“This was the plan: Duck-foot and I would pretend to be passengers and flag down the ambling bus at the side of the road. Tannoy would be somewhere near by on a motorbike. Once we were in the bus he would follow behind as a sort of convoy. Just before we reached the planned turnoff, Duck-foot and I would hold up the driver at gunpoint, and divert the bus down a nearby quiet side-road. I would be in charge of managing the passengers. We’d decided to take the bus into an old palm tree plantation where they used to do palm oil. The company had given up years back so now it was overgrown and wasted. A couple of clicks down the road we would meet up with Bullhorn who would have already been waiting there, double-checking that there were no authorities about. The track didn’t really go anywhere, to a village or anything, but it was best to be sure. Duck-foot would then tell the driver to pull over, the passengers would have to get out, and then after that it’s a robbery like any other one. Timing-wise, we decided that we wanted to get on the bus at about two in the afternoon as any stray police would be sleeping off their mid-day fill of rice, and we’d have plenty of time to get it all done before it got dark.
“Anyway, we got everything set up, and waited part-way up the long hill road, ready to catch our bus. Sure enough, at about 1.20pm, a dilapidated old and rusty red bus came labouring painfully up the hill, straining with a full load of passengers and a roof piled high with hundreds of cabbages. Duck-foot stood out in the road and flagged it down. The bus stopped and, with our hats pulled down low over our faces, we got on through the open doorway, which was missing its door. In fact the driver’s door and most of the windows were missing as well but this was not unusual for the old buses doing the slow runs, and it helped with airflow, to cool passengers, should the vehicle reach a sufficient speed to allow that to happen. We climbed up the gangway in the centre of the bus. I say climbed, the entire floor of the bus was packed as usual with cardboard boxes and crates. Most of it seemed to be boxes of noodles, tinned fish, cartons of drink, or kitchenware, that sort of thing. Where passengers had seats, their legs were on boxes, so they were more squatting uncomfortably than actually sitting. Down the middle, was a row of plastic stools with people sitting on them, perched on top of all the boxes of food. Once we were in, we stood at the front end of the gangway and held onto the luggage rack to steady ourselves. The bus shuddered forward, creaking uneasily under the immense weight of cabbages that were attached to the full length of the roof, piled almost high enough to be a second deck. To be honest, seeing the beast lumbering up the road with all the vegetables on the roof didn’t make it my first choice of bus to hijack. It was possible the next bus would have something of a higher value on the roof like new motorbikes. However, Duck-foot reminded me of the time schedule, and that Bullhorn was waiting for us in the old palm-oil plantation. There was no predicting when the next bus would be. It might be ten minutes away or two hours, and even then it might not have as many passengers as this one. Duck-foot was itching to get started, so I thought it best to go along with it.
“I could see that Tannoy had pulled out from his position near the noodle shop on the other side of the road. He was on a motorbike and riding just behind us. We got near the turning for the plantation. Duck-foot pulled his scarf up around his face and I did the same. He then held the pistol at the driver and told him to turn off the road and down the track at the side. A woman sitting in the gangway perched on a plastic stool, balanced on some tinned prunes, screamed out. I got the second gun from inside my jacket and pointed it at the passengers, telling them to stay seated and be quiet. The woman, and some of the others, looked fairly terrified, but it did the job. Looking back it’s not something I’m terribly proud of. How could you be proud of scaring someone like that? But those were the times. You did what you did to survive and we weren’t setting out to hurt anyone, only to steal. We just wanted to have enough, same as other folks.
“The bus driver was really scared. He broke wind loudly and began sweating profusely. However, he managed to do as Duck-foot had instructed, and the bus turned off the main road and headed into the old plantation.
“Now that we were off the main road we were no longer climbing, and the bus was able to gain a bit of momentum. Looking back, I think this is where the problems started. The driver was panicking. He was more focused on the weapon that Duck-foot had pulled on him than on looking at the road. He failed to notice an enormous hole in the old plantation track and he hit it full-on and hard with the front left wheel. Everyone who was sitting down was thrown up in the air by the jolt impacting on the bus. A few of the more precarious people in the gangway on plastic stools fell from their perches. However, the biggest impact was that Duck-foot lost his balance, banged his head on the corner of the luggage rack and his gun went off. The driver yelled out in pain as the bullet flew through his leg. He grabbed his leg, and, what with the pain, the jolt, and the surprise at being shot, he fell right out of the bus, through the missing driver’s door. The bus veered sharply to the driver’s side and headed down into the deep ditch at the side of the track. It hit the ground at the bottom of the drainage ditch with a heavy smack, leaving the bus pivoted sideways to the road with the back end up in the air. The engine was revving wildly as Duck-foot had fallen into the driver’s foot-well during the accident and had his elbow on the accelerator. I, meanwhile, had been thrown violently forward. My back had landed hard against the already cracked windshield. In that slow-motion spilt second I could feel the glass shattering, and the first pieces raining onto the ground behind me. At the same time a load of boxes fell forward onto me. I was pushed out through the broken windshield and onto the ground behind me, the boxes trapping my lower body. I looked to the side and could see the driver was still near to the bus, trying to crawl away slowly and painfully. However, he was soon to learn the consequences of overloading his bus that day. The netting securing the cabbages on the roof had come loose and, slowly at first, they started falling down. Soon the cascade of produce gained momentum, flooding down into the ditch and the driver gradually disappeared beneath a heavy mountain of leafy vegetables. I lay there for what seemed an eternity, my gun still in my hand pointing up through the broken window at the stunned passengers, listening to the constant thud of cabbage on cabbage as they continued to rain down.
“Soon enough, Tannoy was next to the bus at my side. He dug my legs out from the boxes and dragged me out of the ditch, a little way from the scene of the accident. As I sat on the side of the track, it was clear to me that my left leg was broken. The pain was incredible. Meanwhile, Tannoy was back on the bus, pulling Duck-foot from under the foot-well and out on to the side of the track as well.
“Whilst we were focusing on sorting ourselves out, we’d failed to pay attention to what was happening at the back of the bus. A number of passengers were climbing out of the back window and re-grouping for a counterattack. It turned out that over the weekend there had been a police convention of sorts in Maklai, and a few of the participants were travelling back to Fai-dan Province by bus. I had been more focused on the screaming woman at the front of the bus. I’d failed to note the somewhat calmer group of men towards the back. They were quick to realise that the gun that some idiot on the bus was waving at them was a police issue revolver and so, although calm, they were incensed. There were extra commendations up for grabs if they were able to recover a couple of those guns. It didn’t take them long to overpower us. They had a couple of guns on them as well. I was immobilised with the broken leg, Duck-foot was barely conscious. It was lucky for Bullhorn though. We were so far from reaching where we’d agreed to meet, that, once Bullhorn had decided to see if the distant gunshot was anything to do with us, we were already in police custody and the passengers were walking back to the main road. He found the knackered bus still with its back end in the air.
“The driver, who had been completely forgotten, had regained consciousness and was calling out from beneath all the vegetables. Bullhorn dug him out, tied his scarf around the shot-up le
g to reduce the bleeding, and then used his motorbike to take him to a health centre that was a few kilometres away, back on the main road. He didn’t hang around after that of course. I suppose it was one good thing from the whole affair that the poor guy didn’t bleed to death whilst entombed beneath the cabbages. Armed robbery was going to result in a tough enough sentence from the authorities. A sentence for murder was too much to begin to think about.
“Tannoy, Duck-foot and I all went down for armed robbery and hijacking. Of course, Tannoy and I were also done for robbing the police commissioner’s house: there was irrefutable evidence based on the guns which they recovered from us. The police didn’t go lightly with us on that one. To them it was more serious than the hijacking. I did more than ten years’ hard labour for what basically amounted to not quite robbing a bus full of cabbages.
“So, Mr Kheng, there is the case for the prosecution. I learned long ago that once you go down this road, the stakes are high, and you can lose everything you’ve got. You might justify to yourself that you are only taking just enough. Well, that’s sort of what we did. That argument didn’t wash with the magistrates and the judge. What I learned is that if what you are risking is high, then you’d better make sure that what you’re getting is worth it, and that you leave nothing behind.”
40. Karaoke
On the other side of town Mr Hua Lin was sitting with the Liangtok family, staring at his bottle of imported beer. He’d just crooned a beautiful love song aimed in the direction of Liangtok’s daughter, Dae-gee. It was a song that he’d understood to be beautiful anyway, as it was a cheesy ballad about a guy who’d fallen in love but his best friend had got hold of the girl in question before he had the chance to make his move, and so he was all moody and upset about it. Dae-gee had ignored his performance for the most part. This was surprising as it seemed to be about as emotionally charged and moving as karaoke could get and he’d crooned with a passion and style that was rarely found outside of Khoyleng. Perhaps he’d misjudged the ability of those raised in the rural provinces to grasp the subtle poignancy of the heart-breaking lyrics. When Dae-gee’s attention hadn’t been captivated by cooing with her girlfriend over their various expensive jewellery, she had been watching Keht, the twenty-something year old guy with a very gelled quiff who was the son of one of Liangtok’s associates. Hua Lin had returned the microphone to a muted appreciation from the audience, and Mr Liangtok had mocked him about how he should learn to sing and how lucky it was that he had his day job at the bank. It was a joke of course, but it hadn’t helped ingratiate Hua Lin with the daughter. Keht was now on the small stage, gyrating his hips like a speeding lizard, and posing like a rock star with his ridiculous gelled up mountain of hair that he sculpted to try to look like the hero from an anime cartoon. Dae-gee’s attention was well and truly held as Keht strutted around, weaving like some professional dancer, and pouting like he was playing to a stadium of spellbound teenage fanatics. Hua Lin almost started to feel impressed himself, before he reminded himself that Keht was the competition and he was there on a mission to beat Keht to the girl. It wasn’t a mission he could particularly afford to lose either. He was literally there on ‘borrowed’ money, if not actually borrowed time.
Hua Lin stared at his bottle of beer and started picking at the label. He knew that he needed to come up with a quick plan to get Keht out of the way and grab the attention of Dae-gee. However, watching from the sidelines while Liangtok’s daughter giggled with her privileged expensive friends and Keht showed off his toned muscles didn’t provide him with the boost he needed for inspiration. Besides, he was totally broke, so there wouldn’t be many more chances to play at being one of the big men in town, hanging out with the wealthy and powerful, and posing as the indisputable best option for a rich man looking to marry off his daughter. In fact it was worse than that. He’d stolen the bank’s money that he was supposed to protect, just to fund his right ‘to sit at the table’. Even then, that money was barely going to cover his costs for the evening. When Mr Liangtok and his cronies went out on the town, they did so in the most expensive way. They always chose the most expensive restaurant, the most expensive food, the most expensive party. It was because they needed to be seen by others to have the cash, rather than to actually enjoy their wealth. It was also, as was currently being proven to Hua Lin, to single out Liangtok’s peers from those who couldn’t keep up. It was a system that allowed other rich businessmen with interests in town to quickly find out who had the most wealth and influence and with whom to make future business partnerships. It meant people with aspirations had no doubt about the pecking order and where to start ingratiating themselves.
Hua Lin was fed up. He felt it was clear that Mr Liangtok was tolerating him as he was his bank manager and oversaw his business accounts. This meant that Mr Liangtok saw their relationship as something that was marginally useful to foster in case of some future cash flow problem or if there was a need for banking services outside of usual opening hours or accepted rules. Meanwhile, Hua Lin was clearly of no interest to Dae-gee. She was evidently more into the rippling six-pack rock star type than the safe and dependable bank manager type. Who could blame her? Her father was already her personal bank manager, she didn’t need another person to provide her with financial stability. Keht, however, was an exciting good-looking adventure until the next one came along.
Hua Lin finished peeling off the label from the back of the beer and brushed the torn pieces of paper from the table and onto the floor. Maybe he should feel relieved. Failing to enchant Liangtok’s daughter was really a lucky escape. Dae-gee would be a difficult girl to hold on to, even if he did get her attention in the short term. She wasn’t exactly going to bring any joy to his life, just the extra cash via Daddy. It didn’t stop him from feeling fed up though. He was broke, he was a criminal stealing from his own bank, and was now out of funds to progress his career and live up to his own expectations. He’d thought coming to the province was a great opportunity to turn things around, to fast-track himself into the executive club of the wealthy and powerful. He looked at himself in the mirror that was on the other side the dance floor. He had hoped to see a sharp big-city banker who was hanging out in the provinces, sharing his slick city moves to impress the local wannabes so they could see what they were missing out on in the big leagues. All he saw was a small time young and inexperienced guy in a suit. He was out of place, not because he was the big man from the city. It was because in Maklai he didn’t really have the history, the family connections or the money to justify his right to be the equal of the people who really had the money to be there. He also saw a foolish man who’d just stolen from his own bank and whose only plan to undo his act of criminality was to get cashed up by marrying the dizzy airhead that was currently sitting across from him, smooching with rock-star-Keht and messing with his stupid quiff. For the first time since he’d arrived in Maklai, Hua Lin’s self-confidence was beginning to waver. He could see that his life was about to get really difficult, and right now he couldn’t see any way of digging himself out.
41. Mr. Salt’s brother, Somveat
There was a long pause before Mr Salt began his story. It was a hesitation which conjured up memories that Salt had buried deep within him. Ones that he did not want to face.
“We used to play this game in the village. The boys and the girls were always shy to talk to each other, and it was improper for a girl to be on her own with a boy from another household. But if you were in a group then it was okay. The boys would be on one side. The girls would be on the other. A scarf was rolled up into a ball. It was then thrown at the other group. If they caught it then they would throw it back, but if it hit someone and fell to the ground then that group had to dance for the others while they sang. For the boys it was basically just a way to show off to the girls, and for the girls I guess a way to decide if they liked the boys. There was a girl in the village I really liked, called Vilay. Their family had some small farmland next to where our fam
ily grew rice. She had beautiful long hair and she was always kind. If their mango tree had fruit, sometimes she’d share some with our family as we didn’t have any. Because her family’s upland farm was near to ours, during the harvest or planting season when the children had to help more than usual, I would often find I was walking down the same track as her and we’d get to talk.
“It was the day after New Year. I would have been about fifteen. All the adults were sleeping off the rice wine from the day before, and the children of the village started playing the scarf game. My brother was only about a year older than me and he was playing as well. I tried hard to get the rolled up scarf, and eventually I’d caught it and was my turn. I threw it back at Vilay. She missed catching it and so it hit her and fell to the ground. She and the others had to do a dance. Even at that adolescent age, I knew that it was as sure a signal I would ever get that she was interested in me. She could have caught the scarf if she’d wanted to. I knew that marriages were more complicated than just two people wanting to be together, and that parents had to negotiate. I also knew that if the children were really determined that they wanted to be together then they could influence those decisions. I’d never felt so happy in my life when Vilay dropped that scarf and the way she looked at me afterwards. After they danced, Vilay threw the rolled up scarf back at the boys and my brother, Somveat, jostled to catch it. He got it and then threw it back hard towards Vilay. She caught it easily. I knew then for sure that the first time she missed the scarf she had done so on purpose. My brother got more and more determined to catch the scarf. Each time he got it, he threw the scarf straight back at Vilay, and each time she caught it and returned it to the boys, not taking any notice of my brother.
The Feiquon Heist Page 16
