Message from Hell (A Creasy novel Book 5)

by A. J. Quinnell

  Guido was nodding. He said: ‘We’re going to need two.’

  ‘No,’ Creasy answered. ‘I go in alone. You bring up the cavalry when it’s needed.’

  Chapter 55

  ‘You want something special?’ the girl asked coyly.

  ‘Like what?’ Jens asked.

  She giggled and said: ‘I can make you happy in many ways, but it costs one hundred dollars extra.’

  The Dane sighed and concentrated his mind on the small apartment in Copenhagen and his loving wife and daughter. For the last hour he had been lying on the huge double bed in his room at the Dusit Thani Hotel in Bangkok. And for the last hour a young, nubile girl in a brief white tunic had been massaging his body and relieving the tension of the flight from Hong Kong. The Owl was in the next room getting similar treatment.

  ‘Thanks, but I’m a married man,’ he answered.

  The girl dug her thumbs into the muscles of his shoulders and said: ‘So?’

  ‘So I love my wife. And I don’t fool around.’

  ‘You’re a very strange man,’ she said, and smacked his bottom lightly to indicate that the massage was over.

  When she had left, he went into the bathroom and took a very cold shower.

  The Owl knocked on his door twenty minutes later. He seemed very relaxed.

  ‘I like this town,’ he stated.

  ‘I’ll bet you do,’ Jens answered. ‘Now we have work to do. I’ve contacted a Danish friend who works in this city and we meet him in half an hour. He’s going to teach me how to bribe a senior Thai policeman.’

  The Owl looked dubious. Jens explained: ‘My friend is not exactly my friend. He’s the friend of a friend. In foreign places we Danes stick together and help each other out. The guy here is called Søren Musholm and he’s the manager of a large Danish trading company. He’s been in Bangkok for the last twelve years and he knows how things work. The police here have files on any foreigner who lives or works in this country, and so for sure they have a file on Connie Crum. The only way I’m going to get to see that file is by paying a hefty bribe . . . Let’s go!’

  The meeting took place in a murky bar on Pat Pong Road. The Owl understood nothing of what was going on because naturally, the Danes spoke Danish as if they hadn’t had a chance to speak the language for the past ten years. Of course they also drank Schnapps with hearty toasts of ‘Skål!’ Then Søren Musholm switched to English for the benefit of The Owl and explained the bribery procedure.

  Passing Jens a business card he said: ‘You call this man and make an appointment in his office. Once there, you tell him that you’re a private detective and that you’re checking up on the corespondent in a divorce case.’

  ‘Sounds familiar,’ Jens remarked.

  ‘I’m sure you’re very good at it. You give him the woman’s name and ask him if he has a file on her. Since he’s the head of the department of overseas residents, he will immediately check on his computer, and tell you that of course he has a file, but of course he cannot show it to you. You then contrive to drop your wallet on the floor and say: “Oh dear! I dropped my wallet with two thousand dollars in it.”’

  ‘Two thousand!’

  ‘Yes, that’s the going rate. It’s not like the old days, when five bucks would buy an audience with the king. This city is booming. There’s a lot of money around. Police officers are notoriously underpaid. About eighty per cent of their income comes from dropped wallets. Don’t try to do it for less. A couple of weeks ago, I went to see a minister to get a difficult import permit. I dropped my wallet and said: “Oh dear! I dropped my wallet with ten thousand dollars in it.” The minister smiled and said: “No, Mr Musholm, you dropped your wallet with twenty thousand dollars in it!” I had to make a return visit with a fatter wallet! If you want to see that file, the going rate would be two thousand dollars. Of course you’ll not mention my name, and you’ll go alone. It’s simple courtesy. There are no observers to such transactions.’ He picked up the bottle, poured three more shots and asked: ‘What the hell has gone wrong with our football team?!’

  Chapter 56

  Creasy and Guido sat under a sunshade by the pool. They were wearing swimsuits, drinking beer and arguing.

  Susanna had gone off to the embassy with Jennings to make sure that his fax to Interpol was legible. Guido was being forceful.

  ‘Be logical,’ he said. ‘Connie Crum must know a hell of a lot about you and your capabilities. She knew you would follow the trail to Saigon. She knew that you would detect the follower. She knew you would pick him up and extract the information that had been planted in his head. She knew that you would locate the fax machine where he sent his messages and follow the receiver to his office. She knew that you would break in and find that file with the photographs. She knew that you would contact an expert and find out where that temple is. Let’s assume that she also knows you were a paratrooper in the Legion. She might well know the story about how you once parachuted at night into a well-guarded Mafia Capo’s compound on Sicily and killed him and his henchmen. She has structured your entire journey. In a strange way she has managed to look into your head, and that worries me.’ He leaned forward and said intently: ‘She did not have that minefield laid to keep you out of the temple. She had it laid to keep you in, because she expects you to drop in one night soon. She will be waiting for you.’

  Creasy did not answer. He finished his beer and dived into the swimming pool. Home in Gozo, he always swam a hundred lengths every day and he had missed the exercise.

  Guido waited patiently. He knew that while his friend was swimming, he was also thinking. He also knew that he would not let Creasy parachute into that temple compound; at least, not alone.

  After half an hour, Creasy pulled himself out of the pool and padded back to the table. As he picked up his towel, he said: ‘Maybe you’re right. That woman bothers me. I guess I’ll just pack my bag and go home.’

  The Italian smiled. ‘Don’t joke with me. We have to find a strategy to get in and an escape route to get out. That’s your department. But I’m telling you here and now that you’re not going to parachute into that temple. Maxie and René will arrive in Bangkok tonight and wait there for a call. Jens and The Owl are already there.’

  ‘We can’t use Jens,’ Creasy said. ‘He’s a mind man, not a soldier. But we can use The Owl. Anyone who can survive the backstreets of Marseille can look after himself in the battlefield. So our army will be five. Anyway, we can’t make plans until we hear from Jens and until tomorrow afternoon, when Susanna should be receiving her mysterious message.’

  ‘That one is quite a woman,’ Guido said. ‘She really stamped her personality on that Jennings guy. She’s got him in a condition where he’d walk through fire for her.’

  ‘She’s a good one,’ Creasy agreed. Then he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and called out: ‘Are your ears burning?’

  Susanna sat down and the waiter materialized at her shoulder. ‘I’ll have a Coke and half of your normal fruit salad,’ she said. Then she asked Creasy: ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘We were just talking about you,’ Creasy answered. ‘We decided that you’re not entirely useless.’

  She bowed in mock appreciation. ‘I’m glad to hear it. As it happens, you’re right. I bring interesting information.’ She reached into her voluminous bag, pulled out a roll of fax paper and passed it over to Creasy. ‘It came within an hour,’ she said. ‘My toyboy Jennings pulled out all the stops.’

  After reading for two minutes, he looked up at Guido and said: ‘Piet de Witt! He was among the four mercenaries known to have been recruited a year ago by a company in Bangkok which is thought to be a front for the Khmer Rouge.’

  ‘De Witt . . . !’ Guido muttered. ‘A total bastard! And an expert on mine-clearing and laying. Who were the other three?’

  Creasy looked at the papers and read out the names. ‘Denderfield, Brad Shore and Gagnier.’

  ‘Do you know them all?�
� Susanna asked.

  ‘Yes. The first two are Brits who served with Mike Hoare in the Congo. And the other is a Frenchman who worked with Denard. All four of them are the pits of our trade. Piet de Witt is probably the worst. He’s an Afrikaaner who did five years in the dirty tricks department of the South African army until even they could no longer stomach him. He was kicked out and then promptly hired by BOSS, which was the South African Security Service. He carried out several assassinations for them, both in South Africa and in Mozambique.’ He laughed at the memory. ‘Then he got caught fiddling his expenses, which went against the grain of the same bosses who had sanctioned the assassinations in the first place. They fired him and he ended up as a mercenary working in West Africa, and later moved to Europe. It’s rumoured that he did some external jobs for the IRA. I once had a run-in with him. I almost beat him to death. I regret that I didn’t. He’s an Afrikaaner so he has to be our Dutchman. And in all probability he laid that minefield around the temple.’

  ‘Do we know where he is now?’ Guido asked.

  Creasy shook his head. ‘According to this Interpol report, he vanished from Bangkok eleven months ago. There were no records of him leaving the country. I guess that right now he’s in Tuk Luy. But I can tell you one thing: if he is there, he doesn’t know I’m coming.’

  ‘How can you know that?’ Susanna asked.

  ‘Because after I gave him that beating, I told him that if I ever saw him again, I’d kill him. And he believes that. He knows it as certainly as the sun rises in the east.’

  The waiter arrived with Susanna’s drink and fruit salad. ‘So what do we do?’ she asked.

  Creasy answered: ‘We wait to hear from Jens and to see what kind of message you get tomorrow afternoon, if any.’

  ‘If any? You think there might not be one?’

  ‘It’s very possible. I think we arrived ahead of schedule. I think that Connie Crum was not quite ready for me. But still, we have to wait; and while we wait we have to do some serious thinking about how we get to Tuk Luy and what we do when we get there.’

  Chapter 57

  ‘Do you know how to operate an IBM with WordPerfect software?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jens answered, and lifted the briefcase which contained his own IBM Notebook. ‘I use the same software.’

  The policeman stood up from behind the desk and said: ‘Well, I have to go to the toilet, Mr Jensen. And then I’ll probably take a coffee in the canteen. I’ll be away for at least fifteen minutes. You will not be disturbed.’ As he walked around his desk towards the door he said: ‘The file name is CRUM/KHMER Number twenty-five. I take it that you have a spare disk in your briefcase? Just leave your wallet on the floor.’ At the door he repeated: ‘Fifteen minutes. I’m sure you can find your way out. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call me. I’m always available.’

  ‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ the Dane said.

  It had gone exactly as predicted by Søren Musholm. The cheap, plastic wallet he had purchased on leaving the bar now lay at his feet. It contained twenty crisp hundred-dollar notes. He stood up and moved around the desk to the computer console. It was a new model with a large colour screen. Within seconds he had located the file. On the top right-hand corner it indicated that the file ran for 122 pages. He glanced at his watch and then for the next ten minutes read the first fifteen pages. He then opened his briefcase, took out a blank disk, inserted it into the slot and down-loaded the entire file. He left the office exactly four minutes later. At the door he turned and looked at the shiny black wallet by the chair. It had been worth every cent of the two thousand dollars.

  Back at the hotel, a message was waiting for him at the reception. It was from The Owl, telling him to come to his room as soon as he arrived.

  The Owl answered the door with his headphones on. He quickly switched off the Walkman and pushed the earphones down around his neck. ‘How did it go?’ he asked.

  ‘Very well. I dropped the wallet and got to play with his computer.’ He tapped his briefcase. ‘I’ve got a hundred and twenty-two pages on disk which cover everything the Thai police knows about Connie Crum . . . She is one very dangerous lady, and I have to get the information to Creasy soonest.’

  The Owl had moved to the minibar and taken out two bottles of Tiger beer. ‘Sorry, no Carlsberg,’ he said as he opened the bottles. ‘Creasy phoned. Maxie and René are arriving this afternoon. I booked Maxie into the Erewan Hotel and René into the Sheraton. I think it’s better that we remain dispersed. I’ve also left messages accordingly for them at the airport. Creasy also said that they had information on the target and it’s very complicated. We are to stay in Bangkok until contacted. He also asked how you were getting on, and I told him you’d be in touch as soon as possible. He gave me the name and phone number of a man at the American embassy in Phnom Penh who can relay messages securely.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Jens answered. ‘Try to get the guy on the phone.’

  Half a beer and two minutes later Jens was talking to Mark Jennings. ‘Do you have a computer in your office? Good . . . what is it? Good . . . do you have WordPerfect on it? Good . . . Give me the number and an access code and I’ll send you a file through my modem. Please call me back to confirm safe receipt and then print two copies and deliver them personally to Creasy as soon as possible.’ He gave Jennings the phone number and the room number, then hung up and went to work.

  The Owl looked on with admiration. He himself was useless with computers and their paraphernalia. It took only a couple of minutes for the Dane to set up his Notebook, connect the modem to the phone, insert the disk and tap in the number and access code.

  ‘It’s a crazy world,’ The Owl said. ‘I remember the days when it was almost impossible to get a phone call through from one end of Marseille to another.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ the Dane answered with a grin. ‘The only things the French know are how to make Béarnaise sauce and ride a bicycle.’

  ‘Mon cul!’ The Owl answered fervently, and then raised his glass to take away any offence.

  Chapter 58

  Creasy and Guido read the two copies of the file that Mark Jennings had brought to the hotel. After finishing each page, Creasy passed his on to Susanna and Guido passed his on to Jennings.

  ‘I didn’t even wait to read it,’ Jennings said. ‘I just printed it out and rushed over.’

  Creasy finished first. He stood up and walked out of the French windows into the garden. Guido joined him ten minutes later.

  ‘She’s certainly her father’s daughter,’ Creasy said grimly. ‘Evil through and through. The thing is that she’s also highly intelligent. You certainly don’t get a first-class degree from the Sorbonne University for being stupid.’

  Guido was nodding in agreement. He said: ‘Evil, clever and beautiful. It makes a formidable combination . . . But I’m surprised that the Thai police have such a complete file on her.’

  ‘Don’t be surprised. Ever since the Khmer Rouge first appeared on the scene, there’s been close co-operation between them and some sectors of Thai business. The Thai police certainly have their informers among the Khmer Rouge. A lot of money has been made from timber and gemstones in one direction and arms in the other direction. Some of that money will have gone to Thai generals and politicians. That file shows that Connie Crum is in command of the Khmer Rouge in the Cardamom Mountains. It’s estimated that she’s got at least two thousand troops under her command. It also indicates that for the past two years she’s been clearing mines from that area and that most of her troops form a perimeter in the foothills leaving the mountains themselves largely unoccupied, except for local peasants in isolated villages. I don’t know why she’s done that.’

  Susanna and Jennings joined them. She asked: ‘Are you still going ahead after reading that?’

  ‘Yes,’ Creasy answered. ‘The only question is how.’

  Jennings interjected: In view of the contents of that file, I think the Cambodian govern
ment can be persuaded to make an airborne attack into the mountains. They could land inside the perimeter of her forces.’

  ‘They don’t have the training for it,’ Creasy answered. ‘And they don’t have the resources. There isn’t a single airborne battalion in the country. The most they could do would be to airlift a few hundred troops by helicopter . . . and they wouldn’t be enough.’

  The American shrugged and asked: ‘And you and your few friends would be enough?’

  ‘We would do it differently,’ Creasy explained, 'it would be an in-and-out operation conducted at night. We all know each other very well and have fought together many times. The Khmer Rouge are peasant soldiers without much sophistication or training.’

  He turned back to the bungalow and the others followed him. Inside, he opened a map on the table and pointed to the area.

  ‘It’s only thirty miles from the Thai border south of Bangkok.’ He turned to Jennings. ‘I’ve had a change of mind and a change of plan. Connie Crum has read my mind and she assumes that I’ll parachute onto that temple compound during the night some time in the next few days. We know from that report that she has a strong presence in Bangkok with her own companies and more than a hundred employees. I have to make her believe that I’m going to do exactly what she thinks. And I need your help on that.’

  The American was eager. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘First, information. There must be at least one or two private flying clubs in the Bangkok area. I need to know what equipment they have and whether they charter out their aircraft. Second, I want to know if there’s a shop in Bangkok that sells parachutes of the sporting kind. You know, they’re like a wing and used by parachute clubs.’

  Jennings said: ‘Well, if there’s no shop, I can certainly arrange to have some flown in.’