The Noble Path: A relentless standalone thriller from the #1 bestseller by Peter May (electronic book reader .TXT) 📗

jeep bumped and rattled over its uneven surface. Tuk sat uncomfortably in the back with Elliot, Slattery and McCue. He glanced at them uneasily, all three dressed in jungle camouflage jackets, shirts, and army trousers tucked into US army boots and wrapped around with strips of cloth to make puttees. Elliot and Slattery both wore green berets, and McCue had a black cotton scarf tied around his head, the ends trailing loose down his back. Their hands and faces were smeared with dirt rubbed into an evil-smelling insect repellent. They were silent and tense. Tuk moved one of their backpacks to make room for his legs and tried to stretch them. A pothole rocked the jeep and jarred his spine. He had not anticipated this. The Vietnamese invasion had taken him too by surprise, although it had always been a possibility at this time of year. The phone call from Elliot had woken him up.

‘We’re going now,’ Elliot had said.

In two hours Tuk had arranged everything, but he was far from happy. He would have liked more time to set things up, although he had already had two detailed sessions with Van and Ferguson. He was nervous now, and felt that the eyes upon him were filled with suspicion.

But Elliot was paying little attention to Tuk. His mind was occupied, sorting mentally through kit and provisions. Maps, compasses, ropes, radio. Biltong, protein biscuits, salt tablets, water purifiers in case they had no chance to boil their water, malaria tablets, first-aid kit. Water bottles, sleeping sacks, folding canvas mats. They were to pick up their weapons and webbing at a house near the border. Tuk had assured him that everything was ready and waiting. Though there was something odd in Tuk’s manner that had put Elliot on his guard. He glanced at him now and saw a nervous tic fluttering above his left eye. Tuk shifted uncomfortably.

‘Thought you said this road was controlled by bandits at night,’ Slattery shouted across the roar of the engine.

Tuk smiled feebly. ‘It is,’ he shouted back.

Jesus, Slattery thought, the guy’s got a finger in every pie. ‘Where are we going?’

Tuk said, ‘Van Saren has quite a comfortable bungalow a few kilometres back from the border.’ He smiled at Slattery’s surprise. ‘You did not think he lived in the camp, did you?’

Up ahead, there was an unexpected flash of light on the road and the driver braked sharply. Another vehicle pulled in behind them, headlamps shining in the back. ‘What’s going on?’ Elliot snapped.

Tuk leaned forward and exchanged a few words with the driver. He turned back to the others. ‘Just a road check,’ he said.

‘Army?’ Slattery asked.

‘My people,’ Tuk said. McCue drew out an old US army-issue Colt and slipped off the safety catch. Tuk blenched. ‘There is no need for that, Mr McCue. It will only cause alarm.’

McCue lowered the pistol between his thighs, leaning forward on his elbows so that it was concealed, the barrel pointing straight at Tuk. ‘Anything goes wrong,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ll blow your balls off.’ Tuk paled visibly.

The jeep drew to a halt and there were voices in the road. Then a man with a dark, ugly face whipped aside the canvas cover at the back and looked inside. He wore jeans and a T-shirt and carried an automatic rifle. The lights of the vehicle behind filled the inside of the jeep and the four men blinked, temporarily blinded by their sudden brightness. The man spoke and Tuk replied sharply. The name of Van Saren figured in the response. The man shrugged and let the canvas cover fall back. The rear vehicle revved its engine and pulled away, overtaking them and driving off at speed into the night. More voices in the dark, then all the lights went out again and the jeep jerked into motion, picking up pace and lurching violently on the uneven surface. Tuk was still tense. He looked at McCue. ‘I think you could put that away now, Mr McCue. It is a bumpy road and I am sure we would both regret it if your gun happened to go off by accident.’

The faintest flicker of a smile crossed McCue’s face as he slipped on the safety catch and tucked the Colt into the belt below his jacket.

‘Where the hell did you get that, Billy boy?’

McCue glanced at Slattery. ‘It’s the one I used to take down the tunnels with me. Guess I must have forgot to hand it in. Just wish I’d some ammo to go with it.’

Slattery grinned and looked at Tuk, whose silent annoyance showed in the line of his mouth. He turned to Elliot. ‘Being threatened by one of your men was not part of the deal.’

Elliot shrugged. ‘Like the man said, it wasn’t loaded. Your balls were quite safe, Mr Tuk.’

Another fifteen minutes, and they could see the lights of Aranyaprathet in the distance. They turned off the main road, left on to what was little more than a dirt track. They criss-crossed paddy fields that reflected the light of the rising moon and seemed to bear east for some time before swinging south again, the paddies left behind, jungle closing in on either side. The track was scarred by deep ruts in the mud made by the wheels of vehicles during the rainy season. Then the trees thinned and they drew into a clearing fringed with small patches of cultivated land reclaimed from the jungle.

A bungalow with a long wooden terrace was raised a few feet from the ground on short stilts. Lights in all the windows threw long slabs of yellow light out across the clearing. Several battered vehicles were parked outside, and an armed guard sat idly on the rail of the veranda smoking a cigarette. He swung his automatic rifle lazily in their direction as the jeep pulled in at the foot of the steps. Tuk jumped down, clearly relieved to have arrived.

‘Follow me, gentlemen.’

They climbed the steps past the guard and went into the