Creasy was reassured. Maxie was the best tracker he had ever known and had the instincts to know when he himself was tracked.
Jennings looked on curiously as the mercenaries greeted each other with the customary kiss next to the mouth. He was startled to realize that these men were all middle-aged. They had come from an almost forgotten period, but they had not forgotten their craft. One glance into their eyes was enough to tell him that.
They arranged themselves around the oblong table. The Dane put his computer in front of him and opened it. Jennings slid a piece of paper in front of Creasy, who studied it and then nodded in satisfaction.
‘I’m glad you got an RPG-7 . . . You’ve done a good job, Mark. Thanks!’
Susanna asked: ‘What’s an RPG-7?’
Guido provided the answer, 'It’s a Russian made anti-tank weapon. The best there is.’
She thought for a moment, then asked: ‘Do you expect to meet tanks down there?’
Guido shook his head. ‘None showed up on the aerial survey, but that weapon has other uses. It can blow away heavy metal gates and doors, and of course other vehicles apart from tanks.’ He glanced at Creasy. ‘How many rockets?’
‘Four. They’ll be enough.’ He looked up at Jennings. ‘To save time, I’d be glad if you would brief Maxie and René on the aerial photographs.’
Jennings nodded importantly. As he laid out the photographs in front of him, the two mercenaries moved round to look over his shoulder.
Creasy turned to Jens and tapped the list of equipment in front of him. He said: ‘The distance from Trat to Tuk Luy is about forty-eight miles, so with this VHF equipment we’ll be in good radio communication with you. After we secure their base, Guido and I will go on to the temple. We’ll keep in touch, but only when absolutely necessary. I doubt those guys have listening equipment, but these days you never know. That light plane should only take off from Bangkok when I give the word.’ He turned and interrupted Jennings’ briefing. ‘Mark, you’ve lined up two guys to go on that aircraft to simulate Guido and myself?’
‘Yes, two of our agents. The guys are outside the door. It just happens they’re roughly the same build as you and Guido. They’ll be fully briefed. Leave that to me.’
Creasy looked at him for a moment, then nodded. ‘OK, that’s your department. Meanwhile, the two jeeps and the rest of the equipment will be waiting at Trat?’
‘Yes, they’ll precede us by a few hours. I’ve secured a safe house with a compound down there.’
‘Good. Then we need to arrange a safe assembly point in Bangkok and transport to Trat.’
Jennings could not keep the smirk turn out of his voice. ‘That’s been done. Don’t forget, Creasy, we do have quite an organization as back-up.’
Creasy glanced at Guido. ‘So they should,’ he said, ‘with a budget bigger than most small countries . . . OK, let’s go over the details.’
They worked for the next two hours. Susanna was astonished at the attention to detail, and her conception of a bunch of hired gunmen dissolved into admiration as she listened to each of them make their contributions and suggestions. Although they deferred to Creasy as a leader, they were all very individual and forceful in the debate. At one point René suggested that three of them should make the assault on the temple. Maxie shook his head and pointed out that Creasy and Guido had always worked in partnership, and that having a third man along would be more of a distraction than a help. He said with a grin: if it takes three people to do it, then Creasy and Guido can do it alone.’
The Cambodian Nol Pol had been deftly brought into the discussion, and was treated by all of them as an equal. They pored over the large-scale maps and aerial photographs, and the Cambodian pointed out the best routes.
Finally, when the meeting broke up, Nol Pol spoke a few words in French to Creasy before being guided away by one of Jennings’ security men.
‘What did he say?’ Susanna asked.
Creasy shrugged, and answered: ‘He asked that if possible I bring him from that temple the head of Connie Crum . . . You picked the right man, Susanna.’
Chapter 67
When Susanna got back to her room the message light on her phone was flashing. She called the reception and was told that a Mr Elliot Friedman had phoned and asked her to call him on a personal matter. The message was timed half an hour previously. She looked at her watch and calculated that it was now seven thirty a.m. in Washington. Elliot must have been up early. She phoned him at home.
He immediately said: ‘Don’t discuss your project. I’m getting fully briefed via our friends over at Langley. Just wish the guys good luck from me.’
‘So why are you calling?’ Susanna asked.
She could hear the sigh come down the line. I’ve got a problem with a certain Professor Jason Woodward.’
Susanna had been standing by the bed. Abruptly she sat down on it. ‘What’s the problem, Elliot?’
‘He’s pestering me all the time. He’s desperate to get in touch with you. What the hell have you done to that guy? I thought it was a kind of low-key relationship. But he calls me half a dozen times a day at the office, and even at home. Yesterday he barged into my office demanding to know where you are and what you’re doing. What do I tell the guy?’
‘Tell him the truth,’ she said. ‘I’m in South East Asia on a mission connected with MIA. The mission will be over within seventy-two hours, after which I’ll call him.’
‘And I promise him that?’
‘Yes, Elliot. Promise him that I’ll call him within seventy-two hours.’
‘OK. Good luck to you and the guys. Take care of yourself, honey.’
‘Thanks, Elliot. Goodbye.’
She cradled the phone and sat on the bed thinking for several minutes, wondering what was in Jason’s head. She thought that maybe it was a question of anxiety that she had decided to keep the baby. On an impulse she picked up the phone and started to dial his home number. But as soon as she had tapped in the first digits, she changed her mind. He could wait. Tomorrow night it was possible that men could be dying, men who had become precious to her. Right now those thoughts were more important than anything else. She stood up and walked to the bathroom. But before she was halfway there, the phone rang. She went back and picked it up. It was Creasy.
‘Have dinner with me tonight,’ he said in his gruff voice.
‘Is that an order or a request?’ she asked.
‘It’s an order. We need to discuss the whole operation for tomorrow night.’
‘I thought we just spent two hours doing that.’
‘Yes, we only have to discuss it for thirty seconds.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then we can talk about what’s not going to happen after dinner.’
‘OK. Where and when?’
‘Let’s meet at eight o’clock in the bar.’
‘It’s a deal.’
She put the phone down and again headed for the bathroom. As she reached the door, the phone rang again. She went back. It was Mark Jennings. His voice was tentative.
‘I was wondering whether, if you have nothing planned for tonight, you might have dinner with me?’
She stood by her bed with the phone at her ear and suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of being wanted. She let him down gently.
‘Mark, I’d love to have dinner with you, but I can’t. Creasy just called and we need to have a discussion about the operation tomorrow.’
‘I thought everything was worked out now?’
She thought quickly and answered: ‘Everything is worked out. But there are other details. If anything happens to the other men, Creasy wants me to arrange matters for their families. He needs to explain what I have to do. You can understand that, Mark. Six men are going deep into Khmer Rouge territory. You know the danger. Some of them may not come back. Creasy wants to be sure that their personal arrangements are taken care of.’
There was a silence and then he said reflectively: ‘Yes, he would. He’s that kind of guy
.’
‘Let’s take a rain-check on that dinner.’ ‘Is that a promise?’
‘It’s a promise! See you in the morning.’
This time, she made it to the bathroom.
Chapter 68
They left Bangkok at dawn, travelling south in a minibus. After three hours they stopped on the outskirts of the town of Sattahip and ate the sandwiches and drank the coffee supplied by the hotel. The six men who would be crossing into Cambodia somehow grouped together by the roadside. Susanna, Jennings and the Embassy driver stayed inside the minibus.
‘They seem relaxed,’ Jennings remarked. 'You'd think they'd be as tense as hell. Even that guy Nol Pol looks relaxed. And he knows better than any of them what he’s going into. If they catch him over there, it’ll be a slow death.’
Susanna looked at the Cambodian. He was talking to Guido and occasionally smiling at something the Italian was saying.
‘How do they communicate?’ Jennings asked.
‘In French. Guido was in the Foreign Legion.’
The men were in a loose circle, holding their mugs of coffee.
‘It’s like a form of osmosis,’ Susanna remarked. ‘In a way, they have sucked him into their team. He feels like an equal. That’s how they do it. Creasy is the leader, but any occasional observer would never know that. They’re all equals. They’ll all rely on each other. They’re relaxed because they’re doing what they enjoy. In a way, they never grew up. They’re a sophisticated form of a street gang, a bunch of kids about to do something naughty.’
Jennings laughed softly. ‘Something naughty! Susanna, you have a gift for understatement.’
The men finished their coffee and climbed back into the minibus. The driver headed due east along the coast road. The Gulf of Thailand stretched away in a blue swatch to their right.
*
The house was secluded; set in a walled compound within a grove of banana trees. The two Shoguns were parked at the rear. They were painted black. As the minibus pulled up beside them, an elderly Thai couple emerged from the back door and greeted them.
‘Who are they?’ Creasy asked Jennings.
‘They’re secure,’ Jennings answered. ‘I won’t mention their names, but he was one of our covert agents for thirty years before he retired about five years ago. Let’s go inside.’
They filed into a spacious room with a single fan rotating above a long table. As Susanna looked at the table, she felt a sudden wave of embarrassment. It was covered with weapons from end to end. Submachine-guns, pistols, spare magazines, knives, grenades, black uniforms, webbings and flak jackets. At the very end of the table was a black rocket-launcher and four cone-shaped rockets. She was embarrassed about her earlier words to Jennings. This was no street gang going out to do something naughty. This was warfare in its starkest light.
But the men did not seem to see it that way. They crowded around the table, handling the weapons and commenting to each other about them. Creasy picked up one of the submachine-guns and then asked Nol Pol a question in French. The Cambodian shook his head.
Creasy passed him the weapon and then said to Guido: ‘He’s only ever used an AK47. Please show him how to use it and strip it down.’ He turned to René and Maxie. ‘You’re familiar with it?’
They both nodded. Maxie glanced at The Owl, who shook his head and said: ‘I don’t use things like that. I’ve got my MAB pistol and that’s all I want.’
Creasy picked up the rocket-launcher and nodded in satisfaction. it’s the model D,’ he said as he unscrewed the tube, it makes it easier to carry.’ He looked at René. ‘You’re the mechanic,’ he said. ‘Please check the engines of the jeeps while the rest of us strip down these weapons and check them out. Then we’ll all try to get a few hours’ sleep.’ He looked at his watch and then at Jennings. 'It's better we eat about seven o'clock.'
‘No problem,’ the American said. He gestured at the Thai woman. ‘She used to keep a safe house for us in Bangkok, and I’m told she’s a fine cook.’
The small, round-faced woman obviously understood English and was pleased with the comment. She smiled broadly and said: ‘You want steaks or Thai food?’
Creasy looked around at the group. Only Maxie chose a steak. ‘Typical Rhodesian,’ Creasy noted. ‘Everything that doesn’t have horns and four legs is uneatable.’ He looked again at his watch. ‘Nol Pol estimates four hours to Trat. So our ETD will be eight thirty.’ From the table he picked up one of the VHF radios which was about the size of a large mobile phone. He gave it to Jennings and said: ‘Mark, please go with the minibus about five miles away from here and test transmission. Your code name will be “M”. The code for this house will be “B” for base. Keep the transmission short.’ He moved down the table and picked up a single, green uniform with a flat, peaked hat and passed it to the Cambodian, saying in French: ‘So now you’ve rejoined the Khmer Rouge, at least for one night.’
The Cambodian held the uniform in his hands, looking down at it. His face had turned sombre.
Chapter 69
They kitted up after dinner, first changing into black uniforms - apart from Nol Pol, who put on the dull green trousers and tunic of the Khmer Rouge. Susanna, Jennings and Jens watched as they went through the ritual facing each other in pairs, one checking the other’s equipment. Again the thought of a ragtag bunch of mercenaries was dispelled forcibly from Susanna’s mind. These men were serious soldiers; even The Owl, who looked a little incongruous in his black uniform and thick spectacles. She asked if he would be taking his Walkman with him and he replied with slight astonishment: ‘Naturally.’
She glanced at Jens, wondering about his thoughts. Would he feel left out of what was the culmination of a team effort? His normally animated face was now serious as he watched his friends prepare. Then she witnessed the depth of Creasy’s leadership. He turned to the Dane, pointed at the VHF radio in front of him and said: ‘Now you’re in charge, Jens. You have to co-ordinate everything we do. After we take that base and Guido and I assault the temple, there may be some confusion. There always is in a fire-fight. We know that the radios work well. I’ll have one with me and Maxie will have one at their base. But you must monitor all our calls in case there is any kind of interference. In effect, this house is now our operational base. You know our plan. As soon as we secure the base, we’ll let you know. Then you’ll ask Mark to activate his agents in Bangkok to take off on that chartered aircraft. We need to know the moment that it’s airborne and that it’s heading on the bearing of one-twenty degrees. It should continue on that bearing until it’s about a mile from the temple. It should then turn onto a bearing of one-nine-oh and circle the coast over the Gulf of Thailand before returning to Bangkok about an hour later.’
Jens tapped his computer. ‘Don’t worry, Creasy. It’s all in here. What about code names?’
‘You are “Base”. I am “Green One”, Guido is “Green Two”, Maxie is “Red One”, René is “Red Two”, The Owl is “Red Three” and Nol Pol is “Blue One”.’
The Dane fed the information into the computer.
Creasy looked at Susanna and said: ‘We don’t say long goodbyes. We think that’s unlucky. We’ll see you in the morning.’
He picked up his SMG and led the men out into the compound. Over his shoulder, he said: ‘Jens, we’ll do a radio check after we’ve crossed the border.’
Susanna and Jens and Jennings stood by the door, watching as Nol Pol climbed into the driving seat of the lead jeep. Creasy sat beside him, with Guido in the back carrying the rocket-launcher. Maxie drove the second jeep with the other three. They drove out of the compound without a backward glance.
They trooped back into the house. Jennings said: ‘I wish he’d have let me have a back-up force ready. If things go wrong, I could have had a bunch of hard guys to chopper in there.’
As they sat down at the table, Jens said to him: ‘I’ll explain why he didn’t let you do it. It’s like these modern explorers or solo round-the-world sailors
. They might be in the middle of the roaring forties or halfway across the Arctic icecap. If they get into trouble, they pick up their radio and say “Help”. Back at base, a plane takes off and in a couple of hours is dropping supplies or even people to help them out.’ He gestured with his thumb. ‘Those guys are like Scott or Amundsen. They don’t want a nanny watching over them. It’s why they do that kind of work. It’s not just the money, especially in this case. It’s the thrill of the danger. They’re hooked on adrenalin.’
‘Even The Owl?’ Susanna asked.
‘Yes, even him.’
She decided to satisfy her curiosity and asked: ‘But not you, Jens?’
The Dane shook his head and then tapped it with his forefinger. ‘I’m more cerebral. I’m not saying they’re stupid. In fact, they’re all highly intelligent.’ He thought for a moment and then went on: ‘You might say it’s a question of co-ordination. You can be sure that they would all have been good sportsmen. They have the co-ordination between eye and limb that enabled them to become experts with the weapons they just took out of here.’ He smiled. ‘I was always hopeless at sports. It was embarrassing at school. We played football and handball and I hardly knew which was which. When I was in the Danish police, I had to take a firearms course like everybody else. The instructor was being generous when he told me that the target was safe when I held a gun.’
Jennings had been listening intently. He said: ‘You’re an honest man.’
Jens shrugged and answered: ‘I’m also important. I don’t feel bad about not going in with them. I do the investigating and the planning and when the action starts, I’ll be co-ordinating. I’ve done it before with this team. It makes it easier for them, knowing that I’m here. Someone has to do it and I’m happy doing it.’ He looked at his watch. ‘They’ll be crossing the border in about an hour. That’s the crucial time. If they get through undetected, there’s very little Khmer Rouge presence until they ford the upper reaches of the Tamyong River. Then it’s a grey area until they reach Tuk Luy. We know from the aerial survey that most of the Khmer Rouge soldiers there have moved south. We don’t know how many remain. When they get to within a kilometre, Creasy will send in Maxie to recce. He’s the best there is.’
Message from Hell (A Creasy novel Book 5) Page 23