by James Samuel
“Don’t move,” said Preap at last. “Nobody move.”
Adam’s mask of horror told the story. One misstep had cost him. Only Preap approached him. The mercenary trembled. Nobody needed to announce what had happened. They all knew it.
Preap rested his hands behind his head. “I told you to stick to the trail. No shortcuts.”
“Help me,” Adam pleaded. “For fuck’s sake, help me.”
James stepped forward. “Preap, you’ve worked with them. Tell us what to do.”
Preap looked at James with a shake of the head. “He’s triggered a mine. We can’t do anything for him now.”
“There must be something,” James cried.
“There’s no way now.”
James’ breathing came short and fast. He barely knew Adam. A rival. But a man of good character. He couldn’t let him die like this. He wouldn’t.
“One movement and he’s gone. It can’t be disarmed. Why do you think foreigners use robots for landmines?”
Adam looked down at the fateful place his right foot had touched. The old landmine had been banned for use in war for a reason. Everyone knew these weapons weren’t meant to have a reverse setting.
“James,” he said. “It’s my fault. It’s my fucking fault. I should have stayed on the trail.”
“We’ll get you out. We can dig around and disarm it. It might take a bit of time, but we could do it. There are four of us.”
“And if I sneeze there’ll be none of you. You go on. Listen to Preap. He’s seen us alright so far.”
James fumbled for a retort. A reason to save Adam’s life. As he viewed Adam, so accepting of his fate, he knew they couldn’t take the risk. One slight movement from any of their untrained hands would blow them all to pieces.
“Here.” Adam took his gun and his bullets out of his pockets and tossed them into the clearing. “You might need them.”
Dylan swept them up. “Adam —”
“I don’t need your pity. You’ll do alright. I’m sure Sir Richard will give you your due when all this is over and done with. Come here.”
Dylan crept close to Adam. “What is it, Adam?”
“I’m not into being soft.” Adam fist-bumped Dylan. “Get off, you lot, and let me die in peace.”
“I’ll send a message to your family. I will. I promise,” Dylan stuttered.
Adam returned with a weak smile.
Preap and Blake moved on without another word. It took a couple of seconds for Dylan to turn away with tears in his eyes and disappear around the corner. Only James lingered longer than anyone else, still convinced there had to be something he could do.
“Remember what I said to you about Harrison,” Adam hissed. “That man’s trouble.”
James nodded.
“Now go on. You’re wasting time, and I don’t want anyone here when this goes off.”
James backed away, never taking his eyes off Adam. He gave him one final look, recording the image of the man who would die alone in the middle of nowhere. No body to bury. No face for his family to mourn over. No grave to mark with a bouquet of flowers.
And it could have been him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sihanoukville, Preah Sihanouk Province, Cambodia
Shao felt nothing for the death of Qiu. The life he’d taken with his own hands. No medals and no promotions would come from Beijing. Only faint praise sent from the Chinese Communist Party. Those who lasted within the party were humble, modest, and expected nothing in the way of recognition.
He reclined in a large leather chair in his office at the shipyards of Sihanoukville. General Narith had already arrived. Shao peered out of the window to see the military convoy. A long black car hummed between a couple of combat vehicles in front and behind it. A machine gun attached to each and a masked soldier manning it exuded power as the general climbed out of the car.
General Narith’s bodyguard always managed his comings and goings. They were less like bodyguards and more like friends. Shao had heard the rumours. Narith wouldn’t allow anyone to join his inner circle who hadn’t fled to Vietnam alongside him during the waning days of Kampuchea.
A Chinese aide entered the room. Shao didn’t recall his name. The general had a revolving door of aides that worked for him.
The aide bowed. “General Narith has arrived.”
“Good. Bring tea. Green tea, I think. I am sure the general is tired after his long journey from Phnom Penh.”
“Yes.” The aide bowed again. “In one moment.”
Shao used the final minutes of solitude to mentally prepare himself for another meeting with the general. Narith had an ego and he couldn’t control his own emotions. He always looked down upon people who ranted and raved to get their point across. It demonstrated weakness in Shao’s world.
The door opened and Shao snapped to his feet. General Narith entered the room alone. The hard lines seemed all the harder since their last meeting. His belly bulged against his shirt. They shook hands as friends but without any warmth.
“How was your journey?” Shao asked politely.
Narith sat on the hard chair in front of Shao’s desk. It creaked under his weight. “Long. There were no flights.”
“No flights?” Shao raised an eyebrow. “The army is unable to commandeer a plane when it wants?”
“It doesn’t work like that. If no plane is available, no plane is available.”
Shao nodded as his aide returned with the usual array of tea paraphernalia. He noted that Narith didn’t remove his gaze from him for a moment, even with his aide busying himself with the tea at his shoulder.
“What of this business in the capital?” asked Shao. “An attack on the palace. Is this part of the plan?”
“Not from our side.”
“My sources say this was a false flag attack. The prime minister’s own personal bodyguard. I know you have decided to tell the newspapers that the royal guard put Commander Chhaya down, but we both know that isn’t true.”
Narith inclined his head and waited for the aide to depart. The rich green tea released tendrils of steam from the rims of the cups. Their essence offered a mild massage for the nostrils.
“Tea?” Shao gestured to the cups.
“Enough of this, Shao. I didn’t come here to talk about tea or drink it. You’re right. The royal guard was useless. Most of them had been put to sleep by Chhaya and his men. It was a Lieutenant Kravaan who shot Chhaya, or I should say Commander Kravaan now.”
“Interesting.” Shao took a mug of tea between his hands. “Commander Kravaan…”
“Sen had no choice. I forced him into it. Kravaan stopped a traitor who tried to attack the king. Not to promote him would have caused him more problems than allowing one of my allies into his inner circle.” Narith’s eyes appeared to shine. “Now we’ve got into his inner circle. He’s more vulnerable by the day.”
Shao lapped at the revitalizing tea, withdrawing his tongue when the liquid began to singe his tongue.
Narith shifted in irritation.
“A wounded lion remains dangerous,” said Shao. “We must not underestimate Sen. There will be a riposte. He knows as well as you do that you have an advantage now and he will not allow it to stand.”
“What can he do to me?” Narith spat. “His little game with the King was supposed to delay me. Now, look. When the public is calling for his head, I can move in and finish this.”
“Stay on your guard. This is what I’m saying. Never celebrate before the victory has been achieved. Then we will have all the time in the world to savour it.”
Narith grudgingly agreed with Shao. Not that he could tell without reading between the lines. He gnashed his teeth together like a spoiled child. Shao imagined the general didn’t put up with people speaking to him as an equal on a daily basis.
“I performed some research into the issue of the foreigners. Blackwind. It seems that they are active against us,” Shao confirmed. “I have already identified them through my
sources.”
For the first time, Narith’s expression softened. “How are they involved?”
“They are working for Sen and they are working to undermine you. I am sure they were behind the deaths of both Saluk Chea and Prahn Sambath. It would not be an exaggeration to say that their next target will be Tep Prak. That would remove the Khmer Rouge from the board.”
Narith raked his top lip with his teeth. “You only found this out now?”
“These things take time.”
“You understand what this means? It will be a challenge to subdue the country without them. We were counting on their support. If Prak dies, it could cause a civil war that will tear this country apart.”
“You worry too much. They are more of a problem than a help.”
“They’re the only way we can control the countryside,” Narith bristled. “Are you Chinese going to replace them? You like interfering in other people’s business. Why can’t you interfere this time?”
Shao put his white cup back onto the tray with a smile. “The Khmer Rouge are fanatics… as you are perfectly aware from your own history with them. It is best that the last of that organisation is put to sleep, like a dog with rabies.” He pressed his palms together. “Sen has made a mistake here. If he loses public support, which he will, this will be no coup. The people will be begging you to remove him and take the office. There will be no war.”
Narith appeared to wrestle with his natural urges to scream with rage and his brain’s natural desire to spot the logic and notice the opening the false flag attack on the palace had given him.
“The King will also be on your side when he knows the truth about your role in preventing bloodshed on sacred ground.”
It took a few seconds, but Narith began to nod in agreement. Logic had won out at last.
Shao gave him a reassuring smile and gestured to the tea. His guest finally lifted the cup and indulged. Like a deflating balloon, the sting had been taken out of their confrontation. Shao knew he had Narith’s total confidence again.
Sooner or later, Narith would serve his purpose and then Beijing would have complete indirect control over the country. This went much further than an opportunity to expand a few shipyards.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Cardamom Mountains, Koh Kong, Cambodia
Night fell for the second time over the Cardamom Mountains. Depression pressed into the ruined stone building Preap selected as their camp. No lights. No fires. No sounds but those of the wild mountains.
Of the many sounds which echoed through the trees, fear rose above them all. The confidence of James’ ragtag party had hit the skids. They’d heard the stunning blast a few hours after they’d left the spot where Adam had triggered the landmine. James tried not to imagine the figure, which had once been human, turned into little pieces of charred flesh.
His eyes had adjusted to the growing darkness. The silvery moonlight shined through the holes in the roof and the square-cut windows. James looked upon the figures sitting with their backs to the wall. Nobody had slept and, soon, the sun would rise again.
James’ gaze rested upon Dylan. He’d felt Adam’s loss the most. The only man who had built a real relationship with him. Nobody had said much of anything to Dylan since the explosion. James had given him a comforting squeeze of the shoulder. It was all the group could muster.
“We should start moving,” said Preap at last.
The first words anyone had uttered for hours shook James from his thoughts.
“It’s still dark. We can’t see anything,” said Dylan. “There are more mines off the trail. If we lose it, we’re in trouble.”
Preap’s silhouette turned to Dylan. “We need to move. We’ll have the advantage. The camp isn’t far. The Khmer Rouge don’t patrol these trails at night. Makes it less likely we’ll run into them.”
“And what about us?” Blake questioned. “We’ll be blind if we can’t use the lights. It’s not like we have night vision goggles.”
James remembered the discussion they’d had over the night vision goggles. An operation like this mandated something to help them traverse the landscape at night. But this was Cambodia. It would have taken them days to have a few pairs shipped in from outside.
“I know the way.” Preap got to his feet. “The moon is bright tonight. Move slower and stick close. These roads are dangerous now. Expect a camp on our right, in a clearing about a mile from here.”
James inclined his head towards Blake. “Can we take it out quietly?”
“You tell me. You’re always the one who fucks everything up.”
“Prick.”
Everyone checked their equipment and got their things together. Blake carried the M4A1 and they started to move. Without Adam, it fell to Blake to take up the rear-guard. Blake may have landmines on his brain, and the mountains they were about to make run red with blood, but James couldn’t help but think they were being followed.
“Ready?” said Preap in a low voice. “The camps will have lights so we will see them a long way away. They won’t expect anyone in these mountains so we should be able to surprise them.”
James nodded in the darkness. This was the moment of truth. Would Preap fight for them or was he leading them into a trap? He vowed to himself to hang back and keep a strong eye on their guide. One wrong move and he would gun down the former Khmer Rouge without a second thought.
The journey through the moonlight began with each man trying to find their feet, trying to become comfortable with the bluish moonlight showing them the way. The narrow trail made every step its own round of Russian roulette.
James’ hearing grew in sensitivity. Each movement off the trail and every footstep from his ally became amplified. He soon lost track of how long they’d walked. The world became nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other. Praying he wouldn’t hear the metallic click that would herald the end.
It seemed like they’d walked for an eternity through the dark before Preap halted. James already had his hand on his gun in its hip holster.
Preap threw his hand into the air and brought it down in the distance.
James squinted through the trees. A faint little light blinded his night vision. The outer Khmer Rouge camp.
Preap gestured again for them to follow.
Everyone made one last check of their weapons. Bullets loaded. Safeties switched off.
Flanking the camp was impossible. With the threat of landmines, nobody suggested fanning out and taking them from multiple directions. James’ mouth hung open slightly, knowing one wrong move would alert the guards.
Only a single layer of trees hid them from the two guards at the camp. The Khmer Rouge outpost was little more than a clearing with a few ramshackle huts. A small fire burned in the middle of the camp. Some guerrillas slept in the full light of the fire; their arms draped over their AK-47s.
James scanned the remainder of the camp. A single trail led into the heart of the outpost. A high stone cliff behind sheltered them from the rainstorms that swept the mountains. Two awake and alert Khmer Rouge in camo and AK-47s congregated near the entrance.
A branch snapped and the leaves rustled. James froze, his breath caught in his throat. He looked at his foot and the damning evidence of what he’d just done. The two guards glared into the trees.
He melted further into the foliage, hoping to lure them away from the camp. Both guerrillas had their weapons pointed straight at him, but they couldn’t yet see him. His thoughts darted to the cyanide capsules in his pocket. Preap’s mercy.
The firing started out of nowhere. Blake let rip with the M4A1 carbine. The two men fell with cries and without firing a shot. Without waiting for orders, Blake charged towards the camp, gunning down anything that moved. Preap, Dylan, and James followed his trail, but they had no chance of getting a shot off without Blake stealing the kill.
In total, six Khmer Rouge in total disarray lay dead. None of them had ever known what was happening to them.
“Good,” said Preap without emotion. “Many of these men would have been in these mountains for years without ever seeing anyone other than villagers on the lower trails.”
“They got sloppy,” Blake grinned. “Serves them right.”
Blake preened around the camp checking the bodies and removing the dead men’s weapons. Other than weapons and a couple of pieces of sticky fruit, they found nothing of any real use.
The fire continued to crackle, sending skittering shadows over the bloodied corpses. James stepped around them. He didn’t like seeing the bodies of the dead. Their eyes wouldn’t leave his dreams for weeks afterwards.
“The next stop will be the central base, where we should find Prak,” explained Preap. “Our best option is to approach at night. It’s completely covered by a canopy of trees. The foliage is thick and there’s a little stream next to it.”
“Why don’t we wade up the stream?” Dylan suggested.
“That’s not a bad idea, Dylan,” said James. “As far as I know, the Khmer Rouge won’t have planted landmines in a stream.”
Blake scoffed at the idea. “Oh, come on. We’ll catch them by surprise if we just rinse and repeat. Look.” He gestured at the AK-47s and the plentiful bounty of ammunition. “If four of us move in with these strapped on, we can finish them before they even know what’s happening.”
Preap sent a cold look at Blake. “This was a small outpost with six men. They would have heard the mine earlier. That they could explain away. Gunshots like this.” He threw a hand at a corpse with its dead eyes reflecting the flames. “They know someone is coming for them. They’ll be ready.”
“Do they have any fuel here?” asked James.
Everyone turned to him, taken aback.
“Sure, I saw some motors and a couple of bikes parked at the back,” said Blake. “Why?”
James rushed into one of the empty huts and performed a sweep of the premises again. He found what he wanted. In a mini-fridge with mould growing on the inside of the door, he found some beer bottles.