“Please, come with me to my office, and I will have some refreshments for you. I know the journey has been tiresome and that you both must be exhausted,” Katerina said soothingly.
Vimean murmured in agreement. She and her son fell in step behind Mother Superior Katerina and walked down one of the immaculately swept pathways to a small and simple office.
The room was approximately twelve by twelve feet and contained a metal desk and a straight metal chair. Two more chairs were positioned in front of the desk, and the walls were adorned with rich tapestries depicting the Virgin and Child. On a side table was a tall pitcher of cool tea, a small plate of sugar cubes, and a tray of breads and fruits.
Rithipol started to move toward the refreshments but was held back firmly by his mother. Mother Superior smiled wryly, bowed her head, and offered a short prayer of thanksgiving for her guests’ arrival and for the bounty that they were about to receive. Raising her head, the nun said, “Please, help yourself.”
This time, Rithipol looked at his mother with an unspoken question. Now? he asked with his eyes.
She nodded and accompanied him to the side table and the delights it held. After stuffing himself with the breads and fruits, Rithipol savored several cups of the sweetened tea—jasmine, he surmised.
Katerina calmly sat down behind her desk and asked her guests to be seated also. “You are not safe here,” she said, speaking in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “Your great-uncle, King Sihanouk, has been deposed by the Khmer Rouge, and members of the royal family are being rounded up and arrested. There are spies in Bangkok from North Vietnam, America, and the Khmer Rouge. Someone will report that you have come here. If either of you step outside the convent gates, I fear that you will be abducted or even worse.”
“Then what shall we do?” Vimean begged. “If the Khmer Rouge find out that my son is not fully part of the royal family, they may kill him.”
“What do you mean, ‘not fully part of the royal family’?” Mother Superior questioned.
“His father was from the DPRK, and we were never married. My family sent me to the convent in Phnom Penh to hide me from the shame and ridicule that would follow upon the birth of my child.”
“Where is the young man’s father now?” she asked.
“Assassinated by a subhuman pig underling of Kim Il-sung,” Rithipol sneered through his teeth. “I will track him down one day and—”
Katerina interrupted him. “This is a place of love, forgiveness, peace, and tranquility. I must ask you not to speak in such a manner!”
Immediately, Rithipol returned to the calm and serene visage that he wore like a mask to hide his emotions. “I apologize, Mother Superior, and it will not happen again,” Rithipol offered meekly.
This was a grand lesson in hiding one’s true intentions and true emotions. Besides, emotional outbursts were unhelpful in propagating a ruse or misdirecting an opponent. He had spoken the truth to Mother Superior but also to himself: he would never allow it to happen again!
CHAPTER 26
Mother Superior quickly moved the conversation forward. “This is not the best time to discuss plans for you. I want you to rest and eat and regain your strength. You will need all of that strength and your wits to make your escape. I do not think you will be in danger as long as you remain inside these walls. I realize that both you and your son resided inside the convent in Cambodia. But I do not think our convent will be able to offer you the life you desire—unless both of you want to live a cloistered life of service to Christ.”
“With respect, Mother Superior,” Rithipol said abruptly, “I do not!”
Vimean looked at her son with a modicum of disbelief and was about to scold him for his outburst when Mother Superior interjected. “There is no need to chastise your son. He speaks truthfully and with conviction. I doubt very much if he has any interest in studying to be a Carmelite monk. What do you want, Rithipol? I will make no plans until we hear of your wishes.”
Vimean sat in stunned silence while Rithipol considered his options.
“Before anyone speaks,” Katerina continued, “I would like you to go to the room we have prepared for you and rest. I will have dinner brought to you later this evening. Sleep and rest, and you will be better prepared to think about your futures.”
Vimean and her son retired to their room without speaking a word. They lay down on their respective cots and fell immediately to sleep. At dusk, they were awakened by a nun carrying a tray filled with fresh bread, milk, and cheeses. Arranged around the outer rim of the tray was a variety of fruits and sweet cakes. Another nun followed with a small pitcher of wine for Vimean and a pot of cool jasmine tea for Rithipol.
The nun with the wine pitcher said, “You have slept soundly for several hours. I hope you enjoy what we have prepared for you.”
Vimean rose from her cot and gently shook Rithipol to wakefulness. She thanked the nuns for their kindness and hospitality as Rithipol nodded in agreement. The nuns bowed deeply, made the sign of the cross, and departed. Rithipol was the first to move to the tray. He poured his mother a cup of the wine and himself a cup of tea. Both drank quickly as if someone might take the cups away, and Rithipol poured another cup of wine for his mother and then one for himself. Before Vimean could object, he turned the cup up and drained its contents.
“I understand why people like this,” he said. “The taste is complex, and my stomach has a pleasant warm feeling. I also understand the alcohol loosens inhibitions and relaxes the person who partakes.”
Vimean recovered from her surprise and said, “You are much too young to drink wine. It is an acquired taste and must be treated with respect to avoid drunkenness and loss of self-control.”
Rithipol considered her words and responded that loss of self-control was a sign of weakness and that he considered that to be unhelpful in most human interactions.
“How did you become so intelligent and wise for a young boy?” she asked.
“I read many volumes in the convent library before we came here. I studied many subjects and many disciplines, but the topics I liked the most were the sciences and the psychology of influence.”
Vimean raised an eyebrow and asked, “What kind of influence?”
“Why, the ability to influence other people!” he replied in a very matter-of-fact manner.
“Influence them to what purpose?” she probed further.
“To my purpose, of course!”
Vimean leaned toward her son and caressed his cheek. “Would your purpose be one of good or evil?”
Rithipol rolled his eyes and replied with a faint hint of aggravation, “Good and evil are just two sides of the same coin. Who is to judge what is good or evil? Both must exist in order for either to exist.”
Vimean caressed his cheek again and said, “Your thoughts are deep, and you express them well. I still marvel at you and your words for one so young.”
Rithipol grasped his mother’s hands. “I am finding that my physical age has little to do with my intelligence or experience. Wouldn’t you say that I was too young to see my father assassinated at the hands of a tyrant? I remember every detail, you know,” he said, tapping an index finger on his forehead.
She nodded sadly and moved to the tray to serve them the evening meal.
After their dinner, Vimean poured another cup of wine for both of them. Each slowly took a drink, and Vimean asked, “What do you want to do, my son?” She drew in another breath and asked, “Where do you want to go? I am afraid that we must separate in order to survive.”
Rithipol considered the question and answered, “I want to go to Europe and further my education. The Carmelites have done well in teaching me, but I must experience a university setting to realize my full potential. All that I know of the world is Southeast Asia, and I need to know more. Who are these Europeans seemingly dominating the civilized world? I know little of Europe or
the Americans, but they seem to be everywhere.”
“Is there a place in Europe that you would prefer over others?” she asked.
“Germany,” he replied. “From my studies, they were very close to winning World War II. They applied science and influence to focus the population and marshal forces never before seen at the time. They must be an incredible race!”
Vimean interjected, “But their leader was an evil man who manipulated his citizens and justified the genocide of an entire group of people that he considered undeserving and even subhuman! They have become different people now.”
“I wonder,” Rithipol said with sarcasm. “What about you, Mother? What do you see in the future?” Rithipol questioned.
“I have been with the Carmelites since before you were born. In twelve years, they have always been kind and gentle. They worship this man Jesus with reverence and solemnity. I have come to think of their savior as much like the enlightened one whom we revere. I would like to learn more of this man Jesus. I would like to stay here, hoping to one day return home to Phnom Penh,” Vimean mused. “I also know in my heart that you must follow your own path. It saddens me to think of not having you close by and being able to talk to you.”
Rithipol smiled at his mother, a rare event for him, she realized.
“Let’s sleep and dream of the future tonight and discuss with Mother Superior in the morning,” she said as she moved to her cot and lay down.
Rithipol put down his unfinished cup of wine and went to his cot. He relaxed quickly and soon felt the heaviness of sleep engulf him.
About 3:00 a.m., they both were awakened by the sound of screaming voices from outside the convent. Men were screaming in Thai, demanding that someone or something surrender. Several gunshots rang out, followed by multiple bursts of automatic weapons fire and then silence. The men screamed again, demanding that whoever they were targeting stay on the ground. There was silence again, followed by voices speaking in a normal tone. One of the men said, “They are both dead.”
A nun from the convent scurried into Vimean and Rithipol’s room, telling them to be quiet and stay inside until the police assured them that all was safe.
Several minutes later, they heard Katerina speaking to the police in hushed tones. Mother Superior entered Vimean’s room and asked the nun to leave. As the nun departed, Katerina grasped her hand and thanked her for her bravery in warning their guests. The young nun smiled, bowed, and grasping her crucifix, departed from the room.
Mother Superior turned to Vimean and Rithipol and said, “It was as I feared. The Khmer Rouge know you are here.”
CHAPTER 27
“What has happened?” Vimean asked in a small whisper. She was shaking slightly and terribly frightened.
Rithipol, however, was calm and turned to face Mother Superior. “Yes. Please tell us what has occurred,” he said frankly.
Katerina pulled a chair close to their cots and spoke in a hushed voice. “One of our nuns has a brother on the Bangkok police force. When I knew you were coming here from Phnom Penh, I asked him about Khmer Rouge activity in Thailand and whether he believed the nuns from Cambodia might be in danger once they arrived here. He said that there had been an increase in Khmer Rouge activity on the Thai–Cambodian border and also in Bangkok. Military intelligence sources had informed the police that the Khmer Rouge was aware that a member of the Cambodian royal family and her son had fled the convent in Phnom Penh for sanctuary. It was also known that commanders in the Khmer Rouge wanted to capture the refugees and return them to Cambodia for trial and probable execution.”
“Execution?” Vimean whispered. “But why?”
“Because the new regime wants to sweep away any vestiges of the old monarchy in order to consolidate their power and show the people that they are the new reality,” Rithipol said. “They wish to demonstrate their control of all things in Cambodia and to crush any wishful thinking about the monarchy returning.”
Katerina nodded in agreement and added, “Further, our police contact does not believe this will be the last attempt to capture the two of you. He will post uniformed and undercover officers around the convent to protect you. The police chief will also give the press a story about two Cambodian spies being captured alive and questioned. This will give other assassins some hesitation regarding another assault on the convent.”
Rithipol stood up from his cot and said to the Mother Superior, “With respect, Mother Superior, I think that other, more audacious attempts will be made. Mother and I are a prize of high value, and those seeking us will not be dissuaded by a few guards. I, however, have another plan that will make the convent safe and remove Mother and me from harm.”
Rithipol began to pace as he explained his plan. He understood from the nuns in Phnom Penh that on rare occasions, a Carmelite sister was allowed to travel to Rome and the Vatican. If this could be arranged quickly, he could accompany this nun to Italy under an assumed name and false credentials. He would require a baptismal certificate and a cover story explaining that he was traveling with a sponsoring nun to begin schooling and to eventually enter the priesthood. The sisters in Phnom Penh had always wanted to baptize him and name him John. His father had wanted the name Chin to be a part of his Korean identity. He would become John Chin, studying for the priesthood.
“But what of your mother?” Katerina asked.
“Mother would stay here with you as a novitiate. She said to me earlier that she wanted to explore becoming a Carmelite nun.”
Katerina turned to Vimean and asked her directly, “Is this true? You wish to become a Christian and devote yourself to a cloistered life in service and prayer to our Lord Jesus Christ?”
Vimean bowed her head and then raised her eyes to meet the gaze of Mother Superior. “I do wish it with all my heart,” she said firmly. “I will miss my son dearly but will not deny him the opportunities that lay before him.”
Rithipol paced even more quickly as he continued. “The Khmer agents will be looking for a Cambodian woman and her eleven-year-old son. They will totally ignore a European nun returning to Italy with a prospective seminarian. Their spies will see no evidence of a mother and son here in the convent, only nuns and novitiates. They will think we have escaped and will leave the convent in peace.” He stopped pacing and faced Katerina. “Can these arrangements be made in a short time period?”
Katerina, suddenly aware that her mouth was agape, recovered quickly and said the plans could be completed within two or three weeks.
Rithipol interjected, “However, all of these arrangements must be held in complete secrecy. If even a suggestion that an escape plan is underway reaches the Khmer Rouge agents, all will be lost!”
Fourteen days later, a Carmelite nun, Sister Maria Francesca, and her ward, Master John Chin, boarded a new DC-8 bound for New Delhi. From there, they would fly to Istanbul and on to Rome. Once in Rome, Sister Maria Francesca would deliver her ward to an orphans’ school run by the Jesuits.
John Chin would be schooled in the classics and be prepared to enter the seminary. He would put up with the religious dogma and the fictional characters of their Holy Bible, and when the time was right, he would simply disappear into the Italian countryside, and from there, he could go anywhere in the world. He would become aware of and develop his skills in subterfuge, larceny, extortion, and conspiracy. His prowess in languages, the sciences, and the ability to influence weaker minds would serve him well in amassing fortunes of money and influence across Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. He would strive mightily to become simply the most successful criminal mind of the modern era!
CHAPTER 28
On his twenty-first birthday, Dr. John Chin deplaned in Beijing from his “borrowed” Gulfstream jet and was met by a car from the liaison office of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. It was a short ride to the office where Dr. Chin had a meeting scheduled with General Cho of the DPRK. D
r. Chin had set the meeting to discuss black-market arms shipments to North Korea. The DPRK was receiving both light and heavy arms from its Chinese sponsors, but what the North Koreans really wanted was the more sophisticated, laser-guided antitank and antiaircraft weapons. Weaponized anthrax and sarin gas were also on their wish list. Dr. Chin had earned a reputation as a provider of advanced and hard-to-get weaponry. He also had a reputation for being absolutely ruthless and devoid of any political affiliation. In business, he was impressively constant in delivering the products he sold. He was also reputed to have viciously annihilated any who dared to attempt a double cross. Such was the environment in the black-market arms world.
The DPRK staff car pulled up to the liaison office, and one of the two Korean guards in the car jumped out and moved to open Chin’s door. The driver remained in the car with the engine idling.
Dr. Chin emerged from the staff car and adjusted his $2,000 Italian suit before walking the short distance to the liaison office. The DPRK guard opened the door for him, and Chin entered the outer office of the Military Liaison Office of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. There were two additional Korean guards at the inner door, and upon seeing Dr. Chin, they swung it open, stepping inside. “Dr. John Chin! Sir!”
Chin scanned the sparse office. He remembered each piece of furniture and where it had been located. Not much had changed in the fifteen years since his last visit. He observed General Cho, overweight and balding and, as was the habit of the DPRK military, overly festooned with gaudy medals and ribbons pinned to the chest of his uniform jacket.
Chin walked over to Cho’s desk, bowed slightly, and said, “You asked for this meeting. What can I do for you?”
Cho looked the young man over and formed an instant dislike for him. “Your reputation for arrogance is well known,” Cho said. “I see that your reputation is well deserved.”
Chin set his eyes on General Cho with laserlike focus and replied, “Shall I tell you of your reputation? My sources tell me of an aging apparatchik, looking for some relevance in a bankrupt society.”
A Final Broadside Page 10
