Message from Hell (A Creasy novel Book 5) Page 11

  She could see Creasy’s eyes in the moonlight, and she believed him. Now there were three lives in her hands. She spoke to the Vietnamese and something extraordinary happened. He started to laugh hysterically. From behind, Guido smacked him hard across the face, knocking him sideways and onto his knees. Slowly he picked himself up. He started talking to Susanna and gesturing at Creasy. She translated.

  ‘That is exactly the same threat that he received from the people who hired him. They told him that if he talked to you or anybody else, they would kill him and his daughters.’

  ‘Shit!’ The word came out of Creasy’s mouth as an explosion. He walked down the jetty, continuing to curse under his breath. He stood at the end of the jetty for more than two minutes, then turned and walked slowly back.

  ‘Untie him,’ he said to Guido. ‘And the stone from his feet.’

  Guido followed the instruction while Creasy paced up and down the jetty. The Vietnamese rubbed the wrists of his freed hands. The fear was still in his eyes as they followed Creasy’s every movement. Finally, Creasy turned and walked up to the slight figure. He reached up his hands and gripped him by his shoulders. Then he said to Susanna: ‘Translate exactly everything I say.’

  He was looking to the Vietnamese man’s eyes. He said: ‘I would not have killed you, and I do not make war on children. The people you work for have no such qualms.’ He paused while Susanna translated. Then he went on. ‘You’re caught between a rock and a hard place. Now you’ll tell me what I want to know, and then, in return, I will give you the gift of your children’s lives. After you’ve talked to me, you will continue to follow us for the next forty-eight hours and continue to report to your masters about our movements. Within those forty-eight hours, I’ll bring two men to Saigon who will guard you and your family. The choice is yours. You can talk to me and have protection, or you can walk away now.’

  Susanna finished the translation. Creasy dropped his hands from the Vietnamese man’s shoulders and stood back. The only sounds came from the forest. The Vietnamese was looking down to the dark, worn planks of the jetty. Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at Creasy, and then asked a question.

  ‘Who are these men who will protect me and my children?’

  Susanna translated, and then translated Creasy’s answer.

  ‘They are men like me.’

  The Vietnamese said: ‘I will talk to you.’

  Chapter 25

  ‘So you do have a heart.’

  Creasy gave her a shrug.

  ‘Susanna, about two years ago I was visiting Jens in Copenhagen and I had some trouble with an old wound. Jens sent me off to the hospital and they gave me a full check-up, including an ultrasound scan. It was amazing. I was looking at a television monitor and I could see all my insides, my lungs, liver, kidneys, intestines . . . And suddenly, I saw it. I asked the doctor: “What the hell is that?” He said: “That’s your heart!”‘ Creasy grinned. ‘So yes, I do have one. Occasionally it works. I’m sorry that we put you through that scene earlier, but it was necessary. You were the psychological conduit to Tran Quock Cong. If you didn’t believe what I was saying, then neither would he.’

  ‘You had no intention of drowning him or killing his children?’

  ‘I told you before. I don’t kill people who are not trying to kill me.’

  They were in Creasy’s room at the Continental Hotel. Jens was tapping at the keys of his computer. Beside him was a large-scale map of Indo-China. Guido was on the telephone. The Owl was encased in the earphones of his Walkman. Tran Quock Cong was sitting at a bar across the road, watching the hotel entrance.

  Guido cradled the phone and stood up. He said: ‘OK. Maxie got hold of René in Brussels. They’re catching a flight out of Paris in the morning. They arrive at Tan Son Nut airport the following morning at ten a.m. They’re flying club class, so they’ll be rested . . . But Creasy, they’re going to need weapons.’

  ‘Yes, they will. And so will we. I’ll talk to Billy at the Mai Man Bar. He has the connections.’

  ‘Who are these people?’ Susanna asked.

  ‘Old friends,’ Creasy answered. ‘Maxie Macdonald is an ex-Rhodesian. He fought in the war there with the elite Selous Scouts, one of the toughest units in any army anywhere. René Callard is a Belgian. He was with me and Guido in the French Foreign Legion. Now he’s a specialist bodyguard. Tran Quock Cong and his family will be safer than if they were holed up in Fort Knox.’ He turned to the Dane. ‘So what do we have, Jens?’

  The Dane stretched his shoulders and then studied the screen of his computer and assumed his policeman’s tone.

  ‘Tran Quock Cong, born September 1958 in a village near Hui. He only had primary-school education. His parents were killed during an American bombing raid when he was twelve years old. He found his way to Saigon and became one of the thousands of street urchins feeding himself by being a pickpocket and petty thief. When the communists took over, he became an informer for the secret police and was trained by them in surveillance techniques. He remains an informer but does private work on the side. Three weeks ago he was approached by a man called Cong Hung. That is probably a false name. He was offered a job to follow a foreigner who was expected to arrive in Saigon about two weeks later. He was given a thousand US dollars in cash and told to travel to Phnom Penh and check into the Quai Ban guest house. He did so and was contacted by a Cambodian woman called Pan Chamnan, probably also a false name. She took him by train to the town of Sisophon near the Thai border, and from there they were taken by Land Rover on a two-hour journey during which Tran Quock Cong was blindfolded. It was a dirt road. They arrived at an army camp in the forest, near a village. Tran Quock Cong estimates that they were travelling due north, and looking up a map later, thinks that they may have been near a village called Chek. It was a Khmer Rouge camp. There he met a man who called himself Ha Minh Hien, who from his description is almost certainly your friend Van Luk Wan. He was given a photograph of yourself. It was taken at least twenty years ago but showed the scars on your face that you still carry. He was given a further two thousand dollars in cash and a portable Samsung fax machine and a fax number in Phnom Penh. He was to send his reports to that fax number with the prefix code word of CALAN. He was to send his reports daily at six p.m. He spent a day and a night at the camp, during which time he overheard several conversations indicating that the Khmer Rouge were holding several American prisoners who were put to work clearing mines. The following morning he saw one of them at a distance. He wore leg shackles which restricted his movements. He was bearded, aged between forty and fifty years old. Before he was driven back blindfolded to Sisophon, he was told by the man calling himself Ha Minh Hien that if he failed on his job, he and his wife and two daughters would be killed.

  The Dane looked up at Creasy. ‘I’ve checked the area in Cambodia and confirm that it’s a Khmer Rouge stronghold.’ He glanced down at the map. It’s only twenty miles from the Thai border. As far as the Cambodian army is concerned, it’s a no-go area.’

  Susanna stood up and moved to the phone, saying: ‘I have to call my boss in Washington. If there are Americans there, they must be MIAs.’

  ‘Hold on,’ Creasy said, ‘if you pass that information on to your boss, what will he do?’

  ‘He’ll send in agents, maybe even come himself. This is the first real sighting we’ve had for years.’

  ‘What will those agents do?’

  ‘They’ll try to infiltrate the area.’

  Creasy glanced at Guido, and then said to her: ‘That could be a major disaster. The last thing I want is a bunch of enthusiasts running around that area. If there are MIAs there, the Khmer Rouge can always whisk them away within minutes.’

  ‘It’s my duty,’ she said.

  Guido spoke up. ‘Fuck your duty, Susanna! You were told to co-operate with us. You also told us that you’re now officially on holiday. I suggest you let us work out a plan and then if we need any back-up, we can call on your department.’
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  ‘It’s the best way,’ Jens agreed. ‘First we need more information. I want to trace the fax number in Cambodia. Now that we have Tran Quock Cong on our side, it’s possible we can set up a dummy operation and flush these people out. At least the Phnom Penh cell. In this kind of operation it’s necessary to move step by step.’ He looked at Creasy. ‘I think that Tran Quock Cong was an unknowing plant. They expected you to pick him up. It’s the next step in their carefully organized paper chase.’

  Creasy was shaking his head, it doesn’t make sense, Jens. The guy is an expert. If they were going for a set-up, they would have put an amateur in there to be sure I spotted him. And they would not have blindfolded him on the way to that camp.’

  ‘They were very clever,’ Jens said. ‘They only blindfolded him ten minutes after they left the town of Sisophon. At that time, by looking at the sun, he would have known the direction. Whoever wants you knows you well. They know that you would pick up even an expert. But they don’t know you as well as I do. They would assume that after picking him up and extracting his information, you would kill him so that he could not warn them. Now I think the advantage is with us.’ He looked at Susanna. ‘You’re the only one able to communicate with him. Do you really think that he believes Creasy can protect him?’

  She had sat down again. ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘He believes that Creasy will keep his word.’

  ‘Then that’s our advantage,’ Creasy said. ‘And it’s all we have. Jens, tomorrow I want you to travel with The Owl to Phnom Penh and try to trace that fax number. Also, get as much information as you can about the area surrounding the village of Chek. It’ll be useful to know some details about the local Khmer Rouge commander and how many men he has and the size of the area he controls.’ He turned to Guido. ‘In the morning I want you to go and see Billy Chan at the Mai Man Bar. I’ll give you a note for him. He’ll plug you into the Black Market and you’ll buy us some machinery. We need at least two SMGs, four hand-guns, and some grenades and whatever else you think might be useful. There’s probably a lot of Russian machinery around. AK47s will be fine, unless you come across Uzis. The Chinese made a very good version of the Soviet Tokarev pistols. They must be all over this country. Try to get the type 51, with plenty of spare mags.’

  He turned to Susanna. ‘I want you to pick up Maxie and René from the airport and give them each a pistol that Guido will buy. Take them to Tran’s home together with enough tinned food and bottled water to last a week. Bring them up to date on what’s happened and hire three mobile phones. Give one to Maxie, I’ll have one and so will you so we can keep the communication network. You can do that through the hotel reception.’

  ‘And what will you be doing?’ Susanna asked.

  ‘I’ll be doing some sightseeing,’ Creasy answered. ‘Tran will be faxing the movements of a typical tourist. Once Jens has done the groundwork in Phnom Penh, we all move into Cambodia.’ He glanced at his watch and stood up. ‘Maybe the puppy is alive, but for sure he’s no longer a puppy. Not after twenty-five years as a prisoner of the Vietnamese and the Khmer Rouge.’

  Chapter 26

  She would have recognized them even without a description. She picked them out as they came through customs: two men carrying canvas bags, small enough to be carried into an airliner’s cabin. One was of medium height, stocky and broad-shouldered; a square face with sandy hair. The other was dark and tall and elegant with a suntan and jet-black hair. Physically they were different, but in their walk and behaviour, they were the same. They moved with an awareness, a constant shifting of the gaze, a strange caution, as though they were walking into a battlefield.

  Susanna stepped forward, introduced herself and stated: ‘Creasy asked me to pick you up and take you to the place.’

  She was under immediate scrutiny; cold eyes evaluating. Then the Belgian held out his hand.

  ‘I am René Callard. This is my colleague Maxie.’

  Callard sat in the front passenger seat, Maxie in the back. As they drove towards Cholon, it was the Rhodesian who asked the questions.

  ‘You have the machinery?’

  ‘Yes . . . In the bag on the seat next to you.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Susanna drew a breath, never having realized that she would ever be uttering such words. ‘Two Chinese-made Tokarev pistols with six spare mags. And six hundred rounds. A Nokia mobile phone and also the twenty square metres of fishing net you requested.’

  ‘Supplies?’

  ‘Enough food and bottled water for a week.’

  ‘The family?’

  ‘They are stocked up with enough food for a month. They have their instructions.’

  She got a grunt of approval from behind. René asked: ‘The others?’

  ‘Jens and The Owl left for Phnom Penh yesterday. Creasy is acting as a tourist. Guido has vanished.’

  ‘Vanished?’

  ‘Yes, I don’t know where he is. Creasy didn’t tell me.’

  She had noticed in the mirror that Maxie was constantly glancing through the rear window, but the Belgian never turned his head. He was watching the road ahead. They were not tense, but they were totally alert. Maxie said to her: ‘When we get to within five hundred metres of this guy Tran’s house, pull over and stop. Keep the engine running.’

  For the first time, René glanced over his shoulder. He asked: ‘What do you think Guido is up to?’

  Maxie chuckled. ‘He’s roaming. He does it well. You and I will be inside that house. Guido will be outside. Miss Moore, does Guido have a mobile phone?’

  ‘Yes. He will be in touch . . . And, under the circumstances, you can call me Susanna.’

  She felt a light tap on the shoulder as he said: ‘Thank you. So far, so good. I assume that the family has been fully briefed and will not do anything stupid.’

  'Yes, Maxie. They are in great fear for their lives.'

  ‘OK. This is the procedure: first we park five hundred metres away for a few minutes, so René and I can check that we’re not being followed. Then you drive to within ten metres of the house so we can recce the vicinity. After that we move in. You follow ten minutes later . . . I gather the Trans don’t speak English?’

  ‘Very little.’

  ‘Then you must brief them for us, and emphasize that they must follow the procedures exactly. Let them know that if they do something stupid or outside the procedures, René and I will stop protecting them and start protecting ourselves. We won’t shed a tear at their funeral.’

  She found herself talking in the same staccato manner. ‘Understood. They will get a full situation report.’

  She drove across the bridge, and five minutes later eased the car to a stop at the side of the road. Maxie reached from behind and adjusted the rear-view mirror so that he could survey the road behind. It was a busy road. Cars, buses, tri-shaws and bicycles, together with a lot of pedestrians. René was looking forward and to both sides. They sat absolutely still. Susanna managed to stifle a sneeze.

  Finally Maxie said: ‘OK. Move closer.’

  She engaged first gear and, as they moved forward, listened to their conversation.

  Maxie said: ‘Lot of movement, René. It’s a bag of worms.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s going to be inside work. Seal the place off. It’s a reaction job. There’s no place to stand off or cover forward.’

  Again Susanna pulled the car to the curb. She pointed.

  ‘The house is down that side street. Exactly fifty-five metres on the left-hand side. The front door is painted black. Mrs Tran and the children are waiting.’

  A minute passed and then Maxie muttered: ‘Let’s go.’

  She watched them amble down to the side street and then turn into it, carrying their two bags and the bag of machinery. The busy hubbub continued around her, and she felt it a little strange that life should be so normal after she had just injected two such men into the community.

  Ten minutes later she locked the car and followed them. The door was opened
by René. He had already changed from his slacks and sports jacket into black jeans, a black polo-neck shirt and black sneakers.

  Mrs Tran and her two daughters were sitting apprehensively on the sofa, watching Maxie go about his work. He had also changed into black clothing. Susanna pulled up a chair next to the sofa and watched with interest.

  Maxie was cutting up sections of fishing net and then fixing them across the windows. René had a roll of white marker tape in one hand. The other hand was held up in front of his eyes as he moved around the room looking through each window. In his turn, he started unrolling the tape and sticking it into lines on the wooden floor. Susanna asked: ‘Can you tell me what you’re doing, so I can explain to Mrs Tran?’

  Maxie turned and said: ‘The netting over the windows is anti-grenade. Its mesh is fine enough not to be noticed from the outside. If someone lobs a grenade through the window, it will bounce back outside.’ He gestured at René. ‘But obviously, it won’t stop a bullet. So René is checking lines of fire.’ He pointed at one of the windows. ‘For example if there should be a sniper in a building across the street, he will have a limited view into the room. We have to make sure that the angles are right. Also the lighting. When we’re finished, I’ll explain everything.’

  She glanced at Mrs Tran and gave her a little background. The Vietnamese woman listened intently, as did the two young girls. They were like little dolls with round faces and black, bobbed hair. She thought they were adorable. Abruptly, she was conscious of her own condition and the need to make a decision. She forced it out of her mind and turned back to watch the two men.

  René had finished laying his lines of tape and was unscrewing the light bulb from a red, ornate lampshade hanging from the ceiling. Maxie was testing the tension of the netting. Satisfied, he said to Susanna: ‘We’ll do the other rooms in a minute.’ He pointed at the lines of tape. ‘These are passage lines. When Mrs Tran and the girls move around this room and the others, they must always follow those lines. Then they’re not exposed to sniper fire through the windows. We’ll take out the bulbs from any lights that illuminate the wrong areas. We’ll build a safe area in the bathroom.’ He reached down into his canvas bag and pulled out several small black boxes attached to long, thin wires. ‘After dark we’ll rig these outside. They make up an infra-red alarm system. If anyone approaches the doors or windows, a buzzer will go off in all the rooms. Immediately Mrs Tran and the girls will go to the bathroom and stay on the floor until René or I tell them to flush the toilet.’ He grinned. ‘That’s the password for them. All clear - “flush the toilet”.’