A bolt of lightning lit the sky, and this time they heard a rumble. The storm was approaching fast.
"We'll have to find shelter," said Ty Ling.
"Are there any villages in the area?" asked Bolan.
"Only the village I mentioned," said Ty Ling. "On the other side of the next range."
"Phoenix to Nark," Bolan went on. To her he said, "We'll have to get you some clothes."
Ty Ling wore a white silk cheongsam. In the Orient, white is the color of mourning. Now it was shredded from their ride. But even in a torn dress she looked like a million dollars, Bolan observed. Not only was Ty Ling a beautiful woman, she had class. She told him her mother, who died when she was a child, was a Chinese princess.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Five past," said Ty Ling.
Suddenly the radio blared. "Nark to Phoenix. Over."
Bolan started in surprise. "What do you know?" he exclaimed. He pressed the talk button. "This is Phoenix."
"Greetings," said Nark. "Where are you?"
Bolan told him his story. "What about you?"
The extract from Thailand had been canceled due to Thai air activity. The attack on the Tiger hardsite had raised something of a hornets' nest. Stony Man Farm had ordered them to cross the border into Burma where they would be safer.
"You still have the chopper?" asked Bolan.
"Negative," said Nark. "Damage was more complicated than Heath thought. That's why we couldn't come looking for you. What is your present position?"
"The name of the village," Bolan asked Ty Ling.
"Pegu," she replied.
"We're one range south of a village called Pegu," Bolan told Nark.
There was a pause as Nark checked it on the map. "You're only a day's ride from our location," said Nark.
"What time is extract?" asked Bolan.
"Control will advise this morning," said Nark. "They'll be sending helicopters this time. I doubt they'll arrive before nightfall. Correct that Heath says they could arrive during the day. Seems we have an overflight agreement with Burma. But if you're not here we could pick you up. There's a trail."
"Okay," said Bolan, "we'll bed in Pegu for the night and head for your location in the morning. If the birds arrive before us, you'll come to meet us. Fly along the trail. Agreed?"
"Ten-ten," said Nark.
They arranged for radio checks and signed off.
Bolan dismantled the antenna. "The way things are going you'll be in Dusseldorf by the weekend," he told Ty Ling.
"And you, where will you be?" she asked.
"Home in bed sleeping," he replied. "After this I'm taking a week off just to sleep." He loaded the radio on his back and helped her to her feet. "How long will it take to get to Pegu?" he asked.
"Two or three hours," she replied.
They mounted their horses and rode off. Everything was going perfectly... so far.
Chapter 15
Bolts of lightning illuminated the village. Several hundred houses, some on the ground, others on stilts, lay astride a bend in the river. A wooden bridge linked the two sides. On horseback, dripping with water, Bolan and Ty Ling observed it from a nearby ridge. The storm continued unabated, sheets of rain sweeping the countryside, trees creaking in the wind.
"Who are they?" Bolan shouted above the noise.
"Kachin," Ty Ling shouted back. A tribe of Montagnards.
"Looks all right to me," said Bolan. If there were Tiger soldiers around, he would have seen horses.
"Please, let's go," said Ty Ling, her teeth chattering from the cold.
They descended the slope and rode into the village, sloshing through pools of water, hooves sinking in mud. Bolan reined by the first house that looked big enough to accommodate visitors. He dismounted, went up to Ty Ling, and she slid into his arms. No point in both of them getting their feet muddy.
He kicked the door open on the Montagnard principle of your home is my home and carried her in. Inside was a large room with a beaten earth floor on which glowed a fire. They threw logs on the fire and pulled up stools.
A pair of feet shuffled from behind a partition, and a man in a nightcap appeared. He and Bolan exchanged grunts, then the Montagnard pulled up a stool and joined them. A conversation got underway with Ty Ling translating from Burmese to English.
The gist of it was that they were welcome to stay, and the Montagnard would sell them food for their journey as well as feed for their horses. He also would sell Ty Ling a black pajama suit. Everything would cost five dollars, which Bolan gave him.
Bolan went outside and led the horses to the Montagnard's stable, a roof supported by poles. He unsaddled them, gave them hay and water, and walked back to the house. The storm was finally letting up. On the horizon Bolan could see clear sky. The helicopters could come.
When he got back Ty Ling already wore the black suit. Her dress was suspended from rafters over the fire. On the ground lay two sleeping mats with blankets, and by the fire was a low wicker table with a bottle of tieu and glasses. There was also a plate of dried pig intestines to nibble on, a Montagnard delicacy.
"Take off your suit," said Ty Ling. "You'll catch cold."
Bolan undressed in the shadows. He wrapped himself in a blanket and joined her by the fire. She took his suit and, using a pole, hung it from the rafters.
"What about your socks and underwear?" she asked.
"They're on the mat," he said.
"They have to dry, too," she said. She fetched them and hung them up in turn. She resumed her seat by the fire, poured a glass of tieu, and handed it to Bolan.
He took the glass. "What about you?" he said.
"I don't drink," she replied. She held out the plate of dried food.
Bolan took a handful and munched. It was delicious. He chased it down with the whiskey. "Who's our host? "he asked.
"His name is Alosak," said Ty Ling. "He's got three wives. Each has a house. He rotates a week with each wife." She took a piece of dried food. "What do you think of polygamy?"
Bolan smiled. "Never having been married I don't have an opinion."
"I once had a Montagnard patient who had four wives," said Ty Ling. "This was at the hospital in Mandalay. He said it worked out very well. The wives fought each other and left him in peace." Ty Ling gave Bolan one of her scrutinizing looks. "I'm surprised no woman has hooked you yet."
"I wouldn't be much of a husband," said Bolan. "Always away."
"I don't know," mused Ty Ling, surveying him. She was about to say something, then changed her mind. She refilled his empty glass. "Where will the helicopters take us?"
"Indian Ocean, probably," said Bolan. "We have an island base in the Bay of Bengal. From there we'll take a plane. Most likely it will stop in Frankfurt to refuel. You can fly on from there to Dusseldorf. Only a hundred and twenty miles from Frankfurt."
"I've never been to Germany," said Ty Ling. "Gunther says..." She stopped, seeing Bolan's raised hand.
From outside the door came the sound of feet and hooves sloshing through water and mud. They could also hear the sound of webbing, buckles and metal. It sounded like an army on the march.
The Montagnard appeared from behind the partition. All three listened to the column march by. The sound receded, and Bolan asked the Montagnard to find out who they were. While their host investigated, Bolan dressed.
The Montagnard returned a quarter of an hour later. Ty Ling translated for Bolan. The column was a unit of the Shans. They had stopped for the night in the village on the other side of the river. Some men were wounded.
"I'm going over," said Ty Ling.
"I'll come with you," said Bolan.
"No," said Ty Ling firmly. "Better if they don't see you. They could take you for an Englishman. The English have advisers helping the Burmese fight the Shans. Get some rest," she said, going out with the Montagnard.
Bolan went back to the fire. A bossy woman if ever there was one. But that was typical of Oriental women. Outwardly docile, behind the scenes they could be slave drivers. Gunther was going to have his life cut out from A to Z, he reflected.