The Burma Legacy (2 page)

‘Never leaves you time for the things you want to do. Would you do more of it, if you could? Big time cruising, that sort of thing.’

‘Like a shot.’

‘What has to happen to make it more than a dream?’

‘Enough money, enough time and the right woman to crew for me.’

‘Julie …?’

Sam shrugged, not wanting to get into that again. ‘Tell me about Jimmy Squires. Everything you haven’t already told me.’

She looked away, staring at the horizon. ‘Oh, he’s straight out of a casebook. A boy who never knew his father. Brought up in an orphanage, then by foster parents. A right tearaway when he was a teenager. The file said he created a one-man juvenile crime wave in his home town.’

‘Where was that?’ The background file Packer’s own employer had provided had been woefully sparse.

‘Somewhere called Ripley? Yorkshire, I think. He did car theft, vandalism. The usual. Then some kindly probation officer steered him into the army to keep him out of jail. He was a tough nut, but they found he
was bright too. Demonstrated a readiness to kill and a talent for survival. A shoe-in for special forces, I guess. But then he turned bad.’

‘And bought a quarter-million-dollar ego-trip with the proceeds.’

‘Amongst other things.’

It’d be a bloody great stamp in the passport, Sam realised. Barnado’s boy makes good. An ‘up yours’ to every bugger who’d ever tried to put him down. The question was whether he’d be stupid enough to brag about it when they caught up with him.
If
they did …

‘Remind me – when did he leave the SAS?’

‘Two years ago when he turned forty. Been in uniform since the age of seventeen. His marriage broke up a year before that.’

‘SAS men don’t get home that often.’

‘Then you and him’ll have something to talk about …’

‘Thanks.’ He didn’t need reminding. His affair with Julie had been relatively new when he was posted to Singapore nearly a year ago. Going three months. And he’d only seen her twice since then.

He asked Midge what had brought Squires to this part of the world.

‘The Thai military recruited him – they were looking for men with jungle experience to show Karens living near the border how to spy on drug caravans.’

‘Why bother with Brits? They must have dozens of their own who could do that.’

‘One reason was historical. The Karens fought with the Brits against the Japs in World War Two and
still have a high regard for them. The other, would you believe it, was
integrity
.’ Midge’s voice was heavy with irony. ‘They thought SAS men were incorruptible.’

‘Christ. How many did they hire?’

‘Two. The other guy alerted the Thais to the fact that Squires wasn’t playing by the rules anymore.’ She shook her head in amazement. ‘I thought those fellers were loyal to each other unto death.’

‘Shows you haven’t read the books they write. How did you lot get involved?’

‘When the Thai’s Narcotics Suppression Bureau put a watch on Squires, they logged frequent trips to Australia. So they alerted us. We put him under surveillance in Sydney and Melbourne, but the bastard was too good. Gave our watchers the slip. However … by some remarkable coincidence his visits always seemed to be followed by an influx of Burmese heroin.’

Sam glanced to port. The sea was dotted with pleasure craft now. He looked enviously at a yacht under full sail. Midge noticed.

‘More your style?’

He nodded. They were nearing a large land mass.

‘Phuket island?’ Midge asked, pointing.

‘S’right.’

She leaned forward, moving a finger up the chart. ‘The marina’s here, right?’

‘You’ve got it.’

A Thai narcotics officer on the quayside had radioed thirty minutes before to say that Squires’ boat the
Estelle
was coming in to have a dodgy water pump
replaced. A tip-off they’d desperately needed. Until then, they’d spent the day rushing from one sun-baked anchorage to another in a fruitless search for him.

Suddenly a beep shrilled from the console in front of them.

‘Shit!’

‘What’s that?’

Sam grabbed the throttles and yanked them back to neutral.

‘Oil pressure.’ He pointed to the gauge. The needle had sunk to zero.

‘What’s that mean?’

‘Don’t know, yet.’ He pulled the stop button and the engine died.

‘For Christ’s sake, Steve! What’re you doing? We’ve got to get to that marina.’

‘No oil, no can do.’ He spun from his seat, slid down the companionway steps and stomped into the saloon. Before leaving harbour that morning he’d been given the briefest of tours of the boat’s machinery space. He unclipped the engine covers and peered inside.

Midge followed him down. When she reached him he was reading the dipstick.

‘Bone dry.’ He opened the spares locker. ‘But we’re in luck! There’s a five-litre can here.’

‘They forgot to top up before we took the boat?’

‘Or else there’s a leak.’ He leaned into the engine space again. There were black oil smears down the engine block. ‘Could be that the rocker cover wasn’t screwed down properly.’

‘Meaning …?’

‘That I might be able to fix it with a spanner.’ He looked in the locker, found a large, long-handled wrench and applied it to the loose securing bolts. ‘Better get back on deck and keep watch. Make sure nothing runs us down.’

He poured the fresh oil into the engine, cleaned up and restarted the diesel, checking there were no more leaks. Soon they were on their way again.

‘Fix you a drink, skipper?’ Midge asked, her eyes betraying a trace of admiration.

‘I could murder a mug of tea.’

She headed down to the galley.

Fifteen minutes later there was a further message from the marina. The
Estelle
had called to say she’d be alongside at four-thirty.

Sam smiled with satisfaction. ‘We’ll only be twenty minutes behind him.’

‘Well, well, well,’ said Midge. ‘Perhaps there
is
a God.’

Ten minutes later they arrived at a guano-smeared post marking the entrance to the channel which led through mangrove clumps to the marina. The water here was like brown soup. Sam reduced speed to a point not far above the 5 knots allowed. Midge sat tensely beside him, as more long-tail boats sliced past, their fisherman owners waving giant prawns in the hope of a sale.

The channel narrowed. Ahead, the river was flanked by mangrove roots as spindly as spider-legs. Then, round a bend, the concrete harbour entrance
came in view, just as the police radio crackled one more time.

‘
Estelle in berth B23. If you quick, you take the space next
.’

‘Okay,’ Sam grimaced. ‘Let the performance begin.’ Uneasily he watched Midge pick her way to the bow and cleat on a line in the way he’d shown her earlier in the day. Her hair was bunched in a pony tail and as she moved about, it flicked from side to side. She’d pulled on a clingy, low-cut tee-shirt over her bikini top.

The sinking sun had burned a hole through the clouds. Sam squinted into it to identify the marker posts at the ends of the pontoons. Spotting the one for row B, he saw the
Estelle
six slots up, the name in big gold letters across her broad stern. Two males were on deck, busy with ropes. Two women lounged in chairs on the aft sun deck. Sam swung the boat into the row, cut the revs and turned into the empty berth alongside.

‘Port side to, Beth.’

Midge looked baffled.

‘Left side alongside,’ Sam explained.

She moved to the rail with the bow line in her hands as he eased the hull against the finger pontoon, reversing the prop to prevent the bow crunching the quay.

‘Jump!’

She hopped onto the finger, yelping as it dipped under her weight. She grinned sheepishly up at the bridge of the
Estelle
, then steadied herself and took the rope forward to the main pontoon, staring down at
the mooring ring as if it were the most complex piece of technology she’d ever seen.

‘Tie it anyhow, Beth,’ Sam told her, favouring his voice towards their neighbour.

She fed the warp through the ring, then sat holding it, giving a good impression of not knowing what to do next. Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw the man they’d come to seduce step down from his boat.

‘Give you a hand, darling?’ Jimmy Squires’ voice was like raked gravel.

‘I’m so stupid with ropes,’ Midge simpered, handing him the warp.

The former SAS sergeant had curly fair hair, blue-grey eyes and a small v-shaped scar on his left cheek. There was nothing obviously threatening about him, but even bears looked cuddly, Sam reminded himself. He watched to ensure the man knew what he was doing with the lines, then cut the engine and stepped off the boat to secure their stern warp. As she received her lesson in knots, Midge leaned forward to give Squires a look down her front.

‘I’m pretty new to boats,’ Sam heard her gush. ‘Haven’t got the hang of things yet.’

‘Anytime you want coachin’, darlin’ …’

On the aft deck of the
Estelle
one of the women was plumpish, the other as trim and pretty as Thai girls were meant to be. Sam gave them a friendly nod, then climbed onto the foredeck to attach a second mooring line, passing the end to the man on the pontoon.

‘Reckon I owe you a beer for that,’ he said.

‘Now you’re talking …’

Sam went below, brought out a four-pack from the coolbox, then held out a can to Squires.

‘Steve and Beth.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ Squires took the beer and ripped off the ring-pull in one smooth movement. ‘I’m Vince. The bloke up there …’ He pointed to the powerboat’s high flying-bridge, ‘… is Nige. And the girls are Vicky and Jan. Their real names are a mile long and unpronounceable.’

His eyes radiated a cool intensity, but he looked at ease with the world. Midge was standing so close she was almost touching him.

‘Where’ve you come from today?’ Sam asked, raising the can to his lips.

‘Ko Racha Yai,’ Squires answered. ‘Diving. You do any of that?’ He indicated the air bottles secured to the side of the
Estelle
’s sundeck.

‘Only snorkelling.’

‘That’s good too … Fantastic fish. Water’s gin clear down there. This marina’s a sewer. Only came back in because the pump in the shower packed up. You girls need your luxuries, don’t you, darlin’?’ He smiled condescendingly. ‘What about you? Where’ve you been?’

‘We only picked the boat up this morning. Trying her out. Came back in for some more provisions.’

‘You won’t get out again tonight,’ Squires commented. ‘The tide’s too low.’

‘I know.’

‘Here for the Millennium?’

‘Seemed a good way to celebrate.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Singapore. We work in financial services.’

Squires turned his gaze on Midge. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a money-brain too?’

‘That’s right. Any time you want your assets checking …’

Squires’ chuckle was like a drain overflowing. ‘I think you’ll find them in good order …’

The sound of feet on the pontoon made them turn. It was the mechanic, toolbox in one hand and a small cardboard spares carton in the other.

‘Been waiting for you, you little bugger.’ Squires clapped the young Thai on the shoulder, then swung a leg onto the
Estelle
. ‘Thanks for the beer. I’ll return the compliment later. Hop over in about an hour if you feel like it.’

‘Mind if we leave the timing loose?’ Sam replied. ‘Not sure how long things’ll take ashore.’

‘If you’re here, you’re here. If you’re not we won’t be offended.’

‘Thanks.’

Sam did a final tidying of the bridge then went below. Midge had preceded him and sat flopped on the saloon berth with her arms spread across the back.

‘That felt too easy,’ she whispered.

‘Yes.’

They looked at one another. Then Sam glanced at the bulkhead clock.

Midge nodded. ‘I’ll get some more clothes on.’ She stepped down into the cabin and started pulling things from her bag. Sam concealed the Thai police
radio handset in a drawer, then stuffed a wallet in his pocket.

By the time they stepped onto the pontoon, the clouds had cleared completely, but the sun was well down and had lost its heat. Beneath a thin, long-sleeved top Midge was bra-less, Sam noticed. Her tanned legs protruded from skimpy yellow shorts, and she moved with the fluidity of a cat.

The pontoon ended at a long quay. On the far side was a yacht club with a toilet and shower block. Next to it a restaurant, a café and a small supermarket. Because their initial connection with Squires had gone so smoothly, Sam felt things could only get worse, a suspicion that intensified when he sneaked a glance back down the pontoon.

‘Shit …’

Nige was ambling along the decking behind them.

‘Probably just needs the loo,’ Midge suggested under her breath.

‘Or keeping an eye on us for his master.’

They walked on.

‘Oh my God …’

Sitting in the café was the plain-clothes policeman who’d radioed their berthing instructions. Dark trousers, striped shirt, portable VHF set on the table in front of him, he might as well have been in uniform.

Midge looked away in despair. Too late to shoo the man away. Nige was right behind. They walked quickly past the café and pushed open the door to the shop.

Thirty minutes later they returned to the boat carrying plastic bags of provisions, including a couple of bottles of overpriced Australian fizz. The sun had set by now and the sky was darkening. As they walked down the pontoon they could see Squires’ lean face watching them from the deck of the
Estelle
. They sensed his suspicion, but when they drew near he held up a long glass, clouded with condensation.

‘Hot work! What you need is one of these.’

‘Great! Be over in a minute.’ Sam swung the bags onto their own deck.

‘What’s your poison, Beth?’

‘I’m a beer girl, Vince.’ She gave him a cheery grin, trying to radiate a confidence she didn’t feel.

‘Beer for you too, Steve?’

Sam gave a thumbs up.

They stowed the shopping below, squeezed the wine bottles into the tiny fridge, then locked up again before stepping across to the other boat. Jan, the prettier of the Thai women, gave Midge a warning glare. The other held out a limp hand for them to shake.