When they reached the dogleg in the river, Joe corrected west and dropped to a thousand feet over the canopy. They cruised for fifteen minutes, and then he called out to Drake over the motor. “Off to your right. About two o’clock. See it? That’s the waterfall.”
Drake focused the binoculars, trying to steady them so he wouldn’t feel sick, and spied the white water coursing over rocks. “Does it have a name?”
Joe shook his head. “Not much around here does.” He pointed ahead and dropped closer to the treetops. “We should be coming up on the flight path in a short while.” He switched on the GPS and thumbed through the images, zooming in and setting a waypoint where the falls were. “Okay. It could be anywhere around here. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Drake concentrated on the areas of the mountainous terrain he could make out through the trees, which weren’t many. Minutes went by as Joe circled and retraced their course, and before he knew it, they’d been in the area for two hours. Joe looked over to Laos as he made another graceful bank, and his lips tightened into a thin line. “That front’s getting too close for comfort. We need to head back.”
Drake nodded, suddenly exhausted by the adrenaline leaving his system after sustained anticipation. “Maybe we’ll spot it tomorrow.” He looked off into the near distance and pointed to a pair of karst peaks. “Is that our valley?”
“Yep.”
Two holes suddenly appeared in the left wing, and Joe cursed as he twisted the plane right. Drake stared at the holes as the turn’s g-force pressed him back into the seat, Joe urging the plane higher as fast as it would climb. “Are those… did somebody just shoot at us?”
Joe nodded grimly. “Looks that way to me.”
“I thought you said everybody knows you.”
“They do. But not everyone likes me. Hang on,” he said, and jerked the plane to the left as he continued to ascend. “Don’t want to be an easy target.”
Drake closed his eyes. The easy flight was now a nightmare as Joe twisted and turned the plane for all he was worth. When the plane steadied, he opened them and checked the altimeter — they were at six thousand feet.
“That should take care of that. They won’t want to waste any ammo now.”
“They actually hit us.”
“Probably had to empty a full magazine to do it.”
Drake took another fearful look at the bullet holes, and then his gaze drifted down to the canopy, obviously dangerous even from the air. His mind wandered to the memory of the helicopter plunge as his eyes traced a line, following the natural curve of the stream ahead. He was turning to speak to Joe again when something winked in the fading sunlight. His words caught in his throat and he sat up straighter in the uncomfortable seat. There it was again. It wasn’t his imagination.
Drake stiffened and grabbed Joe’s arm. Joe turned in surprise as Drake’s grip tightened. Drake raised the glasses again as Joe pulled free of his hand.
“What is it?” Joe demanded.
Drake stared through the binoculars for a long beat and then lowered them, his eyes glued to the stream.
“I see something.”
Chapter 30
Allie paced near the airstrip while Uncle Pete taught Spencer some Thai words, delighted at the American’s mispronunciations. Spencer was good-natured about the ribbing he was receiving, pausing to occasionally protest that he used to have a rudimentary command of things like greetings.
“Maybe brain soft? Drinky drinky? Or smoke?”
“No. I just didn’t file it away in my permanent banks.”
Uncle Pete’s brow beetled. “You got bank?”
“Not like that. Memory banks.”
“Farangs got bank for memory?”
“Never mind.”
Thunder boomed as the storm neared and Allie looked to the sky, worried. The clouds, purple and gunmetal gray in the waning light, were almost on top of them now, pregnant with rain and pulsing with lightning. Another explosion echoed from the hills, and she shook her head. “They’re never going to make it.”
Their heads swiveled in unison as Joe’s plane appeared from the west, buzzed over the runway, and then executed a tight turn before diving for the dirt strip. The Cessna was a flyspeck against the looming backdrop of the massive roiling clouds, and moments after it touched down, the near hills disappeared behind a gray curtain of heavy rain.
They ran to the plane as it coasted to a stop near the hut. The motor fell quiet and the air was filled with the sound and fury of nature. Joe and Drake jumped from the plane, and Joe jogged toward them.
“Never mind the netting. We can put it on later.”
“Allie, we found it!” Drake cried triumphantly.
“The plane? You did?”
He nodded and said something that was drowned out by another deep explosion of thunder.
“What?” Allie yelled as the first heavy raindrops began falling around them, the sporadic drops almost instantly transforming into opaque sheets. Joe led them at a run toward the village and they struggled to keep up; the older man was considerably spryer than his age would suggest. Allie slipped and went down in the mud, and Spencer helped her up with an unceremonious pull on her arm.
When they reached the huts, they darted inside the one Spencer and Allie had slept in, while Joe continued on to his. All four of them stood dripping as the downpour intensified, the thunder now nearly continuous and the air crisp with ozone from nearby lightning strikes. Allie sank to the wood floor with a sigh. Drake flopped beside her and pushed a wet lock of her hair from her eyes, and she gave him a tired smile. Spencer sat across from them, while Uncle Pete chose to remain standing, leaning against a wall, eyes locked on the deluge outside.
“I said I found it. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was so weird. One minute we’re doing evasive maneuvers and the next, there it is. I wouldn’t have spotted it if we hadn’t gone so much higher. From lower we’d have had to be right on top of it. So strange — I mean, if the sun hadn’t been at that exact angle, and we hadn’t climbed like we did…”
“Go back… evasive maneuvers?” Spencer asked.
“Oh. Yeah. We got shot. The plane took at least two rounds. Joe said he’d check it tomorrow, once it stops raining.”
“Wait — someone shot at you?” Spencer demanded.
“Apparently it happens around here,” Drake said. “We’re okay, don’t worry. The important thing is that we found the crash site. Joe thought the rain should fade by morning.”
Uncle Pete looked to the sky. “Storm over in few hours, tops.”
Drake mopped his forehead with a wet sleeve. “Hope you’re right.”
“I right.”
“Where’s the plane, exactly?” Spencer asked.
“It looks like it crashed in a small stream. Or maybe that’s just where it wound up. Hard to tell. We had to get back because of the storm.” Drake hesitated. “Joe set a waypoint. He said we could find it again.”
“Is it near the Mekong?”
“Not really — more like forty or so miles, at least. But you can see our two peaks from it. The temple site.”
“How far is it from there?” Allie asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe two or three miles?”
Spencer eyed him. “Let’s get back to someone shooting at you.”
“Joe says this territory is in play. Being disputed by a new drug gang. They’ve carved out a chunk and successfully held off the Shan Army, who doesn’t seem that interested in it, except on principle.”
“I suppose you’ve seen one jungle, you’ve seen them all,” Spencer said.