20
THEY ATE A FILLING MEALat a café near the river, and later walked to a small hotel where they made up half of the guests. Temple and Nash shared a room, while Thura had his own. Before they separated for the night, Thura told them, as Nash had requested, that he would take them to the airport early the next morning in the vehicle he had managed to acquire.
Neither Nash nor Temple slept well that night. It was hot and humid and there was no air-conditioning. And leaving the windows open was not an option because they had both seen the size of the bugs flitting around outside.
Thura came for them the following morning. He led them outside and over to a forest-green 4WD Jeep. It was old and dented and dirty, but as Thura said, “The engine works and the wheels turn.”
Temple said, “You’re a genius, Thura. I can use resourceful guys like you in my business.”
Thura glanced at Nash but did not comment on this. He then handed Nash the second item he had requested: a phone. “Charged and ready to use, with a new SIM card and enough bars to do what you need it to do.”
As they drove to the airport, Nash sat in the back seat and loaded onto the phone the things he needed. By the time he was finished, they had reached the airport, which was in a large field and consisted of a small building blotched by the weather and painted, in part, white and aquamarine. A small tower with radar gear sprouted out of the structure.
“It is also called Banmaw Airport,” Thura said, pointing at the sign hanging on the building.
There were a few locals and some tourists, probably awaiting the arrival of the plane. Other folks were lined up with their bags to board the aircraft for its return flight to Myitkyina.
Thura told him where the jet would land and deplane its passengers on the single runway. After looking over the area, Nash directed him to park well away from the building, but in a spot that still provided a good sight line of the road leading into the airport.
“I suppose you will tell me who is coming to meet you at the plane,” said Thura, with a glance at Nash in the back seat.
“I’m not sure we know any more than you do.”
“Were they supposed to take you somewhere?” asked Thura.
“Yes, only we don’t know exactly where.” Nash had an idea. “Thura, you obviously know this area well. Have you heard of a prison installation roughly halfway between Bhamo and Katha?”
Thura shot a look out the window before answering. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because we’d like to know,” interjected Temple. “Can you help us out?”
Thura said, “I know about it. I had a cousin who used to work there as a guard.”
“Who operates it?” asked Nash.
“No one knows, really. But I can tell you that the junta leaves it alone. And the KIA does the same.”
“That’s very strange, isn’t it?” asked Nash. “Allowing people to do something in your own country and you just let them get away with it?”
“I do not think that is what is happening.”
“Then what?” asked Temple.
In reply Thura rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
“You mean they’re being well paid not to do anything about it,” said Nash.
Thura nodded. “Money talks here just as good as any other place. All I know is, it is a place to give a wide berth to. That is the smart thing to do.” He eyed Nash in the mirror. “But something tells me that you two are here to do the opposite of that.”
“I’m not sure we have much choice in the matter,” said Nash.
Thirty minutes later Nash, who from the middle of the back seat was keeping his eye on the Jeep’s side mirrors, said, “Looks like our friends are coming.”
As they slid down in their seats, a black four-door Toyota 4Runner pulled into the entrance to the airport and parked as close to the runway as possible.
Two men got out and Nash ran his eyes over them. They were tall and well-built, and he could tell from the bulges under their jackets that they were armed. He eyed the Toyota and thought he could see two other people sitting in the rear seats.
They all looked at the clear, windless sky when the sounds of a plane approaching reached them.
