17
Shanti woke from the oblivion of sleep to find herself using Connor’s lap for a pillow. She didn’t even remember falling asleep.
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s time to get moving.”
“Good morning.” She sat up. “Did you sleep?”
“Yeah.”
“I would give anything for tea.”
“Looks like we’ve got ‘Orange Beverage Powder, Carb-Fortified.’”
“Lovely.”
He set out their breakfast of peanut rolls, M&Ms, and fresh mangoes without speaking, a cheerless expression on his face, his jaw dark with stubble.
At first, Shanti was too groggy to think much of it, but when he began to pack up without a word, she began to wonder if he was okay.
“Is something wrong?”
“You mean apart from being chased through Myanmar by the Tatmadaw?”
Okay, that was a more sarcastic answer than she’d expected.
She wiped her face and hands on a towelette, got her handbag ready to go while he took down one of the squares of space blanket and crawled to the front of the plane. He seemed to be searching for something, even moving bones.
“Sorry to disturb you, guys.”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for dog tags. Three families back in the UK never found out what happened to their loved ones. I might be able to bring them closure.”
Shanti’s heart melted. “That’s wonderful.”
“These guys gave their lives for us. The least we can do is let their families know where they are. The British government might be able to repatriate their remains.”
Ten minutes later, they’d left the crashed plane behind. The sun was just rising, the forest still quiet and dark.
“I need to find a break in the canopy to check in.”
They came to a rocky rise, a valley of dark treetops stretching to the horizon, clouds sitting thick and low. In the distance, Shanti saw what looked like water.
“Is that the Bay of Bengal?” They were getting closer.
But Connor had taken out his sat phone. “Cobra, O’Neal here. Do you have the GPS coordinates of the location where we camped for the night? Tag that spot. Pass the coordinates to British intelligence along with this flight number.”
He gave them a number he’d memorized. “It’s a Blenheim. Yeah, seriously. There were three men on board when it went down. I’ve got two sets of dog tags. I couldn’t find the third. The names are … McWilliams and … Leighton.”
From her end, the conversation after that was just a lot of “copy that” and “good copy” and “strong copy, Cobra.”
Then the sun’s first rays stretched out from the east, spilling out over the clouds to reveal a landscape that took Shanti’s breath away. Golden pagodas rose above the forest canopy. There were dozens of them, gilded finials pointing to the heavens.
Connor ended the call. “Naing’s army is about to saturate this area. We need to move—and fast. Last night’s deluge will have destroyed our scent track, so they won’t use dogs unless they have some idea where we are. Cobra has a fishing boat sitting in the river just across the border, waiting for us. The goal is to reach them by tomorrow night.”
“Look.” Shanti pointed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Connor glanced at the scenery. “Let’s move.”