The Vets (Stephen Leather Thrillers) (43 page)

“Thanks for waiting, guys,” said Doherty.

“No sweat,” said Lewis.

“You guys want a beer?” He tossed them bottles.

“I still can’t get over you being a monk and drinking,” said Lewis.

Doherty shrugged his slight shoulders. “Being a Buddhist monk isn’t the same as being a priest,” he said. “The Thais are more flexible about their religion. Being a Buddhist has more to do with finding your own path than it has with following prescribed rituals. You don’t get thrown out just because you down a couple of Singha beers or go with a woman. It’s more important that you reach a peace with yourself than screw yourself up by resisting temptation.”

“Sounds like the perfect religion,” said Lewis.

Doherty turned and fixed him with his deep-set eyes, his eyelids half closed like a basking lizard. “In many ways it is, Bart. It was the meditation side that I was drawn to. I’d been interested in it ever since I was a kid, but the monks taught me to do it properly, really to get inside myself. You reach the stage where your meditation is so pure, so uncluttered, that you stop succumbing to the temptations of the real world. That’s why the older monks are celibate. It’s from choice.”

“But you never reached that stage?” said Lehman, throwing his empty can in the bin.

“No, Dan. I never reached that stage.” He grinned and Lehman noticed that two back teeth were missing on the right side of his mouth, clearly the result of primitive dental facilities in northern Thailand.

Lehman looked at his Mickey Mouse watch. Tyler had said that he wanted to see them back at the hotel at four o’clock so they’d have to leave the temple soon and cross the harbour to Hong Kong Island.

“I’ve got to visit the men’s room, guys,” said Lewis, lifting himself up off the bench with a groan. Lehman and Doherty watched him walk away.

“He seems troubled,” said Doherty.

“He’s got personal problems,” said Lehman. “His wife left him and he misses his kid.”

“I think the worry is giving him an ulcer,” said Doherty. “He’s always rubbing his stomach and he doesn’t eat so good.”

Thoughts of Lewis’s cancer filled Lehman’s mind and he quickly moved to change the subject. “You’re not in this for the money, are you, Chuck?”

“Are you?” Doherty replied calmly.

Lehman thought about it for a few moments. “Yes,” he said. “Mainly for the money.” And to make sure that Bart Lewis doesn’t get out of his depth, a voice whispered inside his head.

“So why are you so surprised that money should be a motivating factor in my case? Because you found me in a temple?”

“Not just in a temple. You were a monk.”

“I was a Buddhist. I still am. Becoming a monk was just a way of achieving what I wanted.”

“Which was?”

“To stay in Thailand. And to come to terms with myself.”

“And you’ve done that?”

Doherty nodded. “I think so. I think I learned as much from them as I could. I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life among the monks. I want to go home. I wanted to leave for some time, but it wasn’t possible without the right papers. The colonel’s contact in Bangkok has given me a new passport, the genuine article, too. He’s given me a whole new identity. What the colonel is doing is a chance that only comes along once in a lifetime and I intend to grab it with both hands.”

“You’ve got family back in the States?”

Doherty shook his shaven head. “None that I care about. That’s one of the reasons I joined the army. To get away from them. I sure as hell won’t be going back.”

“You enlisted?”

“Yeah. Even though I knew it meant going to Nam. In a way I think I wanted to go right from the start. To test myself.”

“So how did you end up in Thailand?”

“I’d had enough,” said Doherty wistfully. “I’d seen too many things I didn’t want to see. Too much hate. Too much needless killing.”

“That’s what wars are about,” said Lehman.

“Maybe. But you were what, an army pilot, right?”

Lehman nodded.

“I flew for Air America, Dan. And they were a different bunch, believe me.”

Lehman said nothing, he sat with the beer bottle held between both hands and listened. Doherty’s eyes seemed to blank out as he spoke in a soft, even voice. A Chinese family walked past carrying a roast pig on a platter which they placed on the ground and began surrounding with burning sticks of incense.

“I was a good helicopter pilot, one of the best. I signed up because I wanted to fly. I wanted to fly more than anything else in the world, but while I was in Vietnam I became totally disillusioned with the army, with all its inefficiencies and its egos. I got into a fight with one of my commanding officers. He was faking his log book to make it look as if he was flying missions when he was safely in his tent, making himself look good so that he picked up medals while I was seeing my friends shot to pieces. I beat the shit out of him and after that I ended up with only the most dangerous missions. I knew that it was just a matter of time before I didn’t come back. My tour of duty came to an end in ‘73 and I was approached with an offer to join Air America.” He smiled. “Nobody actually mentioned the CIA but it was an open secret that it was funded by the CIA and handled most of the covert operations into the countries around Vietnam. It meant more money and I could continue flying slicks. I thought I was made. That was what I thought, anyway. Turned out that Air America was no better organised and flying for them was every bit as dangerous as flying for the army. I kept being told to ferry Special Forces units into Cambodia and Laos, always as a volunteer but if you didn’t volunteer you didn’t stay hired. There was as much incompetence among the men of the CIA and Special Forces as there was in the army, only they were a hell of a lot more vicious. I was flying a slick once when two CIA men threw out a North Vietnamese prisoner they were interrogating. I’d already decided that when my twelve-month contract with Air America was up, I was going home. I’d had enough. Then I saw kids killed. Women and children blown away in a country where we shouldn’t even have been.

“I picked up a group of Special Forces men in the Huey you saw. I was supposed to ferry them into Laos, wait while they delivered a consignment, and then bring them back. Ship to ship. Turned out the mission was a drugs deal, the men I carried were delivering gold and picking up drugs, heroin I suppose. There was a double-cross, I don’t know who or why, but they started firing and didn’t stop until everyone was dead. Women and children, shot in the back. I saw the whole thing, and then they tried to kill me. I managed to get back to the Huey, but it was a close call.”

Doherty fell silent, watching the Chinese family pin small pieces of coloured paper to the roast pig. “I could have gone back to Vietnam,” said Doherty eventually. “But I figured that I’d either be court-martialled for leaving them behind, or they’d get out of Laos and come looking for me. Either way, I decided to call it a day. I went to Thailand.”

“You flew all the way from Laos to Thailand?”

“It’s not that far,” said Doherty. “And the Huey had been fitted with extra fuel tanks. I kept flying until I was sure I was well inside Thailand and landed where you found it. A few days later I built the hut around it and shortly afterwards I joined the monastery. I’d been interested in Buddhism for some time. I started by doing odd jobs for the monks and after five years they allowed me to join as a novice.” He grinned. “The rest is history.”

“That’s a hell of a story, Chuck,” said Lehman.

“And it’s true,” said Doherty. “Monks don’t lie.” He ran his hands over his scalp. “It still feels strange talking to an American again.”

“What about the tourists? The ones who visited your monastery, the ones who left the newspapers you read?”

Doherty shook his head. “I kept out of the way. News of an American monk would soon have got around, especially when the man involved was a deserter from the Vietnam War.”

“You weren’t a deserter,” said Lehman. “You flew for Air America, not the army.”

“You’re splitting hairs,” said Doherty. “And I couldn’t let the monks get in trouble for looking after me. We always knew well in advance when visitors were coming. I just remained in my room. It was no hardship.”

Lehman stood up and stretched, screwing up his nose at the sickly sweet smell that saturated the air around the temple. “You know what Tyler has planned?” he said, his back to Doherty.

“A robbery. A big one. We’re going to hit the racetrack and we’re going to use my old Huey. So far that’s all I know. Except that no one will get hurt.”

“He told you that?”

“I insisted. As I said, I am a Buddhist. I won’t be a party to killing. Not any more.”

Lehman turned to face Doherty. He shook his head, a confused smile on his face. “Robbery is okay, but killing isn’t. I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, Dan. They’re the rules I live by, I’m not forcing them on you or anyone else.”

“Did Tyler say what part you’d be playing in the heist?”

“I don’t think he’s going to let me fly the slick, if that’s what you mean. I haven’t been at the controls of a helicopter since 1974. You’ll be flying her, I’ll just be a passenger.”

“You really think she’ll fly again?” Lehman asked.

“You’ve got doubts?”

Lehman shrugged. “It depends on Lewis, and the parts. And a good dose of luck.”

Doherty shook his head. “You’ve got to have faith in the colonel, Dan. You’ve got to have faith.”

Lehman saw Lewis walking back, rubbing his stomach, and he looked at his watch. Mickey Mouse grinned up at him. “We’re going to have to go. Let’s catch a cab,” he said.

Within an hour the three men had showered and changed and were standing outside the door to Tyler’s suite. “Dan. Bart. Chuck. Come in,” he said, holding the door open for them. He was wearing a khaki military-looking shirt with epaulets and sleeves neatly folded above his elbows. As they entered, Lehman saw a man he didn’t recognise sitting on the patio with a glass of beer on the table in front of him. The man smiled and gave him a half wave. He was in his late thirties with a round, boyish face and hair that was neatly cut and combed. He looked like a Mormon missionary. Lehman was about to ask Tyler who the new man was when he suddenly saw he was holding the glass with a metal claw. It was Carmody, without his unkempt beard and trademark wraparound sunglasses.

“Larry?” said Lehman in amazement.

“No!” exclaimed Lewis in disbelief. “What happened to the beard? The hair?”

“Big difference, huh?” said Carmody. “It was getting on my nerves, what with the humidity and all.”

“It’s good,” said Lehman, sitting down at the table. Carmody looked a lot less threatening without the facial hair and the shades, Lehman decided. His eyes were a pale grey and there were smile lines radiating from the edges. His cheeks were plump and the skin looked surprisingly soft. Carmody self-consciously rubbed a hand against his cheek.

There was a knock at the door while Tyler was fetching beers for Lehman and Lewis.

“Get that will you, Bart?” Tyler asked.

Lewis reacted immediately and opened the door to admit Eric Horvitz. Like Carmody, Horvitz had changed. He was still wearing his sunglasses but his hair had been trimmed so that it was shorter and a good deal tidier, and his beard had been cut and shaped.

“What’s up with you guys?” asked Lewis, stepping aside to allow Horvitz into the room. “You visit the same hair-dresser or something?”

“Something like that,” said Horvitz and went out on the balcony to sit between Lehman and Carmody. “We had time to kill and thought we’d try out the barber shop in the Mandarin Hotel. Pretty good cut, huh?”

Lewis ran a hand through his own greying, curly hair. “Think I should give it a try?” he asked.

“Couldn’t hurt, Bart,” said Horvitz. “Couldn’t hurt.”

“Beer, Eric?” asked Tyler.

“Please, Colonel,” said Horvitz. Tyler uncapped a bottle of San Miguel and handed it to him. When everyone had a drink he stood with his back to the window and told Horvitz and Carmody about the Huey in Thailand.

“A real Huey?” said Carmody. “We’re going to use a Huey from Nam? Amazing.”

“It’ll arrive next week,” said Tyler. “I’ve already arranged a factory out in the New Territories where we can carry out the repairs with no risk of being seen. We’ll check out of the hotel tomorrow morning. Larry, have you got your driving licence?”

“Yes, Colonel.”

“Good. You’ll come with me first thing tomorrow to hire a couple of vehicles. I’ll meet you in the lobby at nine.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

Lehman could see that Carmody’s appearance wasn’t the only thing that had changed. He was sharper, there was more confidence in his voice and bearing and he seemed to have lost some of his bitterness. He did everything but salute Tyler.

Tyler stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped behind him. “As of tomorrow, you gentlemen should consider yourself on active duty. I don’t expect you to stand to attention or to salute, but I want you to act as if this were a military operation. When I give orders I expect you to carry them out speedily and without question. This operation has been planned down to the minutest detail, yet it will be revealed to you only on a need-to-know basis. If there is anything you are unhappy about, talk to me, but there will be occasions when I cannot give you the whole picture. I’m sure you understand why. I’m equally certain you know that you must not talk to anyone about what we are doing here in Hong Kong.