by James Samuel
“We don’t have a picture of him.”
“Speak to immigration as a matter of national security. The passport will most likely be fake. I want you to search for every record of a foreigner of his description entering Cambodia in the last few weeks.”
“But Sen —”
“Sen isn’t going anywhere. We must protect ourselves now. Find Winchester’s picture. Look into security cameras. Monitor the logs of the hotels in Phnom Penh and Kampot. Someone knows who he is.”
“That’s an enormous operation —”
“You have an entire army behind you. Make it happen. Nobody ever said this would be easy.”
“Fine,” Narith grunted. “Whatever you say, Shao.”
The line went dead, and Shao took a deep breath. His aides were in the middle of removing Sok’s body from the room. Bloodstains soaked into the wood of the floor as the dead man disappeared.
He tried to calm his jangled nerves, but he couldn’t relax. In Sok’s corpse, he saw his own future. If he failed to carry out Beijing’s wishes, it would be his only future.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Phnom Penh, Phnom Penh Province, Cambodia
Days passed as James and Sinclair waited for the frenzy over Kravaan’s assassination to blow over. Kravaan’s death made the local papers and the national news. The reports said nothing about his real work, only that he was a soldier. Thankfully, nobody had managed to identify James, other than some vague reference to foreign involvement.
James took out a cigarette from a crumpled pack and lit it, taking a long drag as he did. These were supposed to be his days off, yet he thought about nothing but General Narith and Shao Fen.
Sinclair returned from the bar with two beers. He sat down on the terrace of the only Irish bar in the Doun Penh District. All the waiters spoke English and the speakers blared Western rock hits exclusively.
“Shao Fen knows who I am,” said James at last.
Sinclair rolled his eyes. “Do we have to talk about this now? On our day off?”
“This is not a holiday. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can leave.”
“So, you’re not enjoying Cambodia then?” Sinclair teased.
James took another drag on his cigarette. “Not particularly. Are you?”
“You’ve seen places ordinary tourists could never see.”
“Well, when I get a job with Lonely Planet, I’ll be thankful for it.”
“Oh, fine.” Sinclair guzzled half his beer in one. “What do you want to discuss?”
There were so many things on his mind. They’d talked through all the obvious subjects when James returned from Kravaan’s assassination. Shao knew his identity because of Dylan. They were no closer to killing General Narith. And Shao presented a much bigger problem.
“We need to start working on Shao Fen,” said James.
“Or General Narith.”
“No. Shao Fen. He’s the real power behind General Narith. If we don’t get permission to kill him, it’s like treating only some of the cancer tumours. They’ve both got to go.”
“General Narith is our job. Nobody else. Why should we waste our time on something that’s not our business? We should stick to our assignment.”
James took a long look at Sinclair. He didn’t understand. With his head buried in facts and analysis, he lived far away from the real world, content with his files and computers.
“I murdered a man in front of his daughter this week,” said James. “The least I can do is to try to make this country a better place.”
Sinclair shook his head. “That’s not what we do.”
“I want more than that. There has to be something positive to come out of this. Why can’t our efforts be used for the greater good?”
Sinclair narrowed his eyes at him. “Where has this come from? Are you getting soft on me?”
James sighed. “Maybe I just want our work to mean something.”
“Can’t we leave this for later and not have a moral crisis in the middle of a job?”
James grumbled under his breath, but he saw the logic. Anything but total concentration would get himself killed.
“So, Dylan works for Fen,” said Sinclair. “That’s what we know about him. I think his prior behaviour demonstrates that he’s willing to share.”
“Would Thom take Dylan’s words as proof?”
“It’s not enough to prove anything, and Dylan is just another foreigner.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“They don’t trust foreigners. Even if they like us, they’ll never trust us like they would one of their own.”
James folded his arms and looked out at the street crawling with all manner of sights. He watched a clumsy backpacker weighed down by his bags trying to find an opening in the relentless traffic. James started to feel like that, lost and confused. Shao was a part of this, and he had to kill him. He couldn’t just stick to the contract and let Shao simply choose someone else to carry out China’s takeover of the government. It wasn’t right.
“Then what are we supposed to do?” asked James.
“Kill General Narith and let’s get out of here,” Sinclair ventured.
James sent him a stinging glare.
“No? Well fine. We should speak to Dylan first.”
James ran his hand over his stubble. “You say he’s protecting someone called Song Wen?”
“Dylan sent me some information after he left, yes, he’s acting as a bodyguard for Song Wen.”
“Maybe we don’t need proof. Maybe we don’t need Thom to greenlight anything.”
Sinclair flicked his eyebrows and leaned in over the table. “Not again, James. We’re not risking everything by going beyond our brief. You remember the reaction from last time.”
James recalled it all too well. Gallagher had given himself an aneurysm in his fury after they murdered the last Blackwind client. Cambodia was meant to be their redemption.
“This is the key. All we need is Shao to react to something. Something that will link him to General Narith, then nobody can complain.”
Sinclair’s eyes widened. “To cover ourselves, you mean?”
“Exactly. If they wanted to make an issue out of it, it would bring Narith into it and blow open everything that’s been happening. They wouldn’t do that. Too many powerful people would find themselves trapped.”
“And what can we do to make Shao react?”
“Song Wen.”
Sinclair’s brow creased as he considered it. For a moment, James thought he wouldn’t agree to the idea. Careful and conservative Sinclair. Then, he surprised James by nodding his assent.
Shao Fen was on the list.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Blake hobbled around on his crutches. The bullet had torn through his ankle, an injury revealed to be more serious after the medics removed his boot. He would walk again after the surgery, but it would take time. He just had to get through a few more days then he could leave these damned crutches behind.
He’d forgotten how long it had been since he spent this much time in a hospital room. This particular hospital in Phnom Penh was a private one that treated only the rich and privileged. No dirty hordes of peasants crowding outside the gates, grasping through the bars trying to get information about their loved ones. Fragrant flowers in the walled gardens provided a welcome respite from the sterile surroundings.
Blake wobbled back into his private ward. The smell of fresh disinfectant seared the edges of his nostrils. He grabbed his phone from the painted side table next to his bed.
Dialling the number, he kept a tight grip on the phone.
“Blake,” said Gallagher. “How are you?”
“As well as I can be, given the circumstances.”
“Will you walk again?”
“Sure, I will. Doctor said I got lucky, but not much I can do at the moment. I’ll be on crutches until at least next week.”
“Good news.”
Blake hesitate
d for a moment. “Is there any chance of getting me out of Cambodia?”
He glared at the heavily bandaged foot. Not one of his supposed colleagues had deigned to visit him after returning from the Cardamom Mountains. Sinclair hadn’t even bothered to call.
“No,” said Gallagher at last.
“Why not? I’m useless like this.”
“You said you would walk again soon enough. There’s still a job to do if you recall?”
Blake did remember. He remembered all too well. Part of him wanted to hurt James for not even coming to visit. Another part of him believed he owed him. How could he kill the man who had saved his life, even if he did despise him?
“Sir?”
“Enough. Thom and Winchester must receive the same treatment. I don’t like to repeat myself; you know that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Even if you need to limp, you’re still more than capable of firing a bullet.”
“I won’t be able to get close to them. They know I’m crippled right now and can’t help them. Maybe a little push from you could help that along?”
“When the time is right, I’ll have you assigned to them. You’ll be present at the appropriate time.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As Blake dropped the phone on his hospital bed, he gritted his teeth. He hated this country. It had brought him nothing but pain and suffering. A return to civilisation was the only cure. For all the supposed trappings of civilisation in this upmarket hospital, he couldn’t forget what existed outside these grounds. Misery.
His boss had left him with a terrible choice to make. His hatred for James. His newly acquired debt to James. Loyalty to his boss Gallagher, and his desire for advancement.
Blake didn’t know how to proceed. His emotions span like a whirling dervish. Either way, he thought, someone wasn’t going to be leaving Cambodia.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Night fell over Phnom Penh. The shutters were all closed tight. The rats made the world their home as they skittered through the piles of trash. The pungent smell of fish from that day’s markets infested every crack and crevice in the concrete maze of the capital.
James ventured out alone, leaving Sinclair to stew in his pit of chips and soda. Tonight, he’d organised a meeting with Dylan. He wanted to speak to him alone.
The brothels lining both sides of the nearby streets were the only remaining hubs of activity at this hour, the rising sun acting as a closing bell.
James crossed the near-empty roads until he made it to the river. It seemed like a suitable meeting place. The alleys and overhanging windows offered no prying ears bending in their direction.
As he waited, he observed a couple of junkies sitting outside a closed bar, their eyes glazed and white under the cloudy high of crystal meth. Methamphetamine ravaged the old Khmer kingdom, tainting the golden blood of commerce with grime. For many visitors, it was the main attraction of Cambodia.
Dylan approached moments later, his hands tucked into his pockets. His head swivelled from side to side on the lookout for spies.
“We’ve gotta be fast,” said Dylan. “I’m not supposed to be more than twenty feet away from Wen for any reason. He should sleep through the night though.”
James nodded. “Thanks for meeting me. We need to talk.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
“Why should I be angry with you? You did what you felt necessary to protect yourself.”
Dylan looked sheepish. “But... you could have been killed and it would have been all my fault.
James smirked and removed a cigarette from his packet. He popped it into his mouth and, lighting it, began puffing away. “You worry too much, Dylan. Be decisive. I’ve been in this game too long to be bothered by attempts on my life.”
“Thanks, James.”
“But.” James jabbed at Dylan with the molten end of his cigarette. “You can help me by answering some of my questions.”
“Anything. I owe you so much.”
James nodded. The way Sinclair had described the incident made Dylan sound like a traitor. It had taken him just a couple of minutes to get over it. Things happened. Tongues slipped. Dylan was a newbie as a mercenary. He would learn.
He went on to explain the situation. James trusted him enough to reveal everything he knew so far and about the connection between Shao Fen and General Narith, as well as their plan of action. Even for someone so inexperienced, Dylan understood the geopolitics. His face grew more and more concerned as he realised which side he was on.
“Now you understand everything I do. I want to make this country a better place if I can.” He stopped. “I understand he’s your client and you’ll get into trouble, but I’m asking you for help. For the greater good.”
Dylan sighed and covered the crown of his head with his palms. “It could cost me my career, though. What would Adam say?”
“He was a good man, or he seemed that way anyway.” James tossed aside the remains of his cigarette. “You knew him better than I did. I’m sure you’d know what he would say.”
“He would tell me to finish the job.”
James raised his eyebrows. “Maybe. On the other hand, you’re your own man. You have to decide what’s right for you. I’m telling you now, though, General Narith and Shao Fen are going to die with your help or without it because it’s the right thing to do.”
Dylan steadied himself by leaning against the river wall. A couple of merry drunks sauntered past them. One of them swigged from a huge bottle of the type of whisky that comes with no branding.
“General Narith won’t do anything without authorisation from Shao first. He’s in complete control. Song Wen will be used as the puppet leader when Sen is dead.”
“Yes, yes, I know that already.”
“Wen was chosen by the Communist Party in Beijing to control Cambodia on their behalf. Shao won’t have anything to do with rebuilding the country after the coup, at least not as far as I know.”
“What’s Wen like?”
“Just a politician.” Dylan shrugged. “He doesn’t speak English, so I don’t know anything about him. I’m just a bodyguard to him. I don’t talk.”
“Is he brave?”
Dylan shook his head. “A coward at heart. He’s a manager and nothing more. Whatever Cambodian they choose to sit in the office will answer to him, but on his own he’s nothing.”
“I see.”
“That’s all I can tell you.”
“Does Shao trust you?”
“Only about as much as anyone else who works for him. He doesn’t tell me anything more than what I need to know. Right now, he wants you.”
James lit another cigarette. A plan had already formed in his mind, but he needed to get to General Narith first. Song Wen was the weakness within Shao’s strategy. If James could target China’s puppet, the general would strike back. He would have no choice.
“I want to lure the general out into the open.”
“I can do that,” Dylan brightened. “You see, Shao’s already warned me to be careful. Said that the Kravaan story was you and that I need to protect Wen with my life. If I told him where you were, Narith would be the one to hunt you down.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I just know he would. He sees you as a real threat now. You went into the mountains and killed Tep Prak, returning without even a scratch. You’re invincible, in his eyes. You’re also the only reason why he hasn’t launched the coup. He wants you out of the way first, so you don’t ruin everything.”
James gave Dylan a warm smile. The insight into Shao’s state of mind was priceless. If he could eliminate the general and then take possession of Wen, it would force Shao out into the open, thus proving the connection. Thom and Gallagher would have no choice but to accept his killing.
“That’s as much as I know, James,” said Dylan. “Sorry I couldn’t have been more helpful.”
“Oh no, Dylan, you’ve done this perfectly. What I want you t
o do now is tell him where I am. We need to choose the right place.”
“Like where?”
“Somewhere where I can use the terrain to my advantage. I’ll be completely outnumbered and outgunned. If I fight him in the middle of an open field, I wouldn’t last more than five minutes.”
Dylan snickered as he stretched his legs. “I know about as much about Cambodia as you do. Maybe ask Sinclair. You make it sound like you’re looking for an Angkor Wat.”
“Angkor Wat?”
“Sure, it’s a temple complex next to Siem Reap up north. You never heard of it?”
“Course I’ve heard about it. It’s the biggest temple complex in the country.”
“Angkor Wat. That’s the place.”
James noted the flicker in the eyes of Dylan like a soft candle had been blown by a sudden gust of wind. He had to press the attack. Angkor Wat would serve as the battleground against General Narith and his forces.
“Angkor Wat,” Dylan repeated.
“Set it up, as soon as you can. Tell Shao I’m on my way there to meet a contact in three days. Make it clear to him I won’t be alone, so he’ll definitely send Narith himself and not just two of his little men like the last time. You get on back to Wen before someone notices you’re gone.”
James patted Dylan on the shoulder and walked away. He didn’t want to give himself a chance to reconsider. Sinclair would blow a gasket when he found out where they were going.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Siem Reap, Siem Reap Province, Cambodia
Sinclair shook his head yet again as their bus whizzed north to Siem Reap through the Cambodian countryside. The journey took them nearly the whole day, with a stop at a dodgy roadside restaurant infested with clouds of black flies aiming for a free meal.
“Angkor fucking Wat…” Sinclair grumbled under his breath just loud enough for James to hear. “This is stupidity incarnate.”
“Do you have a problem with visiting Angkor Wat?” James said as sweetly as possible. “I thought you would love the chance to see all this historical stuff. One of the wonders of the world.”
