The Honourable Assassin

by Roland Perry

  ‘And me? Am I a target?’

  ‘Never!’

  ‘I’m sorry for what has happened . . .’

  ‘Don’t concern yourself. I knew this was a set-up. Ya t’ing’s involvement was also a clue. Your poor “brother” needs some help.’

  ‘The Buddha has forgiven him for his transgressions.’

  ‘Oh, yes, the Buddha. He’s very generous.’

  The Mexicans approached Jacinta. ‘I’ll be in touch later,’ she said.

  Jacinta told Cortez: ‘That was him again. He says the monk will tell us where he dropped him off. I think he is inviting you to come after him. What you do is your choice, but I have researched this man. He was here on a special military assignment against the Khmer Rouge thirty years ago. He does know the terrain extremely well. And he is a very good, experienced sniper. His kills on Labasta and Mendez were the most expert executions I have ever encountered.’ She paused, letting the information permeate his reptilian mind. ‘I am in charge but I’ll let you decide. Personally, I wish to live.’

  As the Mexicans debated what to do, Jacinta said, ‘You must make a decision soon. The longer you leave it, the more difficult it will be to track him.’

  The Mexicans began to argue. Minutes later, Ya t’ing’s boat was chugging in their direction. The Mexicans took up assault positions, with rifles aimed at the oncoming vessel. Jacinta drew her handgun.

  ‘Don’t shoot!’ she said.

  ‘I am alone!’ the monk called in Thai. ‘I dropped him off near the fish factory!’

  Jacinta stood at the helm and turned to the Mexicans.

  ‘Put down your weapons,’ she instructed. They obeyed.

  It was obvious that Cavalier was not on board.

  *

  When the two boats were both anchored close to shore, the monk jumped onto Jacinta’s boat. She translated his words into English for them but added a few twists.

  ‘I could hear him meeting people!’ she translated. ‘There were several of them!’ She described the jetty as the monk had but placed it on the other side of the river, near the fish factory.

  ‘Who was he meeting?’ Cortez demanded to know.

  ‘They spoke English,’ Jacinta interpreted again. ‘He thinks they were Americans. It seemed he was leading you into a trap.’

  Cortez’s face blanched as he, no doubt, contemplated that he was the most wanted man in the States. The Mexicans huddled again. Finally, Cortez said in a half-whisper to Jacinta, ‘There will be another time.’

  Jacinta nodded. ‘Wise,’ she affirmed. ‘Very smart. You can choose your terms, your terrain.’

  The Mexican nodded. She ordered the Cambodian pilot to take them back to the border post.

  Cavalier trudged along a track until dawn, when he reached the town of Chau Doc, deep in the Mekong Delta. He checked his phone. There was an hour-old message from Jacinta: ‘Cortez has backed off. We are going to fly back to BKK.’

  Cavalier dismantled his rifle, placed its pieces back in the canisters and put them in his backpack. He walked past floating fish farms on the banks of the Bassac River, which formed a T-junction with the Mekong tributary that he had sailed down. He stopped at The Victoria, a colonial-style hotel that was right on the water. Cavalier had no trouble booking a room using the James Bolt passport.

  He was hungry and raided the hotel fridge of its chocolate bars. Then he assembled his weapon again. He pushed a heavy sofa against the door to his room and fell asleep with his rifle on the floor next to him. He slept for three hours until 10 a.m. and was dozing when his mobile rang. It was Gregory.

  ‘You haven’t been in contact for days!’ Gregory said, agitated, ‘we were worried.’

  ‘I’m in Vietnam. It’s all good. Really lovely hotel too.’ He pulled the curtain across to see light morning mist, an inviting pool, the river, and a continual run of boats in all directions.

  ‘There’s a strong whisper that a certain Mexican’s been dealt with,’ Gregory remarked.

  ‘Really?’

  Gregory didn’t push it. ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I’d love to have a look at Hue. I’d like to see the temples and tombs there.’

  ‘Do you have a visa?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How will you get out?’

  ‘Not a problem,’ Cavalier said.

  Gregory observed with a chuckle: ‘I guess not. Never has been for you, mate.’

  Later in the afternoon, Cavalier received a text message from Jacinta: ‘Thank you my very good friend. I owe you, forever.’

  ‘No, I think we can call it square.’

  ‘I told the Mexicans you had been responsible for Labasta’s demise, which created anxiety on top of Cortez thinking you liquidated Mendez. Am I right about Labasta?’

  ‘I’ll tell you that if you tell me it was you who sent me the tape about my daughter. I guess it came from Ronaldo?’

  ‘We can discuss all this another time. Thank you so much for caring enough to act as you did. It was an honourable thing to do.’

  Cavalier was considering a very late breakfast when he received a further text from Jacinta: ‘Just heard Chief Azelaporn has been fired by the generals. No reason given yet but social media’s speculating it’s to do with the junta’s professed aim of cleaning up corruption. I may lose my job too, by association. No word yet.’

  He responded: ‘I hope not. Wish you were here. We have much to celebrate.’

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank Greg ‘Wombat’ Thomas, Lyn Thomas, David and Kampeerada Holt, Frederique Lallement, Tony Maylam, Molly Sasson, Waewdow Tapea, literary agent Jo Butler, publishing editor Belinda Lee and publisher Sue Hines.