Collateral Damage by H. Terrell Griffin Page B

When this bridge year became fashionable, we found that we had a ready-made group of youngsters who wanted something different. Living in a Southeast Asian village without running water, electricity, or sewage is certainly different from what they’re used to.”
    â€œIt sounds like most of your kids would have to come from affluent families to be able to take the time off. Or do you pay them?”
    â€œWe don’t pay them, so you’re right. Most of them come from well-to-do families. We also get a bit of monetary support from the families. For instance, a parent can give us the money for his child’s airfare and other incidentals that we pay for and the parent can write it off as a charitable donation. We then buy the airline tickets and provide for the student during the six months they’re in country.”
    â€œDo you remember a problem that Jim Desmond had with some young Laotian guy that caused the project to be shut down?”
    â€œOh, yes. That’s the only time we’ve ever run into something like that.”
    â€œWhat can you tell me about it?”
    â€œThe Laotian was named Souphanouvong Phomvihana. We called him ‘Soupy.’ His father ran the biggest poppy operation in the area.”
    â€œPoppies?”
    â€œYes. The area we were working in lies right next to one of the largest poppy operations in Laos. They make heroin out of them and sell it around the world. It’s part of the so-called Golden Triangle.”
    â€œTell me about Soupy.”
    â€œHe was about twenty-five at the time. Jim’s group was the second bunch to work on this particular school. Soupy had come around several times to visit the first group, but never caused any trouble. For some reason, he took a liking to Meredith McNabb and apparently got physical with her. Jim gave him a good old-fashioned ass whupping.”“What about the project being shut down?”
    â€œSoupy’s dad was one of the most powerful men in Laos. He had an army that protected his fields and kept the competitors out. He was in essence a warlord. Soupy got some of his father’s men to go to the village and tell the elders that the Americans had to go. Apparently Soupy had been very embarrassed at having his butt kicked in front of the villagers.”
    â€œHow did you solve that?”
    â€œWe have very good relations with the governments where we work. I called our contact in the State Department, and he had one of the people at our embassy in Vientiane look into it. I think it went all the way to the top of the Laotian government, and somebody there had a talk with Soupy’s dad. It seems that Soupy was a hothead and this wasn’t the first time he’d used his dad’s influence. I heard that the father wasn’t happy about it and kind of pinned his son’s ears back. Soupy made some empty threats about getting even with Jim, but nothing ever came of it.”
    â€œWhere’s Soupy today?”
    â€œHe’s the kingpin. His dad died a couple of years back, and Soupy took over.”
    â€œSo he now controls the army.”
    â€œYes. But keep in mind that the government wants us there, and I don’t think they’d ever allow Soupy to cause too much trouble.”
    â€œBut, Soupy might still have wanted to even the score with Jim.”
    â€œThat’s a possibility.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
    There was an on-ramp to Interstate-75 a block south of the foundation offices. I drove onto it and headed south to Bradenton. Eight hours later I was crossing the Longboat Pass Bridge. It was six o’clock in the evening, and Tiny’s was on my way home. I went in, took a stool, and ordered a Miller Lite. Debbie Messina was behind the bar. She gave me a hug and the beer and said she’d heard I’d been off-island for a couple of days. Nothing gets past the island bartenders.
    It was quiet in the doldrums of summer. The usual snowbirds who would be