第 26 页

these people for the past twenty-six years. Now I appreciate your help." He gestured at the

photographs on the table. "And of course technology plays its part. I need your help to

continue, and I had no intention of putting you down or denigrating the US armed forces. But

for this job I need to rely on myself and my own people. I may need to obtain false passports

and papers for them. I will certainly need weapons. I plan to move within the next seventy-two

hours.

Your role will be very important; even vital. I want you to liaise with Susanna here and act

as base commander. It may bring you into danger, even though you are an in-house agent and

under diplomatic immunity." He leaned forward slightly, and his voice hardened. "Even a

diplomat hasn't got immunity from a bullet in the head. Are you armed?"

"No, sir."

"When you get back to the Embassy, you'll arm yourself and remain in that condition until this

mission is over. I assume you've been trained in small arms?"

"Yes, sir."

"You'll also assume responsibility for the protection of Susanna."

"Yes, sir."

"Is that necessary?" Susanna asked.

"It is," Creasy answered. "We know that Connie Crum has her people here in this city. When I

make my strike, they may try to get at you." He turned back to the table and looked down at the

photograph of the temple. Then he glanced up at Guido. "I'm going to need a parachute," he

said.

Guido was nodding. He said: "We're going to need two."

"No," Creasy answered. "I go in alone. You bring up the cavalry when it's needed."

Chapter 55

"You want something special?" the girl asked coyly.

"Like what?" Jens asked.

She giggled and said: "I can make you happy in many ways, but it costs one hundred dollars

extra."

The Dane sighed and concentrated his mind on the small apartment in Copenhagen and his

loving wife and daughter. For the last hour he had been lying on the huge double bed in his

room at the Dusit Thani Hotel in Bangkok. And for the last hour a young, nubile girl in a brief

white tunic had been massaging his body and relieving the tension of the flight from Hong

Kong. The Owl was in the next room getting similar treatment.

"Thanks, but I'm a married man," he answered.

The girl dug her thumbs into the muscles of his shoulders and said: "So?"

"So I love my wife. And I don't fool around."

"You're a very strange man," she said, and smacked his bottom lightly to indicate that the

massage was over.

When she had left, he went into the bathroom and took a very cold shower.

The Owl knocked on his door twenty minutes later. He seemed very relaxed.

"I like this town," he stated.

"I'll bet you do," Jens answered. "Now we have work to do. I've contacted a Danish friend who

works in this city and we meet him in half an hour. He's going to teach me how to bribe a senior

Thai policeman."

The Owl looked dubious. Jens explained: "My friend is not exactly my friend. He's the friend of

a friend. In foreign places we Danes stick together and help each other out. The guy here is

called Soren Musholm and he's the manager of a large Danish trading company. He's been in

Bangkok for the last twelve years and he knows how things work. The police here have files on

any foreigner who lives or works in this country, and so for sure they have a file on Connie

Crum. The only way I'm going to get to see that file is by paying a hefty bribe...Let's go!"

The meeting took place in a murky bar on Pat Pong Road. The Owl understood nothing of

what was going on because naturally, the Danes spoke Danish as if they hadn't had a chance to

speak the language for the past ten years. Of course they also drank Schnapps with hearty toasts

of "Skal!" Then Soren Musholm switched to English for the benefit of The Owl and explained

the bribery procedure.

Passing Jens a business card he said: "You call this man and make an appointment in his office.

Once there, you tell him that you're a private detective and that you're checking up on the

co-respondent in a divorce case."

"Sounds familiar," Jens remarked.

"I'm sure you're very good at it. You give him the woman's name and ask him if he has a file on

her. Since he's the head of the department of overseas residents, he will immediately check on his

computer, and tell you that of course he has a file, but of course he cannot show it to you. You

then contrive to drop your wallet on the floor and say: 'Oh dear! I dropped my wallet with two

thousand dollars in it'."

"Two thousand!"

"Yes, that's the going rate. It's not like the old days, when five bucks would buy an audience with

the king. This city is booming. There's a lot of money around. Police officers are notoriously

underpaid. About eighty per cent of their income comes from dropped wallets. Don't try to do

it for less. A couple of weeks ago, I went to see a minister to get a difficult import permit. I

dropped my wallet and said: 'Oh dear! I dropped my wallet with ten thousand dollars in it.' The

minister smiled and said: 'No, Mr Musholm, you dropped your wallet with twenty thousand

dollars in it!' I had to make a return visit with a fatter wallet! If you want to see that file, the going

rate would be two thousand dollars. Of course you'll not mention my name, and you'll go alone.

It's simple courtesy. There are no observers to such transactions." He picked up the bottle,

poured three more shots and asked: "What the hell has gone wrong with our football team?!"

Chapter 56

Creasy and Guido sat under a sunshade by the pool. They were wearing swimsuits, drinking

beer and arguing.

Susanna had gone off to the embassy with Jennings to make sure that his fax to Interpol was

legible. Guido was being forceful.

"Be logical," he said. "Connie Crum must know a hell of a lot about you and your capabilities.

She knew you would follow the trail to Saigon. She knew that you would detect the follower. She

knew you would pick him up and extract the information that had been planted in his head. She

knew that you would locate the fax machine where he sent his messages and follow the receiver

to his office. She knew that you would break in and find that file with the photographs. She knew

that you would contact an expert and find out where that temple is. Let's assume that she also

knows you were a paratrooper in the Legion. She might well know the story about how you once

parachuted at night into a well-guarded Mafia Capo's compound on Sicily and killed him and his

henchmen. She has structured your entire journey. In a strange way she has managed to look into

your head, and that worries me."

He leaned forward and said intently: "She did not have that

minefield laid to keep you out of the temple. She had it laid to keep you in, because she expects

you to drop in one night soon. She will be waiting for you."

Creasy did not answer. He finished his beer and dived into the swimming pool. Home in Gozo,

he always swam a hundred lengths every day and he had missed the exercise.

Guido waited patiently. He knew that while his friend was swimming, he was also thinking. He

also knew that he would not let Creasy parachute into that temple compound; at least, not alone.

After half an hour, Creasy pulled himself out of the pool and padded back to the table. As he

picked up his towel, he said: "Maybe you're right. That woman bothers me. I guess I'll just pack

my bag and go home."

The Italian smiled. "Don't joke with me. We have to find a strategy to get in and an escape route

to get out. That's your department. But I'm telling you here and now that you're not going to

parachute into that temple. Maxie and Rene will arrive in Bangkok tonight and wait there for a

call. Jens and The Owl are already there."

"We can't use Jens," Creasy said. "He's a mind man, not a soldier. But we can use The Owl.

Anyone who can survive the backstreets of Marseille can look after himself in the battlefield. So

our army will be five. Anyway, we can't make plans until we hear from Jens and until tomorrow

afternoon, when Susanna should be receiving her mysterious message."

"That one is quite a woman," Guido said. "She really stamped her personality on that Jennings

guy. She's got him in a condition where he'd walk through fire for her."

"She's a good one," Creasy agreed. Then he turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and

called out: "Are your ears burning?"

Susanna sat down and the waiter materialized at her shoulder.

"I'll have a Coke and half of your normal fruit salad," she said. Then she asked Creasy: "What

the hell are you talking about?"

"We were just talking about you," Creasy answered. "We decided that you're not entirely

useless."

She bowed in mock appreciation. "I'm glad to hear it. As it happens, you're right. I bring

interesting information." She reached into her voluminous bag, pulled out a roll of fax paper

and passed it over to Creasy. "It came within an hour," she said.

"My toyboy Jennings pulled out all the stops."

After reading for two minutes, he looked up at Guido and said: "Piet de Witt! He was among

the four mercenaries known to have been recruited a year ago by a company in Bangkok which is

thought to be a front for the Khmer Rouge."

"De Witt..." Guido muttered. "A total bastard! And an expert on mine-clearing and laying.

Who were the other three?"

Creasy looked at the papers and read out the names. "Dender-field, Brad Shore and Gagnier."

"Do you know them all?" Susanna asked.

"Yes. The first two are Brits who served with Mike Hoare in the Congo. And the other is a

Frenchman who worked with Denard. All four of them are the pits of our trade. Piet de Witt is

probably the worst. He's an Afrikaaner who did five years in the dirty tricks department of the

South African army until even they could no longer stomach him. He was kicked out and then

promptly hired by BOSS, which was the South African Security Service. He carried out several

assassinations for them, both in South Africa and in Mozambique." He laughed at the memory.

"Then he got caught fiddling his expenses, which went against the grain of the same bosses who

had sanctioned the assassinations in the first place. They fired him and he ended up as a

mercenary working in West Africa, and later moved to Europe. It's rumoured that he did some

external jobs for the IRA. I once had a run-in with him. I almost beat him to death. I regret that I

didn't. He's an Afrikaaner so he has to be our Dutchman. And in all probability he laid that

minefield around the temple."

"Do we know where he is now?" Guido asked.

Creasy shook his head. "According to this Interpol report, he vanished from Bangkok eleven

months ago. There were no records of him leaving the country. I guess that right now he's in Tuk

Luy. But I can tell you one thing: if he is there, he doesn't know I'm coming."

"How can you know that?" Susanna asked.

"Because after I gave him that beating, I told him that if I ever saw him again, I'd kill him. And

he believes that. He knows it as certainly as the sun rises in the east."

The waiter arrived with Susanna's drink and fruit salad. "So what do we do?" she asked.

Creasy answered: "We wait to hear from Jens and to see what kind of message you get

tomorrow afternoon, if any."

"If any? You think there might not be one?"

"It's very possible. I think we arrived ahead of schedule. I think that Connie Crum was not quite

ready for me. But still, we have to wait; and while we wait we have to do some serious thinking

about how we get to Tuk Luy and what we do when we get there."

Chapter 57

"Do you know how to operate an IBM with WordPerfect software?"

"Of course," Jens answered, and lifted the briefcase which contained his own IBM Notebook. "I

use the same software."

The policeman stood up from behind the desk and said: "Well, I have to go to the toilet, Mr

Jensen. And then I'll probably take a coffee in the canteen. I'll be away for at least fifteen minutes.

You will not be disturbed." As he walked around his desk towards the door he said: "The file

name is CRUM/KHMER Number twenty-five. I take it that you have a spare disk in your

briefcase? Just leave your wallet on the floor." At the door he repeated: "Fifteen minutes. I'm

sure you can find your way out. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call me. I'm always

available."

"I'll keep it in mind," the Dane said.

It had gone exactly as predicted by Soren Musholm. The cheap, plastic wallet he had purchased

on leaving the bar now lay at his feet. It contained twenty crisp hundred-dollar notes. He stood

up and moved around the desk to the computer console. It was a new model with a large colour

screen. Within seconds he had located the file. On the top right-hand corner it indicated that the

file ran for 122 pages. He glanced at his watch and then for the next ten minutes read the first

fifteen pages. He then opened his briefcase, took out a blank disk, inserted it into the slot and

downloaded the entire file. He left the office exactly four minutes later. At the door he turned

and looked at the shiny black wallet by the chair.

It had been worth every cent of the two thousand dollars.

Back at the hotel, a message was waiting for him at the reception. It was from The Owl, telling

him to come to his room as soon as he arrived.

The Owl answered the door with his headphones on. He quickly switched off the Walkman and