Chapter 70
‘We’re in Cambodia,’ Nol Pol said, braking the jeep to a stop.
Creasy was looking at the map. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. The countryside is the same, but I can feel it. We’re in the killing fields.’ He pointed across Creasy to the left. ‘Soon we should see the lights of the village of Cam Tray. They have no electricity, but they have kerosene lamps. Then in another ten minutes we should reach the Tamyong River. It’s only a stream up here. After that, we’re deep into Khmer Rouge territory.’
They were on a dirt track, which the Cambodian explained was usually only used by bullock carts. From the back seat Guido asked: ‘Does the track continue like this?’
‘No,’ the Cambodian answered. ‘It gets worse as we near the river. That will be a danger point. The Khmer Rouge have several camps along that river. After that we have a clear run through to Tuk Luy.’
Creasy said to the Cambodian: ‘When we get near the river, turn off the headlights and wear the night sights. It’s difficult, but possible.’ He picked up the VHF radio, switched it on and said: ‘Green One to Base. Do you read?’
Three seconds later, Jens’ voice came back: ‘Base to Green One, loud and clear.’
Creasy spoke again: ‘Green One, to Red One. Do you copy?’
From the jeep fifty metres behind, Maxie spoke into his radio: ‘I copy.’
Creasy said: ‘We’re in Cambodia. In about ten minutes from now, we’ll switch off our headlights. Do the same and wear night sights.’
‘Affirmative.’
Creasy nodded to the Cambodian, who engaged the first gear and edged the jeep forward.
It happened as they came down the track towards the river. Both Nol Pol and Creasy were wearing the Trilux night sights strapped to their heads. Simultaneously, they spotted the two figures standing on the track. They both held rifles. Creasy picked up the radio and quietly said: ‘Two Khmer rouge ahead. We’re stopping. Slow down and have Red Two and Red Three leave your vehicle and cover us from the flanks. Then drive on and stop behind us.’
Maxie’s voice came back. ‘Will do.’
The two men on the track had raised their rifles. They were AK47s. Nol Pol gently braked to a halt. One of the Khmer Rouge moved away to the side. The other approached the jeep, his gun held high. From the back seat, Guido whispered: ‘I have him covered.’
Creasy lifted off his night sight, saying to the Cambodian: ‘Take yours off. You know what to tell them.’
Nol Pol followed the instruction and then said: ‘I’ve rehearsed it many times. These two are peasants and not regulars. They use them simply for patrolling.’
The Khmer Rouge reached the driver’s window. The AK47 was pointed at Nol Pol’s head. He looked at Creasy and at Guido in the back and then turned abruptly as the second jeep pulled up behind. He shouted something to the other Khmer Rouge, then pointed his rifle at the second jeep.
Creasy was startled by the tone of Nol Pol’s voice. He shouted at the Khmer Rouge. When the soldier tried to say something, he shouted at him again. The soldier backed away about a metre, but his gun was still pointed at Nol Pol. Creasy realized that he was listening to an officer addressing a very junior soldier. Nol Pol lowered his voice slightly as he spoke several sentences. Creasy knew that he was explaining that Nol Pol was an officer in the Khmer Rouge and he was escorting five mercenaries who had been hired by Connie Crum, the Cobra, to clear mines in her region. They were moving without lights because there had been rumours of government troops in the area. Had the soldiers seen any government troops?
Slowly, the Khmer Rouge soldier lowered his AK47. He spoke to Nol Pol respectfully, with his sandalled feet loosely at attention. Then Nol Pol turned to Creasy with a slight smile. He said: ‘He has heard of no government troops in the area, although they bombed a Khmer Rouge camp about ten miles away yesterday . . . Do you have any cigarettes?’
‘I don’t smoke. Do they want cigarettes?’
‘They always want cigarettes, especially American cigarettes.’
From the back seat, Guido said: ‘René smokes Marlboros.’
Creasy opened the door of the jeep and jumped down. He called out: ‘René!’
From the bushes thirty metres away, René emerged with his submachine-gun held ready. The other Cambodian soldier swung his AK47 to cover him. Nol Pol shouted an order which was repeated by the other soldier. The AK47 was lowered.
‘Do you have any cigarettes?’ Creasy asked René.
‘Naturally,’ the Belgian answered. ‘I’ve got a couple of packs.’
‘You’ll have to sacrifice them,’ Creasy said. ‘Give them a pack each. We’re among friends.’
René lowered his SMG and reached into his tunic pocket, saying: ‘I’ll give them a pack and a half to share between them. I’m not going through withdrawal symptoms in the middle of a fight.’
The atmosphere became convivial. Both the Khmer soldiers rested their AK47s against their side of the jeep while René counted out the cigarettes. Then they had another conversation with Nol Pol, picked up their rifles and moved down the track. He started the engine, saying to Creasy: ‘They’ll show us the best place to ford the river.’
As the jeep moved forward, Creasy asked: ‘Will they communicate with Tuk Luy?’
‘No. They cannot. They have no radios. They come from the village we just passed. They assume that I’m a Khmer Rouge officer. Of course, in such a rural countryside, the word will eventually get around that we’ve been here. But by that time, we should be out.’
The two jeeps surged across the shallow river half an hour before midnight, with the two Khmer Rouge soldiers wading in front, puffing away at their Marlboros. Then, with waves of goodbye, they watched the jeeps move off into the darkness towards Tuk Luy.
Nol Pol said: ‘It won’t be so easy if we run into regular units. We’re entering the area from which I defected. They might know me.’
‘They won’t open fire without warning,’ Creasy said. ‘They’ll have a look first. If they recognize you, we’ll gun them down. Guido will have you covered at all times.’
From behind, Guido slapped the barrel of his SMG and said: ‘You’re covered. And if we’re stopped, René and The Owl will be on each flank before they see the second jeep.’
Chapter 71
‘What happens if he meets any Khmer Rouge soldiers?’ Nol Pol asked.
‘He won’t,’ Creasy answered. ‘He’s the best scout I know. He moves like a cat, and at night, cats don’t bump into dogs or anything else that might be dangerous.’
They were parked on a ridge about a kilometre away from the faint lights in the distance. Maxie McDonald had just merged into the darkness in front of them. Creasy looked at the dial of his watch. ‘It’ll take half an hour,’ he said. ‘Let’s have some coffee, Guido.’
They quietly climbed out of the jeep and the Italian produced a Thermos flask and three plastic mugs. He also produced a small medicine bottle and shook three pills out into his palm. Creasy took one and gestured at the Cambodian to do the same.
‘It’s Dexedrine,’ he explained, it keeps you awake and alert. It’s banned by the Olympic Athletics Committee, but I don’t think anyone will turn up here to give us a test.’
Nol Pol washed down the pill with his coffee and asked: ‘So now we just wait?’
‘Yes, we wait for Maxie to call in. No one is going to surprise us.’ Creasy gestured off to his left. ‘René is out there on the left flank and The Owl on the right flank.’ He took a sip of his coffee and asked: ‘How long were you with the Khmer Rouge?’
For the next twenty minutes, prompted by the curious questions of Creasy and Guido, the Cambodian talked about the insanity of the Pol Pot regime. He described how anyone with an education was considered an enemy of the State, and the absurdity of the fact that Pol Pot and all his cadres were educated men themselves. He talked of the collective madness where even infants of educated people were considered tainted and to save wa
sting a bullet were clubbed to death.
‘It’s always the kids,’ Creasy remarked.
The Cambodian nodded and said: ‘It was Day One. I’ll never forget listening to the cadre on that day when we took Phnom Penh. He addressed the soldiers in my unit and told us the Khmer people had no history. Our culture, our temples and our monks were nothing and would be destroyed. We were beginning the first day of the Khmer people. Everything that happened before Day One had to be eliminated. We would be a clean and new people. We cheered and the killing began. It was a mass blood lust. After a while, killing people became meaningless. It was part of our new culture.’
‘It’s not the first time it has happened,’ Guido said sombrely. ‘And it won’t be the last.’
They were interrupted by Maxie’s voice coming from the radio clipped to Creasy’s webbing.
‘Red One to Green One.’
Creasy pulled up the radio. ‘Green One, go ahead.’
‘I’m in the village. It’s just a cluster of houses and huts. No sign of Khmer Rouge activity. The only lights are in the main house. I managed to get a look through a window. There’s a Caucasian guy in there, shackled to the wall, with two guards wearing Khmer Rouge uniforms. They’re sitting at a table drinking beer. I’ve done a complete perimeter check and there’s no activity at all. Over.’
Creasy pushed the ‘Send’ button on the radio. ‘Green One to Red One. Good situation. We’re coming in. Meet us half way. Green One to Red Two and Three. Start moving in two minutes, staying a hundred metres out on the flanks. After we take that house, close in, but stay outside and cover. Green One to Base. Do you copy?’
The Dane’s voice came in with a slight crackle. ‘We copy.’
Creasy said: ‘We should acquire that house in the next fifteen minutes. Then I’ll call you to have that aircraft take off.’ He switched off the radio and clipped it back onto his webbing, picked up his SMG and said: ‘Let’s go!’
Chapter 72
The Dutchman had decided that he was going to die in spite of Connie Crum’s consoling words. He had been in danger many times in his life, but had never felt the premonition of death. He felt it now. He looked at the two Khmer Rouge soldiers sitting at the wooden table laughing and joking, and he felt the rage welling up inside him. He had been paid for the job, but he had done the job well. He always did his work well. It was a matter of principle, regardless of the paymaster. He looked at the shackle on his left wrist. It seemed to represent his entire life. He had never been really free. There was always someone to tell him what to do and how to do it. His one regret was Tan Sotho. He had become fond of her. It was not a word normally associated with people like him.
The rusty hinges of the door squeaked as it opened. The Dutchman looked up. Creasy was standing there. He had a revolver in his hand, unbalanced by a fat silencer.
The Khmer Rouge soldiers scrambled for their rifles. Creasy shot them both. As they fell to the floor he stood aside and another man came through with a submachine-gun held ready. De Witt recognized Guido Arrellio. He moved quickly to the two soldiers and checked that they were dead. Then he nodded to Creasy, who walked over to de Witt and looked down at him. He said: ‘I told you the last time I saw you that if I ever saw your face again, I’d kill you.’
De Witt laughed harshly and said: ‘It makes no odds. If you don’t, she will.’
‘She is Connie Crum? She’s in the temple now?’
‘Yes. She is waiting for you.’ He laughed again. ‘She expected you to come by parachute.’
‘How many men does she have?’
‘I don’t know. Nobody knows.’
Guido had moved over to stand beside Creasy. He asked the Dutchman: ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Ten months.’
‘Have you seen any Americans?’
‘No. But there were some here until about three years ago. They were prisoners of war and they were used to clear mines. I was told that the last one got blown up three years ago.’
‘Who told you?’ Creasy asked.
‘A woman, she’s Vietnamese. She was trapped here. They make her work as a prostitute. She has a young son by one of the Americans.’ He looked up into Creasy’s eyes and said: ‘Whatever you do to me and anybody else, I ask a last favour: that she is not hurt.’
Creasy glanced down at him and replied: ‘I don’t make war on women who don’t make war on me . . . You laid the minefield round that temple?’
‘Yes . . . It was a work of art.’
‘How many accesses are there?’
‘Just one, only a metre wide.’
‘You have a map?’
‘No. No-one has a map. The men I trained here laid that field with me. After it was finished, she had them all killed.’
‘So how did she get into the temple?’
The Dutchman shrugged. ‘I showed her the bearings. She took notes.’
Creasy turned to look at the two dead soldiers and then gestured at the shackle on de Witt’s wrist. He asked: ‘Do they have the key?’
‘No, she has the only key.’
Creasy said to Guido: ‘Call The Owl. He’ll open that thing up.’ As Guido walked to the door, Creasy asked de Witt: ‘Where are that girl and her child now?’
‘She lives in the house at the end of the track with her son. Her name is Tan Sotho.’
Guido returned with The Owl. Creasy pointed at the shackle. ‘Can you open that?’
The Owl squatted down and looked at it, then pulled out his lock-pick. ‘No problem,’ he said. ‘It’ll take a couple of minutes.’
Creasy said to Guido: ‘There’s a woman called Tan Sotho who lives in the house at the end of the track. She has a young child. Please bring them both here.’
Guido went back to the door. Creasy asked de Witt: ‘What do you know about the Khmer Rouge deployments in this area?’
The Dutchman looked up and said: ‘Before I tell you anything else, answer this question. Are you going to kill me?’
Creasy shook his head. ‘As far as I’m concerned you’re vermin and you always were, but I’m not going to kill you. In about half an hour, you’re going to lead me through that minefield. Then, if we get out, I’ll take you back to Thailand and you go free.’
The Dutchman thought about that and then nodded. He said: ‘I hate your guts, but you’re known as a man who keeps his word. There were a lot of Khmer Rouge in this area until about two weeks ago when Connie Crum moved them out to the southeast. As far as I know, there’s only one detachment remaining, which is in a village called Ak Lau about a mile due south from here with about twenty men.’
The Owl had done his work. He pulled open the shackle. De Witt stood up, stretched his frame and rubbed his wrist.
‘Don’t try anything,’ Creasy said, ‘or you’ll surely die. I have other men outside, men like Maxie Macdonald and René Callard . . . Not exactly friends of yours.’
‘You brought the cream,’ de Witt said wryly.
The door opened and Guido ushered in the woman and the child. She looked at the two dead bodies and then at de Witt. Her fear was evident in her eyes.
‘Do you speak English?’ Creasy asked.
She nodded.
‘Then understand that you have nothing to fear from us. We will leave soon for Thailand. If you wish, you can come with us, with your son.’
The boy had a round face and button eyes. He was holding on to his mother’s leg. Creasy asked her: ‘Do you know a man called Jake Bentsen?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘He was killed clearing a minefield.’
‘When?’
‘About three years ago.’
Creasy was looking at the boy. ‘Is that his son?’ he asked.
She hesitated, and then said: ‘I think so . . . I hope so. Jake was a good man, gentle and honest. He never hurt me like some of the others do.’ She put her hand upon the boy’s head. ‘Jake died three months before Kori was born.’
/>
Guido had pulled the two dead bodies into a corner and covered them with the stained cloth from the table. Creasy asked de Witt: ‘When Connie Crum was here, where did she stay?’
‘In the house next door.’
Creasy turned to The Owl and said: ‘Go and check that house. Look into every room, look for documents and maps. If you locate a safe,” try to open it. But you only have ten minutes.’ To Guido he said: ‘Radio Jens. I want that plane to take off from Bangkok in five minutes.’ He turned to Tan Sotho and gestured at the table and chairs. ‘Please sit down. I want you to stay in this room with your son until we return.’
As she sat down with her son on her lap, Creasy asked: ‘Do you know a man called Van Luk Wan?’
Before she answered, he saw the look of distaste on her face. ‘Yes. He’s a bastard and a sadist. I’m ashamed that he’s a Vietnamese.’
De Witt said: ‘He was with Connie Crum yesterday, and I guess he’s still with her now.’
Creasy nodded in satisfaction. ‘Good. This time I won’t miss.’
Tan Sotho was watching his face. Abruptly, she said: ‘You’re Creasy?’
He glanced at Guido and then asked her: ‘How would you know that?’
‘Because Jake spoke about you. He was your friend.’
Creasy sighed. ‘Yes, he was my friend. And I’m sorry I got here three years too late.’
Chapter 73
The satellite phone buzzed and Connie Crum grabbed up the receiver. She put it to her ear and listened, then gave Van Luk Wan a wicked grin. She said: ‘That chartered plane has just taken off from Bangkok. It filed a flight plan for Phnom Penh, and of course it will make a slight diversion over here.’
Message from Hell (A Creasy novel Book 5) Page 24