Message From -Creasy 5 (21 page)

"You
do a wonderful job," Jens said in all sincerity. "The food and
service are excellent and very unexpected."

Monsieur
Duprey preened himself slightly. "I spent the past twenty years opening
hotels in Third World countries. It's my speciality. My work here will be
finished in another six months, and then I move on to open a new hotel in
Vientianne."

Jens
was curious. "Don't you get restless, not having a permanent base?"

The
Frenchman shook his head. "Not at all. When I have things running
smoothly, I get bored. Sometimes I go and take over a hotel which is losing
money and turn it round. I'm a sort of hotel doctor. I get called in by all the
big chains. If Hilton have a problem with a hotel in India or Zambia or
Timbuktu, they always call for Doctor Duprey." He leaned forward, as if
imparting a great secret. "And do you know what I do?"

Jens
was genuinely interested. "Please tell me."

"I
fire the head chef, the assistant manager, the front office manager, the
housekeeper, the reservations manager. And that's all. Even in a hotel with a
staff of a thousand or more, I only ever fire at most five people, always at
the very top. Then I promote their assistants and teach them. I don't worry
about profit for the first three months. After that I start to use my
computer."

Now the
Dane was fascinated. They had reached common ground. He asked: "How do you
use your computer?"

Duprey
smiled contentedly. "I have special software. It's programmed to give me
daily figures on every profit centre, the rooms, the restaurant, the bars, room
service, laundry service, international telephone surcharges, etcetera. And
then I start to cut away at the costs. And I always watch the magic ratio;
costs against occupancy." He chuckled at a thought, and asked: "Do
you know the highest occupancy rate of any hotel in the world, Mr Jensen?"

The
Dane shook his head.

"Six
hundred and fifty per cent," Duprey stated with a smile, and then burst
out laughing at the puzzled look on Jens' face. "It's the Phu Tey Hotel in
Bangkok. You see, it's a brothel and on average, they rent their rooms out
six-point-five times in every twenty-four hours." He sighed in mock
misery. "The dream of every hotelier. Anyway, back to business. What can I
do for you? Was your visit to my friend at the Embassy successful?"

Jens
straightened in his seat.

"Yes,
it was, Monsieur Duprey. But I have to ask a further favour of you, calling
your friend Pierre again. I need an enlargement of a section of one of the
photographs."

"An
enlargement?"

Jens
winked and lowered his voice. "Exactly. You see, for the evidence in divorce
proceedings, we need proof of actual penetration. You understand that it was a
miniature camera."

Now it
was the Frenchman's turn to be fascinated. He pushed his leather seat back,
stood up and started pacing the carpeted floor.

"Computer
enhancement," he said. "That would do the trick. Pierre is a fanatic
with computers." He came to his desk and punched a button on his telephone
console. When his secretary answered, he said: "Get me Pierre Lacroix at
the Embassy." While he waited, he smiled at the Dane and said:
"Computer enhancement...That's the answer."

The
Dane felt very much at home.

"We
all do stupid things sometimes. Life would be boring if we always made the
right decisions."

Creasy
spoke the words defensively, and they made no impression on Guido.

The two
men were sitting on the patio of Creasy's bungalow drinking cold Tiger beer and
having a mild argument.

"It's
been every step of the way," Guido said. "From the moment that dogtag
was delivered in San Diego, I've never seen anything so precise." He
ticked off the incidents on the fingers of his left hand. "The dogtag, the
description and drawing by Mrs Bentsen of Van Luk Wan, the follower in Saigon
with his information of having seen a captive Caucasian near Tuk Luy, the fax
number here in Phnom Penh." He had run out of fingers on his left hand, so
he moved on to his right hand. "The file at the office of the Lucit Trade
Company containing the photograph of Jake Bentsen."

He
looked up at his friend. "Whoever is behind this is extremely clever and
well organized. And they well understand your capabilities. They knew you would
catch the follower in Saigon, they knew you would trace the fax number and they
knew you would break into that office and find that file. It all comes down to
one man who is long dead. A powerful man who had great influence in Indo-China.
You have to do two things, my friend. The first is to track down the
ex-associates and the family, if any, of Bill Crum. The second thing you have
to do is call in the Americans."

He
gestured at the luxuriant gardens around the bungalow. "You sit here in a
dangerous paradise under the control of clever and probably evil people. They
are drawing you on for a purpose. If they wanted you simply dead, they could
have hired a sniper in Saigon or even here." He pointed to a cluster of
sugar-palm trees fifty metres away. "There could be a sniper right there
at this moment drawing a bead on your forehead."

Creasy
took a sip of his beer and said: "It's logical; but it's also logical that
they don't want me dead yet. My instinct tells me that we're coming to the
final phase. You're right about Bill Crum. He was probably the most evil man I
ever met, and I've met many. We know that he paid to get Van Luk Wan out of
Vietnam. We have to try to find out who is controlling Van. We need to find the
puppet master. Bill Crum spent the last years of his life in Hong Kong. The
answer might lie there. I'm going to send Jens and The Owl to Hong Kong and see
what they can dig up. As for bringing in the Americans, I'll keep it in mind
and make a decision when we fully understand the next step. Anyway, it's better
that Jens is out of the country. Things are going to get violent and he's not
equipped for violence."

Guido
stood up and started pacing up and down the patio. He said: "That brings
me to something else. Maxie and Rene will stay in Saigon for a few more days
before heading home. It's better that you order them to wait there or even
bring them into Cambodia very quietly as back-up. I also think you should send
the girl home. I know she's useful with her languages, but she's very
exposed."

Creasy
said: "Sit down, Guido. It's like watching a tennis match with you walking
up and down. I have a problem with the girl."

Guido
sat down with the curiosity showing on his face. He said: "Don't tell me
that you've fallen in love with her."

"No,
although she's a fine woman and attractive in a very special way. She's a
captain in the US Army and right now she's doing her job, which is to help us
track down American MIAs. If she's at risk, that's her duty and she understands
it."

"So
what's the problem?"

"The
problem is her father."

"Her
father?"

"Yes.
As you know, he was a colonel in the US Army Intelligence in Vietnam. He was
reported missing in action near Khe San after a helicopter crash. The problem
is that there was no crash."

"How
do you know?"

It was
Creasy's turn to stand up and start pacing. His face was troubled. He said:
"When I took that assignment to kill Bill Crum in Hong Kong, part of the
job was to destroy any files in that converted temple at Sai Kung. Before I
destroyed them, I read them. It was a kind of insurance. I had been hired by
senior US officers who were implicated in Bill Crum's web of corruption. There
were fourteen files with details of fourteen officers. I made a note of all the
names. One of them was a Colonel Bruce Moore of Army Intelligence...Guido,
Susanna's father worked for Bill Crum. It seems that towards the end he developed
a conscience. There was a memo in that file from Bill Crum to General Wayne
Thomas, who was also on Crum's payroll. It ordered Thomas to have the colonel
killed and make it look like an accident. General Thomas had a lot of
influence. He was a senior liaison officer with the ARVN. A week after Crum's
memo, he sent a handwritten memo back. It was an evil piece of paper, probably
written with great pleasure. It explained how he had arranged for Colonel Moore
to be flown to Khe San in an ARVN helicopter. During the flight the colonel was
overpowered and tied up and tossed out of the helicopter at ten thousand feet
without a parachute. It was very easy for General Thomas to fake an accident
report." Creasy moved back to his chair and sat down. He said: "So my
problem is: do I tell Susanna the truth, or do I go on letting her think that
her father died a hero?"

The two
men sat in silence, with only the background noise of the crickets in the
bushes. Then the Italian spoke firmly.

"You
tell her nothing. Too often in life the truth can do more damage than a lie.
Besides, maybe the man was a hero. It takes guts to walk away from temptation.
Bill Crum had him killed because he thought he was going to upset his
organization. Let her live with her memories."

Creasy
gave him a slow smile and a nod of agreement. "It's the romance, Signor
Guido. Your Italian blood. There's another problem with that woman."

Guido
rolled his eyes theatrically, then remarked: "Women and problems go hand
in hand. What is it?"

Creasy
waited to give effect to his words. Then he said: "First of all, she has
fallen in love with me. And secondly, she's pregnant."

The
Italian lifted his head, laughed and asked: "How do you do these things,
Creasy?"

"I
didn't do it. The father is a Professor of Political Science at Georgetown
University in Washington. She's only a few weeks pregnant and he wants her to
have an abortion."

Guido's
expression turned sombre. He asked: "What does Susanna want?"

Creasy
shrugged. "She doesn't know. She's confused. I think she wants to have the
child. After she told me about it, I took her to an orphanage in Saigon. I
watched her hold a two-week-old baby. I was looking at a woman who wants to be
a mother."

Guido
was studying his friend's face. He asked: "Is old Creasy getting a little
sentimental?"

Creasy
shook his head. "Not at all. But she's part of our group. I have a concern
for you and for Jens and The Owl and I have a concern for her. We live in a
dirty world, all of us. It's probably our destiny. You and I have seen more
death and destruction than is good for any human being. You remember the faces
of the children in Biafra and Angola, in Vietnam, bewildered, frightened, and
all too often dying. It's a strange thing, Guido, but when Susanna talked about
having an abortion, I seemed to see all those thousands and thousands of faces
in front of me. I gave her a hard time about it. Maybe I was wrong. It's her
life."

"You
were right," Guido said emphatically. "It's not because I'm a
Catholic. I don't know her well, but I like her. If she has an abortion, it
will scar her life. I'll tell her myself."

"You
can tell her now," Creasy said, gesturing with his chin.

Guido
turned to look. She was walking across the lawn towards them, wearing only a
bikini. Her gown was thrown over one shoulder.

"She's
beautiful," the Italian murmured.

"Yes,
she is, and not only on the outside. We will not discuss her father. But maybe
a second opinion about her child would be useful."

Both
men stood up, and Guido went behind the chair and moved it to the table for
her. She gave him a smile of thanks and sat down. "What can I get you to
drink?" the Italian asked.

"A
Coke, please. And lots of ice."

Guido
went into the bungalow. Bluntly, Creasy said to her: "I told Guido about
your condition. Don't get upset. He's my closest friend. It so happens that
you're under my protection on this mission, and if anything happens to me,
Guido will take over. I will tell no-one else and neither will he. You can talk
to Guido as you talk to me. And you can rely on him under any circumstances. We
both think that things are going to get violent soon. He wants me to call in
the Americans as back-up and I'm considering it. I'm just waiting for the
opposition to make their next move."

She
absorbed all of that without any change of expression. Then she started to say
something, but Guido came out onto the patio with the glass in his hand and
said immediately: "Susanna, you must have the baby. I'll be the
godfather." He grinned mischievously. "And any child with a godfather
from Naples is guaranteed a perfect future."

Again
she started to say something, but this time she was interrupted by Jens and The
Owl coming up the path. Jens put his briefcase on the table, opened it and took
out four eight-by-ten photographs. He spread them on the table with the air of
a conjuror producing a rabbit out of a hat. They all craned forward to look.
All the photographs showed the same thing: a blurred foreground, but in the
background the very distinct shape of a temple.

The
Dane said: "What we have to do next is find a temple expert."

The
Dutchman worked as he moved slowly backwards, scooping out the earth with a
small, sharpened shovel and then gently placing the mines one after the other
in a pattern that zigzagged the length of the white, pegged-down tape. As each
mine was laid, activated and covered, he rolled the tape up. The Khmer Rouge
soldier stood behind him holding a lamp high and casting a pool of light. It
was after midnight and the air had cooled. But Piet de Witt still sweated: it
was that kind of work. He glanced to his left and then to his right. There were
other pools of light and other mine-layers at work.

Piet de
Witt covered the last mine and stood up, stretching his aching limbs. He
shouted an order that they would stop for the night and start again at first
light.