was a blur, barely there at all. It was charcoal gray and, granted, simian in some measure. But it wasn’t quite the face she’d seen.
“Let me see,” said Kleat. She passed him the camera, thinking he wanted to study the image. Instead he brought it to his eye like a marksman.
“You’ve done it again,” he said after a minute.
“What?”
“First the pilot, now this.” He handed her the camera. “That’s a skull.”
She steadied the camera. There the sloped breastplate, a fading white army star, up higher the snout of the machine gun, and the turret—empty now where the face had been. And behind that, all but hidden along the upper shell, she saw the head, tucked within the shadows, unmoving.
Hard and glossy, it rested on a stubby metal pole. It looked freshly plucked from the battlefield. Through her lens, the eyes gazed down. Kleat took the camera.
“The Vietnamese must have found them,” Kleat said. “Or the fucking KR. Those poor guys. There could be more of them inside.” The idea quickened in him. “Someone’s got to go up there.”
“That will be a trick,” Duncan said.
“Get one of the boys to do it.”
“They’ll never go,” Duncan said. “Especially with a dead man up there.”
“Bargain with them.”
“Don’t force this, John. I keep telling you, part of them still lives in the tenth century, with curses and evil eyes and flying spirits. The locals give their babies charms to protect them. They stack firewood against the door to keep out the dead. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories.”
Kleat wheeled around and walked quickly to the brothers. For a moment, Molly didn’t miss her camera. Then she realized his game.
“He’s showing them the statues,” she told Duncan.
They hurried after Kleat, but the damage was done. They were holding her camera and smearing the display with their fingertips. They were excited.
“What have you done?” said Duncan.
“I just gave you and me the world,” Kleat said. “Now talk to them. Get whatever you want out of it, all the supplies in the world, just as long as you get us into that track.”
“Forget it.”
“Sam, get over here,” Kleat said. “You tell them. The place is huge. They could search for days and never find these statues. And they don’t have days. The typhoon’s coming. We know where the statues are. I need someone to run a rope up to that vehicle. That’s for starters. They’re businessmen. Let’s do business.”
Samnang relayed the message. Doc, the eldest brother with the full
“Come on,” Kleat said in English. He pointed at the camera display. “You want these? We’ll show you where they are. One of you street heroes, come on. All you have to do is climb up. Tell them, they don’t even have to go inside. All we need is a rope to it. We’ll take it from there.”
Doc said something. Samnang said, “They want your gun.”
“My gun?”
“They are saying that. The statues and your Glock.”
“Why? We’re already outgunned, three to one.”
“What does it matter?” said Duncan. “If the bones are there, you get what you want.”
“And if they’re not? Tell them no statues until we get inside the track,” Kleat said. “Tell them.”
“They understand,” said Samnang.
Doc spoke. Vin handed the camera to them. Duncan and Samnang exchanged a wary look.
“Here’s your camera. They’re requesting to look at your gun. An exchange.”
“The hell.” Kleat’s voice flattened out. A vein appeared on his scalp.
Molly took her camera.
“They want me to hand it to them?”
“Just do it,” Duncan said.
“You know what they’re doing,” said Kleat.
“Not necessarily, John. Keep calm.”
“They’re pirates.”
“Don’t raise your voice, John.”
He was going to pull his gun on them, Molly realized with sudden alarm. They were baiting him to do it. They were waiting for him. Their yellow eyes stared off into the distance. They toked their cigarettes like Marlboro men. But their fingers had shifted on their rifles. They were getting the weight of their weapons, the arc of their descent, the timing, the targets. The signs were all there.
She could almost picture herself lying among the dead.
“I’ll go,” she said suddenly.
Her voice startled them.
Kleat narrowed his eyes, suspicious of everyone now. “Up there?”
“You don’t understand.” She smiled large and stepped between the men. “I’m good at this. It’s one of the hats I wear. I hang off rocks for a living. Mountain photography. Calendars and magazines. I’m not the greatest climber in the world, but I can manage a tree.”
“No,” said Duncan.
She smiled at him. “Baby steps,” she said.
She took over, chattering brightly, getting them distracted. Samnang began relaying her decision to the brothers. Vin’s eyes grew big. She reached for him and brought him down into their midst, rifle and all, disarming them one at a time.
“I’ll need a rope,” she said. “Do you have a rope?”
Samnang droned on softly. Vin nodded his head and started for the truck.
“And you,” she said to Kleat. “Give me your gun.”
Kleat backed away from her. “Now you?”
“I’m not going up there without some protection. Who knows what’s living in there?”
“Forget it.”
“You want me to fix a rope? That’s my price. A loaner.”
“I’ll watch your back.”
She held out her hand. “Right now.” She added quietly, “You son of a bitch.”
Samnang halted his translating.
She could see Kleat’s gears turning. He could refuse her. But she was his only hope, and he knew it. They were locked on to his every move, and his one chance at keeping his gun was to give it away. She would take it out of the brothers’ reach as well as his…for the time being. He handed her his Glock.
“Is the safety on?” she asked, looking at both sides of the gun.
“It’s a Glock,” he said.
“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”
“It’s all internal,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”
She tucked the gun into the back of her waist, out of sight, out of mind.
The brothers’ hands relaxed on their rifles, just as she’d hoped. “Keep this for me,” she said to Duncan, and gave him her camera.
He laid one hand on top of hers, and she was shaking. His touch steadied her. He took the camera. “You want me to get a picture of you?” he asked.
That was a first. None of her subjects had ever bothered to ask if she wanted a record of herself.
