioned the golden Buddhas, however. Annja growled from deep in her throat and pushed away from the table.

"Nothing," she said.

"I'm not surprised," Doc said. "Violent men are not terribly cooperative. I've no sodium thiopental or sodium pentothal-truth serum as it's called. Ethanol, scopolamine, a handful of barbiturates, temazepam-some of those might work. They're all sedatives and block cognitive function and interfere with judgment. Don't have any of those, either. As I said, I used up just about everything on the lot of you." He tapped a finger on the edge of the table. "j.a.panese torture squads used to have something called cisatracurium, and some agencies in England thought cannabis because of its THC component would work as a truth drug.... I'm well-read, don't you know."

"Apparently."

"You could just beat it out of him, I suppose."

Annja made a face.

"'Going all Jack Bauer' is the expression I heard when I was living where there were TVs and DVDs."

"Or I could let the authorities deal with him," she said, the resignation thick in her voice. Annja had considered calling her sword and holding the blade to the man's neck to force some information out of him. But not with Doc and Som and the other woman watching...along with the villagers who were peering in the windows. And she'd had enough violence for a while. She was more interested in finding out about the skull bowl. "Definitely let the authorities deal with him."

She stuck her hands under her armpits and felt the skin pull on her right arm. Annja healed fast, but she wasn't a hundred percent yet.

"Hungry, Annja?" Doc pointed to the doorway. A young Thins man came in with a tray and two bowls and a jar of water on it. "I've already eaten. Fixed myself a double serving of instant oatmeal a little while ago. I have a nice stock of it. Cinnamon-raisin." He paused. "And it's one of the few things I don't share." He gestured to the tray. The young man carried it to a desk and put it down, bowed and stood against a wall.

"Yes," Annja said. "I'm very hungry."

"Thai food, even from these hill tribes, is a tad spicy for my palate," Doc said. He rose on his toes so he could see into the bowls. "That's johk, johk, in the bowls. It's a rice soup, on the thick side, sort of like porridge, sometimes with pork in it if they catch a wild pig...but it doesn't look like it this morning. Seems they put an egg in it for you. That would cost you an extra five baht or so if you bought in the bowls. It's a rice soup, on the thick side, sort of like porridge, sometimes with pork in it if they catch a wild pig...but it doesn't look like it this morning. Seems they put an egg in it for you. That would cost you an extra five baht or so if you bought johk johk in a marketplace. It's a bit like in a marketplace. It's a bit like khao tom, khao tom, if you've had that before. But it's spicier. See? They put shredded ginger in it just for you. Grown locally, and quite a treat, the ginger." He wrinkled his nose. "You can have my bowl, too, if you'd like." if you've had that before. But it's spicier. See? They put shredded ginger in it just for you. Grown locally, and quite a treat, the ginger." He wrinkled his nose. "You can have my bowl, too, if you'd like."

Annja sat and tipped the first bowl to her mouth. There were no spoons. The mixture was warm and not as spicy as she'd expected, and it was as thick as porridge. She found it pleasant and filling and hoped Luartaro would be served some when he woke up. The second bowl quickly followed the first, and she drank the water in one long pull. She could have eaten at least one more bowl, but she stopped herself from asking for more.

"Thank you," she said to the young man.

Doc translated for her.

The young man smiled, bowed again and retreated outside with the tray and empty bowls.

Annja stared at the doorway. She remembered taking off her pack yesterday and setting it just inside. It wasn't there now. "Doc, my bag. I put it there-right there-yesterday."

His gaze followed her finger. "I wouldn't know anything about that. I was paying all my attention to you and Lu...and him." He pointed to the Vietnamese man, who was trying unsuccessfully to get up. "His muscles won't be cooperating for a little while. The stuff I gave him is made to subdue an ox, don't you know."

"My bag." Annja felt her throat tighten. It had the skull bowl in it, the only real treasure she was interested in, and it had all the dog tags, as well. "Maybe one of the villagers moved it, to clean it. You said they were washing my clothes. And my boots. Where are my boots?"

Doc spoke to Som and the other woman, making a clacking sound with his tongue against his teeth. After a moment, he translated the reply. "Som's sister has washed what is left of your clothes, and they are drying on a tree. Your boots are there as well, soaking to get the mud out. As for your pack, they did not touch it. Som thinks your other fellow-"

"Zakkarat."

"Ah, yes, I remember him telling me his name last night. Zakkarat Tak-sin. Som thinks Zakkarat took your pack. A nice enough chap. I put a tight bandage on his ankle and told him he should have it x-rayed. Might be broken, don't you know. Had a h.e.l.luva time trying to put on his boots, couldn't get the one over the swelling, and so he traded them to Anuman for a good pair of sandals."

Annja turned. "Where is Zakkarat?"

Doc shrugged. "He left last night, the rain still coming down hard. Borrowed Erawan's motorcycle and took off. Good thing the headlight was working. Don't know how far he managed to get, though, all the rain and the mud. The trails are basically streams. I hope he brings Erawan's motorcycle back. It's the only one in the village."