by Kae Bell
“About thirty feet. There’s a metal ladder that will take you to the surface. But you need to be careful. We’ve cleared all the traps those jerks set, but some of the men might still be out and about. Watch your back.”
“Roger that.” Andrew stuck out his hand. “Thanks for the welcome. And thank Stu for saving me.”
Frank took it, holding Andrew’s gaze. “You got it. Good luck, young man. Maybe we’ll meet again.”
The men shook, then embraced, each giving and receiving a slap on the back.
Andrew turned and approached the opening in the stone wall, a chipped archway eons old. He looked up the wide stone shaft. Sunlight filtered down through the wet mossy darkness. A brown bat shifted sideways on the jutting stones above. Andrew placed a foot onto the first metal rung, testing it. It held. He placed a foot on the next rung and reached upwards, climbing toward the light.
*******
In the morning light, Andrew emerged from the jungle onto the dirt road. He’d had an uneventful trip through the jungle back to the road. None of Hakk’s men seemed to be about, for which he was thankful.
He’d tried to reach his helicopter pilot but had not had any luck getting through. Just static. He sat down on the roadside to dial again, hoping he would have better reception this time.
A distant engine roar caused him to look up the road. On the crest of the hill, he saw two large motorcycles, tearing down the dirt road, heading straight for him. The riders were decked out in leather pants, jackets and imposing helmets.
Watching the bikes descend the hill, Andrew decided nothing surprised him in this country anymore. It was its own dimension.
As the bikers approached, they slowed, then stopped, pulling up near Andrew, one of the bikes sliding in the dirt, spraying chunks of mud. Andrew shielded his face from the blast.
The larger rider pulled off his helmet. He was about sixty, Western, with a week’s worth of stubble and a tattoo that said ‘Bike Me’ in large letters on his neck. “Are you lost or something son?” he asked Andrew.
Andrew shook his head. “No, but my sat phone isn’t working. I can’t call my ride.”
The other rider piped in, removing a helmet that had gotten stuck on a leather catch. “Those gadgets aren’t worth the plastic they’re made of out here in this jungle. Too much tree cover.” The woman had short blond hair and bright blue eyes.
The first rider nodded in agreement. “Betty’s right. Not the best move to depend on a phone out here. You could be stuck for days. No one would know you were missing.” He said this with concern. He steadied his bike, hopping off to approach Andrew, who stood.
“Yes, well, I’ll know for next time.” Andrew wiped his hands on his trousers and extended his right one. “I’m Andrew.”
“Bill. This here’s my wife Betty Ann. Semi-retired, living the dream.” They shook.
“Anyway, we’re heading to town, we just came out to test out our new toys. Happy to give to you a lift. To Sen Monorom, that is.”
“That’d be great. Uh…did someone tell you I was in the area?” Andrew said, glancing back at the forest behind him. The trail was barely discernable. The trees waved at him in the breeze.
The couple looked at each other. Bill watched as Andrew looked around. He said, “Ain't nobody here but us girls,” with a grin at Betty Ann, then looked at the sky and snorted, sniffing the air.
“We best get a move on. There’s still some rain in those clouds. Hop on.”
With one last glance backward, Andrew did as he was told, throwing a leg over the wide bike, an easy 800 pounds of metal. He admired the shiny chrome, flecked with mud. Bill revved the engine.
“Just so you know, there’s a price to be paid for a lift to town.”
Andrew smiled. “What’s that?”
“Cold beers at Snowy’s.”
“You got it.”
“Hop in and hang on. It’s a bumpy ride!”
Chapter 25
“Hello, Severine. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Severine blinked rapidly, glancing to her left and right, confused. “What are YOU doing here?”
Jeremy continued. “It’s a shame you had to get mixed up in this. Things are not going your way of late. It would have been better, easier, if you could have gone about your merry way. But always the do-gooder, just like your nosy boyfriend. Oh, excuse me. Your husband. No, you had to do the right thing. Too many do-gooders in this town.”
“What do you know about Ben?”
“Only that he started asking too many questions, sticking his nose into things that didn’t concern him.”
“But you’re an American, you work at the Embassy. How are you involved with these men, it makes no sense?”
“In fact, it makes perfect sense. I have access to government officials at all levels. I remain open to communication, all offers of assistance, partnership, and requests for information. From all parties. I recently learned from a certain Ministry contact about a potential archeological find in Mondulkiri. Apparently, Ben explained things nicely in his little report. So I did a little investigating on my own. There are objects worth millions on the black market out there. Millions. But Ben wanted to preserve them and insisted on blowing the whistle until someone paid attention.”
Jeremy paused, frowning. He leaned forward, his face next to Severine’s. He inhaled. “I never liked him,” he added in a whisper. Severine felt his hot breath on her cheek. She yanked away.
“What did you do to my husband?”
“I have a new partner, you see. A man with a fondness for the past, shall we say. We have an arrangement. I make sure that you no longer interfere in his plans and he helps me get the gold. Win win.” He smiled, opening his palms.
He leaned back. “You need to understand how the world works. There is always demand. For something. The key is knowing what people want.”
Severine’s face was a stone. She stared ahead as Jeremy continued.
“I deserve more than a pittance in this life. So I’ve made that happen. Lately, I have a golden touch.” Jeremy smiled and wiggled his long white fingers. He leaned back in his seat and brushed an invisible speck of lint from his pressed trousers.
In the front passenger seat, Heang turned around for instructions.
“To the boat,” Jeremy barked then turned to smile at Severine, his upper lip too high on his pink gums. “You and I - we’d always talked of taking a river cruise.”
*******
The temperature dropped with the setting sun, the season changing in the few minutes separating day and night. Autumn had arrived, only a couple degrees difference, but noticeable.
The fog had rolled into town off the cooling river in undulating waves. The boat Captain watched the fog fold its way forward, marking time by the disappearance of the street lights along the shoreline ahead, shrouding everything in gray.
Fog was not common here, but it had its place on this odd evening. The wooden boat made its lazy way to the pier, its old engine chugging away.
The Captain could see the pier was still empty. No one had arrived; he was early. He had made good time from Ho Chi Minh City.
Most of the Captain’s business was bringing items upriver from Vietnam to Phnom Penh and occasionally to Siem Reap, farther north. Some legitimate items, deliveries from local merchants. Some less so. The latter paid better, though the risks were higher, especially at the border between Vietnam and Cambodia. The border guards were too aware of their power, their ability to ruin a Captain’s day, depending on their mood and desire.
But the Captain, who was half-Vietnamese and half-Cambodian, understood the needs of the border guards. He had met many people in his years on the river. He fancied himself a citizen of the water, rather than of a country.
A few squawks from a lone leafy tree along the bank by the pier let the Captain know that his boat was disturbing a well-concealed bird’s nest. No matter. His only concern was delivering his cargo and receiving payment.
He looked at this week’s cargo, propped near a few old wooden oars by the fishing nets. He’d been told to take especially good care of this item. Was told it could break if treated roughly.
To discourage attention, the cargo was well covered by a faded pea-green tarp, itself at least twenty years old, frayed along its edges, with holes that had been patched and re-patched by the Captain’s wife. The Captain could well afford a new tarp, as made good money. But newness was a sign of prosperity to the border guards, suggesting there was something of value onboard to inspect. He kept his old tarp, and his engine with the death rattle.
The captain lifted the tarp to make sure all was well. The blue plastic barrel was tucked in nicely between the nets.
He scanned the street. There only a few working street lights near this pier, enough to provide visibility but not enough to draw attention to whatever might happen on this remote pier on Phnom Penh’s edge.
The birds squawked again and rustled in their nest, readying for the night.
There, he saw movement. He looked up the street and saw a black car moving down the quiet lane to the waterlogged pier. One headlight was out.
The Captain readied himself. He was anxious. The owner of this cargo was unpredictable. But he paid well and the work was steady.
*******
Severine’s mind raced. A cruise, Jeremy had said. If she could only make a break for it to a hotel or guesthouse, she’d be safe. But Samnang was in the seat beside her, so she needed to stay put.
They drove for some time, through town, then on to its fringes.
Heang opened Severine’s car door and yanked her out of the car, man-handling her. She struggled with him, pushing back at his groping hands. “Hold still,” he barked. She assumed he was going to tie her hands tighter and she lifted her arms to protest. Jeremy watched this exchange with a mild look of disdain.
When Severine saw the syringe, she shrank away. The Ketamine they’d used on her earlier had made her feel insane. It was a madness she didn’t know if she could tolerate again.
Before she could block him, Heang had injected her in the neck. She felt herself fade gently this time. Her mind filled with images of Ben leading her down a green path, of the pool where she’d swum. This would be a deep sleep.
Jeremy nodded his approval as Severine collapsed into Heang’s arms.
“Now the girl,” Jeremy said.
Heang opened the other back door and lifted out Samnang. She lay heavy in his arms, whimpering when she saw Severine collapsed on the ground. Heang watched her small scared face as he injected her as well. He handed her limp body to Jeremy, who took the child in his arms, while Heang picked up Severine and led the way down the rickety pier to the boat rocking on the gentle river current.
The Captain emerged from inside the boat, and bowed, hands held high, as Jeremy and Heang stepped onboard. Heang dumped the unconscious woman and Jeremy deposited the girl onto netting piled in the corner next to a faded worn tarp.
The Captain, named Sovan, started the old engine, which coughed in protest of this late night voyage. Sovan glanced at the two supine passengers. He was paid to navigate the river and not ask questions. He coaxed his temperamental engine down to a gentle purr and the boat pulled away from the dock.
*******
After so much rain, the stormy river rocked the boat to and fro as she made her way north. The Mekong wound its way up to Laos and beyond, but this boat was not traveling that far. After a couple hours on the river, the Captain could sense the turn ahead to his right. He could see little ahead in the dark but even in dim light, he knew the turns and twists of this river, its depths and shallows. And he could feel the river, urgent, like a child tugging its mother.
Ah, there. He saw the opening he sought, hidden by overhanging trees. He steered the boat forward. Glancing back, he saw his passengers asleep, the little girl restless, troubled by nightmares. Jeremy alone was awake.
Sovan turned his attention back to the water.
*******
Severine wanted to keep sleeping. Everything was heavy and quiet in her head. She forced herself closer to consciousness. There was that noise again. She felt a gentle rocking. With a start, she remembered where she was.
She told herself not to move. She did not want to draw any attention to herself. Opening her eyes a slit, she saw Samnang lying next to her, her eyes still closed and her mouth open. Severine watched Samnang breathe. If they’d given Samnang the same dose of whatever they gave her, Samnang would be sleeping for a long time.
Heang lay on a wooden bench, asleep and snoring loudly, a gun in his lap. Jeremy stood at the bow, watching their progress. Severine could feel her hands tied behind her and when she tried to move her feet, found her legs were tied as well, at both the ankles and the knees. Severine turned her head slightly forward and saw the Captain, standing alert, looking ahead.
Heang’s phone rang and he stuttered awake, dropping his gun. He grabbed for it as he fumbled to answer his phone. Severine hoped the gun wasn’t loaded as it hit the wooden deck with a clunk. She closed her eyes. The longer she was knocked out, she guessed, the more time she had to figure out a way out. She listened to Heang on the phone.
“Jah.”
Severine listened, trying to catch any of the Khmer words she knew.
He spoke rapidly, then more agreement. “Jah. Jah.”
He clicked his phone off and yelled to the Captain, “Chop chop chop.” Stop.
The Captain turned around, a questioning look on his face. Heang spoke quickly.
Her Khmer wasn’t perfect but Severine got the gist. Heang had a problem back in town, he had to go back to Phnom Penh. He would take the dinghy and let them continue their journey.
“Stop here. I must go back,” Heang repeated.
The Captain cut the engine and the boat started to drift backwards with the current. This got Jeremy’s attention and he walked to the stern.
“What’s going on?” Jeremy asked, looking first to Heang, then the Captain.
Heang scowled. “I have a problem with a delivery. I must go back. You go on ahead. Do what you need to do.”
As Jeremy sputtered about this change of plan, Heang moved quickly, stepping from the stern into the bobbing dinghy tied behind the boat. He started its small engine, threw off the line, and turned the dinghy around, heading down river, back to Phnom Penh. He did not look back.
Jeremy watched the dinghy sluice through the water, only mildly annoyed at the disruption. He was glad to be rid of Heang, who Jeremy found unseemly. Another overblown gangster with delusions of grandeur. Sometimes such associations were necessary, Jeremy thought, returning to the bow. His heart started to quicken as he thought of his statues, his future, ahead. He had several buyers lined up already. He would be richer than he had ever dreamed.
The Captain set the boat’s course and went to check on his cargo. The Western woman and the child still slept. The Captain squeezed past them and edged into the corner of the boat. As instructed, he was bringing the cargo with him to the secret cave. Special delivery, Heang had explained to the Captain, for the American GIs living there. A gift from Hakk, he had said, to thank them for their service. The Captain thought it was odd but he didn’t question. Ever.
Under the green tarp, tucked neatly into the blue plastic barrel, the canister containing eighty pounds of plastic explosive waited, the digital timer on its side ticking away.
Chapter 26
The Cambodian-Japanese Friendship Bridge collapsed first, the charges at both ends and the middle of the bridge tucked carefully out of sight, until they detonated late Friday afternoon.
As the bridge beneath them crumbled, pedestrians, bicyclists, cars, tuk-tuks, pushcarts and their vendors plunged into the river.
Seeing this, traffic on the adjacent Cambodian-Chinese Friendship Bridge panicked. People leapt from their vehicles, running for the safety of solid ground on either end of the bridge. Some made it. Others, less swift of foo
t, did not, and they joined the melee in the water below as a second set of charges blew the Chinese Bridge into large chunks that plunked into the water.
The explosion was felt by all along Sisowath Quay. Tourists watched from balconies and street cafes, standing and leaving their coffees to cross the street for a better view.
The police arrived quickly, though there was little they could do except stare and wonder, along with everyone else. The police asked a few questions, hassled a couple motodop drivers who were not wearing helmets, and then returned to the station. No one had seen anything suspicious.
The collapsed bridges resulted in limited loss of life: One cyclist drowned trying to untangle himself from his bike clips. A young monk was unable to escape from a crowded tuk-tuk, packed in with eight of his brothers, all of whom had swum to safety. On a timer, the explosions had occurred moments after a traffic jam had cleared.
But there were broken bones, bruises, and general upset. Those who landed in the river and swam to the shore, stood on the river’s edge watching their vehicles, for many of them their livelihood, sink or drift down river. A man in a dripping wet suit stood next to a t-shirt wearing tuk-tuk driver, both of them staring at the watery field of debris.
People were confused and scared. Just as Hakk intended.
*******
The helicopter approached town from the east shortly after the explosion and Andrew saw the mayhem out the cockpit window. The bank of the river was thick with people. Traffic on Sisowath Quay was stopped and flashing police cars blocked the street at both ends. An ambulance several blocks away from the scene, its lights flashing, snaked its way through slim gaps in the dense traffic.
As the helicopter got closer, Andrew saw the absence of the bridges.
“What the hell?” he said.
The pilot, listening to his radio, glanced over at his passenger.
“Report just came in. Two explosions, one minute apart. Took out both bridges. Two confirmed dead, countless injured. Several unaccounted for.”
“Fuck me.” Andrew stared out the window at the receding scene.
