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

  He cradled the phone and returned to his wife. ‘That was Susanna Moore calling from Phnom Penh. She’s there with a bunch of mercenaries and she’s got photographs of what may be three MIAs being held captive by the Khmer Rouge. One she’s certain about. I have to check the dogtag numbers of the other two.’ He made a forlorn gesture at the casserole dish. ‘Sorry, honey. You’ll have to keep that warm. I’m going to be late at the office.’

  She was not upset. She knew the frustrations of his work and she could see the excitement in his eyes. She walked over, kissed him and said: ‘On your way, Elliot. Call me if you have a chance.’

  Chapter 47

  Ambassador Gates was not a happy man. He was a career officer, and quite reasonably liked to do things by the book. He sat in his office with the Stars and Stripes hanging behind him and a photograph of the President on the wall. He said: ‘Captain Moore, I understand the importance of anything relating to our MIAs and I’m ready to help you in any way I can. I just had the Assistant Secretary of State on the phone telling me to do just that. But can’t you tell me anything more? It’s all so vague. There may be some Americans held by the Khmer Rouge and you’re mounting some kind of an operation to find out and, if possible, to rescue them. Is that all you can say?’

  Susanna answered: ‘I’m sorry, Mr Ambassador. It’s all I can tell you at this stage. I’m working undercover with some very unofficial people who demand the utmost security and secrecy.’

  ‘The CIA?’

  She smiled and shook her head. ‘Hardly that. I can tell you that we have a strong lead and that the people I’m working with are very competent.’

  ‘Are they Americans?’

  She shook her head. ‘I think that one was once, but it’s an international group. And I must ask you not to probe any further. I hope I can give you more information by the end of the week. In the meantime, I understand that you can issue me with a mobile satellite phone and fax. Over the coming days I may request that certain necessary items be brought in to Phnom Penh by the diplomatic pouch.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, but they could include weapons and communications equipment.’

  ‘Weapons!’

  ‘Yes, Mr Ambassador. My colleagues may have to go into Khmer Rouge territory and it would be rather stupid to walk in with a white flag.’

  He was a tall, thin man with an austere face. But a lifetime of diplomacy had not broken his sense of humour. He gave her a smile and stood up, saying: ‘We’re at your disposal, Captain. I take it that I won’t have to smuggle in a detachment of Abrams tanks or a battery of Cruise missiles?’

  She also stood up, returning his smile. ‘No, sir. It would be small arms and ammunition and perhaps secure radio transmitters and receivers. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more at this moment. But I can tell you that events have been developing rapidly and seem likely to continue doing so.’

  ‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.

  ‘At the Cambodiana Hotel. But my colleagues and my superiors would be very upset if the Embassy were to arrange any kind of surveillance. And I can assure you, Mr Ambassador, that if that happens, my colleagues would very quickly be aware of it.’

  ‘It won’t happen,’ he answered. ‘But understand one thing, Captain. I represent our government in this country and I would prefer not to have any nasty surprises.’ He pressed a button on a console on his desk and a moment later a young man knocked on the door and entered. The Ambassador said to him: ‘Mark, please issue Captain Moore with the communications equipment she needs and instruct her how to use it.’

  He held out his hand and Susanna shook it.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ambassador.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Captain . . . Be careful. We don’t want any more MIAs.’

  Chapter 48

  They stood at the bottom of the gently sloping hill looking up at the outline of the temple. Connie Crum was in the centre. The Dutchman was on her left and Van Luk Wan on her right. The Dutchman pointed to the bright red line of string that zigzagged up the hill to the entrance of the temple wall.

  ‘That string is laid exactly in the centre of the mine-free pathway, which is one metre wide. It changes direction three times. You’ll have to learn to take bearings which I’ll point out. That means you take a bearing on an object nearby and line it up with a tree or a mountain peak in the distance. There’ll be three such bearings, and only the people who know them will be able to get in and out of the temple compound.’ He pointed to the members of his team, who were about fifty metres from the temple wall. ‘The minefield will be completed by nightfall tomorrow. So in the afternoon I’ll show you the bearings and then we take away the string.’

  Connie Crum patted him encouragingly on his shoulder. She said: ‘You’ve done well, Piet. I assume that all of your team know the bearings.’

  ‘Of course.’

  She turned to Van and said: ‘I want every member of the team to be given a bonus of two hundred US dollars tomorrow night.’

  ‘On their behalf, I thank you,’ the Dutchman said. ‘For them it’s a fortune.’

  She smiled cynically. ‘And they’ll spend it on drink and women. That’s the circle of their lives. I won’t keep you any longer, Piet. Van and I will return tomorrow, at five in the afternoon. Again, well done!’

  The Dutchman walked up the hill, very carefully following the line of the red string. Connie watched him in silence and then said: ‘Tomorrow, when the last mine is laid and those men have come out, I want them all shot.’

  The Vietnamese showed no surprise. He said: ‘Before or after I give them the two hundred dollars each?’

  She laughed. ‘Before, of course. And the Dutchman we put into handcuffs and leg irons. His work will be finished tomorrow, and I haven’t decided what to do with him.’

  Piet de Win reached the interior perimeter of the growing minefield and stood behind his team, watching them work. He had trained them well; but of course some were better and quicker than others. His best man could lay and set a mine every three minutes. He turned and measured the approximate distance to the compound wall. It was about forty metres. He did a quick calculation in his mind and then relaxed. The minefield would be ready. They would not even have to work under floodlights tonight. That was dangerous work, and he was glad they didn’t have to do it. In the evening he would drive into Tuk Luy and buy some fresh fish in the market and then take it to Tan Sotho. They would make love and afterwards she would cook the fish with saffron and rice in the way he liked so much. And he would teach the young boy a little more English. It had become a routine two or three times a week, the love-making, the food and the hour-long lesson. The boy was only three years old, but he was bright and a quick learner. The Dutchman laughed inwardly at the thought of himself being a teacher. Who would believe that?

  Chapter 49

  Jens and The Owl shared a large room at the New World Hotel looking out over the harbour. Both of them had been to Hong Kong before a few years ago on a previous assignment with Creasy, and had been massively impressed. The city and its harbour literally buzzed with people and activity. Across the water in Victoria, skyscrapers rose like stalagmites. From the balcony Jens could count over twenty ferries plying back and forth. It was bliss. He had been a ferry buff since he was a small child. He had sat on his parents’ patio at Helsingor watching the ferries passing through Oresund Strait. Much to the chagrin of his wife Birgitte, his idea of a restful holiday was taking one of the big Swedish ferries that plied the Baltic. She could never understand it since he would spend most of his time in the bar drinking beer with Schnapps chasers. He had even joined the Ferry Appreciation Club and he and other ferry fanatics would go on trips and get profoundly drunk.

  He had been looking out over the harbour for half an hour. The Owl was lying on his bed with his Walkman by his side and the earphones clamped to his head. He was silently conducting Beethoven’s fifth symphony. Jens tore his eyes away from the view, glance
d at his watch and shouted: ‘Let’s go! We’ll take the Star Ferry to Victoria and pay a visit to the business registrations office. I want to find out who’s behind the Cuontum Import-Export Agency.’

  Reluctantly, The Owl switched off Beethoven and stood up. Jens opened his briefcase and from one of its pockets took out a stack of business cards. He flicked through them and selected one, saying: ‘Today I’ll be Svend Torp, managing director of the Viking Credit Rating Agency.’

  Twenty minutes later they were at the inquiries counter of the business registrations office, and Jens was charming the middle-aged Chinese woman in charge. She studied his card as he told her that he wanted to see the records of the Cuontum Import-Export Agency. It was a routine inquiry on behalf of a Danish company who were about to start trading with it.

  She went off into a back room and returned three minutes later with a blue file tied with a black ribbon. She explained that he could only take photocopies of the statutory directors and shareholders list. Being a private company, it did not need to file its annual balance sheets, but it did need to record changes on the board of directors and major shareholders.

  He went immediately to the back of the file and noted that there were only two directors who had founded the company. One was William Crum and the other Tam Wok Lam LD. He flicked through the pages and noted that in March 1977, William Crum had ceased to be a director and that Connie Lon Crum had been appointed to the board four years later. Her address was given as care of the other director, Tam Wok Lam, in a building on Ice House Street. There had been no other changes on the board since the company was first formed in 1962.

  He turned the file around, pointed and asked the woman: ‘What does LD signify?’

  She looked at the name and said: it signifies that Mr Tam is a lawyer. In fact, he’s a very prominent lawyer in Hong Kong with many business interests. He also sits on the Legislative Council, appointed there by the Governor. He’s a very respectable person.’

  ‘That’s good to know,’ Jens said. He closed the file. ‘Thank you for your help. I don’t need to make any photocopies.’

  Outside on the busy street, Jens turned to The Owl and said: ‘I need to learn a little bit about gemstones, especially those that originate from Indo-China. Let’s go and find a jeweller. And then, maybe, we’ll go and talk to Mr Tam. But before that I have to phone a friend in Copenhagen.’ He smiled cheerfully. ‘Then, this evening, I’m going to ride a few of those ferries. Do you know that they have eighteen different destination points from the island to the mainland?’

  ‘I didn’t know that,’ The Owl answered. ‘It’s a very serious gap in my knowledge of trivia.’

  ‘A very serious gap,’ Jens said severely.

  The Dane ended up buying a small sapphire ring for Birgitte. It cost him two thousand Hong Kong dollars, but he considered it money well spent, since he had deliberated for over an hour with the shop’s owner, examined most of his stock, and gleaned a great deal of information about the various gemstones and their sources.

  They made the five-minute ferry journey back to the hotel and Jens phoned a good and old friend in the police department. He needed to know the name of a jewellery importer in Denmark who on the surface appeared reputable, but was maybe a little shady in the background. Someone who would deal in gemstones as a front for money laundering. His friend promised to phone him back soonest, and for the next half hour Jens watched the ferries while The Owl conducted Beethoven.

  Chapter 50

  It was the most luxuriously appointed office that Jens had ever been in. A deep Tientsin carpet covered the floor, the walls were panelled with mahogany and the furniture was comprised of leather and carved ebony. On the desk was an intricately carved ornament of ivory. The man behind the desk was short and bald and dressed in an immaculately cut dark suit. He rose as Jens entered the room and took the proffered business card which had been printed only an hour before. It indicated that Jens was a Mr Lars Petersen of the Odense Import Company in Denmark. Mr Tam offered Jens a seat, and a girl brought in a pot of jasmine tea and two gilded cups.

  As Jens described his business, the Chinese man sipped at his tea and watched him intently. Then he asked: ‘Why have you come to me, Mr Petersen? Why did you not go directly to the Cuontum Import-Export Agency and see Mr Fu, the manager?’

  ‘For two reasons,’ Jens answered. ‘Firstly, I discovered that it’s always better to discuss business with the organ grinder than with the monkey. And secondly, I prefer dealing with lawyers.’

  Mr Tam smiled and nodded slightly. ‘But how did you know that I was connected in any way with the Cuontum Agency?’

  ‘I make it a rule to always find out who are the directors and the shareholders of the companies I deal with. Then I require information about their reputations. I was at the business registrations office earlier and noticed that you were one of the two directors, along with a Miss Connie Lon Crum. You are also a fifty per cent shareholder.’

  ‘That’s correct. I founded the company with Connie Crum’s father. After his death, she acquired his shares and the directorship.’

  ‘That was in 1977, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, I believe so. Mr Crum died in 1977 and left his shares in the company to his daughter, Connie. She became a director some years later, when she reached the minimum age of twenty-one.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed that from the records. Now, Mr Tam, I’ve only been in Hong Kong a short time, and I know of your fine reputation. But I know nothing about Miss Crum. And there is another important factor. I am mainly interested in buying Cambodian sapphires. Naturally, over the past years, the supply has been very erratic.’

  Mr Tam nodded in agreement, and said: ‘That’s the strength of our company. You may know that most of the sapphires come from the Cardamom Mountains and that area is largely controlled by the Khmer Rouge. Miss Crum’s mother was Cambodian and it happens that she has close connections with the people operating in the Cardamom mountain range.’

  ‘You mean with the Khmer Rouge?’

  ‘No, no,’ Mr Tam answered with a slight smile. ‘I would never even suggest that. She spends a lot of her time in Paris and in Bangkok. But because of her connections, she does have an influence in south-west Cambodia, and that influence means that the Cuontum Trading Agency has a regular supply of top quality sapphires. You need have no worry about that. I’m sure that Mr Fu can help you. He carries considerable stock. Would you like me to make an appointment for you?’

  ‘Not just yet,’ the Dane answered. ‘First I would like to discuss financial matters with you.’

  Mr Tam was immediately alert. ‘Financial matters?’

  ‘Yes. You might know, Mr Tam, that import duty and taxes are very high in Denmark. My company intends to import a very significant amount of sapphires over the next few years. Of course you would understand in this business that such stones are a financial commodity easily transported.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘We’ll need to come to an arrangement with the Cuontum Agency so that the stated value of the stones we import would be somewhat different from the real value.’

  ‘I understand, Mr Petersen. It’s quite common and it’s not a problem in Hong Kong, which is a free port. I assume that you would pay the invoice value by irrevocable letter of credit?’

  ‘Certainly. And the difference will be paid before shipment into any bank account you nominate anywhere in the world.’

  ‘Very reasonable,’ Mr Tam said and then gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘Although business taxes in Hong Kong are quite low, it’s still painful having to pay them. The arrangement will suit us. When would you like to see Mr Fu and inspect his stock?’

  ‘Not for a couple of days. I only arrived in Hong Kong this morning and it makes good business sense to get over the jetlag before sitting down to what I know will be tough negotiations. I plan to do a little sightseeing before getting down to business, and perhaps go to Macau for a day trip.’

  The Chin
ese man stood up and said: ‘You’re a practical man, Mr Petersen. I suggest you phone Mr Fu when you’re rested. In the meantime, I’ll brief him on our conversation. And I look forward to a long and profitable relationship.’

  ‘What will happen,’ The Owl asked, ‘if Mr Tam checks with the Odense Import Company?’

  They were sitting in the Captain’s Bar at the Mandarin Hotel, round the corner from the lawyer’s office.

  Jens answered: it’s no problem. My friend in the police headquarters in Copenhagen has twisted a couple of arms down in Odense. If they get a fax from Mr Tam, they’ll send a fax back stating that Lars Petersen is their purchasing director and he’s currently travelling on business in the Far East.’

  He took a contented sip of his Carlsberg beer. He had not ordered it out of patriotism; he just preferred it to the local San Miguel. He looked around the crowded room and muttered: ‘Connie Crum, aged thirty-four, daughter of Bill Crum. She’s the one stalking Creasy.’