“No problem. Could you find it on a GPS with a satellite photo?”
“I think so.”
Joe opened the pilot door and ferreted around, and held up a handheld GPS unit that looked no more than a year old. Spencer and Allie looked at each other as Joe powered the unit up.
“Okay, I’ll zoom out,” Joe said, moving closer to Allie. “Show me the river where the helo went down.”
Allie studied the image and tapped the screen. “This looks about right. Daeng said we were around twenty-two or twenty-three miles up the Mekong.”
“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I can see why you might have gotten a rude welcome. That’s Shan Army territory on the Myanmar side. Pretty dicey customers.”
“You sound like you know them well.”
“Sure. I mean, when you live out here, you get used to breaking bread, you know? Everybody’s friend, stay neutral, and run errands, whatever.”
“Like flying medical supplies into Thailand?” Allie asked.
“I’m like Federal Express. If you tell me you have two hundred pounds of bandages in your package, who am I to question it?”
“That’s very decent of you,” Spencer said.
“Hey, life’s short, and whatever gets you through the night and keeps gas in the plane.” Joe looked around at the fog, which was burning off. “Looks like a lovely day for a tour. You ready?” he asked Allie.
She gave Spencer an uncertain gaze. “Why do I have to go?”
“You’re the archeologist, aren’t you? Or do you think Spencer here can do the same job you can?” Joe asked.
She frowned, but had to concede the point. “It’s safe, right?”
“As safe as anything around here. Like I said, embrace the universe and you’ll have a happier life.”
“And a considerably shorter one,” Allie mumbled under her breath.
“Let me start her up and we’ll get busy. I’ve got binoculars and a radio in the plane, so we’re ready to go.”
“How about a fire extinguisher and a parachute?” Allie asked.
Joe eyed her. “You have a good sense of humor, I see. That’s healthy.”
“I’m not kidding.”
The engine sputtered to life and Joe adjusted some knobs, and after a few minutes the rough idle settled into a purr. Allie climbed into the small cockpit and strapped in next to Joe. He pulled on a ragged headset, gave Spencer a thumbs-up, and taxied to the edge of the rutted dirt strip.
“Hope there are no mud cows on the damn runway,” Joe said, and Allie shook her head. He grinned crazily again and chuckled. “Don’t know why they like to amble onto the airstrip sometimes, but they do. Haven’t hit one yet, but it keeps you on your toes.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
“We’ll soon find out,” he said as the plane eased forward. “Not very adventurous considering your line of work, are you?”
“After a crash and being chased by gunmen through the jungle, my adventure quota’s full up for one lifetime.”
They picked up speed, and the plane’s tricycle landing gear hit a particularly ugly rut. The fuselage gave an ominous groan and the whole aircraft shuddered. Allie gritted her teeth, her sacroiliac aching from the pounding, and then they lifted into the fog at a steep angle. “Got to get over the trees or it won’t be pretty,” Joe explained. Allie closed her eyes, not wanting to see her death racing toward her at the hands of a stoned madman.
Thirty seconds later, they were over the canopy and bouncing higher through light turbulence. Joe tapped the compass with his finger as they continued their climb. Allie opened her eyes and stared at the device. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. I keep meaning to fix this thing. It sticks every now and then.”
“The thing that tells us where we’re headed? That thing?” she asked.
“I know these hills like the back of my hand. Have no fear.”
“Does the altimeter work?”
“Mostly.”
“That sounds like sometimes not.”
“Glass is half full, little lady, half full. Just put out positive vibes. No need to fret.”
At three thousand feet above the ground, Joe banked and headed north, and soon they were over the Mekong River. Joe pointed at a long barge straining against the current. “Slow boat there. Hell of a way to make a living.”
“Daeng, our helicopter pilot, said that sometimes the drug traffickers shoot at aircraft.”
Joe nodded. “That they do. But not usually, especially not at this altitude. Waste of time with anything but a .50-caliber machine gun, and why blow the rounds? Not like they don’t know my plane.”
“That’s right. I keep forgetting you work for… who is it you won’t work for, again?”
“So much disapproval. Live and let live, that’s my motto.” He pointed at the river coming up on their right. “That look familiar?”
“Yes. That’s it.”
“Let’s go down some and see if we can spot your friends.”
An hour later, after numerous runs along the river and the surrounding trails, they’d spotted nothing but an occasional ox and peasants working the terraced fields. Joe turned on the GPS and headed west. “Pick the first of your possible ruin sites and we’ll take a gander. They’re all in Myanmar, are they?”
“One is. The other two aren’t.”
“Let’s look at the Laotian ones first, then. Even I get the heebie-jeebies flying over Shan Army territory.”
“We do have a permit.”
“From a government the Shans don’t recognize as legit. Use it as toilet paper, because that’s about all it’s good for.”
They buzzed the first of the locations and Allie shook her head. “That doesn’t look promising, does it?”
“I don’t see anything but jungle.”
“Let’s head for this spot,” she suggested, indicating the second site. Joe nodded and made an adjustment to the controls, and ten minutes later they had completed two passes over the site, with the same result as the first.
“If there’s anything down there, it’s not obvious from the air,” Joe said. “Looks like we’re headed into Myanmar.”
Allie nodded, lost in thought. When they crossed the Mekong, Joe turned to her. “What were you doing at that river? Not really that close to any of the sites, is it?”
Allie frowned as she debated telling him about the plane crash. After a few moments, she decided it couldn’t hurt.
“Someone I know was also looking for the ruins, and their plane crashed. We were hoping to spot the wreckage — sort of kill two birds while we’re here.”
“A crash? When was that?” Joe asked, his eyes narrowing.
“About a week ago. At night.”
He thought for a long beat and turned to her. “Might have heard something about that.”
Allie regarded him. “Might have, or did?”
“Depends on who asks, and whether there’s a bump in pay involved.”
“How does double the money sound?”
“Not as good as triple.”
Allie sighed. “Done.”
“Seems I heard from the Shan Army folks that a plane went down maybe… five, six nights ago. I’ll have to ask. It was one of my men who told me.”
“Did he happen to mention where?”
“No, just somewhere past the Mekong. Let me radio and see if he’s around.”
Joe twisted the volume up on his radio and spoke into the microphone. After several minutes, an answering voice chattered back. Joe listened intently and asked something else. More jabber in the language of the hill tribesmen assaulted him, and he sat back and twisted the volume down. He turned to Allie.
“He’s going to reach out to his buddy in the Shan Army. Unfortunately, it’s not like picking up the phone. He needs to take a handheld radio and get within range, and then hail them on one of their frequencies. From there, it’ll be a matter of how long it takes to find him and learn what he knows.”