— Chapter Five —
The village of Salaburi was like a ghost town. The villagers, had remained in their wooden stilted houses, and the monks had stayed in their living quarters or meditation room, all unsure of their future.
Pon had left the previous evening and, with him, not only went the hopes and honour of the Tinju, but also the soul of the village. Even the jungle was silent It was usually full of the noise of birds and insects. It was as if the world had stood still on this hot afternoon.
The soldiers where in the monks training area. They had made themselves a rough Mah-jong set and tried as best they could to occupy themselves. The batteries on their GPS and tracker systems had gone flat and, with no electricity in the village, there was no way to get life back into their only contact with the outside world.
Vitchae was sitting alone in the lotus position. He pondered in his dark world about the events of the past few days and his time as a Prime Master. He considered that he should have handled the situation with Dam a lot better. He remembered at the time he may have been a little sharp with the lad, but he had problems of his own as his sight started to fail. ‘This must have been Lord Buddha’s will,’ he thought, ‘besides I have seen more beauty and wonder than most men ever get to see.’ With his already heightened other senses, his loss of sight had never encumbered him. ‘Maybe young Dam was right all those years ago’ he thought, ‘why can’t they earn a place in the scheme of things? Maybe it is better to have someone who wants to be a Tinju, than not to have a choice. Lord Buddha after all never created the Tinju, men did, and he recalled the comment he had made to Dam about no man being able to change this, which might have been presumptuous, and maybe now, man will have to change the Tinju, who in effect were now finished.
The silence was suddenly and violently broken. The tops of the trees shook and swayed, with clouds of dust being thrown up in large whirlwinds of rotor wash. A Sikorsky S92, helicopter roared over the treetops and the Wat. It came in low, and flared into a hover above the grounds behind the Wat. The soldiers cowered as the pieces of their game flew away .The pilot lowered the collective and, with a deafening roar, the helicopter gently touched down. The pilot cut the engines, and the noise diminished slightly and the giant rotor blades came to a slow idle and then stopped.
The soldiers hurriedly got to their feet, straightened their combat fatigues and rushed over toward the helicopter. The commotion had brought the villagers scurrying out of their dwellings and they walked toward the shiny white and gold monster from the sky. Most of the villagers had never seen a car, let alone a helicopter, as they never left the village. Only the remaining elder monks had seen any form of motor transport and that was only one time a year, whilst making the journey to Bangkok, but aircraft they had never seen.
Cenat assisted Vitchae and they, and all the other monks headed toward the helicopter, weapons in hand.
The Sikorsky S92 is a large helicopter used by the Thai air force to transport small amounts of troops and supplies. This particular helicopter was certainly not regular, shining white; it was adorned in gold leaf with the Thai royal standards skilfully crafted and a high glazed wax that made it sparkle like a new pin in the sunlight.
The side door slid opened and six heavily armed soldiers jumped onto the field, taking up a defensive stance around the helicopter. Six elder monks behind Vitchae and Cenat raised and arrowed their bows.
Vitchae and Cenat stopped about 50 metres away,
“Wait!” called out Cenat to the monks. The five village soldiers came around the helicopter, and the Master Sergeant ordered his men to form a small rank, as one of the helicopter soldiers barked an order to the Master Sergeant, who saluted and shouted an order to the other four. The soldiers all lowered their weapons and an officer looked inside the helicopter and spoke. The 11 soldiers formed two lines either side of the sliding doors and faced outwards. The monks stood their ground still poised to shoot. A few moments later, a figure emerged from the helicopter. He wore a smart white, crisply pressed uniform, with gold braid and a thick golden sash with red tassels, his epaulets showed no rank, but had large pointed helmet crests on them. He looked over at the monks who had started to walk slowly over. They met about ten metres from the helicopter. The figure gave a long respectful Wai to the two elder monks. Cenat returned the Wai.
“Good afternoon Khun Cenat,” said the figure.
“Good afternoon Khun Taksin” replied Cenat.
Cenat introduced Vitchae to Taksin, who noticed that the old monk was blind.
“I have someone I would like you to meet,” said Taksin and looked over at the helicopter. Two more soldiers emerged dressed in traditional Thai guards clothing, with elegantly carved golden helmets that tapered off to a point.
They removed a small stepladder and placed it at the foot of the helicopter. A figure emerged wearing a royal blue colour suit and wire rimmed spectacles.
A gasp went around the now gathered villagers and they all knelt down with heads bowed, as did the monks and Taksin. This figure they all knew, every home in Thailand had a picture of King Bhumipol. The 78 year-old King, currently the world’s longest reigning monarch.
The King walked over to the two monks and Taksin, and asked them to rise. They stood up and the King spoke to them for a few minutes and then the four headed into the Wat, leaving the remaining monks and villagers in awe.
The party remained in the Wat for several hours in deep discussion, only being disturbed by young monks taking in fresh fruit and water. The villagers remained in-situ hoping for another glimpse at their beloved King. They discussed the atrocity that had happened. The King and Vitchae discussed the next stage. The King laid out his thoughts and plans and asked Vitchae and Cenat to accompany him to Bangkok to talk more, and formulate a mutually beneficial plan, although fearful of getting into the sky monster, they readily accepted.
They emerged from the Wat and headed toward the helicopter. Vitchae vomited as he got to the door of the beast, and was given a drink of cool water. The King, Taksin and the monks boarded the helicopter, followed by the soldiers, which included the five in the village, much to their relief.
The pilot engaged the engines and turbines, the helicopter growled to life. Taksin explained to Cenat that his investigations had uncovered very little, he said his friend had called him the previous night, who thought he had seen a Thai monk in a boxing stadium in Phnom Penh. He did not know if it was relevant, and he had already relayed the message to someone named Pon, and told them
“He said he was a Tinju and recited the Tinju motto, I presumed that he was one of yours.” said Taksin
Cenat looked shocked,
“Pon?” he asked
“Yes,” said Taksin. “He called me during the early hours from a mobile phone. I do not give out my number. Only a few people know it, you being one of them, although I am not sure that Pon understood. It became hard to hear him, because I think he was talking through the earpiece.”
The large helicopter’s rotors threw up swirling clouds of dust and debris, which sent the villagers into a panic, and drowned out the conversation between Taksin and Cenat. The pilot set the throttles and watched his instruments. With the dial indicators in position, he looked around for any obstacles or debris that might get blown into the intake. It was all clear, so he gently raised the collective and the big bird rose off the ground. The pilot, using his rudder pedals aimed the helicopter at a clump of trees in the jungle, and pushed the cyclic stick forward. The nose of the helicopter dipped, moved forward, accelerated and gaining speed and height, cleared the jungle canopy and disappeared out of view.