Cambodia

by Nick Carter

  "The prosties were always in the market for junk like jeans and American dresses. We had a pretty good markup, nothing out of sight on account of we dealt in volume, and had a lot of other little things going. We got a cut from three crap games around Saigon, and Mike and I personally owned six prostitutes, from which we naturally took large cuts. Like I say, we had our hands in a lot of stuff. But, old Mike, he says to me a long time ago, 'Chong, he said, 'P. T. Barnum once stated that there is a sucker born every minute of the day. You stick with me, and I'll show you that estimate is conservative. There is actually one born every fifteen to twenty seconds. And man, was that ever a fact. I never seen so many eager-beaver dum-dums so anxious to part with their money."

  "Most of them servicemen, no doubt," I said.

  "Sure, but don't forget, Mike was a serviceman, too. We had a partnership. And we clipped regular South Vietnamese soldiers. Like Mike always said, 'Don't discriminate. Dig?" His teeth flashed in a wide friendly smile.

  I shook my head. "So you must have made a pretty great haul. What happened to it?"

  "Mike took his with him when he got shipped home. For a while, he thought about staying in Saigon and keeping the partnership going. We might have lost some contacts, I mean him not being on the base and all, but we'd have done okay, you know?" He rolled his eyes in disgust. "But old Mike, he's got the hornies for all that stinking Brooklyn pizza. We sold out everything, split the take down the middle and off he went."

  I gave Chong a wide grin. "Maybe you've got your own kind of pizza here."

  Chong blinked up at the sky. "Hey, Nick, it's almost noon," he said. "Let's take a break. All this marching is making me hungry. Come on, let's find a shady spot with less than a thousand insects and sit and eat and drink some of the vino I brought along. Never do nothing on an empty stomach, that's what Mike always used to say. Hey, Nick, you're kind of quiet, like Sariki, huh? You don't say much."

  * * *

  So that's how it went. As Chong explained late in the afternoon, as we were approaching the city of Kompong Chikreng, the question was where we would make camp for the night. All day we skirted villages and avoided contact with anyone.

  It was my idea. I didn't want anyone tipping off the Society. If the Society happened to be a tool of the government and they found out a big American disguised as a peasant was moving through the country, some embarrassing questions might be asked in Washington. I wanted to make sure what this Society was first.

  We camped on a small hill overlooking the city. We had stopped by a stream earlier where Chong showed me his fishing ability with a three-pronged stick. He ended up with four pan-sized trout.

  "What a day," Chong said. "It moved quick, didn't it, Nick?"

  "Very quick," I answered.

  Chong and I were sitting with backs against trees on our mats looking down the hill. The small campfire glowed between us at our feet, no longer in flame, just red embers. Each of us was lost in his own thoughts. I thought if we made as good progress tomorrow as we did today, we would reach the ruins sometime tomorrow night.

  "Sometimes I talk too much," Chong said suddenly. "I was just thinking, you know? Hell, I've been jabbering at you all day today. Listen, Nick, anytime I get spouting off too much for you to take, you just say, 'Chong, shut up, and I'll clamp my mouth."

  I laughed at him. "Chong, if you knew how gabby my other traveling companions were, you'd know that I welcome some conversation."

  Chong had been sipping on his wine. He nodded once at me and flashed his con smile. "Just remember, if you want me to shut up, say so."

  I drank some of my own wine. We looked at the crystal lights of Kompong Chikreng below us. I drained my cup and put it in my pack. The stars looked low enough to hit with a stick. When I had a cigarette going, I said, "Chong, what do you think of this Silver Snake Society?"

  He shrugged, drank some more of his wine, then tilted his head back, draining his wine. He wiped the back of his hand across his lips, sniffled, pulled on his earlobe and belched loudly.

  "Way I see it they're a bunch of radicals," he said in a strained voice. "Southeast Asia is puffed with them. Can you dig it, Nick? Seems like we're loaded with cults and superstitions and everyday fear. So, man, these little gangs spring up all over the place. Old Mike told me that in America you got what they call outlaw motorcycle gangs; well, maybe that's what these groups over here are, you know?" He scratched his head. "But this Silver Snake jazz is a little different."

  "In what way?"

  Chong dropped his cup next to him then scooted down so he was lying on his back on the mat. He locked his fingers behind his neck. "Well, most of these cults or gangs only spout one thing; they all just cry that we should drive the Yankee invaders out of Southeast Asia, nothing more. They make a lot of noises, but mostly they're just saying one thing.

  "Now this Silver Snake Society is on another giggle. What they're spouting is for everybody to help win back the Delta for Cambodia. To the clowns who are walking battles, waiting for a peace to happen, this makes sense, dig? It has logic and purpose to it.

  "Okay, so maybe this Society really believes it's going to pull it off. Maybe they're straight and have only this one purpose in mind. But the word is that they fight the VC and the Vietcong. Any group that digs that kind of action is A-Okay in my book. So their recruiting methods leave a little to be desired, I mean, Lee Kien was a buddy of mine. I don't dig that nasty silver dagger and the killing to scare others into joining. Also, I hate the VC and the Vietcong and the Red Chinese.

  "To me it's just Naziism and Facism with a different label. And if the Society is fighting this kind of action then they're good for Cambodia. Besides, I find it funny that one gang is singled out and bad-mouthed like it is. The more I think about it, the more curious I get."

  I frowned at him. "What do you mean, Chong? Do you think somebody is deliberately putting them down?"

  Chong raised up on one elbow so he could face me. "Let's just say it gets curious for me. Nick, the leader of this Society is a cat named Tonle Sambor. Nobody knows anything about him, where he came from, what he believes, nothing. So maybe he's a Communist, but nobody really knows. Though I don't go for his recruiting methods, they bring results. He's got himself quite a goddamned army. Who do you think is hurt by a big army?"

  "The Cambodian government," I said. "Then you're saying the government is worried that maybe this Tonle Sambor is getting too powerful."

  Chong held his hand out to me palm up. "Now, man, I'm not saying any such thing. What I'm saying is I'm curious, and such a thing is more than just possible, dig?"

  I scooted down on my own mat and matched Chong's position. What he told me tossed a few different elements on this so-called Society. Suppose the Cambodian government was using both me and the United States to rid itself of an unwanted rising power? That official who had revealed to the U.S. information about the Society could have done it just for that purpose. Maybe the government wanted us to do its dirty work for it.

  Now I didn't quite know how I was going to handle this assignment; right now there were too many loose ends. I had to find out everything about this Silver Snake Society. I heard Chong snoring as I drifted off to sleep.

  The next night we reached the outskirts of Siem Reap. Chong said we had to be more careful now, for we had entered the operating area of the Society.

  We had decided to continue moving through darkness. We were close to the ruins; we could make it before daylight with no problem.

  Chong picked his way carefully through the jungle. Several times we had to freeze in our steps because of thrashing around us. We saw men in groups of two's and three's pass by us. Chong proved it to me; he may not have been the greatest guide in the world, but he was sure as hell one of the best. Without a moon, and with the jungle overgrown above us, there were times when we moved in total darkness. The men passing us were dark shadows, making no attempt to be quiet. As the sky started to lighten, Chong told me we were very close to the
ruins. We had to move about a hundred yards at a time, then freeze and listen. Just before dawn, as we approached the ruins of Angkor Thom, Chong showed me what kind of fighter he was.

  We had entered a grassy plain that spread flat to the ruins. In the predawn light we saw the massive stone structures rising above us. The stones had a brown tint to them, with archways and windows just black pockets in the pale light. Crystals of decay showed white on the edges and corners of the blocks. It looked like a bombed-out village of stone. I knew there would probably be tunnels and caves and hidden passages.

  Chong and I were crouched at the edge of the plain. Grass was almost waist-high in front of us. Chong was chewing gum. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows. I knew what he was thinking. Walk or crawl?

  If we walked, keeping low, we would disturb the grass. But we also would make better time. If we crawled, we would be able to pick our way quietly. But it would take longer. Either way somebody sitting on top of a temple wall with a pair of binoculars could see us as soon as the sun started rising.

  I had a lot to learn about the Society. I didn't want to be picked off before I even reached them. I elected to crawl.

  The grass was tall right up to the edge of the ruins. Chong and I dropped to our bellies and started out. I didn't like it. It was a bad way because even though we seemed to be well-hidden we couldn't see beyond our immediate area. Somebody could be standing two feet away, aiming right at our backs, and we never would have known they were there. The sky turned from pale gray to a deep blue. We were almost halfway across. Then I saw something directly in front of us.

  Chong halted at the same time I did. The roll of barbed wire looked like a long webbed water pipe. The top strands were about six inches from the top of the grass. Beyond the first row another lay curled, with a third beyond that. The grass rustled as Chong elbowed over to me.

  "Man, what the hell are we going to do about that?" he said.

  I sat up and brushed at the front of my shirt. "We look for a break in the wire," I said.

  "Oh, really? And just why does there have to be a break in the wire?"

  I flashed a wide smile. "The Society members have to get through the wire somewhere, don't they?" I nodded to my left, and we started to crawl along.

  The roll of wire seemed to stretch out of sight. Moisture from the night before clung to the wire like thousands of tiny bits of broken glass, winking at us in the rising sun. And then suddenly the wire ended.

  It was chopped off at the end. There was a large clearing in the grass, then the roll of wire started up again. Chong and I rested, catching our breath. The way was clear, and it looked like an invitation.

  "What do you think?" Chong said.

  I shook my head. "Too easy. It's either mined or somebody is lying there waiting for us." I looked above the grass to the crusty tops of the ruins. I patted Chong on top of his porcupine head. "Which one do you think the Society is in?"

  The ruins seemed to be laid out in several temples, maybe eight or nine. Beyond the front wall, they might have stretched out on and on. But the way the front wall looked there were three temples. There was no way of knowing how long the triple line of temples stretched until we got to the other side of that front wall.

  "I'd say the left third of the wall, directly across that clearing," Chong said.

  I nodded in agreement. "We have to go across that clearing. Let's keep to the grass until we have to skirt the wire. Once we get past the wire, we'll cut to the right side of the wall. You want to lead or should I?"

  "Why change now?" He started off in front of me.

  It seemed logical to me that the Society would mine or trap the area directly in front of its temple. If we got past the wire and to the right, maybe we could come up behind its temple and set up some kind of base camp.

  We reached the wire. Chong gave me one backward glance, flashed a quick smile, then crept into the clearing around the flat cut edge of the wire. He moved only a foot on hands and knees, then drew his hand back as though he had touched something hot.

  "Mine here," he whispered.

  I nodded and waited until he was almost past the wire. He had pointed out three more mines before he was lost in the grass again on the other side of the wire. I moved out into the clearing, trying to put my hands and knees where he had. When I was directly in front of the wire I heard grass suddenly rustling in front of me. Soles of shoes slapped on the rocky soil. I heard Chong give a loud grunt, then there was a lot of thrashing in the grass just on the other side of the clearing. Chong wasn't the only one grunting. There were at least two of them, maybe more.

  I fought back the impulse to jump and run to help Chong. My muscles tightened as I slowly moved over and between the damned land mines. Large sections of grass were moving. The grunting grew louder and changed to pants. I had passed two of the mines. There was just one more to go. The noise didn't seem to grow any worse, but I knew Chong was having his hands full. At last I moved past the third mine, rounded the wire and moved into the tall grass. I rose to my feet, and keeping my knees bent and head down, moved toward the noise. Hugo was in my hand.

  There were two of them. They each had machete-looking knives. Chong was scooting on his back away from them. He had one by the knife wrist, but the other was coming in from the side. Chong was pulling at the waist band of his pants trying to get something out. He didn't look afraid, just nervous. What he pulled out from his waist band was a long old GI bayonet. As soon as he had it in his hand, he rolled toward the wrist he held. The man came down on his knees. He tried to knee Chong in the groin. Chong's back was to the second man, and he was heading for it. I figured he would be mine.

  I was facing the man's right side still partially hidden in the grass. He had his long knife raised as he rushed to Chong's back. Keeping low, I moved out. As the second man came up to Chong, he spotted me coming. He half-turned, his mouth and his eyes opened in surprise. I got a foot in front of him, pivoted so I was between him and Chong, then drove into him with my shoulder. My left hand caught his arm at the elbow, and I moved it down to his wrist.

  If the man was surprised it was short-lived. He backed three steps and twisted to the side. My shoulder hit his hip bone. He tried to wrench his knife hand free.

  He might have taken me if he hadn't done one stupid thing. I had hold of his right hand. He could have grabbed my wrist with his left hand as I had done. But he thought he would beat me down. His left fist pounded into my back and neck and head. My stiletto met no resistance, and I plunged it into his stomach. The thin blade sliced under the rib cage and pierced the heart.

  I turned toward Chong.

  He and his man were still rolling in the grass. Chong had a small scratch on his forehead. He was trying to bring his knees up to his chest. The feet of both men were scuffling, to get a foothold in the hard dirt. Chong finally got his knees under him. He put his feet against the man's chest, then stiffened his legs. The man flew off him, and Chong let the rest of his body rock forward in the direction of his feet. The man stumbled back. He started to go down and with instinct put both hands down to cushion the fall. Chong became a fencer. He jabbed straight out with the bayonet stiffening his right elbow. The blade plowed through the man's chest. Chong pulled the blade out slowly. He wiped it on the man's pant leg, then turned to me.

  "Man," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here."

  We took off at a dead run for the opposite corner of the wall.

  Ten

  We reached the corner of the wall in morning sunlight. Around it the wall continued. We were on the opposite side from where the Society had its temple, if our theory was correct. For awhile we leaned against the wall panting.

  "What happens when they find those two?" Chong asked.

  "It probably will be days before anyone finds them. I hope by then to be the hell away from here."

  I nodded to Chong, and we moved out along the wall. We passed huge cavities, looking into barren roofless temples. The walls must ha
ve extended an acre. There was no telling how many temples there actually were.

  When we came to an archway in the wall we went through it cautiously. Like most of the other temples, this one had no roof; the walls stretched almost 14 feet, then just seemed to crumble at an end.

  Inside the temple the air was stifling. I put my pack down, and Chong did the same. For a long while we rested against the packs without talking.

  "These places must be interconnecting," I said.

  Chong gave me a wise grin. "Thinking of looking around?"

  Our voices sounded hollow as though we were in a canyon. I figured the best way to make sure where the Society temple was would be to find it from above. I wondered how sturdy the stones were locked in place along the tops of the walls. Chong was looking up with me. His eyes met mine and without a word we rose to our feet. Chong came to my side, and we pressed against one of the walls. We walked along it, fingering the cracks between the stones.

  "My ancestors were pretty damned good stone masons," he said lightly.

  I was halfway down the wall before I found a crack large enough to use. It was just above my knees. I saw others climbing higher on each side of me. I called Chong over and pointed them out.

  "The way I see it," I said, "we'll have to climb in a zigzag pattern."

  "Okay, man, want me to go first?"

  "Look, your job was to bring me here," I answered. "You did that. Now the rest is up to me. You can head back and get your crap games going again. I can find my way when I'm done here. You were a good traveling companion, Chong. I appreciate it."

  He was frowning at me. "Man, what the hell is this? I didn't hire out as a guide; I came to help you because of Sariki. I'm still going to help you, but I've got my own reasons now, dig? Whatever you're going to say, I don't want to hear it. I mean whether you know it or not you're going to need me."

  I sighed. "Chong, for the record I told you to leave. If you come with me, it is strictly as a tourist."