Thura said, “That is the plane you were supposed to be on.”
As it came closer, Nash could see that it was a relatively new-looking Boeing 737 model with the Myanmar National Airlines name on the side of the fuselage.
The plane’s landing gear deployed, and it descended rapidly and thumped onto the tarmac. The jet then slowed dramatically, and came to a stop near the terminal. All three watched as the forward door opened and portable steps were brought to the side of the aircraft and lined up with the door.
The two armed men drew nearer and watched as the passengers deplaned. When the last of them came off and the grounds crew signaled for the cleaning team to board the 737, the two men hurried across the tarmac and spoke to the grounds crew. Then one of the men dashed up the steps and into the aircraft. When he came back out he was not looking happy. He quickly rejoined his comrade and pulled out his phone as they hustled back to the 4Runner.
Nash said to Thura, “Okay, where they go, we go.”
Thura said, “My job was to get you to Bhamo, and you are here.”
Temple took out his wallet and handed him a wad of American currency he had brought with him on the trip. “Think that’ll cover it?”
“There is not enough money in all the world if I lose my life over it.”
“We won’t force you to come, Thura,” said Nash.
Thura gave him a harsh look. “I told you this before, when I have a job to do, I finish it.” He took the offered money and began to follow the Toyota as it left the airport. “And now I have anewjob to finish.”
CHAPTER
21
LATER, THE 4RUNNER PULLED TOa stop in front of the Friendship Hotel in downtown Bhamo. It was a multistory structure, white with blue trim; circular balconies sprouted off one wing, and AC units rested on metal shelves bolted to the exterior walls.
Thura pulled to a stop where they could see the Toyota clearly.
The two men got out, then a young woman emerged from the back and assisted another woman out of the other rear seat. The second woman moved with the slowness of either age or ill health, or perhaps both. Her head was covered with a scarf and her body was wrapped in a bulky cloak, despite the warmth of the morning. All four walked inside while a hotel attendant collected their bags from the SUV.
“Nice place,” noted Thura. “Not cheap.”
Temple said, “Who do you think the women are?”
Nash eyed Thura. “Since they were meeting us at the plane they must have descriptions of us. You want to go in and see what you can find out?”
Temple handed Thura some more cash. “Payment for any bribe you might need to make. I’m assuming U.S. dollars work here.”
Thura snorted. “They work everywhere.”
“Tread cautiously, Thura,” warned Nash. “These people do not play around.”
Thura put the money in his pocket and got out of the Jeep. They watched as he crossed the street, dodging a motor scooter with three boys hanging off it, and entered the hotel.
“You think those guys are part of the ambush team?” asked Temple.
“They look it,” said Nash, who was staring down at his phone to check the time zone difference in connection with the email he had sent while they waited at the airport; it was late in Nash’s old hometown.
But supposedly the FBI never sleeps.
However, after a half hour he had not received a reply back.
“Here comes Thura,” observed Temple.
Nash looked up to see the man sauntering out of the hotel like he didn’t have a care in the world. A newspaper was under one arm and he stopped at a market stand and bought some fruit. He was chomping on a banana when he climbed back into the Jeep.
He passed a mango to Nash and a passion fruit to Temple. He held up a knife.
“For the fruit. Don’t worry. It is a different knife than with. . .Amrita.”