Message From -Creasy 5 (14 page)

It took
a minute for her to compose herself. She felt hatred for Creasy and Guido, who
loomed like monsters over the frail Oriental.

"You
said you wouldn't torture him, Creasy! What do you call that?!"

It was
Guido who answered. "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. We gave
him a shock and a bath. I could break his arms and his legs and all his fingers
and his toes, and pull out all his teeth. Hopefully, that will not now be
necessary. Pull yourself together and ask him the questions."

"Fuck
you!" she said, and turned away.

Before
she even reached the end of the jetty, Creasy's voice stopped her.

"His
life is in your hands. If I can't talk to him, I have to kill him. Otherwise,
whoever sent him will know that he's been compromised."

She
turned. "Could you kill him, Creasy? How would you do it?"

"I'd
strangle him and then drop him back in the river. This is no picnic, Susanna!
Either talk to him or wait in the van."

Slowly
she walked back down the jetty, knowing that she would never look at Creasy or
Guido or The Owl with anything less than abhorrence. She was in the company of
animals. Her one thought now was to save a life.

The
Vietnamese was on his feet, leaning back against Guido's chest. His eyes were
dull. She spoke to him in Vietnamese.

"You're
in great danger. If you don't answer these men's questions, they'll certainly
kill you!"

Slowly,
his eyes focused on her. "What do they want to know?"

She
replied: "Who you are, who hired you and why."

Creasy
had taken two faded photographs from the wallet. He showed them to her. They
were of two young girls, one about five and one about three years old. He said:
"Tell him also that after he has drowned, I'll go to his house and kill
his daughters as well."

She
could see Creasy's eyes in the moonlight, and she believed him. Now there were
three lives in her hands. She spoke to the Vietnamese and something
extraordinary happened. He started to laugh hysterically. From behind, Guido
smacked him hard across the face, knocking him sideways and onto his knees.

Slowly
he picked himself up. He started talking to Susanna and gesturing at Creasy.
She translated.

"That
is exactly the same threat that he received from the people who hired him. They
told him that if he talked to you or anybody else, they would kill him and his
daughters."

"Shit!"
The word came out of Creasy's mouth as an explosion. He walked down the jetty,
continuing to curse under his breath. He stood at the end of the jetty for more
than two minutes, then turned and walked slowly back.

"Untie
him," he said to Guido. "And the stone from his feet."

Guido
followed the instruction while Creasy paced up and down the jetty. The
Vietnamese rubbed the wrists of his freed hands. The fear was still in his eyes
as they followed Creasy's every movement. Finally, Creasy turned and walked up
to the slight figure. He reached up his hands and gripped him by his shoulders.
Then he said to Susanna: "Translate exactly everything I say."

He was
looking to the Vietnamese man's eyes. He said: "I would not have killed
you, and I do not make war on children. The people you work for have no such
qualms." He paused while Susanna translated. Then he went on. "You're
caught between a rock and a hard place. Now you'll tell me what I want to know,
and then, in return, I will give you the gift of your children's lives. After
you've talked to me, you will continue to follow us for the next forty-eight
hours and continue to report to your masters about our movements. Within those
forty-eight hours, I'll bring two men to Saigon who will guard you and your
family. The choice is yours. You can talk to me and have protection, or you can
walk away now."

Susanna
finished the translation. Creasy dropped his hands from the Vietnamese man's
shoulders and stood back. The only sounds came from the forest. The Vietnamese
was looking down to the dark, worn planks of the jetty. Slowly, he lifted his
head and looked at Creasy, and then asked a question.

"Who
are these men who will protect me and my children?"

Susanna
translated, and then translated Creasy's answer. "They are men like
me."

The
Vietnamese said: "I will talk to you."

"So you do have a heart."

Creasy gave her a shrug.

"Susanna,
about two years ago I was visiting Jens in Copenhagen and I had some trouble
with an old wound. Jens sent me off to the hospital and they gave me a full
check-up, including an ultrasound scan. It was amazing. I was looking at a
television monitor and I could see all my insides, my lungs, liver, kidneys,
intestines...And suddenly, I saw it. I asked the doctor: 'What the hell is
that?' He said: 'That's your heart!'" Creasy grinned.

"So
yes, I do have one. Occasionally it works. I'm sorry that we put you through
that scene earlier, but it was necessary. You were the psychological conduit to
Tran Quock Cong. If you didn't believe what I was saying, then neither would
he."

"You
had no intention of drowning him or killing his children?"

"I
told you before. I don't kill people who are not trying to kill me."

They
were in Creasy's room at the Continental Hotel. Jens was tapping at the keys of
his computer. Beside him was a large-scale map of Indo-China. Guido was on the
telephone. The Owl was encased in the earphones of his Walkman. Tran Quock Cong
was sitting at a bar across the road, watching the hotel entrance.

Guido
cradled the phone and stood up. He said: "OK. Maxie got hold of Rene in
Brussels. They're catching a flight out of Paris in the morning. They arrive at
Tan Son Nut airport the following morning at ten a.m. They're flying club
class, so they'll be rested...But Creasy, they're going to need weapons."

"Yes,
they will. And so will we. I'll talk to Billy at the Mai Man Bar. He has the
connections."

"Who
are these people?" Susanna asked.

"Old
friends," Creasy answered. "Maxie Macdonald is an ex-Rhodesian. He
fought in the war there with the elite Selous Scouts, one of the toughest units
in any army anywhere. Rene Callard is a Belgian. He was with me and Guido in
the French Foreign Legion. Now he's a specialist bodyguard. Tran Quock Cong and
his family will be safer than if they were holed up in Fort Knox." He
turned to the Dane. "So what do we have, Jens?"

The
Dane stretched his shoulders and then studied the screen of his computer and
assumed his policeman's tone.

"Tran
Quock Cong, born September 1958 in a village near Hui. He only had
primary-school education. His parents were killed during an American bombing
raid when he was twelve years old. He found his way to Saigon and became one of
the thousands of street urchins feeding himself by being a pickpocket and petty
thief. When the communists took over, he became an informer for the secret
police and was trained by them in surveillance techniques. He remains an
informer but does private work on the side. Three weeks ago he was approached
by a man called Cong Hung. That is probably a false name. He was offered a job
to follow a foreigner who was expected to arrive in Saigon about two weeks
later. He was given a thousand US dollars in cash and told to travel to Phnom
Penh and check into the Quai Ban guest house. He did so and was contacted by a
Cambodian woman called Pan Chamnan, probably also a false name. She took him by
train to the town of Sisophon near the Thai border, and from there they were
taken by Land Rover on a two-hour journey during which Tran Quock Cong was
blindfolded. It was a dirt road. They arrived at an army camp in the forest,
near a village. Tran Quock Cong estimates that they were travelling due north,
and looking up a map later, thinks that they may have been near a village
called Chek. It was a Khmer Rouge camp. There he met a man who called himself
Ha Minh Hien, who from his description is almost certainly your friend Van Luk
Wan. He was given a photograph of yourself. It was taken at least twenty years
ago but showed the scars on your face that you still carry. He was given a
further two thousand dollars in cash and a portable Samsung fax machine and a
fax number in Phnom Penh. He was to send his reports to that fax number with
the prefix code word of CALAN. He was to send his reports daily at six p.m. He
spent a day and a night at the camp, during which time he overheard several
conversations indicating that the Khmer Rouge were holding several American
prisoners who were put to work clearing mines. The following morning he saw one
of them at a distance. He wore leg shackles which restricted his movements. He
was bearded, aged between forty and fifty years old. Before he was driven back
blindfolded to Sisophon, he was told by the man calling himself Ha Minh Hien
that if he failed on his job, he and his wife and two daughters would be
killed."

The
Dane looked up at Creasy. "I've checked the area in Cambodia and confirm
that it's a Khmer Rouge stronghold." He glanced down at the map.
"It's only twenty miles from the Thai border. As far as the Cambodian army
is concerned, it's a no-go area."

Susanna
stood up and moved to the phone, saying: "I have to call my boss in
Washington. If there are Americans there, they must be MIAs."

"Hold
on," Creasy said. "If you pass that information on to your boss, what
will he do?"

"He'll
send in agents, maybe even come himself. This is the first real sighting we've
had for years."

"What
will those agents do?"

"They'll
try to infiltrate the area."

Creasy
glanced at Guido, and then said to her: "That could be a major disaster.
The last thing I want is a bunch of enthusiasts running around that area. If
there are MIAs there, the Khmer Rouge can always whisk them away within
minutes."

"It's
my duty," she said.

Guido
spoke up. "Fuck your duty, Susanna! You were told to co-operate with us.
You also told us that you're now officially on holiday. I suggest you let us
work out a plan and then if we need any back-up, we can call on your
department."

"It's
the best way," Jens agreed. "First we need more information. I want
to trace the fax number in Cambodia. Now that we have Tran Quock Cong on our
side, it's possible we can set up a dummy operation and flush these people out.
At least the Phnom Penh cell. In this kind of operation it's necessary to move
step by step." He looked at Creasy. "I think that Tran Quock Cong was
an unknowing plant. They expected you to pick him up. It's the next step in
their carefully organized paper chase."

Creasy
was shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense, Jens. The guy is an expert.
If they were going for a set-up, they would have put an amateur in there to be
sure I spotted him. And they would not have blindfolded him on the way to that
camp."

"They
were very clever," Jens said. "They only blindfolded him ten minutes
after they left the town of Sisophon. At that time, by looking at the sun, he
would have known the direction. Whoever wants you knows you well. They know
that you would pick up even an expert. But they don't know you as well as I do.
They would assume that after picking him up and extracting his information, you
would kill him so that he could not warn them. Now I think the advantage is
with us." He looked at Susanna.

"You're
the only one able to communicate with him. Do you really think that he believes
Creasy can protect him?"

She had
sat down again. "Yes," she answered. "He believes that Creasy
will keep his word."

"Then
that's our advantage," Creasy said. "And it's all we have. Jens,
tomorrow I want you to travel with The Owl to Phnom Penh and try to trace that
fax number. Also, get as much information as you can about the area surrounding
the village of Chek. It'll be useful to know some details about the local Khmer
Rouge commander and how many men he has and the size of the area he
controls." He turned to Guido. "In the morning I want you to go and
see Billy Chan at the Mai Man Bar. I'll give you a note for him. He'll plug you
into the Black Market and you'll buy us some machinery. We need at least two
SMGs, four handguns, and some grenades and whatever else you think might be
useful. There's probably a lot of Russian machinery around. AK47s will be fine,
unless you come across Uzis. The Chinese made a very good version of the Soviet
Tokarev pistols. They must be all over this country. Try to get the type 51, with
plenty of spare mags."

He
turned to Susanna. "I want you to pick up Maxie and Rene from the airport
and give them each a pistol that Guido will buy. Take them to Tran's home
together with enough tinned food and bottled water to last a week. Bring them
up to date on what's happened and hire three mobile phones. Give one to Maxie,
I'll have one and so will you so we can keep the communication network. You can
do that through the hotel reception."

"And
what will you be doing?" Susanna asked.

"I'll
be doing some sightseeing," Creasy answered. "Tran will be faxing the
movements of a typical tourist. Once Jens has done the groundwork in Phnom
Penh, we all move into Cambodia." He glanced at his watch and stood up.
"Maybe the puppy is alive, but for sure he's no longer a puppy. Not after
twenty-five years as a prisoner of the Vietnamese and the Khmer Rouge."

She
would have recognized them even without a description.

She
picked them out as they came through customs: two men carrying canvas bags,
small enough to be carried into an airliner's cabin. One was of medium height,
stocky and broad-shouldered; a square face with sandy hair. The other was dark
and tall and elegant with a suntan and jet-black hair. Physically they were
different, but in their walk and behaviour, they were the same. They moved with
an awareness, a constant shifting of the gaze, a strange caution, as though
they were walking into a battlefield.