Bimat--A Vietnamese Adventure

by Robert A Webster

  Grimes had spent the 12-hour flight on Mohammed’s private jet being glared at by Mophi. He tried to figure ways out of this dangerous situation, but coming up with nothing, he looked a beaten and worried man when the plane landed at King Kaled International Airport. Grimes felt the hot desert heat on his face before Mophi shoved him into a waiting Jet Ranger helicopter.

  The dome glistened with gold leaf and golden Islamic crescents. It was a remarkable sight from the sky, as the occupants of the Jet Ranger helicopter saw before it banked and landed on the helicopter pad of the Mecca wing.

  Three occupants got out, went into the large building, and up a plush elevator. They walked through a series of corridors, through a thick electronic sliding vulcanised rubber door, and into the domed room.

  Mohammed, saw the helicopter arriving and ordered the Doctor to push him to a large armchair and then leave the room. Mohammed sat and waited behind a wooden desk, typing instructions into a computer as the three walked in and Mophi bowed.

  “Come sit down gentlemen,” said Mohammed. Grimes looked shocked at the gaunt Sheik as he beckoned them over to a sofa.

  He pushed a button under his desk, and a few seconds later an Arab entered with a briefcase. He handed it to the bogus attaché, who smiled and left the room.

  Mohammed then turned his attention to the remaining two.

  He smirked when he saw Grimes looking terrified, staring at the coffee table.

  “Did everything go according to plan?” he asked Mophi.

  Mophi grinned and glanced at Grimes. “Yes sir. Everything went according to plan.”

  He then stared into the terrified eyes of Julian Grimes, who appeared gaunt, feeble, and afraid.

  “Hello again Julian, you’ve been a very naughty man.”

  Grimes looked up at the pale; cancer riddled Arab, trembled, and said. “I am sorry about what happened Sheik Mohammed, but my mother was dying and I needed the money to pay her hospital bills.”

  Sheik Mohammed chuckled, coughed, caught his breath, and smirked. “Oh dear Julian, I am sorry to hear that.” He opened a folder on his desk and smirked. “That wouldn’t happen to be your mother, Mary Crawford, who died eighteen years ago in an NHS hospital would it?”

  Grimes sighed, and glanced at Mophi grinning. He then looked at Mohammed. “Okay Sheik, if you’re going to get Mophi to kill me, let’s just get it over with.”

  Mohammed laughed, coughed, and said. “Kill you Julian. If I wanted you dead, I would have done that a long time ago.” He smiled and nodded at Mophi.

  “No,” said Mohammed, “I need your help, and because of your talents and meticulous sense of planning, it should be an easy task for you.”

  Grimes looked shocked and gasped as Mohammed tapped on a keypad and images flashed up onto a computer screen, which he turned around and showed a gobsmacked Grimes.

  He then told him about his ghostly encounter with Abdul and said. “I believe Allah sent me a sign telling me to retrieve this object and then avenge his loyal servant and my friend before I join him.”

  The Sheik looked weak and with his hands shaking he held up an envelope. With his voice now sounding feeble, he said. “Study the information in there and then bring me a foolproof plan.”

  Grimes took the envelope from Mohammed who slumped back into the chair, closed his eyes for several seconds, and then jolted awake and said. “Mophi will show you to your quarters. There is a computer in there with other information you will need. Mophi will bring you here tomorrow and we can talk more. Just remember Julian, this time you will carry out all my orders and to make sure you do, Mophi will be monitoring you at all times.”

  Grimes nervously looked at the large menacing Arab glaring at him and with a tremble in his voice, nodded, and said. “Yes Sheik Mohammed. I will work on this straight away.”

  “You have all the resources you require at your disposal along with the $3 million I will give you on completion, so spare no expense, just get it done Julian, and soon,” said the Sheik who forced a smile. “Oh, I also have another surprise for you.”

  Mohammed pressed the button under his desk again and another Arab man walked into the room carrying a small pewter box.

  He smiled at Grimes who gasped as the man said. “Hello Julian.”

  Grimes looked startled as he faced the Arab convict who he had befriended in jail and exclaimed. “Akhim!”

  “So you can see Julian, not only did I not have you killed, but I had you protected at all times. Although I will have you killed if you fail me again,” said the Sheik, giving Grimes a stark warning.

  Mohammed, who looked worn as he again slumped back in the chair looking in pain, furrowed his brow, winced, and said, “Now go.”

  Mophi picked up the light fragile Mohammed, who groaned as he carried him to his bed and Doctors came scurrying to his aid.

  Akhim gave Grimes the pewter box and while medics attended to Mohammed, the three left the domed room. Mophi showed Grimes to his living quarters while Akhim went to his room further along the corridor.

  Mophi sneered while showing Grimes how to work the computer and then he left the room and shut the door.

  Grimes sat behind a large desk in his one bedroom living quarters, which brought back memories of the plush hotel suites he used to stay in Vegas.

  He smiled and took out the contents from the thick envelope that Mohammed had given him, glancing at the photographs, newspaper clippings, and information, gathered throughout the years.

  Grimes read the documents and shuffled the papers into order as he looked at other information on the computer. He smiled and felt relieved after spending hours going through everything. Rubbing his weary eyes, he yawned and stretched. ‘I need to come up with a foolproof plan to guarantee I get the box as soon as possible,’ he thought, ‘but I need to rest first.’

  Yawning again, he looked at the pewter box given to him by Akhim that he had put on the corner of the table. ‘Hmm, what’s in there I wonder?’ He picked up the paperback novel sized box and lifted the lid. He stared at the fine white powder inside and looked puzzled. He dabbed a small amount on his moist index finger and smiled when he tasted the bitter narcotic.

  Feeling ecstatic, Grimes removed a plastic card, a three-inch thin straw, a small coke spoon, and a mirror from the inside the box lid, he spooned out a large portion of cocaine powder, forming two straight lines on the mirror. He leant over, snorted the powder into one nostril through the straw, jolted back, and smiled as the cocaine gave a familiar sting to his nasal septum. He did the same with his other nostril and then sniffed the narcotic further up. He leant back into the chair, thought about the strange events, chuckled and said aloud, “Yesterday I was in prison fearing for my life, and today I am in a billionaire’s quarters snorting great cocaine, with servants running around after my every whim. Just because the dying Sheik had a bad trip on Morphine and thought he saw his dead friend. Now he wanted to give me $3 million to get a small box and have a few people killed, which I will leave to that big dope, Mophi. This should not be too difficult.”

  Grimes giggled as the cocaine made him feel euphoric. He stared at the papers on the desk, smiled and thought. ‘Akhim must have been brought into help, our chats in prison always centred around planning and scheming and his knowledge as a forger was unparalleled. He must be an expert if he is employed by the Sheik and he must have arranged the killing of the biker in my cell.’

  Grimes laughed, pondered, and said aloud. “Good old Akhim.” He took a deep breath and grinned like a Cheshire cat, “and welcome back, Professor Julian Grimes.”

  Lying back in the chair as the cocaine took firm hold and now feeling rejuvenated, he pondered some more.

  — Chapter Five —

  The room fell silent as the digitally distorted face on the TV screen gave out information.

  Military, National security, Police, Pon, Taksin, Spock and Stu, listened and looked bewildered as the synthesised voice sounding like a Dalek, announced. “We hav
e in our possession Mrs Kim Meesilli, previously known as Hern Tangh. The wife of your guardian of the Holy Relic and daughter of Minister Tangh of Vietnam. For the time being she’s safe and will remain unharmed so long as you follow these instructions.”

  The same enlarged picture Pon already had of the jewelled box appeared on the screen as the voice continued.

  “This is what we want in exchange of our hostage.”

  Pon’s skin crawled when they mentioned the word, hostage.

  “We want this relic.” The voice continued as the picture on the screen changed. “And these three men brought to justice.”

  The newspaper clipping and photographs from the envelope came on the screen and the voice said. “These men will be punished for the brutal, cold-blooded murder of Mr Abdul Bhunto, along with the subsequent murder of the Thai, Dam, and murder and unknown disposal of the bodies of Mr Andrew Towhey and Miguel Santos.”

  Spock and Stu looked at one another and shrugged as the screen then showed a photograph of a smiling Abdul, along with separate photos of a smiling Towhey, and Miguel, and then one showed Dam going into a temple. The photographs stayed on the screen for several minutes until the voice said. “This item must be handed over to its rightful owner.”

  The voice then instructed where and when the exchange would take place and the repercussions should they see any Vietnamese police or Military anywhere near that vicinity.

  This carried on for another 30 minutes, and finished with a chilling warning. “You have offended a son of Islam and any infidel’s life we take in achieving our goal is irrelevant to us. However, we will be honourable if our demands are fully carried out. We will contact you in two days for your decision.”

  The screen then showed scenes taken from the webcam many years earlier showing Abdul with Miguel and Dam doing business, with the relic in the background.

  The scene then cut to shouting, screaming and blurred moving images as the action took place behind the laptop camera. A scalped Abdul then slumped back in a chair, with blood splattering on the camera. Gunshots were heard and then somebody’s hand grabbed the relic from the desk.

  After the screen went blank for a moment, still images of Towhey, his two employees, and Abdul flashed on the screen with Arabic music and chants of, “Allah is great” playing in the background.

  It then faded, leaving an uneasy silence in the room.

  Two confused Englishmen looked over at Pon, who said. “I will explain later my friends, but their information is incorrect. They must have assumed that it was us three who had come into the room and stolen the Holy Relic all those years ago.”

  Pon puckered his brow, sighed and said. “But I am baffled as to why now, and how they found out about Kim?”

  Spock frowned and thought. ‘Who are these people and what secret has Pon been keeping for all these years?’ He wasn’t angry, after all, he and Stu had also been keeping a little secret from them all.

  Stu cursed under his breath. “That fucking box.”

  Spock shrugged and said. “I wonder who those people were. That Thai monk looked like a younger version of Shithead. Maybe that was his dead brother who he told us about ages ago.”

  Stu nodded. “Perhaps, but he said that he would explain about them later, but I am puzzled why we are involved. We never knew any of them, and the picture of that scalped Ab dab looked grisly.”

  Spock nodded, puckered his brow, and rubbed his chin. “Well, whatever the reason we are involved suits me. I don’t think either of us wanted Shithead going it alone to rescue Kim.”

  “Too bloody right,” said Stu looking angry and then worried. “With the Dalek mentioning the sons of Islam, it looks like we could be dealing with terrorists.” He frowned, “but why would Muzzie terrorists want a Buddhist relic?”

  Spock sniggered. “Maybe they want an infidel’s false choppers.”

  While the people in the room looked confused and then chatted amongst themselves, Pon went and stood over by the frosted glass wall of the VIP lounge. Feeling confused and desperate as he thought about his quandary and the ramifications. ‘Do I hand over the most treasured symbol of my country and put my best friends lives in jeopardy to save the single most important thing in my, and our son’s life, with him having to grow up without a father. Or should I refuse their demands and let fate decide the outcome?’ Pon sighed. ‘There must be an alternative. Even though the recording had been specific with the instructions, I am sure that with Taksin’s help we can come up with a plan.’ Pon rubbed his eyes. ‘The recording gave us two days to decide, which isn’t long to formulate a workable plan.’

  Pon sighed, knowing that they needed to gain more time to plan a rescue. He had already realised by listening to the recording that if they played to their rules, both he, Spock, and Stu would be murdered, knowing that was the, ‘brought to justice,’ that the recording intimated. Pon’s thoughts turned to Kim, and what she must be going through. He knew she wouldn’t want him to sacrifice his, Spock, and Stu’s life for hers, but how could he look Samnan in the face later in life and tell him that his mother was murdered, but he could have prevented it?

  Taksin came over and interrupted Pons troubled thoughts. “What are your instructions, Prime Master?”

  Pon turned to face Taksin and said, “I don’t know my friend, there appears no way to contact them, but we need more time to plan. I think all we can do is pray and ask Buddha for help and guidance.”

  Buddha must have been listening as Pon’s mobile rang. The room went silent as Pon spoke to Kim’s father.

  The conversation lasted for fifteen minutes, and over the last few minutes of their conversation, Pon had a wry smile on his face. He finished speaking with Thran and addressed everyone, who stood agog awaiting the news.

  “My wife is safe and unharmed. The kidnappers let Thran speak to her via their Sat phone,” said Pon.

  Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief as Pon, looking sullen, said. “Thran told me that they were sending one of their men to his home to ensure compliance. The kidnappers told him that systems were in place for monitoring the situation, so any deviation from the instructions would result in Kim’s death. He said that the kidnapper’s agent would arrive at his house later that day, so he advised me that any further investigations needs to be carried out here in Thailand. He told me that he will send any relevant information already gleaned in Vietnam by email when his security staff compile it.”

  Pon looked over at the people sitting at the computers who nodded.

  “Thran also found out that the Sat phone they used to communicate with was secret hardware developed by the U.S., which they claimed was untraceable,” said Pon and smiled “However, the Chinese have the technology to trace it and moved a few spy satellites into low earth orbit for us. Although they don’t yet have any results, they felt it was only a matter of time and would contact us when they have.”

  Pon looked at the group, and Taksin then interjected. “I think we are dealing with a tenacious, dangerous, and motivated group, who appear to be well funded with the latest high-tech equipment. So everyone be on your guard.”

  Pon nodded. “Thran was trying to find the Englishman was who first contacted him, but he could find no trace of him in Vietnam. Thran said he’d contacted Interpol and the UK’s New Scotland Yard with the name the man had given him, but they found nothing. The Metropolitan Police told Thran that no such peer of the Realm had ever existed.”

  Pon again looked at the army Captain and said. “Thran will send us all the details he has on this man.”

  Taksin looked over at the Thailand Intelligence Chief and said. “Maybe it’s a long shot, but check with the FBI.”

  After a stunned silence, everyone mumbled and then went to work on specific tasks.

  Stu and Spock, not grasping the severity of the situation, but realising they would be going to Vietnam, thought about how to plan their beer stops along the way.

  Taksin looked worried. “Whatever the rea
son is behind this Pon, I imagine they have been planning it a long time. We need more time and more information before we can work out a plan.”

  Pon nodded and knew that any workable plan would come from Taksin’s analytical mind.

  Taksin thought for a moment, and suddenly had a *House moment.

  “I may be able to buy us more time. If I’m successful, we just need to plan how to get you, Spock, and Stu to the arranged point at their appointed deadline. That way if things go wrong you can be at the location and carry out their instructions. The kidnappers will be none the wiser.”

  Pon thought and said, “We don’t yet have any information of the whereabouts of Kim, only where we have to meet their agent.”

  “I agree,” said Taksin, “but I hope we will soon have that information. Until we do, we can only work with the information we have.”

  Pon, looking concerned, said. “This would be an easy decision if they only wanted me, but this sounds like a dangerous situation. I don’t want to put Spock and Stu into harm’s way; they are innocent and oblivious to what happened before.”

  Taksin looked at his worried friend. He’d also realised that if they were to make the exchange, Pon, Stu, and Spock will be killed. But if they did nothing, Kim will be murdered.

  “You may have an alternative Pon, we can attempt a rescue.” Taksin paused and said, “You have done it twice before Prime Master.” He smiled and nodded over to Spock and Stu, “and with those two.”

  Pon and Taksin looked at Spock and Stu trying to chat up two women customs officers in the corner of the room who had just brought them in two bottles of Singha beer.

  “Do you really think they would let you go alone,” said Taksin and grinned.

  The sight of his two English friends being their normal selves gave Pon a feeling of well-being. He couldn’t think of anybody better to have by his side and no one he would protect more.