by Mark Green
‘You can think of me as a debt collector, Rupert. Sometimes, this means finding people for my clients, other times I recover valuable items. I don’t normally concern myself with why my clients want these things returned, or people found. I concentrate on providing an efficient and confidential retrieval service. In doing so, I never expose myself to unnecessary risk. So you, Rupert, are going to pay in advance for another seven days, then you are going to deposit that suitcase in your room, for collection later. This means the trail stops dead, with you. When we find Madeline, and have recovered the other case, you can negotiate with your London creditors as to what happens next. I hope for your sake they’re feeling suitably charitable. Otherwise, you and your wife-to-be are truly in a deep, deep world of hurt.’
Nineteen
Maddie relaxed her state-of-constant-readiness grip on the spongy brake levers and flexed the tension out of her fingers. She took several deep breaths and allowed herself a quick glance around her as she pedalled along. The pace of traffic on the main road out of Battambang had slowed marginally to a continuous conveyor belt of vehicles, rather than the multi-directional chaos of the town centre.
She cycled past low-lying paddy fields and makeshift roadside petrol stations. The smaller fuel stops sold clear one-litre glass bottles containing varying shades of cloudy, amber-brown liquid stacked on rickety tables. Bigger service stations consisted of an oil drum filled with fuel with a hand pump and hose dispenser under a parasol. Occasional market stalls dotted the road, serving cold drinks from battered polystyrene cool boxes with home-built wooden seats, shaded under ice cream insignia parasols. Other stalls offered cooked rodents on sticks, displayed above a smoking barbecue.
The bicycle convoy meandered on in the stifling heat, skirting the edge of the potholed tarmac road. The frequency of lone palm trees increased the farther away from town they cycled, vying for space amidst the growing density of lush vegetation. Trucks and motorbikes weaved their way past towing trailers stacked high with produce, regularly overtaken by scooters carrying up to four passengers, often zipping by on both sides of the road.
‘Water stop, pulling in …’ Charlie called out over his shoulder.
The procession slowed, brakes squeaking, wheels and baskets rattled over the loose scree as they peeled off to the side of the tarmac onto a compacted mud verge. Maddie squeezed her brakes early, freewheeling to a controlled halt behind Charlie.
‘Getting my stopping distances sorted now – result.’ Maddie eased off the saddle and propped the bike up against a fence surrounding a plastic table and chairs. She slipped under the parasol beside Kao, her cheeks glowing. ‘Thank goodness for the shade. Its scorcheo out there.’
‘Mad frogs and English ladies go out in the midday sun,’ said Sandy. ‘There’s only two things to drink on a day like this. Bottled water or fresh coconut water.’
He stood up respectfully to greet the café owner, a cheerful Cambodian lady in her mid-forties. Sandy removed his sunglasses and smiled, exchanging a few Cambodian phrases with her. ‘Everyone, this is Chanlina.’ The group all smiled and nodded. Sandy sat back down into his seat. ‘Call out your drinks order, folks.’
Chanlina scribbled on her notepad and glanced across at Sandy, darting her eyes away quickly when he met her gaze.
‘I think we’re around halfway,’ said Charlie, spreading a pamphlet map on the table.
Sandy unfolded an old pair of scratched reading glasses, perched them on the end of his nose and studied the map. ‘Yup. We’ve been going an hour, so that’s about right. I was chatting to the owners of our guest house about the killing caves. This is almost unbelievable, but the Cambodian government has had to restrict access to some areas due to tourists taking souvenirs.’
‘What sort of souvenirs?’ asked Kao.
Sandy glanced around the table, his eyes misting over. ‘Remains of the victims.’
‘Seriously?’ said Gabby.
Sandy nodded gravely. ‘Bones, skulls … macabre memorabilia.’
Silence descended around the table, interrupted only by the occasional exceptionally noisy scooter buzzing by or an ancient truck graunching and groaning, its engine clinging on to life.
Charlie folded up the map and removed it to allow Chanlina to place the first fresh green coconut on the edge of the table. She picked up a machete.
Whack, whack, whack! Chanlina expertly sliced three diagonal cuts in the top, rotating the coconut one hundred and twenty degrees between each swing of the machete, using the edge of the blade to prise out a perfectly cut triangular bung. She removed a new straw from its plastic sleeve and placed it in the hole, then slid the coconut across the table to Kao. Chanlina repeated her expert chopping strokes, deftly cutting an upside down pyramid section out of the top of each coconut. Maddie watched the blade swipe through the air, each blow forming a consistent slice on the green flesh, perilously close to Chanlina’s fingers. She looked away and shuddered, wringing her hands together in her lap, an uneasy sensation spiking in her palms, transiting through her limbs like a taut guitar string being sadistically plucked.
• • •
Fender studied the entrance to The Wild Orchid Villas Hotel. ‘This is the place?’
Rupert nodded. He hobbled up the steps behind Fender, his joints still stiff from the Taser shock.
‘Good morning. I’m looking for my daughter, Madeline Bryce. I believe she stayed with you recently.’ Fender opened a small notebook with Maddie’s name written in it and placed it on the desk. Then he held up Rupert’s smartphone which displayed a photograph of Maddie. Two fifty-Baht notes poked out from beneath the notebook.
The receptionist studied the phone and discreetly palmed the currency. ‘Yes. She been here. I check.’ She opened the hotel registration book, leafing through the pages until her finger rested under Maddie’s details.
‘I believe she left recently, on a bus to Cambodia. I need to know who else was with her. The bus company told me there were twelve travellers. Do you know how many stayed here, at this hotel?’ Fender withdrew a bundle of folded bank notes from his pocket. ‘I would be very grateful if you can tell me their names …’ He peeled off five one-dollar bills and tucked them under the corner of the registration book.
The receptionist flicked her eyes around the lobby, then studied the list of names again, cross-checking with a separate receipt book containing numbered stubs of bus tickets, handwritten with the date and passenger room numbers. She copied several names onto Fender’s notebook and passed it to him. He glanced at the list of names and nodded. ‘The other five passengers, do you know who they are?’
She shook her head. ‘You need ask them.’
‘Okay. Can I look at this?’ Fender rotated the registration book to face him and flicked back a page, using his phone to photograph the relevant names, making sure the passport numbers were in sharp focus. ‘Thank you,’ he said, pocketing his phone and notebook. The receptionist smiled, sliding her hand clutching the money under the desk.
Fender pressed his palms together under his chin and nodded once, then turned to Rupert. ‘It’s likely some of the group are doing a circular route, taking in the main attractions. My bet for their first major destination would be the Cambodian capital, Phnom Penh, or the temples of Angkor at Siem Reap. I’ll relay this intel up the line, see what we get back. In the meantime, I’ve had confirmation that she crossed the border at Pailin.’
‘Confirmation from whom?’
Fender glanced at Rupert. ‘Sources.’
• • •
Maddie glanced hurriedly left and right, following Sandy’s bicycle through a lull in oncoming traffic, pedalling across the main road and into the small, winding lane. She allowed her shoulders to relax, slowing now in keeping with the sedate pace of the inhabitants milling around the periphery of the road. Overgrown trees, banana plants and bushy greenery dangled, encroaching over the narrow strip of tarmac. Music played from a roadside shack, clear and undistorted. People tended
to their properties, chatting, washing clothes, hanging them on lines strung between single-storey wood buildings. Scooters zipped past, pulling out from random hidden paths, some staying on the opposite side of the road, others hurtling directly towards them, haphazardly dodging the group at the last moment.
Ahead, through a near-tunnel of overhanging foliage, a green algae and vegetation-clad rock face rose majestically, tall and imposing in the stifling, penetrating heat. Children ran to the roadside, waving and smiling at the cyclists. ‘Sous-dey!’ they called out, grinning at the pale-skinned visitors.
‘Hello!’ Maddie smiled, lifting a hand to wave, quickly dropping it back onto the handlebars to rescue a front-wheel wobble.
Sandy eased to a stop beside a small official-looking payment shack. He stepped off his bicycle and rested it against the fence. ‘We can leave our bikes here, they’ll look after them while we walk up to the caves,’ he said, removing his wallet from a pocket as he approached the kiosk.
‘How are your legs?’ asked Kao, leaning against the fence at a forty-five degree angle, stretching her calf muscles.
‘Still there, I think.’ Maddie removed a bottle of water from her basket and took a long drink. She passed the bottle to Kao then looked up at the steep twisting path clinging to the side of the rock.
Kao took a mouthful of water and rolled her eyes. ‘Medium next time!’ she declared, pulling a face as she rubbed her sore muscles.
• • •
Rupert watched the other vehicles fall away behind them as the taxi weaved its way through the suburban traffic, far less intimidating and congested than Bangkok.
‘I’m intrigued, Rupert. What possessed you to take that ridiculous level of risk?’
Rupert turned from the window to face Fender who had his phone balanced on his knee, fingertip-typing a message.
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Then give me a summary.’
Rupert took a moment, sat back further into the seat. ‘Turns out I’m not so good investing my own money.’
‘Cards and roulette?’
‘A bit. That and bad stocks, underperforming shares – with borrowed funds. Trying to buy myself out of trouble. But the market turned against me.’
‘Did she know?’
‘No. Maddie’s had enough to deal with.’
‘She didn’t know about the Samsonite specials?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Deniability – if you got caught?’
Rupert shrugged, shifted his eyes away.
‘Still a huge risk, not to mention a tad inconsiderate.’
‘Maddie’s married to her designer clothes and comfortable lifestyle.’
Fender looked up from his phone. He studied Rupert’s expression. ‘How much are you in for – what might you lose, if you don’t complete your delivery trip?’
Rupert swallowed hard. He looked down at the foot well. ‘Everything and … everything.’
‘Is the right answer.’ Fender leaned in towards Rupert. ‘Because if we don’t locate Madeline and that other Samsonite case …’
Rupert glanced up, briefly holding Fender’s hard stare before nodding vacantly and sweeping his gaze back out of the window. ‘I know,’ he muttered, his voice strained and barely audible.
Twenty
Barry stepped out of the minibus into the heat and energetic bustle of Phnom Penh. A dozen Cambodian drivers ranging in age from late teens to early sixties pressed forwards, all vying for his custom.
‘Tuk-tuk … tuk-tuk …’ they proclaimed, a constant mismatched chorus of sales patter.
‘Hiya guys, no thanks. No. Ort the! Ort the!’ Barry filtered through the throng of bodies to the back of the minibus and retrieved his backpack, pressing a ten Baht note into the driver’s hand. ‘Leah hari,’ Barry said cheerfully, winking and pressing his palms into a prayer gesture before weaving his way through the crowded market stalls.
He headed for the far side of the street where the concentration of bodies thinned out, allowing him to find a quiet corner to rest his pack against a building. He glanced back at the thronging market, shook his head and chuckled to himself as he opened his tobacco box and began rolling a cigarette. ‘Barry me old mate,’ he muttered, ‘this girl had better be worth it.’
• • •
Maddie rested her hands on her knees, doubled up at the edge of the steep path, waiting for her sporadic breathing to settle down.
‘You okay?’ said Charlie, stepping up to her side.
She nodded, accepted the water bottle he offered, taking a swig. ‘This heat … there’s no air.’
‘No. Getting here was easier than this,’ he agreed.
‘Yeah. Who’d have thought I’d miss a bicycle.’
‘Or stilettos.’
She shot him a quizzical look, gauging his expression.
‘I read a magazine article, some time ago. You remind me of … well, it’s just that you seemed similar to—’
‘The Bryce is Trite?’
He nodded.
‘Not the kindest of headlines.’
‘That was you?’
‘According to the gossip columnists. Their photographers caught me after a boozy night out, trying to climb into a taxi in the early hours. You’ve seen the image a thousand times – smudged eyeliner, creased party clothes, laying in the gutter. Not their finest hour, or mine.’ She handed the bottle back to him. ‘Cheers.’
Maddie straightened up and continued plodding up the relentless steep slope. Charlie unscrewed the bottle’s lid, wiped the top and took a long drink, watching her bottom wiggle as she traversed the next corner and disappeared from view.
• • •
Barry panned slowly around at the hotel lobby. Smoked glass windows, shiny soft leather seats, a long black marble bar top. Plush and elegant decor. He shrugged the pack off his back, propped it up against the side of the bar and climbed onto a stool, glancing over at the figure on his left, a lopsided grin lighting up his face. ‘Bit classy, ain’t it?’
Jody rested her hand between the two cocktail glasses stood on the bar in front of her and slid one towards him. ‘But I’m worth it, right?’
Barry picked up the glass, tossed the straw onto the bar and took a gulp. He gargled, then swallowed the cool liquid, crunching on a fragment of ice cube.
‘Filtered water ice. It is a classy joint.’
Jody picked up her own glass and swivelled around on the stool, pursing her lips as she sipped the muddy liquid through the straw. ‘Glad you came,’ she said in a neutral tone, replacing the glass on the bar.
‘Guess we’ll soon find out …’
She slowly rolled her lips, licking the remnants of the cocktail. ‘Recognise the taste?’
‘Sex on the beach?’
She pouted, licking along the length of the straw. ‘Only if you’re a really, really bad boy.’
Barry swept the glass up to his mouth, drained the remaining contents in one mouthful and picked up his pack. ‘You can always rely on an Aussie to be a problem child.’ He reached around her and plucked her room key off the bar, sauntering past, heading deeper into the hotel.
‘Did somebody miss me?’ she called after him, a smile twitching on her lips.
‘Come and find out, before I go it alone,’ he replied, pressing the lift call button.
Jody collected her mobile phone from the bar top, slipped off the stool and strolled over to him. ‘So, mister man. Who’s going to apologise first?’ She twirled a curl into her hair.
‘Let’s just cut to the fun bit.’ He pulled her close, kissing her firmly on the lips.
‘You boys, so predictable.’
Barry led her into the open lift. ‘I surprise myself, sometimes.’
Jody pressed her body against him. He cocked an eyebrow and dropped his chin down to kiss her again, discreetly checking his watch as the doors closed behind them.
• • •
Maddie lowered herself carefully into the hammock
and gazed out over the endless shades of green and brown patchwork terrain, far below. The fields were bordered with straight roads over which a dusty vehicle haze hovered, smudging the crisp boundaries. She flapped her tee-shirt, lifting her chin to maximise the cooling effect as she ducked back under the shade offered by the woven leaf roof above the hammock.
‘I’ve got a local guide to show us around,’ said Sandy, from the periphery of the group. He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, stepping aside to reveal an eleven year old boy with tightly cropped black hair, wearing shabby leather-strap sandals and a red wraparound monk’s sash.
‘I am Malik. Hello. Follow, please …’
Maddie wriggled out of the hammock and eased her feet onto the ground. She stretching her arms out and twitched forwards.
‘Need some help?’ Charlie offered his hand.
Maddie grasped it and hauled herself up. ‘Thanks, was getting a bit too comfy.’
‘Yeah, looks cosy. Good for a snooze, later.’
Maddie released his hand, cast her eyes away from his and scurried ahead of him to catch up with Gabby and Kao.
‘We’ll take a circular route around the top, finishing at the caves,’ Sandy said to the group, nodding at Malik to lead on.
‘How are you doing?’ asked Gabby, pausing to allow Maddie to catch up to her side.
‘Okay, I think. You?’
‘Good. Your shadow seems … keen, today.’
Maddie glanced over her shoulder at Charlie, a little way behind. ‘You think so?’
‘Oh yeah.’ Gabby winked and squeezed Maddie’s arm as she leaned in. ‘He needs a cold shower – or chemical castration.’
‘Wow, make great photo,’ said Kao, peering through the group gathered at the top of a long flight of concrete steps descending into a deep, vast cavern. A thick stone handrail – carved to look like a snake’s body – sat on top of foot-square balustrades and descended with the steps, sitting up and fanning out at the cavern’s floor into a tall, wide tail. High above the steps, the cave dripped with moist spiky green and brown stalactites.