第 20 页

Jens pointed at one of them and she leaned closer. It was black and white. It showed three men.

One was tall and fair-haired, wearing only khaki shorts. He was holding a dark, round object in

his hands. The other two men were short and Oriental. They wore Khmer Rouge uniforms and

they had rifles slung over their shoulders. They stood on each side of the taller man. They were

smiling at the camera. She had studied Jake Bentsen's file back in Washington. She too

recognized the face. It was not smiling.

The other two photographs were of similar Caucasians, each bracketed by two Khmer soldiers.

Jens handed her the magnifying glass and she studied them. Bentsen had been clean-shaven, but

these two men wore heavy beards. She studied the faces for a long time and they told her

nothing. But she knew instinctively that they were Americans.

She looked again at the photograph of Bentsen. Directly behind him in the distant background

was a low hill with a building on its crest. She brought the photograph closer under the

magnifying glass and saw that the building was a temple, typical of the many thousands scattered

around Cambodia. She looked at the other photographs. There were six of them, all depicting

lines of handwritten Vietnamese.

Creasy pushed away his empty plate and said: "Can you read that, Susanna?"

She picked up one of the photographs and held it under the magnifying glass. After studying it

for a minute, she looked up and said: "I can decipher most of it."

"Good," Creasy said. "Then that's a first step. Jens, please find Susanna a pad of paper, and as

she finishes each page, put the information into your computer."

Jens lifted his briefcase onto the table, opened it up and produced a yellow legal pad and a

felt-tip pen. She asked him: "How on earth did you get that film developed so quickly?"

He shrugged modestly. "I'm a detective, Susanna. And to be a good detective, one needs to be

a bit of a psychologist. I knew that the manager of this hotel is French and of course the French

always love a good intrigue, especially when it's a matter of the heart. And particularly if it

involves a scandal, no matter how small. So I arranged for a meeting with the manager,

Monsieur Marcel Duprey, who has been here three years and of course has many contacts in the

city. And I simply explained my problem."

"Your problem?"

"Yes, of course. A clandestine love affair between a Danish female army officer on assignment

here with the UNTAC which is United Nations Transitional Authority in Cambodia and an

Australian major attached to the same mission. Obviously, someone in that mission dislikes the

Australian to the extent that he or she sent an anonymous letter to the woman's husband in

Copenhagen, who happens to be a wealthy businessman, much older than his wife. At that point

I gave Marcel Duprey my business card which identifies me as a private detective, and explained

that her husband hired me and my colleague to come to Phnom Penh and check the details

contained in that anonymous letter. That was what my colleague was doing last night. He

managed to get compromising photographs of the couple concerned. Naturally, before flying

back to Denmark, I needed to get the film discreetly developed and enlarged to be sure that the

photos are clear enough." He gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Marcel Duprey was suitably

intrigued.

And since he knows many officers in Phnom Penh attached to UNTAC, he asked me

who the lovers might be. Naturally, I gave him a polite little lecture on client confidentiality

inasmuch as it applies to both hotel managers and private detectives. He kindly phoned a close

friend at the French embassy, where they happen to have their own dark room. The rest, as they

say, was plain sailing."

Susanna looked up at Creasy, who said: "As well as having to be psychologists, private

detectives also have to be damned good liars!"

At that moment they were interrupted by a tap on the door.

While The Owl went to answer it, Jens quickly shuffled the photographs together and slipped

them into his briefcase. The Owl returned with an envelope and handed it to Jens. Inside was a

slip of fax paper. The Dane read the two lines and then passed it on to Creasy who in turn read it

and passed it on to Susanna.

It read: "The deal was concluded satisfactorily very early this morning. Our traders are returning

home and I will join you shortly." It was signed Henry.

She looked up. "I assume that Henry is Guido and that the traders are Maxie and Rene?"

"Yes. Guido should be here by tonight or tomorrow."

Jens had put the photographs back on the table. Creasy reached out and picked up the

photograph of Bentsen, studied it and said quietly: "The clue lies in the temple. We have to find

out where it is. And for that, we need an expert to identify it." He looked up. "In the meantime,

Susanna, we need that translation."

Chapter 38

It took her an hour to translate the writing on the photographs.

As she was finishing the last page, Guido arrived, and again she noticed the strange ritual. As

Creasy greeted him, he kissed him hard on the side of his face, close to the mouth. She had asked

Jens about that, and he had explained that it was the custom between mercenaries of that era. A

sort of symbolism. Guido greeted Jens and The Owl warmly, but not in the same way. He gave

her a kiss on both cheeks and an envelope, saying: "Messages for you which came to the hotel

after you left."

There were three messages, all from Jason Woodward. The first one read: "Please call me." The

second read: "Please call me urgently." The third read: "Please call me very urgently. I love you."

She looked at that last message for a long time, and then crushed the papers up in her hand and

dropped them into the waste-basket beside her chair.

Guido's face was as drawn and exhausted as Creasy's had been the night before. She listened as

he briefed the three men on the events in Saigon. He himself had managed to get an early

connecting flight via Bangkok. Rene and Maxie would stay holed up in the safe house for a few

days, and then either head home or come on to Phnom Penh if they were needed.

Creasy brought him up to date on what had happened in Phnom Penh, and showed him the

photographs. While Guido studied them, Susanna finished off the translation, handed the

lastsheet to Jens, and said to Creasy: "It was a correspondence between the leader of a group of

irregular Vietnamese militia and an officer of the Khmer Rouge who, at the time, was based in

Battambang." She could not keep the catch from her voice as she said: "It involved the sale of

three American prisoners of war who were held by the Vietnamese. The price for one of them

was two taels of gold. The price for the other two was three taels. The difference in value was

because the two were experts in mine-laying and clearance." She sat down and they could all see

the sadness permeating her face.

Quietly, Creasy asked: "Were they identified?"

"Not by name. Only by dogtag numbers."

Jens was transcribing the last page into his computer. He looked up and said: "The buyer and

seller were not identified by name either. Only by code words. The Vietnamese was known as a

Commander Tanon and the Cambodian by the name of Commander Indravarnam."

Susanna laughed without humour and said: "It's the name of a famous Khmer emperor who

reigned in the ninth century." She turned to Creasy. "I have no choice now, since I have dogtag

numbers."

Creasy was nodding thoughtfully. He said: "Yes, but I want you to give me time. Just forty-eight

hours. I want to try to identify the place where those photographs were taken."

She started to argue, but Creasy held up his hand. "Susanna, be fair. I let you come on to

Phnom Penh with us. Right now you could be on your way back to the States knowing nothing.

Give me the forty-eight hours. If these men are still alive, those hours could be crucial to them."

Jens had finished on his computer. He closed the lid and joined the debate.

"Susanna, in the last few days we've made great progress. The danger is that if you inform your

boss, you'll involve the Phnom Penh government, which is a web of corruption. The Khmer

Rouge have their own agents in very high places. If they find out that the American government

suspects there may be American MIAs in the country, then the evidence could be quickly

obliterated...which means six feet under the ground."

All their eyes were watching her. Irrationally, she thought to herself that the past two days had

all been about making decisions. She sighed and said: "It means that as an officer, I'm breaking

my code of duty...But OK, forty-eight hours."

Guido stood up and asked: "Where do I sleep?"

Jens gave him a key and said: "That's for the bungalow next door."

He picked up his canvas bag with a curt nod and walked out.

Chapter 39

The Toyota Landcruiser pulled into the compound in a cloud of dust. It was followed by two

covered trucks. Piet de Witt watched as Connie Crum jumped out of the jeep and strode

towards him. She was carrying a leather folder and an air of urgency, but she greeted him warmly

and said: "I hear you've been doing good work. But now I need you to go into top gear."

With the scent of her perfume in his nostrils, he followed her into the building, as she shouted

out for cold drinks and something to eat. Her clothes and face were covered with dust. As they

sat down side by side at a long table, she asked: "Piet, how many mines do you think you and

your team have cleared in the last six months?"

By chance, he had been calculating that the night before.

"About twelve and a half thousand."

She turned and gave him her most engaging smile. "That's wonderful. But now I want you to lay

a few thousand."

At first he was struck speechless. Then he asked with incredulity: "You want me to put them

back in the ground?"

"No, no. Not those old ones." She gestured behind her at the door. "In those two trucks out

there I've got two thousand Czech PP-Mi-SR bounding fragmentation pressure mines and fifteen

hundred PMN2 Soviet blast anti-tank mines. I want you to lay the most concentrated

anti-personnel minefield in the history of warfare. And Piet, I want you and your team to lay that

minefield within the next four days."

He drew a breath to protest, but before he could say anything, she had reached into her pocket

and laid a small ebony inlaid box in front of him. It was a work of art and obviously centuries

old.

"It's a bonus for you," she said. "Open it."

With huge but gentle fingers, he prised open the lid. Inside were three perfect sapphires, one

white, one yellow and one jet black.

Piet de Witt knew about gemstones and he knew that these were the very best from the

Cardamom mountains. He knew that each one would fetch at least twenty thousand dollars. He

picked them up and rolled them in his fingers, and then in a rough voice asked: "Where do you

want your minefield?"

She opened the leather folder and took out a detailed map of an area east of Tuk Luy. It was in

the upper foothills of the Cardamom mountains and not far from the mines which had given up

the sapphires in his hand. She put her finger on the map.

"This is a walled temple. I want that minefield to surround it with only one very narrow access

path. The density should be one mine every two square metres on the outer perimeter, increasing

to two mines every two square metres on the inner perimeter."

"Jesus," he muttered. "You don't want anyone getting into that temple."

Her voice turned grim as she said: "I don't want anyone getting in or getting out."

A soldier brought a tray of food consisting of rice, fish and pork, together with bottles of

chilled mineral water and Coca Cola. They ate while the Dutchman studied the map and

calculated.

Finally he said: "The minefield will have a radius of four hundred metres from the centre of the

temple. I'll intersperse the PP-Mi-SRs with the PMN2S. If you want it ready in four days, we may

have to work under lights. Which means we'll need a generator up there."

"You'll get everything you need," she said.

His curiosity finally broke through. "Why that temple?" he asked.

She sat back in her chair, dabbing at her lips with a lace handkerchief. "It's not just a temple,"

she said. "It's a shrine. And that's all you need to know. I have twenty of my best men up there

guarding it. Neither you nor any of your men will pass through the walls at any time, on pain of

death. You understand that, Piet de Witt?"

He picked up the ebony box and slipped it into his pocket. "I always follow orders," he said.

Chapter 40

The manager's office was plush, full of leather chairs and rosewood furniture. Across one wall

was a huge aquarium brightly coloured by darting tropical fish.

"It soothes me," the manager explained to Jens. "Managing a big hotel in this country, at this

time, can be very stressful. You can't imagine the problems of getting supplies and trained staff.

Did you know that when the Khmer Rouge took over, every single man or woman who had

worked in a hotel was automatically executed? As were most of the intelligentsia and

bureaucracy. I had to start from scratch. Every time I want to tear my head off, I sit back in my

chair and watch my fish."

"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?"