inside Laos after the Geneva accord banned foreign military personnel. Of course the CIA continued to recruit military people, mostly marine pilots like Bowry. They took them out of uniform and maintained that they were civilian pilots working for a private company. They carried a lot more than rice, mind you. Captain Bowry was flying helicopter missions in and out of Laos for two years. As I’m sure you know, not a hundred kilometers from here were two CIA bases. One was at Sam Thong where there was a refugee camp for displaced hill tribe families. The other was at Long Cheng, the home of the CIA’s secret army. It’s where General Vang Pao and his Hmong troops were based. It’s where the CIA trained them up to fight you guys. At one stage, Long Cheng, with all its troops and US advisors and pilots, was the second most populated city in the country after Vientiane. There were so many spies there it collected the name Spook Heaven or Spook City. But that’s the big picture. We’re all here for the little picture. Captain Bowry.”
“Why him?” Phosy asked. “I mean, of all the airmen they claim are missing, why is this man at the top of Washington’s list?”
“Good question.” Peach nodded. “And as far as I can see, it pretty much comes down to influence and pressure.”
“And money,” said Civilai. “It always comes down to money.”
“You might be right, sir,” Peach agreed. “Captain Bowry is or was the son of Senator Walter Bowry from South Carolina. It appears he’s had people searching for his son for ten years. He sits on a couple of important committees and has a lot of clout in foreign policy. It’s probably due to his cronies there that money was freed up from the aid budget to offer funding to Laos. There was a lot of opposition to it. “Why should we be feeding the enemy?” That kind of thing. It really flew in the face of anti-communist feeling. So you can be sure he had some kind of pull.”
“Why this burst of excitement after ten years?” Daeng asked.
“On June tenth, someone sent the congressman photos purportedly taken inside Laos,” Peach told her. “They showed a Caucasian peering out of a bamboo cell. In one of the pictures he seems to have a briefcase or something with him which might be relevant. He could have been in his thirties. He was bearded, suntanned and a lot thinner than the father remembered, but he believed it was his son. The picture quality wasn’t that clear and other relatives weren’t so certain but the congressman was positive.”
“But he wasn’t standing beside a road sign,” Civilai said. “Wasn’t holding a copy of the national newspaper?”
Peach shook her head.
“Just him in a hut, as far as I know,” she said.
“Then there’s absolutely no way to tell where or when the photos were taken,” Civilai went on. “A hut is a hut is a hut. Could be at a theme park in Hong Kong for all they know. Am I right?”
“You’re always right,” said Siri. “But the important thing is that the photographs caused a reaction—money was made available and through just a little diplomatic extortion, this mission was instigated. And here we are, an ace team selected on merit on the basis of all the solid investigative work we’ve done in the past. The Party couldn’t have chosen a finer band of professionals to find young Boyd and bring a little peace of mind to his family.”
They toasted to this testimonial.
“What do we know as fact?” Lit asked.
“About the disappearance?” said Peach, flipping open her notepad. She paused to take a long sip of her drink then ran her finger down the page.
“It was the night of August eighth, 1968. Bowry and his Filipino flight mechanic, Nino Sebastian, had been drinking excessively at the forward air controller canteen at the Long Cheng base. They were with a pilot called Mike Wolff. He was with the FAC, the forward air control, also known as Ravens. It appears that they got hold of some LSD from
“Why him?” Phosy asked. “I mean, of all the airmen they claim are missing, why is this man at the top of Washington’s list?”
“Good question.” Peach nodded. “And as far as I can see, it pretty much comes down to influence and pressure.”
“And money,” said Civilai. “It always comes down to money.”
“You might be right, sir,” Peach agreed. “Captain Bowry is or was the son of Senator Walter Bowry from South Carolina. It appears he’s had people searching for his son for ten years. He sits on a couple of important committees and has a lot of clout in foreign policy. It’s probably due to his cronies there that money was freed up from the aid budget to offer funding to Laos. There was a lot of opposition to it. “Why should we be feeding the enemy?” That kind of thing. It really flew in the face of anti-communist feeling. So you can be sure he had some kind of pull.”
“Why this burst of excitement after ten years?” Daeng asked.
“On June tenth, someone sent the congressman photos purportedly taken inside Laos,” Peach told her. “They showed a Caucasian peering out of a bamboo cell. In one of the pictures he seems to have a briefcase or something with him which might be relevant. He could have been in his thirties. He was bearded, suntanned and a lot thinner than the father remembered, but he believed it was his son. The picture quality wasn’t that clear and other relatives weren’t so certain but the congressman was positive.”
“But he wasn’t standing beside a road sign,” Civilai said. “Wasn’t holding a copy of the national newspaper?”
Peach shook her head.
“Just him in a hut, as far as I know,” she said.
“Then there’s absolutely no way to tell where or when the photos were taken,” Civilai went on. “A hut is a hut is a hut. Could be at a theme park in Hong Kong for all they know. Am I right?”
“You’re always right,” said Siri. “But the important thing is that the photographs caused a reaction—money was made available and through just a little diplomatic extortion, this mission was instigated. And here we are, an ace team selected on merit on the basis of all the solid investigative work we’ve done in the past. The Party couldn’t have chosen a finer band of professionals to find young Boyd and bring a little peace of mind to his family.”
They toasted to this testimonial.
“What do we know as fact?” Lit asked.
“About the disappearance?” said Peach, flipping open her notepad. She paused to take a long sip of her drink then ran her finger down the page.
“It was the night of August eighth, 1968. Bowry and his Filipino flight mechanic, Nino Sebastian, had been drinking excessively at the forward air controller canteen at the Long Cheng base. They were with a pilot called Mike Wolff. He was with the FAC, the forward air control, also known as Ravens. It appears that they got hold of some LSD from
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