A Flotilla of Red Herring
Chapter 39
The two, small skiffs entered the water at the same time bound for the shores of Nong Khai, a kilometer distant. It was dusk and the lights of the city were beginning to turn on. The monks paddled parallel to the Friendship Bridge in plain view of the border guards stationed on both ends of the structure. A third boat had already landed about two kilometers upriver and hidden in the dense underbrush. It was time for their evening alms and many Lao monks figured out the pickings were much better from their prosperous, Thai neighbors.
The Thai guards took immediate notice of the boats and dispatched several of their colleagues to inspect them upon arrival on shore. Most of the monks came over the bridge by foot or bicycle so this activity was somewhat unusual in the eyes of those whose duties called for watching people and things crossing into Thailand.
As the boats arrived, an old man pulling the pushcart slowly made his way across the bridge. He was in no hurry and he’d made the crossing many times before. He gotten to know many of the guards personally and always remembered their birthdays and never forgot to tip them with a little gratuity during the high holidays.
He was a poor merchant who collected used clothing and household items in disrepair from the residents of Nong Khai that he would later sell in Laos. He brought over fruits and vegetables from Vientiane. It wasn’t a very profitable business, but kept food on the table for him and his wife. Although this trip was to be a profitable one because he was carrying a precious cargo, a human body to be delivered to the doorstep of a particular address. His instructions were clear, make the delivery on time and in good order, otherwise. He fully understood what the word implied so things had to go smoothly.
A slight cloying odor emanated from the box even when covered by the fruits and vegetables he was carrying. He thought it might be the smell of embalming fluid, but wasn’t certain. It reminded him more of the perfume samples he enjoyed sniffing at the department store cosmetics counter. No matter, it didn’t annoy him because it wasn’t a very pungent odor, just a mild distraction.
He greeted the guard like an old friend which he was and presented him a bottle of homemade rice wine as a present. They chatted about the monsoon rains that were now full-blown tropical storms, but discussed little else of note. He then said goodbye, pulling the rickety cart into the busy streets of the city and right under the noses and bleary eyes of Dick Avery’s minders.
He knew his destination well since he was more familiar with Nong Khai than his own hometown. It wasn’t far and he’d arrive on time as ordered. His cargo remained safely intact as well. He was pleased and he could now see the Shangri-La Hotel just up ahead.