Message from Hell (A Creasy novel Book 5) Read online

  ‘No, no. Not those old ones.’ She gestured behind her at the door. ‘In those two trucks out there I’ve got two thousand Czech PP-M1-SR bounding fragmentation pressure mines and fifteen hundred PMN2. Soviet blast anti-tank mines. I want you to lay the most concentrated anti-personnel minefield in the history of warfare. And Piet, I want you and your team to lay that minefield within the next four days.’

  He drew a breath to protest, but before he could say anything, she had reached into her pocket and laid a small ebony inlaid box in front of him. It was a work of art and obviously centuries old. ‘It’s a bonus for you,’ she said. ‘Open it.’

  With huge but gentle fingers, he prised open the lid. Inside were three perfect sapphires, one white, one yellow and one jet black. Piet de Witt knew about gemstones and he knew that these were the very best from the Cardamom Mountains. He knew that each one would fetch at least twenty thousand dollars. He picked them up and rolled them in his fingers, and then in a rough voice asked: ‘Where do you want your minefield?’

  She opened the leather folder and took out a detailed map of an area east of Tuk Luy. It was in the upper foothills of the Cardamom Mountains and not far from the mines which had given up the sapphires in his hand. She put her finger on the map.

  ‘This is a walled temple. I want that minefield to surround it with only one very narrow access path. The density should be one mine every two square metres on the outer perimeter, increasing to two mines every two square metres on the inner perimeter.’

  ‘Jesus,’ he muttered. ‘You don’t want anyone getting into that temple.’

  Her voice turned grim as she said: ‘I don’t want anyone getting in or getting out.’

  A soldier brought a tray of food consisting of rice, fish and pork, together with bottles of chilled mineral water and Coca Cola. They ate while the Dutchman studied the map and calculated. Finally he said: ‘The minefield will have a radius of four hundred metres from the centre of the temple. I’ll intersperse the PP-M1-SRs with the PMN2s. If you want it ready in four days, we may have to work under lights. Which means we’ll need a generator up there.’

  ‘You’ll get everything you need,’ she said.

  His curiosity finally broke through. ‘Why that temple?’ he asked.

  She sat back in her chair, dabbing at her lips with a lace handkerchief. ‘It’s not just a temple,’ she said, it’s a shrine. And that’s all you need to know. I have twenty of my best men up there guarding it. Neither you nor any of your men will pass through the walls at any time, on pain of death. You understand that, Piet de Witt?’

  He picked up the ebony box and slipped it into his pocket. ‘I always follow orders,’ he said.

  Chapter 40

  The manager’s office was plush, full of leather chairs and rosewood furniture. Across one wall was a huge aquarium brightly coloured by darting tropical fish.

  ‘It soothes me,’ the manager explained to Jens. ‘Managing a big hotel in this country, at this time, can be very stressful. You can’t imagine the problems of getting supplies and trained staff. Did you know that when the Khmer Rouge took over, every single man or woman who had worked in a hotel was automatically executed? As were most of the intelligentsia and bureaucracy. I had to start from scratch. Every time I want to tear my head off, I sit back in my chair and watch my fish.’

  ‘You do a wonderful job,’ Jens said in all sincerity. ‘The food and service are excellent and very unexpected.’

  Monsieur Duprey preened himself slightly. ‘I spent the past twenty years opening hotels in Third World countries. It’s my speciality. My work here will be finished in another six months, and then I move on to open a new hotel in Vientianne.’

  Jens was curious. ‘Don’t you get restless, not having a permanent base?’

  The Frenchman shook his head. ‘Not at all. When I have things running smoothly, I get bored. Sometimes I go and take over a hotel which is losing money and turn it round. I’m a sort of hotel doctor. I get called in by all the big chains. If Hilton have a problem with a hotel in India or Zambia or Timbuktu, they always call for Doctor Duprey.’ He leaned forward, as if imparting a great secret. ‘And do you know what I do?’

  Jens was genuinely interested. ‘Please tell me.’

  ‘I fire the head chef, the assistant manager, the front office manager, the housekeeper, the reservations manager. And that’s all. Even in a hotel with a staff of a thousand or more, I only ever fire at most five people, always at the very top. Then I promote their assistants and teach them. I don’t worry about profit for the first three months. After that I start to use my computer.’

  Now the Dane was fascinated. They had reached common ground. He asked: ‘How do you use your computer?’

  Duprey smiled contentedly. ‘I have special software. It’s programmed to give me daily figures on every profit centre, the rooms, the restaurant, the bars, room service, laundry service, international telephone surcharges, etcetera. And then I start to cut away at the costs. And I always watch the magic ratio; costs against occupancy.’ He chuckled at a thought, and asked: ‘Do you know the highest occupancy rate of any hotel in the world, Mr Jensen?’

  The Dane shook his head.

  ‘Six hundred and fifty per cent,’ Duprey stated with a smile, and then burst out laughing at the puzzled look on Jens’ face. ‘It’s the Phu Tey Hotel in Bangkok. You see, it’s a brothel and on average, they rent their rooms out six-point-five times in every twenty-four hours.’ He sighed in mock misery. ‘The dream of every hotelier. Anyway, back to business. What can I do for you? Was your visit to my friend at the Embassy successful?’

  Jens straightened in his seat.

  ‘Yes, it was, Monsieur Duprey. But I have to ask a further favour of you, calling your friend Pierre again. I need an enlargement of a section of one of the photographs.’

  ‘An enlargement?’

  Jens winked and lowered his voice. ‘Exactly. You see, for the evidence in divorce proceedings, we need proof of actual penetration. You understand that it was a miniature camera.’

  Now it was the Frenchman’s turn to be fascinated. He pushed his leather seat back, stood up and started pacing the carpeted floor.

  ‘Computer enhancement,’ he said. ‘That would do the trick. Pierre is a fanatic with computers.’ He came to his desk and punched a button on his telephone console. When his secretary answered, he said: ‘Get me Pierre Lacroix at the Embassy.’ While he waited, he smiled at the Dane and said: ‘Computer enhancement… That’s the answer.’

  The Dane felt very much at home.

  Chapter 41

  ‘We all do stupid things sometimes. Life would be boring if we always made the right decisions.’

  Creasy spoke the words defensively, and they made no impression on Guido.

  The two men were sitting on the patio of Creasy’s bungalow drinking cold Tiger beer and having a mild argument.

  ‘It’s been every step of the way,’ Guido said. ‘From the moment that dogtag was delivered in San Diego, I’ve never seen anything so precise.’ He ticked off the incidents on the fingers of his left hand. ‘The dogtag, the description and drawing by Mrs Bentsen of Van Luk Wan, the follower in Saigon with his information of having seen a captive Caucasian near Tuk Luy, the fax number here in Phnom Penh.’ He had run out of fingers on his left hand, so he moved on to his right hand. ‘The file at the office of the Lucit Trade Company containing the photograph of Jake Bentsen.’

  He looked up at his friend. ‘Whoever is behind this is extremely clever and well organized. And they well understand your capabilities. They knew you would catch the follower in Saigon, they knew you would trace the fax number and they knew you would break into that office and find that file. It all comes down to one man who is long dead. A powerful man who had great influence in Indo-China. You have to do two things, my friend. The first is to track down the ex-associates and the family, if any, of Bill Crum. The second thing you have to do is call in the Americans.’ He gestured at the
luxuriant gardens around the bungalow. ‘You sit here in a dangerous paradise under the control of clever and probably evil people. They are drawing you on for a purpose. If they wanted you simply dead, they could have hired a sniper in Saigon or even here.’ He pointed to a cluster of sugar-palm trees fifty metres away. ‘There could be a sniper right there at this moment drawing a bead on your forehead.’

  Creasy took a sip of his beer and said: ‘It’s logical; but it’s also logical that they don’t want me dead yet. My instinct tells me that we’re coming to the final phase. You’re right about Bill Crum. He was probably the most evil man I ever met, and I’ve met many. We know that he paid to get Van Luk Wan out of Vietnam. We have to try to find out who is controlling Van. We need to find the puppet master. Bill Crum spent the last years of his life in Hong Kong. The answer might lie there. I’m going to send Jens and The Owl to Hong Kong and see what they can dig up. As for bringing in the Americans, I’ll keep it in mind and make a decision when we fully understand the next step. Anyway, it’s better that Jens is out of the country. Things are going to get violent and he’s not equipped for violence.’

  Guido stood up and started pacing up and down the patio. He said: ‘That brings me to something else. Maxie and René will stay in Saigon for a few more days before heading home. It’s better that you order them to wait there or even bring them into Cambodia very quietly as back-up. I also think you should send the girl home. I know she’s useful with her languages, but she’s very exposed.’

  Creasy said: ‘Sit down, Guido. It’s like watching a tennis match with you walking up and down. I have a problem with the girl.’

  Guido sat down with the curiosity showing on his face. He said: ‘Don’t tell me that you’ve fallen in love with her.’

  ‘No, although she’s a fine woman and attractive in a very special way. She’s a captain in the US Army and right now she’s doing her job, which is to help us track down American MIAs. If she’s at risk, that’s her duty and she understands it.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘The problem is her father.’

  ‘Her father?’

  ‘Yes. As you know, he was a colonel in the US Army Intelligence in Vietnam. He was reported missing in action near Khe San after a helicopter crash. The problem is that there was no crash.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  It was Creasy’s turn to stand up and start pacing. His face was troubled. He said: ‘When I took that assignment to kill Bill Crum in Hong Kong, part of the job was to destroy any files in that converted temple at Sai Kung. Before I destroyed them, I read them. It was a kind of insurance. I had been hired by senior US officers who were implicated in Bill Crum’s web of corruption. There were fourteen files with details of fourteen officers. I made a note of all the names. One of them was a Colonel Bruce Moore of Army Intelligence . . . Guido, Susanna’s father worked for Bill Crum. It seems that towards the end he developed a conscience. There was a memo in that file from Bill Crum to General Wayne Thomas, who was also on Crum’s payroll. It ordered Thomas to have the colonel killed and make it look like an accident. General Thomas had a lot of influence. He was a senior liaison officer with the ARVN. A week after Crum’s memo, he sent a handwritten memo back. It was an evil piece of paper, probably written with great pleasure. It explained how he had arranged for Colonel Moore to be flown to Khe San in an ARVN helicopter. During the flight the colonel was overpowered and tied up and tossed out of the helicopter at ten thousand feet without a parachute. It was very easy for General Thomas to fake an accident report.’ Creasy moved back to his chair and sat down. He said: ‘So my problem is: do I tell Susanna the truth, or do I go on letting her think that her father died a hero?’

  The two men sat in silence, with only the background noise of the crickets in the bushes. Then the Italian spoke firmly.

  ‘You tell her nothing. Too often in life the truth can do more damage than a lie. Besides, maybe the man was a hero. It takes guts to walk away from temptation. Bill Crum had him killed because he thought he was going to upset his organization. Let her live with her memories.’

  Creasy gave him a slow smile and a nod of agreement. ‘It’s the romance, Signor Guido. Your Italian blood. There’s another problem with that woman.’

  Guido rolled his eyes theatrically, then remarked: ‘Women and problems go hand in hand. What is it?’

  Creasy waited to give effect to his words. Then he said: ‘First of all, she has fallen in love with me. And secondly, she’s pregnant.’

  The Italian lifted his head, laughed and asked: ‘How do you do these things, Creasy?’

  ‘I didn’t do it. The father is a Professor of Political Science at Georgetown University in Washington. She’s only a few weeks pregnant and he wants her to have an abortion.’

  Guido’s expression turned sombre. He asked: ‘What does Susanna want?’

  Creasy shrugged. ‘She doesn’t know. She’s confused. I think she wants to have the child. After she told me about it, I took her to an orphanage in Saigon. I watched her hold a two-week-old baby. I was looking at a woman who wants to be a mother.’

  Guido was studying his friend’s face. He asked: ‘Is old Creasy getting a little sentimental?’

  Creasy shook his head. ‘Not at all. But she’s part of our group. I have a concern for you and for Jens and The Owl and I have a concern for her. We live in a dirty world, all of us. It’s probably our destiny. You and I have seen more death and destruction than is good for any human being. You remember the faces of the children in Biafra and Angola, in Vietnam, bewildered, frightened, and all too often dying. It’s a strange thing, Guido, but when Susanna talked about having an abortion, I seemed to see all those thousands and thousands of faces in front of me. I gave her a hard time about it. Maybe I was wrong. It’s her life.’

  ‘You were right,’ Guido said emphatically. ‘It’s not because I’m a Catholic. I don’t know her well, but I like her. If she has an abortion, it will scar her life. I’ll tell her myself.’

  ‘You can tell her now,’ Creasy said, gesturing with his chin. Guido turned to look. She was walking across the lawn towards them, wearing only a bikini. Her gown was thrown over one shoulder.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ the Italian murmured.

  ‘Yes, she is, and not only on the outside. We will not discuss her father. But maybe a second opinion about her child would be useful.’

  Both men stood up, and Guido went behind the chair and moved it to the table for her. She gave him a smile of thanks and sat down. ‘What can I get you to drink?’ the Italian asked.

  ‘A Coke, please. And lots of ice.’

  Guido went into the bungalow. Bluntly, Creasy said to her: ‘I told Guido about your condition. Don’t get upset. He’s my closest friend. It so happens that you’re under my protection on this mission, and if anything happens to me, Guido will take over. I will tell no-one else and neither will he. You can talk to Guido as you talk to me. And you can rely on him under any circumstances. We both think that things are going to get violent soon. He wants me to call in the Americans as back-up and I’m considering it. I’m just waiting for the opposition to make their next move.’

  She absorbed all of that without any change of expression. Then she started to say something, but Guido came out onto the patio with the glass in his hand and said immediately: ‘Susanna, you must have the baby. I’ll be the godfather.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘And any child with a godfather from Naples is guaranteed a perfect future.’

  Again she started to say something, but this time she was interrupted by Jens and The Owl coming up the path. Jens put his briefcase on the table, opened it and took out four eight-by-ten photographs. He spread them on the table with the air of a conjuror producing a rabbit out of a hat. They all craned forward to look. All the photographs showed the same thing: a blurred foreground, but in the background the very distinct shape of a temple.

  The Dane said: ‘What we have to do next is find a temple exper
t.’

  Chapter 42

  The Dutchman worked as he moved slowly backwards, scooping out the earth with a small, sharpened shovel and then gently placing the mines one after the other in a pattern that zigzagged the length of the white, pegged-down tape. As each mine was laid, activated and covered, he rolled the tape up. The Khmer Rouge soldier stood behind him holding a lamp high and casting a pool of light. It was after midnight and the air had cooled. But Piet de Witt still sweated: it was that kind of work. He glanced to his left and then to his right. There were other pools of light and other mine-layers at work.

  Piet de Witt covered the last mine and stood up, stretching his aching limbs. He shouted an order that they would stop for the night and start again at first light.

  As late as it was he would pay a visit to Tan Sotho. It was always that way after putting his life on the line. He needed the release of a soft woman. He needed to celebrate the fact that he would see the sun rise in the morning.

  Chapter 43

  It was spontaneous. They had all eaten together from room service in one of the bungalows and enjoyed a surprisingly relaxed dinner. Afterwards, Jens and The Owl went into town, not hunting for girls or nightlife, but to ask around in a very casual way and try to get a lead on a Buddhist temple expert. Susanna sat with Creasy and Guido on the patio, sipping a brandy and listening to them reminisce about old times and old comrades. Their minds were so close together that they communicated in a strange abbreviated manner. She listened as Guido asked a one-word question.

  ‘Denard?’

  ‘Sailing smooth.’

  ‘Still copped out of France?’

  ‘No. They gave him a pardon.’

  ‘Only fair. He always worked on the side for CND.’

  ‘True. Even in the Comoros.’