“Makes sense,” Simon agreed. “So I have a question you might not be able to answer, wise guy. How’d Claire get past us?”
“She’s got moxie. I like her.” Arun slumped in a nearby chair. “Are you going after her?”
“Yes.” Simon’s answer was short as he dropped a change of clothes into his knapsack and zipped it shut. His stomach knotted at the thought of what she had done and, despite the fact that he’d mitigated some of it, at the danger she might face.
“Watch your back,” Arun warned when they reached the veranda.
“Don’t worry.” Arielle was behind them. “I’m going too.”
“No.” Simon wheeled around. This was unbelievable. It was bad enough one woman was in trouble. “Arielle, no.”
“I know. You don’t want me to go. Point taken, but I’m going. If nothing else, you need another set of eyes.”
“Shit, Simon.” Arun glared at Arielle. “These guys aren’t playing around.”
“Don’t think I don’t know it,” Arielle said. “Remember, I’m not proud of this, but I dated Samnang once.”
Arun swung to face the delicate blonde beauty. “Really?”
“Really,” she shot back. She raised her eyebrows. “What can I say? I was young and stupid and had a thing for older men. And he, I suppose, was experimenting. It was a long time ago. Anyway, I’ll do what I can to help.”
“One of us has to stay behind and keep tabs on Samnang,” Simon said.
“I know. We agreed on that, but you don’t need to be playing nursemaid to her.” Arun looked at Arielle.
Simon turned to Arielle. “Arun’s right.”
“Is he?” There was an edge to her voice.
“Seriously, I don’t need you getting into the middle of something you don’t understand. Getting hurt.”
“Simon.” She touched his arm. “It’s you who doesn’t understand. I’ve booked a return ticket on a public boat. I’m coming right back. But should there be pirates on this boat—well, let’s just say I might recognize one of Samnang’s men. Maybe some you’re not aware of.”
“We don’t need you, Arielle,” he tried to say as gently as possible to dissuade her.
She looked at her watch. “See you at the ferry,” she said as she hurried away.
• • •
The boat launch was crowded with families, merchants, chickens in cages and even a goat. All awaited the arrival of the boat that would ferry them to Phnom Penh. The early morning mist had barely lifted from Tonle Sap lake. In a strange way it felt like the morning dew hid the dangers that she’d read about on the boats ferrying between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh. And among those dangers, pirates weren’t uncommon. But this was the quickest way out—the flights were booked for the next twenty-four hours.
It was the voice that alerted Claire to his presence. It warmed everything it touched, thick, rich, sexy, a voice that could not be hidden in any crowd.
“We can load. Let me take that,” he said to the woman beside him.
It was Simon. Beside Simon, the woman stumbled. Simon reached for her, his dark head bent to her fair one. Claire’s throat tightened. Even after he steadied her, they remained like that, like they were sharing some confidence. It was a familiarity one saw with people who were intimate with one another, who knew each other well. How had she ever thought she had meant anything to him? What was she thinking? He was the wrong man. This was the wrong place.
She loved him. And he was with another woman.
Her chest constricted at the unwelcome revelation.
As Claire waited tensely for the boat to fill and the journey to begin she clutched the knapsack. She chewed at the inside of her lip even as she went over the possibilities of why he was here.
Did he plan to take the Buddha back? Did he even know she was here? She pushed farther back into the crowd.
She sat down in one of the few remaining seats in the middle of the boat and shrank down. Hopefully, out of sight.
Outside ropes were thrown on the sweeping wooden dock as the boat was untied. Men ran barefoot across wooden planks, hurling instructions at each other as the water churned and the boat prepared to launch.
Slowly, the boat turned, the throttle opened, and it took off. Outside she could see stilt houses and men leading their livestock to water while small boats and canoes plied the lake. After a time, the scenery became only a blur through the thick glass and she closed her eyes.
Claire began to doze but awakened as the motion of the boat changed and it slowed. She glanced ahead and met Simon’s gaze as he looked back at her. The hum of the engine knocked and rumbled and seemed to amplify, but the boat itself was now stopped.
She looked around. No one seemed frightened and yet this was a ferry known for speed—not one that stopped in the middle of the lake unless something was terribly wrong. She could hear the slap of heavy rubber-soled steps, one then two, maybe three. Rough voices followed.
She looked up front to where Simon had been sitting. He was standing up looking directly at her and his expression was worried. Claire rose as she tried to see what was going on. From her window there was only a view of the lake—whatever was happening was out of her view.
“Claire, sit. Please.” His voice was a mouthed undertone. “Give me the bag.”
“No.” Her breath quickened. What did this mean?
The door to the cabin burst open. Two men entered. Their faces were covered by the traditional Khmer checked scarf, the krama.
A woman screamed.
“Silence,” one man roared, the word thick and heavily accented. Both men were armed with what looked to Claire like assault rifles.
The other motioned to Simon to sit. He backed up.
Furtively, Claire glanced around.
“Sit!” The rifle jabbed at Simon.
Claire swallowed convulsively.
They kept coming down the aisle, their eyes glancing from side to side, examining each passenger, until they came to Claire.
She refused to look away.
“You,” the man snarled. His dark eyes and a swatch of dark hair that shone with hair grease was all that was visible of his face. Flat, black, emotionless eyes—she was sure that he would kill without a moment’s hesitation.
Claire gripped her knapsack, momentarily speechless as thoughts flashed through her mind. Could she hurl the knapsack at him, knock him unconscious? The thought was ridiculous. Besides, there were two of them and they were armed. Her throat seemed to close at the thought. She prayed that they all came out alive.
“I’m talking to you, bitch,” he said in thickly accented English as he poked her in the shoulder with the rifle. She jerked and lurched into the old man beside her, who pushed away from her.
“I . . .” The words, whatever they might have been, clogged in her throat.
“Leave her alone.” Simon sprang to his feet.
“Sit.” The other man advanced on Simon.
Simon sat.
“Your bag.” The man motioned with his rifle at Claire.
“Give it to him.” Simon’s voice was rough and urgent.
“Shut up!” The gun waved toward Simon.
Claire glanced from the gun to Simon. She reluctantly handed the knapsack over. She’d never passed out in her life but she felt like she could now, like if she stood up her quivering legs would not hold her, and at the same time she had another urge, one so strong that it overpowered the first. She fisted her free hand at her side because all she wanted to do was rise out of her seat and smack this man, again and again and again. She gritted her teeth.
Oblivious to her thoughts, the thug took the bag. He backed up, his gun sweeping any of the passengers he perceived as a threat. He roared what sounded like instructions, but this time in Khmer, before backing through the door and leaving the cabin.
As quickly as it had occurred, it was over. The thieves leapt from the ferry to a smaller craft, the boat’s front end lifting as the engine was gunned.
Claire got up. They wouldn’t get away with this. She eased her way down the aisle and to the exit, where she jiggled the knob and pushed on the door. It wouldn’t open.
“It’s locked from the outside.”
She turned to see Simon beside her.
“It’s the usual trick of the river thieves. That way we can’t follow. For that matter, we don’t know if they came from a local village or if they’re returning to Phnom Penh. Either way, they’ll become anonymous.”
“They weren’t regular river thieves, were they?”
“No,” Simon said with slow precision.
“Samnang,” she whispered.
He did a slow nod. “Not him specifically but those who work for him.”
Around them the other passengers began to murmur but all remained in their seats. She pushed away from the door and returned to her seat as the engines hummed back to life.
“You’ll be all right.” Simon’s voice was a caress as his hand rested on her shoulder. “They won’t be back.”
She glanced up at him.
His face was pale beneath his tan. “I’ll sit with you.”
“No. Please, Simon, I’d rather be alone.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
He squeezed her shoulder and looked back twice as he walked away.
She looked out the window and tried to still her shaking hands.
When the boat docked, she couldn’t get on land fast enough, but on the dock she waited.
“There’s no point hanging around.”
She swung around to face Simon. “What do you mean?”
“The captain will file a complaint. I imagine later this afternoon. If they need us, they can check the passenger roster, but they didn’t last week or in July either.” Simon rubbed his chin. “Don’t look so shocked. It’s a regular occurrence.”
“Why were you following me?” she asked.
“Claire, look, I don’t want to play games with you. I know what you were carrying.”
Someone jostled him from behind and he lurched forward before steadying himself.
“Do you?”
“Claire . . .”
“Leave it, Simon. There’s nothing to discuss.” She strode forward easily, wending her way through the merchants and regular passengers filling the pier. She opened the door to the first waiting taxi, negotiated the price and shut the door, sucking in a huge relieved breath.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Claire perched on the cab’s hot vinyl seat. The scent of stale air freshener, roses, permeated the sweaty interior. She believed Simon when he said river pirates were common, but the fact that there was no need for a police report was beyond unsettling.
It was strange how a police report was her first thought. So much had changed since she’d first passed through Cambodian immigration almost two weeks ago. The door opened, breaking her thoughts.
“Move over.”
Simon pushed her over on the seat.
“What are you doing?” She reached for the handle. “Simon!” she hissed.
His hand settled on her knee and she shoved closer to the door, but there was little room to move anywhere. His leg pressed against hers, hard and hot. Sweat beaded her forehead. “Get out.”
“Shhh.”
His hand moved up, covering hers. “I’m making sure you get to your hotel safely.”
“Why?” She gave him a sideways glance. “Where’s your date?” she asked as the cab moved into traffic.
“I think you know.” He leaned forward, pinning her to the door as he kissed her. “My only date is you,” he said, his lips feathering hers.
Five minutes later he was nodding as they pulled up to her hotel. “Good choice.”
“Simon, there was no need. You shouldn’t have followed me.”
“Every need. We’ll talk after you see Vanna.”
“Vanna. Damn you. What don’t you know?” She shook her head and walked away. As if it was possible to ignore him. As if it were possible that she’d never see him again. As if that was what she wanted.
She phoned Vanna as she waited for check-in to be completed, and in the cab to meet her Claire let her attention drift. The main shops and hotels that fronted the river were set off by wide sidewalks with orderly trees, all of it set against the elegant French architectural influence of Phnom Penh’s core. For a while she pretended to be like any other tourist and tried to enjoy the scenery but it was impossible, and after a few blocks she gave up.
At a little sidewalk café a young woman stood waiting. She was all understated elegance, her smile seeming to reach across the space between them.
“Claire!”
Their words were lost in the embrace that seemed to carry across time.
“It’s been forever.” Claire took a step back while still holding her friend’s hands.
“Eight years since graduation,” Vanna confirmed.
As they shared stories over cold Angkor beers at the sidewalk café, it was as if they’d walked back in time to the small Mexican-style pub they’d visited so often during the cold North Dakota winters as they went through college and dreamt and matured together.
“Why didn’t you call me the minute you got here?” Vanna asked as she stretched her long legs. The glitter on her perfectly manicured nails winked in the late afternoon sun.
“I wanted an unbiased first look at the setting, some background, without your color.” Claire smiled and held up her hand. “Don’t say it. I know I take my job seriously. It’s not just a story. Not to me.”
“It’s more than that.” Vanna uncrossed her legs and swung forward in the chair. “What’s happened, Claire?”
Twenty minutes later, Claire’s beer sat mostly untouched and Vanna had downed her second.
Vanna tapped her foot against the metal table leg, the methodical tap jarring the table. “We’ve got to find that Buddha.”
“What would be the point? I think the theft proves its value.” She frowned, thinking back over Simon’s words. “Simon promised to tell me details later.”
“As much as he’s told you to date? I wouldn’t hold my breath.” Vanna downed the last of her beer.
“There’s more,” Claire said softly. And the rest of the story came out, from Claire’s concerns about Simon to her meeting with Samnang. She didn’t mention her discovery about her Uncle Jack. Somehow that seemed like too much, too personal.
“Wow!” Vanna pushed back in her chair and folded her arms.
“That’s all you can say?”
“We’ve got to go to the authorities.”
“I did go to the authorities in Siem Reap.” She shrugged. “They weren’t overly interested. I told Simon about it and he said he’d follow up with his contacts here.”
“I think you should stay here until this Samnang is arrested.”
“I can’t. He might never be arrested.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wasn’t last time.” Claire went on to explain about Samnang’s stolen identity and her encounter with him in Bangkok.
“There’s much more, isn’t there?”
“It’s complicated. It would take longer to tell you what I don’t know.” She leaned forward and took Vanna’s hand. “Promise me you won’t ask me why, but what did you find?”
Vanna slipped her hand free and grinned as she opened her bag. She passed a sheet of paper to Claire. “Here, read for yourself. I don’t know if it will answer all your questions. The list isn’t complete—none of the records are.”
As Claire read, she unconsciously clenched her fist. Her Uncle Jack had been one of the most notorious members of the Khmer Rouge from 1975 to 1978 and then he had disappeared. And Samnang, he had been the same, but that didn’t shock her. But the uncle she had loved and respected, who had come into their life when she was in her late teens, had been nothing but a fraud. He had portrayed himself as a victim, a prisoner of the camps. Instead, he was a killer. And even though what little Simon h
ad said had forewarned her, even though her uncle hadn’t denied it, it felt like too much.
“Claire, what’s going on?”
Claire met her worried look and instinctively covered her hand and squeezed. “Thanks for all of this, Vanna, but I made a mistake coming here.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m going back.” She let Vanna’s hand go and pushed her drink aside.
“Are you nuts! I’m going with you.”
“No. This story is important enough for me to take the risk. It’s not for you.”
“I’m going with you,” Vanna persisted and her jaw jutted slightly.
“No. Besides, you’ve got to work.”
“Work? I’m off, as of today.”
“What do you mean?”
“I work for the university. Leaves aren’t hard to come by. Budget money is. They will be happy to let me go for a few weeks. So”—Vanna threw her hands in the air—“you’re stuck with me. If I can’t talk you out of it, then there’s safety in numbers.”
“I’m serious, Vanna. No!”
“Have you fired a gun?”
Claire choked. “What are you saying?”
“If it comes down to that, defending yourself, can you do it?”
“Do you have one? A gun, I mean.”
“No, but I can get one.” She eyed Claire. “There.” She clunked her empty glass down. “Done.” Vanna held out her hand. “Partners?”
“You don’t know what you’d be getting involved in.”
“You need me.”
“No, Vanna. I have a personal reason for hanging on. You don’t.”
“Bullshit! You’re my friend, that’s reason enough.” She held out her hand. “Partners.”
There was no dissuading her and Claire shook her hand reluctantly. “Partners,” she agreed, and was hesitant to think what they would end up being partners in or how this game would end.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Intent to Kill Page 14