Lawrence Block - The Scoreless Thai (aka Two For Tanner)

The trek had had one good effect. It had taken Dhang’s mind off sex for the time being. He was too beat to think about it. As soon as he finished eating, he flopped in a heap to the ground, and within seconds his rhythmic breathing announced that he was asleep. Tuppence made a brief effort at conversation, then gave it up and curled up a few yards away. I stretched out and closed my eyes and waited for something to happen.

After about an hour I heard chanting off in the distance, and before long a band of foot soldiers went by along the trail. I didn’t bother to see who they were or where they were going. I stayed silent and motionless, and Tuppence and Dhang went on sleeping.

Then, a while later, there was a series of explosions off to the north and east. Tuppence woke up almost at once and looked at me. “Bombs,” I said.

“What the hell is that all about?”

“ U.S. bombers striking at strategic targets in the north,” I intoned. “Scratch a few more dugout canoes, I guess.”

“What happens if they drop bombs on us?”

“What do you suppose happens?”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“A few months ago I signed a petition calling for a halt to the bombing in North Vietnam.”

“They should have listened to you, baby.”

“They didn’t. Go back to sleep.”

She yawned. “I can’t.” She crawled over to me. “Poor Evan,” she said softly. “I got you in one sweet mess, didn’t I?”

“Forget it.”

She touched my face. Her hand was cool in the heat of the jungle. “You and Dhang could make out okay if I weren’t around,” she said. “You could hook up with those soldiers. The way you look now, no hair and that yellowy skin, you could pass.”

“Not without knowing the language.”

“You could fake it. But I’m afraid I’m just the wrong color.”

“You’re also the wrong shape. But I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

She kissed me. I took her in my arms, and she cuddled up against me. She had been through one hell of a lot without breaking down, and I wondered how much more she could take. It would be a long time before things got easier, if they did at all. She was tough, hard, resilient, but everyone has a breaking point.

“Maybe we can find something to lighten your skin,” I said. “Some native plants or something. Dhang might know.”

“If you do, just take the formula back to Harlem. You’ll make a bloody fortune.”

She laughed softly. The bombs cracked again in the distance, but not so far in the distance as before. I tightened my arms around her and kissed her, and the noise of the bombing sounded a little less ominous.

And then, slowly, gently, both of us slightly embarrassed but driven past embarrassment by mutual need, we removed our clothes and found one another. She clutched me desperately, making urgent little sounds in the back of her throat. Her fingers stroked my bald head, moved down over my back. I kissed the richness of her dark brown breasts and stroked the black velvet skin on the insides of her thighs. She purred like a kitten and moaned like a freight train and sighed like a hiss of steam.

Until we had proved in the only truly effective way that we were both still alive. And, lying gently together, basking in the hazy yellow glow of life affirmed, once again becoming gradually aware of the bombs in the distance and the spiky jungle grass under our naked flesh, we opened our tired eyes and looked into the tormented eyes of Dhang.

“Oh,” Tuppence said.

Dhang turned away. Tuppence fumbled her way into her clothes. I put on my trousers and my tunic. Tuppence struggled to keep from laughing, and Dhang fought back tears.

And just when he had finally gotten his mind off sex, I thought. It hardly seemed fair.

Dhang was the firstto hear them. He whirled sharply about, his hand cupped to his ear. I didn’t hear anything. He dropped to the ground and pressed his ear against the trampled earth. It was the first time I had ever actually seen anyone with his ear to the ground. Any moment now, I thought, he would put his shoulder to the wheel and his nose to the grindstone.

I too dropped to the ground and pressed my ear against it. I could hear it then, the thud of vibrations. “Sounds like a mechanized column,” I said. “We’d better get out of the way.”

A few miles back our little trail had merged with a much wider path that also was heading southward. This new route was far more open, with patches of sky visible overhead. I hadn’t been too enthusiastic over it at first. True, it proved we were on the right track, but new hazards presented themselves. It stood to reason that the route would see heavy North Vietnamese traffic, which meant we would have to be very careful if we wanted to remain undetected. Still more to the point, we were open to observation by U.S. planes and helicopters. The fact that they were on our side didn’t do a hell of a lot of good unless they happened to realize it. It was bad enough in World War II, when American marines got shot up with hunks of the Sixth Avenue El. But at least those bullets were fired by the Japanese. It was even worse to get annihilated by one’s own air force.

We were well hidden in the brush long before the advancing column came into sight. I rested the two sacks of jewels on the ground. A king’s ransom, I thought, and much good they were doing us. They were an extraordinary collection; I had finally let avarice triumph over nonchalance a day earlier and had had a good look at them. Most were cut gems, diamonds and rubies and a preponderance of exceptional emeralds, along with a variety of stones I couldn’t recognize. Many of them had started the trip in gleaming gold settings, but for expedience’ sake the original thieves had pried them free and stowed them away in individual leather pouches. No doubt the gold had long since been melted down and disseminated through the Bangkok black market. It would have been enough to finance the operation for the Pathet Lao, and everything left over was gravy.

There were also some jade carvings, and I knew enough about jade to realize that they were exceptional. So we were toting a fortune, and it did us no more good than paper money or gold, neither of which would have been of any use. I would have traded the lot for a gun or a machete or a flashlight, anything that would have helped us cope with the jungle.

A horned beetle crawled from my foot to my leg. I flicked him away with my forefingers. Tuppence and Dhang crouched in silence on either side of me. The column of North Vietnamese was drawing close now. A trio of jeeps were in the lead, followed by a brace of motorized antiaircraft guns, a convoy of troop carriers, and, in the rear, four lumbering tanks.

And then, from the south, we heard the cheering sound of American air power.

Tuppence glanced at me, eyes wide with alarm, and I nodded. She pursed her lips and whistled soundlessly. Fly away, fellows, I urged them silently. Fly like birds. Don’t be heroes today. Go bomb Hanoi or something. But don’t drop anything around here.

They didn’t listen to me.

Just a few yards from us the North Vietnamese braced themselves for action. The column ground to a halt, and the antiaircraft guns readied themselves for the encounter. The troop carriers peeled back their canvas tops and dozens of foot soldiers spilled out, rifles in hand. They scattered in the brush. We waited for them to stumble upon us, but almost all of them chose the other side of the road, and the ones who came over to our side were concentrated to the north of us.

The planes droned overhead. The tanks – Russian T-34’s, the same sort I had seen in Korea – pointed their massive guns at the sky. Keep going, I urged the planes. Knock out the oil depots in Haiphong. Do anything, but go away.