Читать книгу Dragon Mountain - Daniel Reid - Страница 9

IV

"You must admit that you never thought you'd see me again. Correct?" Ching Wei swirled his brandy in a hand-cut crystal snifter, savoring the fumes like a cat sniffing the wind. We sat near the latticed windows on lacquered teakwood chairs cushioned with silk. A warm breeze blew the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine trees into the room.

"That's right," I admitted.

"But in recent years I have followed your career with great interest from—as we Chinese say—'behind the curtain.' Obviously, it is your fate to fall into my hands, for Heaven put you directly in my path." He cleared his throat and lit a fresh cigarette. "For your convenience, I will speak in English. I have an excellent English tutor here—a real Englishman—and my command of your language has improved considerably since our last conversation in Chungking.

"As you know, after America defeated Japan, Chiang Kaishek and the entire Nationalist Chinese government moved their capital back to Nanking. Chungking looked like a ghost town after they left. I like the term 'ghost town'; the image is very Chinese. In any case, I moved back to the provincial capital of Szechuan in Chengdu, where I planned to settle down and go into business.

"But when the Communists took Manchuria and wiped out the Nationalist army at Huai-Hai, all of us in the south knew that they would soon come to claim all of China. Our lines of communication and transportation with the last Nationalist strongholds in Nanking and Shanghai were completely cut off, so we could not join them in their final escape to Taiwan. By 1949, the only Nationalist generals still fighting our cause on the mainland were Lee and Duan, who held a small corner of free territory deep in the southwest. As the Communists advanced south, Lee and Duan made preparations to evacuate their men and materials to Burma. As a trained pilot, I was recruited to assist in the evacuation."

"Despite your court-martial?"

Ching Wei laughed. "Come now, Jack, by that time even convicted criminals were dragged from jail and put into uniform. In fact, I was fully reinstated as a captain. By the end of the year, Lee and Duan had established a secure base in the mountains of northern Burma. They were convinced that Chiang Kai-shek would soon launch a counterattack from Taiwan, so they committed their men and arms to daring raids across the border, harassing the Communists at their weakest points. We had eight thousand men when we arrived in Burma, and for years we continued to fight the Communists. In those days, we were still patriots. You may also be interested to hear that our old teacher, Master Lee, joined our march into Burma, and he remained here with us for eight years." That was the first mention of Old Lee I'd heard since the war.

"At first, the Nationalist government in Taiwan supported our campaigns against the Communists in China. For years we received regular deliveries of arms and other supplies from Taiwan. Most of this material was dropped to us by air."

"I know. One of my first assignments for Air America when I arrived in Taipei was to drop supplies into Burma for Lee and Duan. They were big heroes in Taiwan then." Prior to my transfer to Saigon in 1962, I was senior pilot in Taipei for nearly ten years, and I remember very well how popular the Chinese freedom fighters in Burma were in Taiwan in those days.

"How interesting that you were involved in those supply drops! You see, Jack, our fates are indeed entwined. But in 1958, all assistance from Taiwan was suddenly terminated, without explanation. By 1960, our troops in Burma looked like beggars—dressed in filthy rags, underweight from lack of food, no medicine for the wounded and sick." I resisted the urge to remind him that he had left our men in Chungking in precisely the same state by dumping food and medical supplies in India and substituting opium. "We all felt tired and homesick for our families and friends in Taiwan. Even Lee and Duan were refused permission to return. Why? They let us fight their cause for so many years here in Burma, then suddenly terminate all support and leave us to rot like dead dogs in the jungle. Never will I understand—nor forgive—this betrayal!"

"I don't understand it either, Ching Wei. When orders came down to halt our supply drops over Burma, it surprised the hell out of us too. No doubt it was some dirty political deal with China. Maybe Taipei made an agreement with the Reds to stop supplying you in Burma in exchange for a truce in the Taiwan Straits. They were shelling Matsu pretty heavily that year, as I recall. Anyway, we've never been able to crack Chinese intelligence in Peking or Taipei, so whatever's been going on between the two for the past twenty years remains a mystery to us. Chinese can't seem to keep a secret from each other for more than a few minutes, but they have no trouble keeping foreigners in the dark forever."

Ching Wei took that as a compliment and smiled. "Anyway, it does not matter anymore," he said. "What happened next is common knowledge. We had to survive. At first, we earned a small income by providing armed escorts to protect local opium caravans moving from the highlands of Burma down into Thailand and Laos. Although many of our senior officers found the opium business distasteful, it was—and still remains—the only viable source of income in this region, which you Americans call the 'Golden Triangle.' Our choice was quite simple: trade opium or starve to death.

"For several years we managed to survive in this manner without sacrificing discipline and unity. But greed and corruption follow the opium business like wolves follow the scent of blood. Junior and middle officers became addicted to opium smoking, and this soon gave them new ideas. First one, then another, then half a dozen different groups disappeared into the mountains and went into business on their own. Some extorted money from the villages that grow opium; others joined bandit gangs. Many died of disease and addiction, and even more were killed in bitter fighting among rival bands. I myself selected sixty good men from my outfit and established a small camp in the mountains. We had sufficient ammunition and supplies to last us about three months."

So far, Ching Wei wasn't letting me in on any big secrets with his postwar history—most of it was already common knowledge. What he was really doing was gloating about his own personal success. He certainly knew that I worked for the Company, and that Air America was only a front, but since he never intended for me to leave Dragon Mountain alive, he wasn't worried about telling me all the details of his criminal activities either.

"We settled near a village protected by a gang of local bandits. They were camped comfortably by a river in the valley, while we fortified ourselves high up in the mountains. They suspected neither our presence nor our intentions. One night, as their entire camp got drunk celebrating a local festival, we attacked them by surprise, killing more than half their men. The rest joined my forces. I now had a secure camp, a small but well-equipped army, and a prosperous village to supply all of our needs—my first kingdom!" He beamed with pride at the recollection.

"Of course, my operation was small in the beginning. We had to avoid contact with big, well-protected dealers at all cost. I moved my opium overland to Chiang Mai, in northern Thailand, using a long and difficult route through the mountains, where we would not be noticed. There I sold it directly to my own Chinese contacts, without meddlesome local middlemen.

"Then in 1965, I made my first-and only-mistake." The memory clouded his face, causing his lips to twitch in silent rage. "I received an order for fifteen tons of raw opium, the biggest deal I'd ever made. Previously, I had never sold more than five tons in one transaction, but by then I had over two thousand men under arms and felt confident that I could handle it. My own villagers produced less than ten tons that year, so I raided neighboring villages to obtain the rest.

"I had never dealt with anyone but my own people before, but this time the buyer was General Rammakone, supreme commander of the Laotian Army—if you care to call those lazy, opium-smoking peasants an army. If I'm not mistaken, General Rammakone was also on your 'Company' payroll at that time, supposedly to fight the Communist Pathet Lao." He snorted with laughter at the irony. "The general's real business, however, was refining opium into heroin in an old Pepsi-Cola factory right outside of Vientiane! Much of it he sold directly to the Communists in North Vietnam, who turned around and fed it to American troops fighting in South Vietnam. Nasty business, isn't it?

"The deal was organized by my contacts in Chiang Mai. The general bargained hard for a lower price, but since he offered to pay entirely in gold bullion, we struck a bargain. It was a golden opportunity for all of us. We were instructed to deliver the opium to a remote camp in northern Laos. But I was dealing with strangers who were not Chinese, and therefore secrecy was impossible. The transaction soon came to the attention of Colonel Hsu, who at the time commanded the largest regular battalion of Nationalist troops remaining in the region. If Hsu permitted fifteen tons of opium to leave Burma without taking a share, not only would his dominant position in the trade be threatened, he would also lose face before his own troops."

"Heaven forbid that anyone should lose face!" I couldn't resist that remark, but he ignored it.

"You can imagine what happened next. Though I took a very difficult route, Colonel Hsu knew exactly when our caravan left camp and exactly where we were going. The moment we crossed the Mekong River into Laos, he attacked us in full force." Ching Wei trembled as he recalled the event, and his voice curled into a snarl. "They ambushed us from two sides as we crossed the river. They killed two hundred fifty of my men. They shot our pack horses in midstream, and much of the opium was washed downriver.

"We might have all been killed that day if General Rammakone himself had not intervened. When his scouts reported what was happening, the general took immediate action-not to save us, but to save his opium. He called in fighters and helicopter gunships and attacked both sides with rockets, napalm, and cluster bombs. Our men panicked, and both Hsu and I retreated back across the border into Burma. Meanwhile, the general's troops swept onto the battlefield and combed the river to collect the remaining opium. The general kept his gold as well. But that was not the end of the matter.

"As soon as we had crossed back into Burma, Hsu regrouped his forces and attacked us again, killing or capturing half my remaining troops. I returned to camp with less than five hundred men, convinced my days were over. I also carried back a souvenir from the battle to remind me forever of that black daya piece of shrapnel that still remains buried in my liver." That explained his habit of favoring his left side whenever he sat down: any pressure on his right side caused the shrapnel in his liver to shift position, a sensation as painful as a knife in the gut.

"After that battle, Hsu thought I was finished, perhaps even dead, and that his monopoly on opium trafficking in the region was secure. But, as you can see for yourself," he swept an arm around his lavish throne room, "I am neither finished nor dead. I thrive!"

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. But my recovery was not easy. It required three years to reorganize my forces. First I raided small caravans and villages like a common bandit, avoiding all serious conflicts until I had rebuilt an even bigger army of three thousand men." He pounded the arm of his chair. "Then I came here and took Dragon Mountain away from Colonel Hsu! He had grown soft and fat, and his men had lost all discipline. We found his sentries sound asleep as we penetrated his camp one morning at dawn, and by noon this mountain was mine! Hsu and some of his men escaped north into the Kachen Hills, where he still conducts a petty opium operation. One day I will hunt him down and kill him off like the crazy dog he is!"

"Now that you're king of the mountain, why not just go in and kill him now?"

"Although I control over eighty percent of the opium trade here, it suits me to permit a few small dealers to continue their operations in the region. It confuses the authorities."

"Clever. You take all the profits, and they take all the blame." His smug narrative was starting to grate on my nerves.

"I see you tire of my talk, so I will come directly to the point," he replied sharply. "I learned two basic lessons from that disaster in 1965. First, deal only with Chinese buyers. Among Chinese, certain understandings and civilized principles always prevail when doing business, even among enemies. A Chinese buyer, for example, would have let Hsu and me fight to the finish, then deal properly with the winner, rather than try to kill us both and steal the entire shipment.

"The second lesson I learned is that moving such bulky and precious cargo overland, especially in this terrain, is an open invitation to trouble. Caravans are highly vulnerable to attack, even by small gangs of bandits. But hiring armies to escort and protect large caravans is so costly that it drives the price of opium beyond reason, which is not good for business. So I have taken inspiration from the old days, when we flew the Hump between India and China. From now on, I will move my opium by air! "

"Smart move."

"Yes, very. And that, Captain Jack, is precisely why you are here. You will be my pilot!" He threw his head back and cackled at the irony of my position, but his pleasure was cut short by a sharp stab of pain from the shrapnel in his liver. "What you had me court-martialed for in Chungking thirty years ago, you will now do for me here," he hissed through clenched teeth, finally revealing the audacity of his scheme.

"I have followed your movements very carefully since you moved to Saigon from Taipei to take over Air America operations there. However, military security at airports in Saigon, Bangkok, and other cities along your routes prevented me from taking action earlier. So I waited and I watched. When you started making those runs to northern Laos to pick up opium for your Company, you suddenly became available to me. You see, Jack, all this time your Company has been buying its opium from me!"

Ching Wei smirked at my surprise. Though we'd been buying and selling opium out here for years to finance covert operations that Congress refused to acknowledge, we'd always assumed the stuff came directly from the Shan, Karen, Hmong, and other mountain tribes that grow it as a cash crop. We had no idea we were dealing with the kingpin himself. As it turned out, all of our orders were channeled through Ching Wei's agents, who had it delivered anonymously to our pickup point near Luang Prabang. We never inspected the cargo, never kept ledgers, and never asked any questions. And to make sure that word of this did not leak to the outside, only I and two other senior pilots flew those opium runs, with no copilots as witnesses. It had been a simple ploy for Ching Wei to stash a goon with a gun in one of the opium lugs to nab me. I'd been a sitting duck.

"Ironic, isn't it?" he gloated. "Thirty years ago, you had me arrested and court-martialed for smuggling opium into China. Today you have been trapped at the same game, smuggling opium to Saigon for your CIA. And from now on, your duty will be to smuggle opium for me!"

"I had you busted because your little opium business deprived dying men of food and medicine!" I shouted, beginning to lose my cool. "I'm not in this for the money-to me it's just another cargo, like ammo or bananas or people. It's just part of my job."

"Fool! The problem with your CIA is that they wrongly assume that whatever they do is right. You know as well as I do that they engage in the opium trade to finance illegal political activities in Southeast Asia, activities so distasteful that even your own government refuses to acknowledge them. As usual, you Americans hide behind your flag and plead patriotism whenever someone accuses you of wrongdoing in the world. In fact, however, you are no better than us—and much less honest!" He paused to calm his voice, twisting the tips of his mustache. "Besides," he crooned, "you lie when you deny personal profit as a motive. What about the three hundred eighty thousand dollars you have accumulated over the years in the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank in Hong Kong? Does the CIA really pay such handsome salaries?"

I was astounded that he knew so much about my private affairs. I felt stark naked. ''All right, all right, so I turned a little profit on the side. Everyone out here does it. It's one of the fringe benefits of putting up with all this shit. A man's got to think about his retirement." But he'd caught me off guard, and my argument sounded weak. At least he did not seem to be aware of the network of fledgling agents I'd been secretly organizing in the Triangle through our contacts in the opium business. His interest in me was purely personal, not professional.

"Forget it, Ching Wei! I'm not flying dope around for you or any other tinhorn warlord. Thanks for the dinner and drinks, but no thanks!" I rose to leave, but had no place to go.

"Sit down and have another brandy, Jack. It may be a long time before you taste brandy again. Here at Dragon Mountain, one must prove himself worthy of such luxuries." I sat down, lit another cigarette, and accepted another brandy.

"That's better. Now listen carefully. It will be at least one more month before my next shipment of opium is collected, prepared, and properly packed for transport. That will give you time to adjust to your new life here." He spoke as if I were a new kid on my first day at summer camp. "You are not my only foreign guest here. Others enjoy my hospitality as well, and you will meet them soon enough.

"Like everyone else, you shall live as an honored guest in the home of a good family in one of my villages. The family will feed you and care for all your needs, and the head of the household will be held responsible for your welfare as well as your behavior. Believe me, he and his family will watch you night and day. Because if any of my guests tries to escape, his host and his entire family are killed, one by one, in the village square." He paused to let that sink in while he drained his brandy.

"On the other hand," he added, "guests who voluntarily decide to settle down here enjoy many benefits. Foreign guests remain in the homes of their assigned hosts only until they choose to marry local women and start families of their own. That is the Chinese way. You may select any girl from any village within my domain. When you marry and have children, you may build your own house in or near the village responsible for you. I will provide all materials and furnishings. In addition, permanent settlers receive monthly rations of foreign luxuries from the shop I keep in the main village. Razor blades, soap, whiskey, magazines-everything is available there. If you wish, you will also receive free opium, the very best. Guests who refuse to marry and settle down remain permanent burdens to their hosts."

Before I could say another word, he clapped his hands impatiently, and the girl who'd shown me in appeared from the shadows. "She will take you out to the gate. Huang is waiting outside to take you back to the village and introduce you to the family I have selected for you. In one month I will summon you again. At that time, I will give you good reason to work for me without the slightest hesitation or thought of escape."

He pointed at the stairs. "Now go!"