by Roland Perry
‘It can’t be the Frenchman,’ Makanathan said. ‘This guard here was outside his door all night.’ The guard in question acknowledged her comment with a firm nod. ‘Monsieur Garriaud did not venture out. In fact, as far as we know he has not been out since the late afternoon. But please reassure Cowboy I shall be speaking with him very soon.’
Cowboy stomped his foot twice.
‘What about the American in the wheelchair?’ Hinkley asked, responding to Cowboy’s second choice.
‘You don’t think he is just relating to someone in a similar situation to himself? Someone … er … different?’
‘Cowboy notices everything.’
‘Is there anything specific about the American’s behaviour that has caught Cowboy’s attention?’
‘He noticed him crying. He also noted the Frenchman crying.’
‘Crying?’
‘That’s what he observed,’ Hinkley said confidently, despite the paucity of the evidence. ‘He’s also suspicious that the American never came to the set lunches and dinners.’
‘This American,’ Makanathan glanced at her passenger list, ‘Mr Blenkiron, has a disability. He is eighty. Does Cowboy realise that this makes it very difficult for him to carry out this heinous crime, physically?’
‘He notices anomalies. They stay with him. He sees many different things we don’t.’
‘It’s true that Mr Blenkiron was in the observation car area at the time. But there were fifteen people in that category.’
‘Cowboy notices patterns in behaviour that others miss.’
‘Are you saying he is a savant?’
‘No, but his intelligence is very different. He observed and thought about these two individuals because they were alone, they cried, and he had been in contact with both. I think he sees them as similar kinds of people.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Not sure. It has to do with character. He likes them both, despite him thinking that the Frenchman was coming on to me.’
‘Did he?’
‘No,’ Hinkley said, blushing, ‘if anything, I was interested in him. He was a touch aloof.’
Makanathan looked at her watch again.
‘We really must move on,’ she said with a hint of impatience, while glancing at others waiting at the other end of the piano bar, ‘but I promise you and Cowboy that I will chat with Mr Blenkiron.’
37
SIEGE PREPARATION
Cavalier was torn between visiting the infirmary to see his daughter and tidying up his two sleeping quarters.
He decided on the latter, aware that she was at least receiving care from the train medico and nurses. Anticipating trouble, he cleared and cleaned the suite. Then Cavalier pulled on surgical gloves and placed all Blenkiron’s belongings in two light-green plastic bags. He hurled them out the window as far as he could, gambling that the train would leave before darkness and none of the items, including toiletries, would be detected. To be certain, he dressed as the Frenchman, left the train and took the bags forty metres into the jungle to the Muar River and dropped them into the water. He watched them floating downstream at a speed he judged would take them several hundred metres away from the train.
Cavalier hastened back to the train and slipped unseen into Garriaud’s carriage and then Blenkiron’s. He kept the handgun, which was the main item that could incriminate him, and the glasses. He also retained the American’s wallet, credit cards and passport, all documents that may have him traced back to Chiang Mai.
Cavalier left the empty suitcase on one of the beds. Finally, after a quick survey of the suite, he shifted to the adjoining cabin and made sure the door between them was closed.
He began locating his exact position using Google Maps and a phone app. He found the Muar River is sixty-five kilometres south of a town called Gemas, which in turn is about a hundred and fifty kilometres south-east of Kuala Lumpur. Cavalier remembered there had been an important battle in the area for the 8th Division of the Australian Army in World War II. He thought it was at a bridge over a creek called ‘Gemencheh’. He pinpointed it on the map and reckoned he was within half a kilometre of it. This caused him to shove his two pairs of glasses in his pocket and hurry the length of the train to see where the Express’s front was situated. He shuffled through the piano bar past Hinkley and Cowboy as they were leaving, and the other ‘suspects’ yet to be interviewed.
‘Monsieur!’ Makanathan called after him, ‘we wish to …’
‘Je connais, Madame,’ Cavalier said with a respectful nod. ‘I will be back.’
He passed the infirmary where his daughter was and reached the locomotive. A guard blocked his entrance. Cavalier found an exit door and stepped outside the Express. He ducked down beside the carriages and made his way to the front. He put on the glasses and scanned the area. Just beyond the train there was a rice field of about three hundred square metres. Adjusting the glasses, he could make out a wooden bridge beyond the field. Cavalier saw three stationary trucks on the bridge or near it. He scanned the train track ahead. At about three or four hundred metres, he could see what looked like steel poles piled high across the line.
Cavalier was startled by his phone vibrating in his pocket. Gregory was on the line from Australia.
‘We got wind of an ISIS attack somewhere in Malaysia,’ he said. ‘The police there say they have arrested six suspects in Kuala Lumpur. Guess who was with them? Our two Indonesian students. The police say they had supplied all the data about the ??????. There could be an attack on it planned, judging from what the police said they found: maps, drawings of the train carriages and photos. We let our American cousins know.’
‘I know,’ Cavalier said stepping back onto the train. ‘Smith informed me.’
‘Could there be another terrorist attack imminent?’
‘Possibly. I’m on the Bangkok Express and we’re …’
‘Jeez, mate! Thanks for letting us know!’
‘Sorry …’
‘Where exactly is the train now?’
‘It’s stopped. I’ll send you the location.’
‘The KL police say the guys they’ve arrested had hired trucks but no one knows why. Some sort of “action” was expected in KL, but may have been nipped in the bud.’
‘Not sure about that. There are three trucks parked on a bridge about four hundred metres away.’
‘Be bloody careful! Sounds dodgy from this distance.’
‘There is gold bullion on board.’
Gregory was silent for a moment before he exclaimed: ‘Bullion? That explains something! The communications flying around the ISIS networks have been alluding to a plan to grab gold somewhere in South East Asia.’
‘Must be it.’
‘Can you leave the train?’
‘Maybe, but Pon is on board,’ Cavalier said, moving back to the train and climbing aboard the second carriage.
‘Pon, your daughter …? I thought she was …’
‘She’s alive! It’s a long story …’
Cavalier rang off, walked back to the train’s third carriage. He knocked on the door to the infirmary.
A Thai nurse opened it. ‘Can I help you, sir?’
‘I’m enquiring about a young woman, Pon.’
‘Who are you?’
‘A friend. I heard she was ill.’
‘She is heavily sedated.’
‘Is she okay?’
‘We think so, Sir,’ she said reassuringly as she glanced at the surgery door. ‘The doctor is running tests.’
Cavalier desperately wanted to see her, but instead thanked the nurse and hurried on down the train past Makanathan again. She sent a steward after him. Cavalier had only been inside his cabin a few seconds before the steward knocked.
‘Sorry to disturb, Monsieur Garriaud,’ the steward said, bowing low, ‘but Dr Makanathan wants to meet you in the piano bar.’ Cavalier could see two security guards standing behind the steward. ‘She is interviewing everyone. It is her duty.’
&
nbsp; ‘Of course, it is,’ Cavalier said casually. ‘Let her know I’ll be there in a few minutes.’
‘Sorry, Sir; she wants you there now.’
‘She’ll have to wait ten minutes, merci.’ Cavalier shut the door.
*
A text from Smith put Cavalier further on edge.
ISIS group affiliate set to attack train.
There was a gap of twenty seconds before Smith phoned him. ‘Our intelligence is picking up that they are set to move on a target designated as quote “now stationary near Gemas”.’
‘That’s the Express.’
‘Logistically tough for us to do anything. Good luck and God bless.’
Cavalier put on a jacket and shoved his gun into the inside pocket. He sent a text to Jacinta, urging her to prepare the train for an attack. She rang him.
‘No time to discuss it,’ Cavalier said. ‘Organise the Mexicans to guard the bullion. They won’t budge anyway. Have Azelaporn do it with Rodriguez’s help. Spread the rest of the security guards along the train. You and I should be there in the locomotive.’
‘Why the front?’
The attackers will want to either immobilise the train or move it closer to their trucks.’
‘The passengers?’
‘They should stay locked in the carriages. Do you have an armoury?’
‘If you call twenty rifles an armoury, yes.’
‘Take three rifles and ammunition to the locomotive.’ ‘Three?’
‘One for you, me and a third person, who can shoot. I believe they will attack any time now …’
Jacinta hurried to Huloton, Azelaporn and Rodriguez.
*
In the piano bar in the middle of the train, Makanathan continued interviewing her list of suspects, but was interrupted by Huloton and a steward.
‘We are under siege, Madame!’ a distressed Huloton shouted. ‘My beautiful train may be destroyed!’ He turned, waved his arms at other passengers and yelled: ‘Go to your cabins! Lock yourself in and stay away from the windows!’
He rushed Makanathan and her husband to their cabin and placed a security guard outside the door. As he did so, other guards, rifles in hand, trotted past to take up positions along the train corridors.
*
In carriages 31 and 32, the twelve Mexicans had been bribed with promises of a share of the booty they were protecting. There were four in each carriage at entrances and windows, while another four were in the observation car, staring out into the thick, dark and uncompromising jungle. They were armed with rifles, handguns, grenades, knives and machetes. All wore boots; most wore Stetsons; two had other headgear that looked like modified bike helmets. Half of them were smoking cigarettes; the others, cigars.
All had been in vicious internecine drug wars in Mexico, and were battle-hardened. To qualify to be in Mendez’s bodyguard each man had had to prove their toughness by carrying out two beheadings. Cortez had been no less brutal. He wanted killers. Like Mendez, he paid them well and promised women and booze wherever they went.
In Mexico, they had fought for their cartel’s supremacy over territory and criminal trade in drugs, prostitution and people trafficking. Here on the Express they were more than eager to defend the ten chests of booty stowed in the cabins. In keeping with tradition, most were drinking tequila, in this case Talia Tequila, the brand that had been funded by their slain boss, now lying in a large refrigerator in one of the Express’s three kitchens. They were handing bottles around for liberal swigs.
Rodriguez had placed one of them, Alberto Bruno, in charge of the defence with an offer of a bigger bonus than the rest. He was tall, thin, bearded, and with a ponytail under his hat. He took his role seriously and ordered two of the Mexicans to stop singing. He wanted silence to hear the attackers’ approach. Bruno also ordered all cigars and cigarettes extinguished.
‘I promise you each six dozen very experienced, sexy Latina women here on earth once this is over,’ he said to them. They all laughed. He hushed them again. The Mexicans readied themselves for the kind combat they thrived on.
Rodriguez locked himself and his wife in their suite with his two bodyguards posted outside his door and under orders to shoot any attackers.
*
Cavalier, his two pairs of eyeglasses in his pocket, jumped from the train and bending low hurried along beside it for seven hundred metres until he reached the locomotive. He phoned Jacinta and she opened its door for him.
38
MEXICAN STAND-OFF
Abu Hal Basha waddled away from the railway line, satisfied that his forward scouts had done a useful job in piling eighty steel poles and ten thick wooden sleepers on the railway line. Basha kept up a confident facade, although he was nervous. The original plan had been to hold up the train, rob the passengers and take hostages. Then his two spies in Bangkok had discovered that the Mexicans were loading steel crates onto the train’s rear. The weight of the crates caused ISIS to believe they were smuggling a fair-sized amount of bullion out of Thailand. Knowing of the assassination of the cartel leader Mendez, it seemed logical that they would be moving their assets elsewhere, possibly back to Mexico.
This had led to ISIS changing its plans in what Basha complained was a rushed, logistically difficult operation. But he was himself under threat of death if he did not comply with his commanders’ wishes. He had to organise the hijack of the Express and the stealing of the bullion. He had asked for another twenty ISIS-trained extremists, but had been refused. Two dozen under his command were enough, he was told.
Hoping and praying he was not undermanned, he sent the Filipino warriors through the jungle to attack and disable the rear of the train. His plan was to capture the passengers and force them to carry the bullion to the trucks at the Gemencheh Bridge. The passengers would then be machine-gunned to death. The four suicide bombers would be directed to blow up the locomotive at the front to totally disable the Express. Five of the second contingent of Malaysians would come in behind the bombers, while the remaining five would stay with the trucks to protect the bombers and Basha himself.
The England-born Robert McKenna was trembling as the minutes counted down to the attack. He had begged Basha to let him ring his wife in England; he longed to hear her voice for the last time and to remind her he loved her. He just wanted to know how the baby was. Basha had refused, worried that McKenna would have another crisis of confidence and refuse to go through with his mission. To put his mind back on the job, Basha had demanded he recite the drills, which the bomber had done so many times that he woke up some nights mumbling the instructions.
‘When I reach within forty metres of the target,’ he said, voice steady, ‘I pull the first safety cord. When I am at the train I pull the second safety cord.’
‘And shout what, brother?’
‘Allah is good! Allah is great!!’
Basha shook his hand. He winked and nodded at the second bomber, Abu Moanmar, who played self-consciously with his glasses. He looked studious, as if he were just going to another university lecture. He needed no bolstering. Moanmar was ready.
By contrast, Abu Qasawarta was in good, even jovial, spirits as Basha went through the drill a final time with him. ‘What happens if I pull the second cord first?’
‘That would not allow you to reach heaven, Abu,’ Basha said in a kindly tone.
‘I thought that would be the case,’ he said with a grin.
Basha stood next to Amula.
‘How are you feeling, my little sister?’ he asked.
She looked up at him, her head shaking slightly and her top lip trembling as she fidgeted with the rings on her hand.
Basha leaned close and whispered: ‘You know what you must do, for the Islamic State. Remember it is Allah’s will.’
She shook her head more vigorously.
Basha drew his gun from a hip holster and hissed in her ear, ‘You will do it with honour, or die in disgrace!’
*
Jacinta had the locomotive cab
in evacuated of the two drivers and engineer and placed herself, Cavalier and the Australian grazier Ben Dempster at open windows facing the track. They all carried rifles. The lights were off and the three could hardly see each other in the blackness.
‘You sure you’re okay with this?’ Jacinta said to Dempster.
‘I think so. But why choose me?’
‘The way you handled yourself at Kanchanaburi when you stopped the Mexicans from brutalising that poor woman. And we know you how to use a rifle.’
Cavalier moved close to Jacinta and handed her a pair of the glasses.
‘Here,’ he said, ‘these will help.’
She examined them in the poor light.
‘They look like …’
Cavalier put his fingers to his lips.
Jacinta tried them on.
‘Oh, my Buddha!’
‘Good?’
‘Amazing!’ she whispered.
Cavalier moved back to his position, put on his glasses and scanned the paddy field in front of him. It was still dark. He could not see any movement.
‘If they strike, it will be before dawn,’ he said. ‘They have less than half an hour.’
He glanced at Dempster and could sense his unease.
‘You seem very calm, mate,’ Dempster remarked.
‘I’m not. I have a person dear to me on board,’ Cavalier said, keeping to his French accent. ‘I’ll do anything to protect her.’
‘My wife is here …’
‘It boils down to this; we must defend our loved ones. We have no choice.’
‘Do you think we can? How many of them do you expect?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘All you have to do is to fire when we do,’ Jacinta said.
*
Basha took the four suicide bombers to the edge of the rice field and embraced them, being careful not to squeeze them in case he triggered the bombs in their backpacks. He wished them Godspeed.
One by one they moved off towards the train. Amula hesitated. She began running away. Basha pointed his gun at her, causing her to change direction and head for the train. McKenna tried to fill his mind with images of heaven, but could not rid himself of thoughts of his wife. He too started crying, but he kept moving. There was no turning back now.
