The Call of the Thunder Dragon (27 page)

Falstaff smiled merrily, showing
his teeth. He was happy, the morphine had taken away more than just
the pain.

The two Prussians, Barron Timas
and Barron Willus, the only names they would give, clapped Falstaff
on the back. “You are giving us great entertainment before dinner!
”

“And there is this talk of
Japanese paratroopers, tonight we hunt - yah!”

Shortly Alastair returned with
Ludwig, “we’ve found somewhere to eat. Don’t worry I’ve told them
we fancied entertaining you with local food. There’s a little bar
down by the wharf which is normally only open for the fishermen
coming and going during the day. No one will disturb us.”

Zam paid the Doctor handsomely
with one of the silver dollars.

In twos, they left at intervals
trooping down the road towards the river.

Falstaff caught hold of Zam’s
hand and held it tight. “In case I fall, eh?” He kissed her
forehead. “Bet Bhutan will be quiet after this?”

“Yes, very quiet!” Zam muttered
as she fell in step with Falstaff down the narrow street.

“Well, if you stick with John
Falstaff Wild, you’ll never be short of action!”

“That is what I am afraid of!”
Zam muttered.

They met no one coming, which
reassured Falstaff. The less likely to be seen the better.

The meal was brief, between
discussing the probable strength and numbers of the Japanese or
their agents in the town, they ate heartily. The two Barons taking
on the role of hosts, passing the dishes and singing.

The food was delicious and
plentiful, despite the apologies of the bar owner.

They started with Mohinga, a fish
soup with rice noodles covered with deep fried fritters. Wine, beer
and Tea seemed to be provided to everyone, without asking. Falstaff
wondered who was going to pay for the feast.

Burmese Biryani came next; served
cold, no doubt saved from their regular afternoon severing times.
The Biryani made from a mix of fragrant Indian rices and a hint of
many spices tingled the tongue and mixed with the aroma of rice.
Nutmeg, mace, pepper, cloves, cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, onions
and garlic, a positively tingling array of flavours. The main
ingredient was the meat, cooked in with the rice; chicken, mutton
and fish.

Alistair waved his hand for more,
the Barons severing up the cold Biryani until the pot was
empty.

“I’ll follow my nose anywhere in
the India for a taste of Biryani!” He took a swing of beer. “There
was absolutely no way I was going leave here without eating my
fill. This is the best… cold Biryani in the whole of Asia!”
Alistair smiled.

Next came a piping hot Burmese
Fish Curry. A thick oily, but astounding curry medley of fish;
severed piping hot with a choice of pickles of onion, pumpkin and
cucumber.

Falstaff felt stronger, his head
was clearer, the pain in his chest subsiding. The bitter cold of
the journey was now a distant memory. They called a halt to the
wine and drank tea or coffee as the discussed the Japanese
problem.

Myitkyina had always been an
important trading town between China and Burma since antiquity. The
existence of Japanese agents monitoring of the border was of no
surprise. The town was the centre of Kachin State. Stores of
material and supplies came into the town from all over the region.
This, along with year round produce grown along the banks of the
river, and its flood plains, made it a rich target. Both for
resources to strip or as a valuable stop over for an invading
army.

Winter brought a slowdown of work
and visitors coming to the town, which was full of coolies and
caravan bosses, who would normally spend the rest of the year
exporting their wares to China or bringing in Tea and processed
opium.

For the low caste Kachin there
was little employment in the winter, other than chopping wood while
waiting for the regular caravans to start. The town was both full
and divided. The low caste farmers, the caravan men or the wealthy
businessmen or the still richer foreign, European or Chinese,
business men.

Despite the coming of the
railway, there was little British presence. The Burmese state was
overlooked by the Kachin leaders. The town was ripe for
intercession and the Japanese collected figures on every business
down to the last bean and last aged whore or the daughters of every
debt-laden, opium dependent coolie.

Even Abe the barber and the hotel
laundry men or the garrison dentist were slaves to their own
family’s debts. As were the Japanese prostitutes exported from
home, slaves each to their own contract or their family’s debt.
Then further indebted to the expensive Japanese supplied opium they
were inescapably initiated into taking.

Shrewd and sharp as business men,
Japanese intelligence officers watched and composed an exact,
calculated, income from the exploitation of the region and its
people. They mapped the entire border region, with detail of every
road and pothole. All these particulars were then carried to the
Imperial Japanese Army and the other relevant intelligence task
forces.

“You must have done something
real bad for the Japanese to follow you and risk exposing their
agents here?” Willus “Go on tell us? Yah!”

Tomas banged on the table, with
his beer while rest of the group were drinking tea, the Prussians
were behaving as if they were once again at home, stitched up in
tight leather lederhosen at a Bavarian beer festival. “Tell us? Was
it a woman?”

Falstaff laughed. “Actually,
originally it was. I briefly worked as a test pilot and instructor
for the Japs, that was before China. I also did some flying for the
Imperial Japanese airways, for the first flights into places like
Hong Kong and Singapore; they needed English speakers to translate
and work the radio that sort of thing.”

He paused sipping some tea. “I
met the first lady General of Japan, Yoshiko Kawashima, a Colonel
of the cavalry in Manchukuo!”

“A woman? Leading Cavalry, by
thunder – a regular Valkyrie!” Willus smiled and the points of his
black waxed moustache pivoted up wards.

Falstaff continued. “She was
Chinese royalty, a Manchu. She sided with the Japanese and lived
there as well. I believe she went back to Manchuria and raised an
army out of bandits. I declined to join her and shall we say the
spurning was rather rough!” Falstaff groused.

The barons listened intrigued.
“Making cavalry out of bandits? A noble woman, eh?” The both turned
to each other and clapped their beer bottles together. “I’ll drink
to that my dear baron!”

“And I too!” The Baron opposite
re-joined.

Zam stirred at his side, looking
at Falstaff’s profile in the flickering light of the oil lamps.
Imagining her lover rebuffing the first lady of Manchuria! Where
ever that was. She was the first to admit the life she knew little
of the life and places Falstaff spoke of.

“We should get on, as agreed and
you lot will carry on as normal. Keeping an eye out for the
Japanese while you go. Zam and I will go down the river in
Alistair’s boat to the Caproni and spend the night there. We won’t
show ourselves until you give the word.”

They all shook hands as they
left. “I hope to see you again Baron Willus, Tomas …” Falstaff took
their hands in turn. “Keep out of trouble!”

He turned to Alistair. “Please
tell me, this boat of yours has a motor?”

Colonel Haga-Jin sat at the head
of the dirty table; the room was cramped and dingy. The dirty table
filled most of the space. Around the table, sat Captain Soujiro and
his men, less the two currently watching the hotel.

The rice and eggs provided by the
barber, Shinzo Abe, was just about edible. Haga-Jin was tired of
waiting and drinking tea. Blacks lines under his eyes showed how
tired he was and his scars stung continuously.

Similarly exhausted the
paratroopers dosed in their seats, their heads hanging over the
empty rice bowls.

“Colonel-Dono, we must wait. We
cannot make a big fuss this time.” Soujiro pleaded.

Japanese relations with Burma was
limited to rather small-scale trade or cultural affairs with the
native administration, as opposed to the overarching British one.
They were now entering negations with Burmese politician

Galon U Saw, a former lawyer
defendant in the case against Saya San leader of the Galon
revolt
²⁶
. In 1935, Saw had
purchased the Thuriya, The Sun, newspaper and turned it into a
device to promote himself and his political interests.

The Japanese had at this time
also approached another politician and lawyer, yet another defender
of Saya San, a man, called Ba Maw. First Chief Minister or Premier
of Burma until 1939, then elected to the Legislative Assembly an
outspoken advocate for Burmese self-rule
²⁷
.

Undercover agents, businessmen
and diplomats formed ties with the two politicians who were seeking
means of external support for the struggle against the British,
should independence be refused them. Haga-Jin knew he had to be
careful, his superiors would not appreciate disruption of the work
in progress.

“How can they have had
disappeared!” Haga-Jin interjected fiercely.

“They have checked all the other
guests. The Dutchman and the polish woman are still there. The
other German pilots have returned drunk, but there is no sign of
Falstaff!” Captain Soujiro thought for a moment. “I will send out
more men to watch the railway station, the police and the home of
the retired British General, the Jade dealer, Ainsley Smyth.
Falstaff will be looking for help, - he will try to report us to
the authorities.”

The Colonel nodded, tiredness
overtaking his anger. “Just do it.”

Just then, Abe, the Barber
returned, the strain showing on his face, he was nervous of the
disruption. His quiet barber shop was turning into headquarters for
a major search operation. He was being forced to think along
military lines instead of hair length.

“I’ll take two men to relieve the
others. You should send men to watch the airstrip or the two
mechanics who work there.”

“How do we get to there? Is the
airstrip far?” Soujiro asked.

“By boat or bus, normally…
they’ll use the bus. The driver is a Kachin Burmese he lives far
from here.”

“By boat then? Or car... can you
get us a car Abe-San?” Soujiro asked.

“The hotel has an old car used by
the staff for collection of goods,” Abe said, waiting expectantly
for instructions. “It isn’t exactly new.”

“Get the car, we’ll move up to
the airfield in the morning. Colonel-Dono, what do you think?”
Captain Soujiro asked, waiting for the Colonel to answer. There was
a long heavy pause. Clearly the men could not be in two places at
once, nor would there be time to rest.

Haga-Jin opened his eyes wearily.
“No, we will carry on as planned until first light. Watch the
railway and authorities until these two mechanics make a move, -
then we will regroup and take the car to the airfield. One of those
mechanics contacted Falstaff before he disappeared. The pilot will
return to his aircraft or the mechanic to his airfield whether they
have reached the authorities or not!”

Falstaff awoke in the warm
embrace of Zam. They slept together in the covered cabin, covered
in layers of bedding and coats. The sun had risen and was already
climbing into a bright blue sky.

Zam cracked open an eye as
Falstaff stirred wearily. Seeing he was awake she quickly rose into
motion. “How are you this morning John-di-di?”

She reached for the stove and
started to boil water for tea. “Are you hungry? We have a little
rice and dried beef left?”

“I’m cold, come back to bed.”
Falstaff murmured. “What time is it?” He checked his watch it was
ten past ten. “I’ve had a good long sleep? And we’ve got nothing to
do today, but stay out of sight!”

Zam kissed him on the lips,
biting gently at his lower lip. “You bet, di-di darling, we’ll stay
right here!”

The tea and rice warmed them and
they warmed the bed.

Ducks flapped their wings,
honking as they moved away from the bobbing float plane.

Zam and Falstaff were too busy to
notice.

Alistair and Ludwig arrived at
the airstrip after two o’clock, with them they brought a Chinese
welder, a part-time tinsmith and toy maker. The type who could
build a doll’s pram or car from any discarded cans or hammer and
weld a new wing for a car, matching it by eye and hand. Ludwig
invited him to sit down outside the tool shed while he brewed
coffee.

Alistair sipped the thick black
liquid. “You know we were followed. That old Unic taxi, stopped as
we passed the hotel, it picked up two more men?”

Ludwig nodded. “qui, you know
those taxies used to transport the rich and famous around the
sights of Paris?”

“That one has had chickens, fish,
laundry and god knows what other trash in it since then!” Alistair
lit a pipe. “Worse still it’s filled with Japanese now?” he
puffed.

Ludwig stood and looked to the
end of the runway. “There it goes across now, doesn’t look as full
as before.”

Alistair rose from his deckchair.
“Best carry on and start refuelling these two planes. When are the
leaving?”

Ludwig looked at his watch. “The
moth is leaving with the mail and a passenger at three, best get a
move on.”

Soujiro lay flat watching the
mechanics go about their business through a pair of field-glasses.
They carried on refuelling the first aircraft. There was no sign of
Falstaff.

He rolled back into the dry ditch
beneath the bare trees. Two more of his men lay there, rifles
ready.

As they watched, a smart,
polished, dark green Bentley trundled down the strip towards the
mechanics. Soujiro lifted his binoculars.