A Final Broadside

by Buddy Worrell

  He shouted to the pilot, who responded by awakening the huge, supercharged, nine-cylinder radial engine. See sealed and locked the rear door and then rushed to seat and strap in his newly recovered family.

  The pilot shouted back something in Korean and pushed the Antonov’s throttle to the stops. The plane began rolling and then screaming down the grassy field, picking up speed and vibrating like a faulty kitchen appliance. The pilot finally pulled back on the yoke, and the ancient albatross lifted off the runway, clearing the palms and jungle foliage by at least a foot.

  See released himself from the holding straps and moved to Vimean’s seat. He kneeled down and embraced her as if he could erase the time they had missed together. He felt a tap on his shoulder and released Vimean to turn toward his son.

  “I am Rithipol,” the boy said.

  See fought the urge to embrace the boy. He realized that given the five-year absence in which he had not been a part of the child’s life, this might frighten him. Instead, See held out his hand as if to initiate a handshake, and the boy grasped See’s outstretched hand and shook it vigorously.

  See smiled at the child and announced, “I am See-hwang Lee. I am your father and hope to soon be your mother’s official husband. I have waited five years to see you!”

  Rithipol studied the man’s face for any sign of subterfuge or deceit, and finding none, he said in perfect Korean, “I understand I am to be called Chin-hwa Park. Would you prefer that we address each other in Korean from now on?”

  See was surprised and delighted by the ease with which his son moved from Khmer to a masterful command of Korean.

  “The nuns at the convent also taught me Latin,” Rithipol explained. “But no one speaks it anymore. I also have learned French, Italian, and some English but find English to be the most difficult to understand.”

  See arched his eyebrows in wonder at the language skills possessed by his son and exclaimed, “I am very proud to call you my son, and I will spend the rest of my life making you proud of me as your father.”

  Again, Rithipol studied See’s face for any untoward signs and found none.

  Vimean asked See to tell them of the plan. Where were they going? Where would they live? She had a thousand questions, but See waved her off and said, “I will tell you that our destination is Beijing, where we will refuel and take on supplies for the last leg of our trip.”

  “But where is that?” Vimean pleaded.

  Noting how distraught his lover was becoming, See said, “A Russian air base, just across the Chinese border. I have contacts there who will facilitate our entry as immigrants and help us begin the transition to living there. We will have new identities to cover our disappearance from China. We also will be moved closer to Vladivostok, where Rithipol can attend fine schools and universities. I will be given a position in the KGB administrative office as an intelligence agent, reviewing intelligence gathered from China and the Koreas.”

  Vimean seemed satisfied, but the boy interjected, “So now I will begin to learn Russian!”

  “Da!” See responded vigorously. “I will help you. My Russian is pretty good. After a while, I am sure you will be tutoring me.”

  The balance of the trip to Beijing was filled with chatter between Vimean and See. Rithipol quietly pondered all that he had heard. He wanted to dislike this man who was interjecting himself into his life but could find no reason. He seemed genuine in his love for his mother and also for Rithipol himself as a son. He was finding it possible to forgive this man his five-year absence from their lives. But he would be on guard. He would not be tricked into any future relationship. He would …

  Sleep overtook Rithipol, and he sagged in the restraining harness, sleeping soundly to the droning sound of the Antonov’s radial engine.

  CHAPTER 24

  Rithipol awoke with a start as the plane’s wheels touched down on the military base runway and rolled onto a side path, headed to the tarmac in front of a hangar. When the Antonov stopped rolling and its huge propeller was secured, the pilot released his safety harness and moved to the rear of the aircraft. He quickly unhitched the door, opened it, and set the metal steps in place.

  The pilot turned to See and Vimean and said, “You may get off and refresh yourselves while the plane is refueled and we take on some supplies. Please stay within the hangar and the office inside until we are ready to depart.”

  See nodded and helped Vimean down the steps and onto the tarmac. He turned to assist Rithipol, only to find him deftly climbing down without assistance. The boy took his mother’s hand, and the three of them walked into the hangar and the office within.

  See looked into the office through the glass panes in the door, and it appeared to be empty. His eyes moved warily from left to right. He saw a single restroom, a desk, several chairs, and the Chinese and DPRK flags on poles at either side of the desk. On the desk was a pitcher of water with several glasses and a tray with wrapped sandwiches. The pilot had taken care of everything! The bribe See had paid him earlier was 10,000 US dollars. Hard currency in the DPRK was rare and highly valued.

  They opened the door and walked inside, heading toward the food and water. A moment later, the door slammed behind them. See whirled around instantly to find two Korean soldiers facing them with Chinese-made Kalashnikovs aimed at him and Vimean, who gasped. Before anyone could utter a word, the bathroom door swung open to reveal a DPRK officer. This time it was See who gasped.

  “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. It appears that I have spoiled your little plot!” His hair was grayer and thinner, and he was slightly heavier, but there was no mistaking the thin, soulless voice of Major Cho. “Do you not greet your former commander? How rude!”

  Vimean picked Rithipol up and held him tightly and defensively. She stared at Cho in obvious terror, and he returned her gaze with an icy look.

  “Comrade Major,” See barked in response to Cho’s comment.

  “It is Comrade Colonel now,” Cho uttered nonchalantly. “It seems I have progressed, but you have not, Lieutenant. I gave you a direct order five years ago. You told me you had obeyed. It would appear that you neither obeyed the order nor gave me a correct account of the situation. Are you prepared for my judgment?” Cho sneered.

  A loud knock came at the door, and the guards opened it to admit the pilot of the Antonov. “Comrade Colonel, I have delivered the traitor to you as agreed. I would like the balance of my payment and permission to depart. I have other missions in the service of our enlightened leader, Kim Il-sung.”

  Cho opened the desk drawer and retrieved an envelope, which he handed to the pilot.

  The pilot opened the envelope and thumbed through the rows of US$100 bills. “Shall I load the prisoner on the plane for judgment in our homeland?” he asked.

  “I think not,” Cho hissed. He suddenly drew his silenced semiautomatic Chinese C96 pistol and fired one 9mm round into See’s forehead.

  The force of the impact knocked See backward several feet before his legs crumpled underneath him and he crashed to the floor of the office, his eyes open and fixed on Vimean. Vimean attempted to scream but found no voice.

  The pilot and the guards were momentarily stunned by the act but recovered quickly. The pilot looked directly at Cho and asked, “What shall I do with the woman and the child?”

  “I was wondering about that and think I have an excellent solution. We will sell the female to the slave traders in Malaysia, and since the boy is of no use, take him out to the river and drown him.”

  Vimean held onto Rithipol and knelt down to the lifeless body of her lover and the father of her son. She raised her gaze to meet Cho’s eyes with a look of pure hatred.

  Before Vimean could speak, Cho looked over at Rithipol and said, “And so, little boy, do you have a dirty look for me too?”

  Rithipol looked at his father lying in an ever-expanding pool of blood. Then he looked at h
is furious and devastated mother. Finally, he looked up at Cho with a soulless and evil smile so intense that Cho found himself chilled.

  The silence was broken by the pilot. “Comrade Colonel, this woman and her child are part of the Cambodian royal family. If their deaths were ever traced to you, there would be political ramifications that would be difficult. I suggest that I return them to Cambodia and let her family deal with her. You have dealt with the traitor, and there is no reason to deal with these relics of a bankrupt society.”

  Cho considered the pilot’s words and agreed. He had dealt with the insubordination of the lieutenant and needed no further drama from this unfortunate incident. He ordered that Vimean and her bastard son be returned to Cambodia and to the care or indifference of her family.

  Vimean cursed Cho, and he smiled at her in response. “You would have done well in the slave trade, probably fetching a premium price for your services. And you, tiny one. No curses from you?”

  Rithipol stared back at Cho with a gaze of both indifference and disdain. Cho could not explain it, but the icy, soulless stare of the child had shaken him. Why should he be frightened of a toddler? What possible danger could he be, now or in the future?

  The pilot ushered the duo back to the ancient Antonov and prepared for the takeoff roll. He called back to Vimean, asking that she secure the safety harness about her and the child.

  “And why should you care, you Judas?” she screamed.

  The pilot considered her words and replied, “I delivered an officer who disobeyed orders. I do not deliver women and children to be slaughtered. You may scream and curse at me, but it will have little effect. Of the three of you, I have saved two. These are odds that I will accept any day.” He strapped himself into the safety harness at the controls and pushed the throttle forward, urging the ancient albatross forward and faster down the runway. At eighty-six miles per hour, the pilot pulled back on the yoke, and the Antonov lifted into the air with some reluctance and a loud noise known locally as “bullshit from the bomber.” The plane was up and out of sight in minutes.

  The pilot flew them back to the same airstrip from which they had departed. Once back at the convent, Vimean searched frantically for news of any crash or wreck that might be about her husband—some cover story for his death—but she found none. To the outside world, it was as if See had never existed.

  Rithipol had been unusually calm on the flight back even as his mother was inconsolable. He was considering the scenes he had witnessed and filing all the details in the folders of his photographic memory. Back at the convent, when he was sure that a record of the events of the last few days were stored in his memory, he approached his mother and said, “I have determined that Colonel Cho has no redeeming characteristics and therefore would not be missed or mourned if he were eliminated. I shall take that on as a mission of which my father would approve.”

  Vimean stared at him for a moment and then resumed weeping for her dead lover. Rithipol, however, concentrated on plans to accomplish his mission of killing Colonel Cho.

  CHAPTER 25

  For the next few years, life in the convent was slow and peaceful. Rithipol continued his education with the Carmelite nuns and was approaching the limit of their ability to teach him. Vimean, meanwhile, was plagued by long bouts of depression and deep sadness. She contemplated taking her own life many times but never followed through because of her son.

  Outside of the convent, Cambodia and its population were rapidly becoming more and more involved in the Vietnamese war with America. Much of the involvement was not of the government’s choosing. Soldiers and supplies from North Vietnam had traveled south through Cambodia for many years. Even as the royal family professed the country’s neutrality, secret raids were occurring on Cambodian soil by the American CIA. The bombings and skirmishes caused civilian casualties to mount. In addition, there was a growing insurgency within Cambodia known as the Khmer Rouge, led by a ruthless miscreant known as Pol Pot. In future years, Pol Pot would order the enslavement and execution of 3.2 million of his own people. His favorite saying at various trials, executions, and forced relocations would be “To keep you is no benefit. To destroy you is no loss!”

  As the CIA, North Vietnamese, and Khmer Rouge activities increased in Cambodia, the Carmelite convent became aware of attacks on other convents. It also became obvious that the Cambodian Army was no match for any of these forces. The royal family and even Sihanouk himself were threatened and ultimately deposed.

  In the days before the government collapsed, the nuns of the convent, along with Vimean and Rithipol, abandoned their site and fled to Thailand, where there were other Carmelite convents and where they hoped to be protected. They took with them only what they could carry or pull on small carts through thick jungle that opened up to expansive rice paddies. Their Cambodian guide kept the group of refugees off of existing roads, preferring the cover of goat paths to shield their passage.

  On a starless night, as the monsoon rains were beginning, the group stopped for the night in a thick grove of rubber trees, left from an abandoned plantation. The plantation buildings had long ago been razed, and only a few outbuildings remained intact. They could find shelter there from the rains until the next day. Vimean was leading Rithipol, now eleven years old, by the hand toward an outbuilding when she heard a faint sound in the tree before her. She glimpsed a quick movement in the grass. Rithipol saw the movement too, and with a reflex unknown to others, he reached up and caught the green tree viper by the neck in midair. The creature wriggled violently in Rithipol’s grasp, angling for a potential strike, but the boy calmly grabbed the animal’s body with his other hand and, with a quick snapping motion, severed the spine of the venomous snake. Rithipol tossed the dead viper aside and turned toward his mother.

  Vimean screamed out, “Are you bitten? Are you hurt?”

  Rithipol calmly assured her that he was unscathed, even as she knelt down to examine his arms and legs.

  “These vipers are dangerous, and many people die from their venom. You know these things, but you reacted without fear!” Vimean whispered.

  “I have no fear of these creatures, Mother. Their strikes are predictable. I, however, am unpredictable. Perhaps they should fear me,” he responded.

  The group was restive for the balance of the night, and all were happy to see the light of dawn. Their guide had arranged for the group to meet an old school bus that would take them to the Thai border. There, a group of Thai Carmelites had arranged transportation to the cloistered convent in Bangkok. In all, the trip took over four days of walking through dense jungle vegetation and abandoned plantations and riding on crude, rough roads.

  By the time the refugees reached the city, all were exhausted. Then there was Bangkok! The city was loud and vibrant with the sounds of cars, trucks, and motorcycles, which zoomed up and down the streets with no apparent order. It seemed as though thousands of people were walking about in open markets and cafés, all talking at the same time.

  After the solitude of the jungle, the city sounds were like a jet’s roar. It took over an hour of navigating the winding and crowded streets of Bangkok, dodging traffic and pedestrians, for the bus to reach the convent in the center of town. The bus pulled up to the closed gates, and the driver got out, walked to the entrance, and pulled a bell cord. Within a minute, the gates swung open, and two Thai nuns appeared, waving to the group to enter. The refugees scrambled off the bus and quickly entered the convent, only then feeling safe and secure. One of the waving nuns handed the driver an envelope, which he opened and responded to with a three-toothed grin. The nun scurried back inside, and the gates swung closed.

  Vimean and her son scanned the courtyard of the convent and found it to be the complete antithesis of the world outside the gates. The grounds were lush with palms, ferns, and bright flowering plants. Several immaculately swept pathways led to various destinations within the convent. Fountains
filled with running water dotted the courtyard, as did statues depicting the Virgin and Christ. Behind the courtyard stood several rows of one-story stone structures, probably individual accommodations for the nuns. A larger multistory structure housed their chapel, with adjacent prayer rooms, a library, and a small but well-stocked hospital. The last building the newcomers saw contained the convent’s kitchens and dining hall, partially surrounded by the vegetable gardens, orchards, and grape arbors. Nuns in brown habits, each wearing a silver crucifix, moved slowly about in pairs and small groups, heads bowed and utterly silent.

  An elderly European nun, followed by two Thai sisters, approached the new arrivals. She was taller than the Thai nuns, and a shock of white hair pushed out from her habit. She bore the same silver crucifix as the other nuns, but it was clear that she was in charge. Her posture was regal, and she spoke with quiet authority when she introduced herself as Mother Superior Katerina.

  The Cambodian Carmelites moved forward toward her and greeted her, introducing themselves one by one. Katerina embraced each nun and welcomed them to her convent. “And who are these travelers that have accompanied you from Phnom Penh?” she asked in perfect Khmer.

  Vimean took Rithipol by the hand and stepped forward to the mother superior. “I am Vimean of the Sihanouk family, and this is my son, Rithipol. My great-uncle is the king of Cambodia,” she said with great pride.

  “I know, my child,” Katerina answered.

  Vimean nodded, and Rithipol bowed deeply, just like his mother had shown him. He liked the Carmelites because they always treated him well and marveled at his intelligence and ability to learn. His first impression of the mother superior was also favorable.