Monsoon (52 page)

Boats were still sheltering at their night moorings or remained berthed at the port. Heavy rain looked inevitable as Anna and Sandy sat together in the launch admiring Sandy's ring. Hung handed out the coloured plastic capes that most Vietnamese wore in the rain. They were big circles, wide enough to wear on a bicycle. He was quiet as he headed the boat across the bay. Rick and Carlo exchanged an occasional comment. Jean-Claude studied the scenery.

Once out of sight of the mainland they turned towards the place where Madame Nguyen's junk was moored, in the shelter of two small peaks. By the time they reached the junk it was streaming rain and they were glad to get on board. A crew member took their rain capes and ushered them into a different, smaller stateroom where Madame Nguyen waited, standing beside two crates with a crew member, each one ready to hammer on the wooden tops. The crates looked to be well padded and packed, and on top through the bubble wrap could be seen the blue shadow of a plate.

Madame Nguyen greeted them and thanked them for coming but seemed a little surprised at so many being present. At a nudge from Anna, Carlo introduced Jean-Claude who graciously lowered his head to brush a small kiss on her hand.

‘I believe our paths have crossed before,' he said. He had recognised her straightaway as the flamboyant woman who always stood out in a crowd.

She nodded. ‘It would appear so. We live in the same building in Hanoi. You have an interest in these particular ceramics?' she asked.

‘Not at all. Miss Donaldson is my fiancée.' He flashed a smile at Sandy, who held out her hand to show her ring.

Madame Nguyen barely glanced at her and gave a cold smile. ‘Congratulations. Now, excuse me. Mr Franchetti, if you wish to inspect your goods.' She waved a hand towards the crates.

Carlo nodded and stepped forward, giving the impression of being a businessman used to such high-powered deals. He took no more than a cursory glance. ‘Yeah, yeah, great. I'm sure everything is in order. My father has confirmed that the money is now in your account.'

‘That is so – we too have confirmed it. It has been a pleasure to do business with you.'

Jean-Claude raised his eyebrows. ‘Carlo, perhaps, as Madame has left the boxes open, you should just check?'

Carlo frowned. ‘Yeah, right. I was just about to do that.' He lifted a layer of bubble wrap and soft paper and held up a small plate.

Jean-Claude reached for it. ‘May I? This is lovely. Fifteenth century you said, Rick?'

Rick took the plate, turned it over and nodded.

Jean-Claude smiled at Anna. ‘You will do well with these.'

‘It's not her deal. It's mine,' retorted Carlo.

Rick lifted a jug from the top of the second crate, looked at it and felt the layer of plates below it, then carefully re-rolled the jug in the protective wrap and replaced it. ‘They're fine. Very well packed.'

At that moment the wind changed and the rain began to lash the junk. Hung glanced outside. ‘We should go. Monsoon rain. I am afraid you will get wet even with the capes.'

‘This way.' Madame Nguyen led them to the stern of the boat, where a small crane had been readied to move the crates. ‘We shall swing them down to the centre of your boat.'

‘How rough will it get? This rain is unbelievable,' said Anna, thinking back to the typhoon.

‘It's only rain, with occasional wind gusts; the sea is quite calm,' Jean-Claude assured her.

They quickly donned the tent-like rain capes and with Hung in the launch to help them down, they scrambled into it, pulling the hoods of the capes over their heads.

Hung climbed back up onto the deck of the junk and with the help of a solidly-built crew member and the crane dropped the ropes around the first crate and lowered it down to Rick and Carlo. With both wooden crates settled in the centre of the open launch, Hung jumped aboard, started the engine, threw the line back to the crewman on the junk and steered away into the pouring rain.

Sandy glanced back and saw that the big junk was already hauling up its anchor, but then heavier rain blotted it out altogether.

‘Don't run into any of those bloody great peaks in the bay,' said Carlo to Hung, only half joking.

The karsts made dark forbidding shapes through rain that blew around the launch in great wet curtains. Then, as the rain momentarily abated the world briefly appeared.

‘There's the roof of the Temple of Nowhere,' exclaimed Anna, pointing to one of the forested limestone peaks.

‘There's a boat behind us.' Jean-Claude peered through the rain at a fast-moving white boat churning up a bow wave. ‘It's a long way back but going pretty fast for these conditions.'

Hung reached for the binoculars under his seat, took a quick look, then pushed the throttle forward to its maxi mum, sending the launch powering forward and throwing the passengers off balance.

‘What the hell? Hung!' exclaimed Carlo.

Hung took no notice but the boat swerved in a hard curve to starboard, heading away from the mainland and towards the two small karsts in front of the one with the pagoda on top.

‘Hung! Where are we going?' cried Anna.

‘What're you doing?' said Sandy at the same time.

‘Who's in that boat?' asked Rick, but Hung ignored them.

They all sat frozen in shock for a few moments. The white boat changed direction and it was obvious it was following them.

‘What do they want? What's happening, Hung?' shouted Carlo.

‘Sit down,' snapped Hung, steering towards the small karsts.

Jean-Claude reached for the binoculars and trained them on the pursuing white boat. ‘It's probably customs or police. It's impossible to tell in this rain.' He turned to Carlo and shouted, ‘Why is Hung running from them?'

‘How would I know? We haven't done anything wrong,' said Carlo furiously. ‘Hung! What the fuck is going on?'

Another burst of heavy rain swept across the bay, blotting out the peaks and the following boat. They knew that the launch was close to the peaks but in the pouring rain it was difficult to make out where they were headed.

‘Slow down, Hung! We're too close to those peaks!' cried Sandy.

‘I know this water,' shouted Hung, not taking his eyes from the way ahead. He sped in between the karsts, putting the smaller one between them and the other boat. Then he changed direction again, running straight towards the large peak with the pagoda. The group in the boat now sat gripping their seats, the girls hanging on to Jean-Claude.

‘He's trying to lose that boat in this rain,' said Rick.

‘But they will find us when we get back to the mainland,' said Sandy. ‘What's he thinking?'

Suddenly the white boat loomed through the rain, this time with bright lights flashing. Hung ignored it, swerving the launch around the smaller of the peaks so they were again out of sight of the pursuing boat.

‘There's something wrong,' said Jean-Claude. ‘Clearly that's a patrol boat. Carlo, what do you know about this?'

‘What do you mean?'

Rick spoke up. ‘There's got to be a reason Hung is running scared. We've paid for these plates. There's nothing illegal at all in what we've done.'

‘You sure there's just old plates in these things?' asked Jean-Claude, touching the crates.

‘You saw them. What're you saying?' demanded Carlo angrily.

‘One way to find out,' said Jean-Claude, making a move towards the crates.

Carlo slammed his hand down on the boxes. ‘Leave it.'

Anna was frightened at the sudden turn of events. ‘Carlo, there's something wrong. Make Hung stop.'

Carlo moved forward and tugged at Hung's sleeve. ‘Man, what's going on?'

Hung didn't look behind him but swung his free arm, pushing Carlo so that he lost his balance and fell down.

‘Carlo! Are you okay?' Anna tried to help him as he struggled to get back on his seat.

‘I'll get the bastard for this. Whatever his problem is, it's nothing to do with us,' spluttered Carlo.

Sandy suddenly said, ‘I know where he's headed . . . the grotto!'

The view of the peaks was breaking through the slicing rain and they could see the mouth of the grotto at the base of the pagoda peak.

‘What's he running from?' exclaimed Rick. ‘Let's check these boxes again.'

‘What for? You saw what was in them,' said Carlo angrily.

‘Only the things at the top,' said Rick. He pulled out a penknife and began levering the plywood top off a crate.

Hung glanced back and made a move as though to stop them, but they were almost at the entrance to the grotto and he needed to pay full attention to getting through the narrow passage. He slowed the launch slightly, judging the level and wash of the water.

Carlo was now helping Rick and Jean-Claude as they wrenched off the top of the crate and pulled out and unwrapped the top layer, then another and another.

Rick shouted, ‘These aren't the ones you paid for! These are cheap copies you can buy in any market.'

‘What do you mean?' gasped Carlo. ‘What about the rest of them?' He sounded panicky. Elbowing Jean-Claude away he began pulling out blue-and-white plates that now, even to him, looked like cheap imitations of the pieces he'd seen on the junk.

Carlo stumbled to Hung and grabbed him, shaking his shoulder. ‘What's going on? What do you know about this? Where're my antiques?' he shouted.

‘Look out!' squealed Anna as the launch swung towards the rock face.

‘Duck down,' shouted Jean-Claude as the boat flashed through the low arched entrance to the grotto.

It was suddenly quiet as Hung cut the motor and they glided deeper into the eerie green cave.

Jean-Claude and Rick continued delving into the crates when Jean-Claude suddenly gasped. ‘What on earth? Oh, mon dieu.'

Rick let out his breath. ‘Jesus.'

‘Let me see,' screamed Carlo.

Rick and Jean-Claude were holding some packages wrapped in plastic. Rick ripped one open.

Carlo was ashen-faced. ‘What the hell is that?' he said in a whisper, looking at the white powder.

‘What's it look like?' snapped Rick. ‘Dope of some kind for sure. Probably heroin.'

‘Throw it overboard,' yelled Jean-Claude. ‘Get rid of it, fast.'

Carlo flew into a rage. ‘Where's my stuff? It has to be there! I don't know anything about fucking drugs!'

‘Drugs! Who put them there? Oh god, this is terrible,' said Anna, starting to cry.

‘That's why the police or customs are following us. Carlo, if you're caught with this . . .' Sandy suddenly stopped. ‘It's us too. We could be executed!'

‘That's right. This stuff is a death sentence.' Jean-Claude spun around to Hung.

‘Is this Madame Nguyen's or yours?'

Hung took no notice as the launch slid close to the rock wall at the very back of the grotto.

Rick was ripping through the plastic and tossed several plates over the side along with packets of drugs.

‘Just throw the crates over,' said Jean-Claude. ‘We don't have time to pick out the drug packets.'

‘No way. Stop! My antiques might be in there!' cried Carlo, flinging himself at the crate and pulling out plates in the hope that he'd find what he had paid for.

‘Forget it,' shouted Rick. ‘It's cheap shit. Worthless. You've been conned.'

‘Hung! Look at Hung,' shouted Anna.

Hung had clambered to the bow and had reached for the overhang of a rock ledge and pushed himself out of the boat. The boat dipped and everyone held on fast to keep their balance.

‘Let him go. Get rid of the crates,' snapped Jean-Claude and he and Rick elbowed Carlo out of the way and heaved the first crate over the side.

‘Oh, Jesus. No!' Carlo struggled with them until Anna grabbed him.

‘Stop it! Don't you understand? We can be arrested, jailed for life or worse if we're caught with this!'

Carlo slumped as the second crate went over, his face in his hands.

‘Let's get out of here,' said Rick, peering over the side.

‘Can you see the crates at all? How deep is it?' asked Sandy.

‘Deeper than the karst is high, I'd say,' said Jean-Claude.

‘So what do we do?' asked Anna in a frightened voice. ‘Where has Hung gone?'

‘He can look after himself, stuff him,' said Rick.

‘And the patrol boat? They're still out there. Even if they didn't see us come in here they know we have to go back to the mainland sometime,' said Sandy.

They all looked at each other for a moment, the realisation of how close they'd come to being caught with a haul of illicit drugs – and the certain consequences.

‘They're going to ask a lot of awkward questions. They must have seen us leave the junk.'

‘But did they see the crates loaded on board?' asked Rick.

‘Crates? What crates?' said Jean-Claude with an arched eyebrow. ‘This is what we do. We're tourists. We were invited to visit Madame Nguyen to see her beautiful junk and now we are going to explore the grotto and climb the peak as Anna wishes to see the nun again.'

‘In this weather?' asked Sandy.

‘Chérie, you are visitors, you only have so much time to see the sights,' he said with a shrug. ‘Rick, start the engine. Carlo? You are au fait with this scenario?'

‘I don't give a shit.'

‘Well, you'd better,' said Sandy. ‘We don't want to be hauled in for questioning. Play along. This government doesn't approve of smuggling. Especially drugs.'

Carlo was shaking his head, still in shock. ‘Rick, you checked the plates; didn't you suspect anything?' he demanded.

‘Hey, don't start accusing me. The plate and the jug on top were real. It was pretty sharp of them to keep the crates open and appear so upfront. All they had to do was have the good stuff on top and the rubbish underneath,' said Rick as he turned over the motor.