Message From -Creasy 5 (18 page)

"It
never will change," Susanna said, "while government officials get
paid less than subsistence rate."

The
road was potholed to such an extent that Creasy had to weave his way between
them. The countryside was flat and wet, with paddy fields stretching out on
each side of the road. Traffic was sparse; a few beaten-up old trucks and
occasionally a UN vehicle.

"What
time will we reach Phnom Penh?" she asked.

"With
the condition of this road, it's hard to say. But not before late
afternoon."

They
had hardly spoken since leaving the hotel at dawn, and then it had only been to
exchange comments and observations.

She
glanced at his profile and said quietly: "I suppose I should apologize for
this morning."

"Apologize
for what?"

"For
what happened this morning."

He gave
her a quick, puzzled look and said: "Well, this morning we got up, had
coffee and croissants, loaded up the car and headed off to Phnom Penh."

"I
mean before that. I mean before we got up."

His eyes
were concentrating on the road again. He said: "All I remember is going to
bed well after midnight and having to wake up at five thirty with a bit of a
thick head."

She
laughed inwardly. "I guess I must have been dreaming."

"It
happens, Susanna, especially after a few glasses of good red wine."

She had
not been dreaming. They had got into the huge double bed and gone to sleep
separately; but it must have been about four in the morning when she woke up to
find her arms around him and her head in the crook of his shoulder. He was fast
asleep, breathing deeply. Strangely for a man like him he had explained that he
could never sleep in total darkness, so the bathroom light was on and the door
ajar. She lifted her head and studied his face and felt both a warm compassion
and a growing desire. He was a man who kept his word. He had not tried to
seduce her; just offered his close company on a lonely night. Slowly, she began
to move her hands over his body and to kiss him gently on his cheek. The kisses
moved gradually to his lips, and she could feel his body begin to move with the
rhythm of them. They spoke not a word, but for the next half-hour made slow and
very gentle love. She was always the leader, which was rare in her limited love
life. At the end of it, she drifted back to sleep, again with her arms around
him. It was only an hour's sleep, but it was perfect.

As they
bumped along the road she tried to collect and evaluate her feelings. Had she
fallen in love with him, or had it been only a moment of unexpected passion? He
was a man poles apart from her late lamented professor. They might have come
from different planets. She had never been attracted to hard, tough men. It was
always the mind that first sparked her attention.

She
tried to move her mind off the subject, to concentrate on the scenery around
her and the peasants in the fields, with their conical hats, the occasional
water buffalo and the fruit-selling children by the roadside, some of whom had
either one or no legs, thanks to the millions of mines scattered around the
country.

But her
mind was obstinate, coming back to the man beside her. She realized what he was
doing. On the one hand he was saving her blushes, and on the other hand he was
putting up an invisible wall between them; at least, that was what she thought
he was doing. She decided just to let time pass and see what developed.
Meanwhile, for the first time in days her mind and body were tranquil. It had
been a combination of sharing both a problem and some good lovemaking.

Briskly
she asked: "When do we eat?"

He
looked up from the road and glanced at his watch. "With luck we should
reach the Mekong River at Neak Lung in about an hour. I want to get there first
to make sure that the ferry is running. We'll eat on the other side. There used
to be a market there with lots of foodstores. I remember eating some of the
best freshwater fish in that market. Then we press on to Phnom Penh. There's a
lot to do."

"How
will you proceed?"

He
avoided another massive pothole, and answered: "By now, Jens should have
found out who is behind the Lucit Trade Company. And The Owl will have done a
full-scale recce of the building. It's possible he and I will break in there
tonight and take a look around."

She
thought about that for a moment, and then asked: "Isn't it a bit
dangerous? Two foreigners in a city like Phnom Penh to go breaking and
entering. I would have thought that was a job for experts."

He
grunted in amusement. "I'm no amateur when it comes to breaking into places,
and The Owl is a real pro. Before joining Jens, he spent most of his life in
the mob in Marseille. He can pick a lock easier than most people blow their
noses. With a bit of luck we'll get into that office and out again without
anyone ever knowing. Then, depending on what we find, we'll go on from
there."

The
ferry at Neak Lung was operating. As they crossed the five kilometres of muddy,
slow-moving water, Susanna reflected that it represented a crossing-point in
her life. This time, she would not leave Indo-China the same woman as when she
had entered it.

At
first sight it looked like a Swiss Army knife with a myriad of little blades
and gadgets. But as he opened them all out, The Owl explained that they were
all tools for different kinds of locks, together with blades for prising open
window catches and the like. She was intrigued.

"How
did you find such a thing in Phnom Penh?"

It was
the first time she had seen The Owl laugh.

"This
is made by the finest craftsman in Marseille," he said.

"An
Arab called Gadra. He supplies the top lock-picks all over Europe and North
Africa. He's very professional and buys locks and safes from the biggest
manufacturers for his own little trading company. Then he makes the tools to
unlock them." He held up the instrument. "This is made from the
hardest steel and cost me more than a hundred thousand French francs. I travel
with it in the same way other people travel with a toothbrush or a
passport."

He was
obviously proud of his skills. He went out of the front door of the bungalow
and told her to lock it from the inside. It was a modern Mortice lock. Within
twenty seconds he was back inside, smiling broadly. Susanna said with mock
severity: "So it's no use locking my bedroom door tonight."

The
Owl's expression immediately changed. He said sternly: "Susanna, you don't
have to worry about your virtue here. For us, you're not a woman. You're a
person working with us."

She
digested that back-handed compliment and walked back into the lounge. Creasy
and Jens were sitting at a table, poring over several bits of paper. She looked
over Creasy's shoulder. He glanced up and explained: "Jens was able to
find out the name of the current directors of the Lucit Trade Company.
Apparently it specializes in gemstones, in particular the different-coloured
sapphires that come from Battambang province near the Thai border. We know that
because they have a sign outside." He pointed to another piece of paper.
"This is an external diagram of the building. There's a front door on to
the main road and a back door up an alley. There are no external signs of
alarms. The Owl and I will go in the back door some time tonight. The directors
are all Cambodians and their names are meaningless at this time." He gave
the Dane an encouraging punch on the shoulder. "But Jens is nothing if not
a good detective. With the help of a little bribe, he got the original records
from when the company was founded in 1965. Would you believe, we discovered
that the major shareholder at that time was a certain William Crum."

For a
second Susanna was confused. Then she remembered. "That's the man you
assassinated in Hong Kong?"

Creasy
stood up, saying: "One and the same."

Jens
also stood and stretched his shoulders. He said: "There's one thing I
didn't tell you. When The Owl followed the man with the fax back to the Lucit
Trade Company, he noticed that no evasive action was taken."

"Why
should there be?" Susanna asked. "After all, he's a Cambodian in his
own country. Why should he suspect that he's being followed?"

Jens
supplied the answer. "Because I checked with a newfound Australian friend
and discovered that the Lucit Trade Company has its own fax machine. So it's
suspicious that they use a public fax in a hotel for such confidential
matters."

"It's
part of the paper chase," Creasy said.

Susanna
thought about that, then felt a twinge of concern. She said: "In that
case, they could well be waiting for you in that office tonight. It could be
very dangerous."

Creasy
shook his head. "I doubt it. Just as I doubt there'll be any internal
alarms in that building and for that matter, any gemstones. Just a filing
cabinet or two. Because gemstone dealers in this part of the world don't keep
their stock in their offices. They usually keep gemstones under their mothers'
mattresses."

"Then
what do you expect to find?" Susanna asked.

Creasy
glanced at the Dane and answered: "Another piece of paper."

The
follower Tran Quock Cong returned to his family and discovered that his wife
and two daughters had domesticated two wild creatures.

At
least they were wild in his eyes, living outside of a normal society. The one
called Rene was sitting by his younger daughter's bed singing a lullaby in
French. The one called Maxie was in the kitchen preparing a chicken curry. Tran
said to his wife: "They don't exactly look ready to protect us from a
bunch of assassins." His voice carried a tone of rebuke.

She
quickly pointed out the fishnet screens over the windows and the tape lines
over the floor, the small metal box on the table and the two pistols which lay
within reach of the two men. She explained to her husband how he must move
around the house, and that if there was an attack, he must grab the elder
daughter while she grabbed the younger and quickly move into the bathroom and
lie on the floor.

"Where
do they sleep?" he asked.

She
pointed to a single mattress on the floor by the front door. He asked:
"They both sleep on that?"

"While
one is asleep, the other one is awake...They are good men."

He gave
a short laugh. "They are killers, like their boss."

She
shook her head. "Young children have an instinct, and the children became
their friends even though they could not talk to them."

The
children slept while the adults ate Maxie's curry. Without a common language,
it should have been a strained meal. But the atmosphere was relaxed and the
sign language plentiful. Maxie was proud of his prowess with curry. He had made
a big pot of it, expecting it to be enough for tomorrow's lunch; but within an
hour it had been consumed. After the meal Tran tried to offer them some brandy,
but Maxie raised his palm upwards, pointed to his gun and gestured with his
hand as if sighting. Tran understood that they would not drink while they were
at work. With many gestures of thanks, he and his wife went up to join the
children in bed. Maxie pulled out a deck of cards and he and Rene sat down to
play yet another game of gin rummy.

Seventy
metres away from the house, Guido sat in the rented van. He had arrived two
hours earlier and he would stay there until dawn. The night was dark and the
street was quiet, with only one lamp casting dim shadows. He was not sleepy
because on such occasions he took a Dexedrine tablet every four hours. It kept
him awake, but it also kept his mind racing, and it had the odd side-effect of
arousing him physically. He decided that it was time he found himself a
girlfriend. He began to picture her mentally. She would preferably be Italian
from his home town of Naples. She would have a face full of character, with a
full mouth and slightly slanted eyes. Her body would be full and long and
big-chested. And her legs would curve from her waist to her toes. She would
have a lot of passion and a mind as quick as his own. She would also make pasta
like a god.

Suddenly,
he laughed inwardly. He had just painted a mental picture of Sophia Loren.

He
tried to give himself a stern talking-to, but then realized that the
subconscious part of his brain was telling him a practical truth. His life at
the Pensione in Naples had become lonely. Of course he sometimes went out on
the town and found a woman, but it was always only a fleeting affair. He had
never considered taking a woman into his life since his wife had died fifteen
years before. It would have seemed like a betrayal. But his subconscious was
telling him that he would grow old lonely. It was why he was now sitting in
this van in a city in Indo-China craving the company of old friends, especially
Creasy. He needed companionship. He wanted to be part of the team. When this
job was over and he returned to Naples, he would look around him with different
eyes. He would open his mind to new possibilities. He would look at women
differently. He would not go hunting for a woman. It was not his way. But if
one came into his life he would be receptive, even if she was not exactly
Sophia Loren.

Time
must have passed more quickly than he imagined, because when he saw four men
moving past the van on the other side of the road and glanced at his watch, it
was just after three a.m. He watched them for only a few seconds, then picked
up the mobile phone from the seat beside him and punched a number. He let it
ring four times, then switched off the phone and reached for his pistol.

In the
house Rene was asleep on the mattress, snoring gently. Maxie was at the table
playing solitaire. The mobile phone was on the table next to the cards and the
pistol. As it rang, Maxie reached for the pistol, listening. Then the pistol
was in his hand and he was moving. He kicked Rene's foot gently and as the
Belgian's eyes opened, he whispered to him. From a deep sleep, Rene came awake
and alive in an instant. He scooped up his pistol and headed for the stairs.
Maxie moved back to the table and turned it on its side, crouching behind it.
From upstairs he heard the soft movements of the Tran family being shepherded
to the bathroom. Two minutes passed, and then the black metal box beside him
gave a soft beep. And then another one. The photo-cell beam had been broken.
Maxie slipped off the safety catch of his pistol.