Kriangsak made a second call, this time to another major in an army barracks in Bangkok. A third call went to the garrison commander at Don Muang. A fourth to a captain at the Grand Palace.
By the time he was done, men and machines were on the move throughout the Bangkok area.
There would be no failure this time, so long as Hsiao kept his part of the bargain.
The telephone receiver clicked in his hand. He held it to his ear, then smiled. Good. The city's phones had been knocked out on schedule. In the distance, he could hear the crackle of gunfire, and the first, faint wail of a siren. Now, he thought. Now it begins!
The door banged open. Phreng stood outside the room, between two Burmese holding AK-47s. 'On your feet,' the That said. He too held an assault rifle, and its muzzle was directed squarely at Tombstone's chest. 'Now!'
Tombstone stood with exaggerated slowness. 'Where are you taking us?'
'Never mind that. Hurry it up!'
'He can't!' Pamela said, flaring. 'You hurt him…'
'We'll do a lot more to him if he doesn't move fast.' Phreng gave her a leering, gap-toothed grin. 'And we're not done with you yet, little muu. We were only just getting acquainted when we were rudely interrupted, no?'
They were led at gunpoint through the warehouse, Tombstone walking with a pronounced, halting limp, Pamela supporting him by one arm. A side door opened into an alley between the warehouse and another large, empty-looking building. An army truck filled the road, its motor running.
A bell clanged with an uneven rhythm somewhere in the near distance. Any seafaring man would have recognized the sound, the ringing of a channel marker buoy moving with the lap of the waves. They were near the water, then. The warehouse suggested a dockyard complex. This could well be the Kiong Toey district, the rough waterfront area on the river which serviced Bangkok.
Phreng gestured with the AK, directing them toward the back of the truck.
Tombstone was already gauging his chances. There were Phreng and four Burmese, plus the driver, a brawny man who looked like a That dockworker. Six men, three with AK assault rifles. The odds were not good.
The That barked orders, and two Burmese closed in on Pamela. Standing to either side of her and pinning her arms, they manhandled her toward the truck.
'Let go of me!' Pamela demanded. She twisted against their grip.
One of the Burmese bellowed with pain and rage as Pamela's foot caught him squarely in the kneecap. He released her as the girl jerked free, striking wildly at the other guard with her fist.
Phreng turned away from Tombstone. That was the chance he'd been watching for. Tombstone whipped around, smashing his left elbow into the side of Phreng's head. The That slammed back against the side of the truck, and Tombstone grabbed for the AK.
They battled for the weapon in the cramped space between warehouse wall and truck. Tombstone crowded in close, then snapped his knee up hard, aiming for the That's groin. Phreng screamed. And then Tombstone had the AK as the civilian dropped to his hands and knees on the pavement. The two Burmese with AKs stood just beyond, beside the truck's cab, one fumbling with the weapon slung over his arm, the other bringing his assault rifle up to aim at the American. Tombstone's finger closed on the trigger. An ear-splitting chatter of full-auto gunfire exploded in the night, impossibly loud in the tight confines of the alley.
One gunman crashed against the side of the truck, then dropped to the pavement. His partner slammed into the warehouse wall. Tombstone whirled and pounded around to the back of the truck. Where was Pamela? The guard she had kicked was just getting up off the pavement, tugging a revolver from the waistband of his pants. Tombstone smashed him in the face with the AK's stock.
Fresh movement caught his eye… Phreng, rising now with one of the dropped AKs in his hand. Tombstone fired, stitching Phreng's torso from groin to throat with bloody explosions.
'Pamela!' he yelled, rounding the back of the truck. Where was she?
'Pam!'
There she was, on the far side of the truck! Another Burmese guard was holding her from behind, using her body as a shield as he backed away, one hand around her waist and the other clamped over her mouth. Tombstone's eyes met hers, and he saw the terror there.
In the same instant, the canvas curtains screening the back of the truck were thrust aside. Men were jumping out, armed men in uniform.
And behind them, handcuffed to a railing inside the truck's canvas top, he saw Bayerly, staring back at him with eyes as wide and as terrified as Pamela's.
Tombstone jerked the rifle skyward, unable to fire for fear of hitting either of the American captives. A That soldier running toward him opened fire, and Tombstone felt something snap past his head.
A That soldier…?
The alley seemed filled with running men now. More soldiers were arriving from someplace… the other side of the alley, from the inside of the warehouse. Tombstone ducked and whirled, seeking cover, but there was no cover in the alley, only trash-cluttered pavement.
He heard a man's yelp of pain, then Pamela's voice shouting in the darkness. 'Run, Tombstone. Run…!'
Her scream was drowned by gunfire. Bullets sang from the pavement near his feet and whined off the wall near his head, but he was already running, pounding down the alley toward the open street beyond. Random shots snapped past as he rounded the corner, plunging into a narrow, poorly lit street.
Pamela had given him his chance to escape. If he let himself get caught again, his failure would be like a betrayal. His lungs burning with the effort, he ran faster.
CHAPTER 19
Bangkok was in an uproar, a beeping, screeching, milling-crowd panic that exploded on every side of Tombstone as he tried desperately to argue with the wizened driver of one of the three-wheeled taxis called tuk- tuks.
He was in trouble. He knew that. The tuk-tuk driver spoke almost no English, and he clearly wanted to join the crowd of vehicles and pedestrians surging away from the heart of the city. The unmistakable chatter of automatic weapons fire rattled in the distance, and Tombstone could see a ruddy, spreading glow which might mark the reflection of a large fire on the low-hanging clouds.
It was, Tombstone decided, a coup attempt, a big one, and the presence of those soldiers in the truck outside Hsiao's warehouse headquarters meant that the Chinese general was somehow behind it. It also meant that Tombstone couldn't know who to trust. There were soldiers on the streets. An M-113 personnel carrier was parked at a nearby corner, nervous-looking soldiers manning the Browning.50-caliber machine gun on its roof. Civilians streaming past the vehicle looked at it with expressions ranging from curiosity to fear.
Tombstone had considered walking up, identifying himself, and asking to use a radio… but he didn't dare. Those troops might very well prove to be working for the wrong side. He'd thought of and discarded several other options. He could find a public phone but he had no coins. The shops and businesses on the street might have phones, but every establishment he could see was closed and locked, the owner gone or hiding. If he tried breaking in, he could get arrested… and the question of whose side the authorities might be on rose again.
His best bet was to reach the American embassy. That was when he'd spotted the tuk-tuk and flagged it down.
But the driver didn't seem to understand. 'Tawee lahng bahee!' he shrieked, gesturing wildly with his arm as Tombstone tried to block his way.
'Blaho! Blaho!'
Desperate now, Tombstone placed both hands on the front of the tiny vehicle. His laboriously memorized That phrases had abandoned him. How did you say 'I want to go to the American Embassy?' Damn! If this went on much longer, he was going to attract the very attention from soldiers or other interested parties that he wanted to
