第 33 页

sugar. Creasy nodded in approval.

"You bring up the rear," he said. "I'll have the RPG-7 and blow away the gate. Meanwhile,

Maxie and Rene had better keep guard to the south. If there's any shooting, that Khmer Rouge

contingent will come around." He turned to The Owl. "Bring up one of the jeeps. And when I

call you on the radio, drive it to the edge of the minefield. De Witt will show you the place on

the map." He turned to the Dutchman and said: "You had better think it through. Your only

chance to get out of Cambodia is with us. You're certainly going to lead us through that

minefield, because you'll have my gun at the back of your head. But for the sake of enlightened

self-interest, that should not be necessary. You had better make your mind up which way to do

it."

De Witt was looking at the leather pouch. He said: "Do I get my cut?"

Creasy looked at Guido, who gave him a wry smile and said: "It was always that way with de

Witt. Let him take his cut and he goes through the gate with us. At least the bastard knows how

to use a weapon."

Creasy nodded in agreement and gestured at the two AK47s propped against the table. He said

to de Witt: "Pick one out, strip it down and check it. Then we leave for your minefield."

Chapter 75

They put on their protective clothing at the edge of the minefield, and then pulled the gas masks

over their heads. Creasy's voice was muffled, but audible as he gave the instructions.

"Naturally you lead, de Witt. I follow you with the RPG-7. Guido brings up the rear, laying a

trail with the sugar and carrying a spare rocket in case I miss with the first one and in case the

temple itself is secured by a door. How far from the gate does the track straighten out?"

"Exactly fifteen metres," de Witt replied.

"OK, I'll launch the rocket from there. Let's go!"

The Dutchman carefully took his bearings and then moved forward as though walking over ice.

Twice they stopped while he took more bearings, using trees and shrubs. There was a half light

from a half moon, but still he used the trilux night sight. He moved slowly, but comfortably. It

was his minefield and he knew his way through it. Creasy followed two metres behind, putting

his feet in exactly the same places as de Witt had trodden. Guido followed the same distance

behind, also putting his feet in the same places and spilling the white sugar.

Inside the compound Connie Crum, her two bodyguards and Van Luk Wan were dressed in the

same protective clothing and masks. She had turned on the gas several minutes before. When it

was over she would turn a green handle and release the calciumhypochloride to make the

compound safe. They were standing in a line with their backs to the compound wall and their

guns held ready, looking up into the sky. Very faintly, Connie Crum heard the drone of an

aircraft.

Her two bodyguards moved out and positioned themselves on either side of the temple with

their AK47s raised in expectation.

De Witt made one final turn and then stopped. He turned around and pointed to the

compound wall looming above them, with a thick metal door in its centre. He pointed to the

trunk of a tree at his left and the bush on his right, indicating where the minefield enclosed them.

Then he took one step sideways. Creasy moved past him and laid his submachine-gun on the

ground. The tube of the RPG-7 was strapped to his back with the cone-shaped missile in place.

Guido moved up, unstrapped the rocket-launcher and passed it around Creasy's body, then

crouched down beside him on his right. The Dutchman also crouched down, to his left. The

path was strewn with small stones and angled sharply upwards.

Carefully, Creasy lifted the tube on to his shoulder and sighted on the metal door.

Beyond it, Connie Crum was puzzled. The drone of the aircraft was receding. It had not flown

over the compound.

Van Luk Wan said: "They could have dropped a mile away. Those modern parachutes are more

like wings. The wind is in the right direction." His voice was nervous as he strained his eyes

looking up into the sky.

Creasy pulled the trigger. Flame gouted from the back of the tube and, a second later, the

missile detached. At first it seemed to move in slow motion, but then it gathered speed and

smashed into the door with a hissing explosion. Guido was already up and running, with de Witt

close behind.

Creasy was going backwards. The recoil had moved him back a couple of feet, as he had

expected, but then his feet had caught a bunch of loose stones and the weight of the launcher had

tipped him backwards with gathering momentum. He managed to slam it down on to the path,

but in the cumbersome protective clothing, he could not stop himself from rolling. When he

finally came to rest, he looked up. The tree trunk that de Witt had pointed out was to his right. It

was about seven metres away. He was lying in the minefield.

Guido heard Creasy crash down behind him. He did not look back; his instinct was in control.

The gate was blown wide open, the Dutchman was next to him. Guido shouted to him, "Go

left!"

Part of his brain was listening for an explosion behind him...the explosion that would tell him

Creasy was gone for ever. The rest of it focused on the expanding view of the compound: the

temple at its centre; the two bulky, yellow-clad figures one at each corner. He ducked through

the entrance, moving to his right, crouching with the wall at his back. There was no explosion.

Guido's thought processes were in neutral: his body, and all its nerve endings, knew exactly

what to do. His SMG was aimed slightly to the left of the yellow-clad figure his side of the

temple.

As he squeezed the trigger, and clamped down on the recoil, he traversed the muzzle to the

right, sending an arc of bullets across the target. He saw the muzzle flashes of return fire and

crouched lower as bullets smashed into the wall above his head and the target was punched

backwards, emitting a high-pitched scream.

Guido turned to his left. De Witt was lying crumpled against the wall, his posture proclaiming

death. Across the compound, to the left of the temple, another yellow-clad figure sprawled on

the ground.

At least he got one of them, he thought, his eyes sweeping the compound, looking for the other

hostiles he knew were there. Instinct and logic meshed: the two dead would be guards. Connie

Crum and Van Luk Wan would be the second phase.

His thoughts strayed to Creasy. Still no explosion, so he was alive. But if he had come to rest on

the pathway he would have arrived by now: he must have slipped into the minefield and

somehow avoided contact. He would not come rushing out, Lady Luck would not be so

generous. Creasy would probe his way out as cautiously as a boy opens a girl's buttons on his

first date.

Guido would have to give him time, so he could not rush the temple. He eased himself to his

right, giving himself a better angle of fire to the temple entrance.

Connie Crum and Van were behind the temple. She was struggling for composure while

emitting a stream of curses. The moment the gates blasted open was the lowest point in her life

since the day she had looked at her father's charred body. In an instant she realized that Creasy

had tricked her. They had been gazing up at the sky, searching for parachutes and then the white

flash of light, the rolling explosion, and the gates buckling off their hinges to frame two yellow

figures.

The entire scenario flashed through her mind in seconds. The aircraft was a decoy; Creasy had

come overland. He had forced or persuaded de Witt to guide him through the minefield; they

had found the spare anti-gas suits. She felt a rare start of fear, quickly overlaid with hatred. She

would not be stopped now.

Connie peeked around the corner of the temple wall and saw the dead figure of one of her

guards. She presumed the other was also dead. There was a prone figure by the gate, and she

caught a glimpse of someone else by the wall. She pulled back and assessed the situation.

Something bothered her. She knew Creasy's methods: he would not hesitate. Maybe the dead

one was the Italian, and Creasy was biding his time, waiting for her to make her move. He would

not have to wait long.

She turned to Van and whispered, "I think it's Creasy against the left-hand wall. Make your way

to the other side of the temple, and then move forward firing when I shout 'Go!' I'll attack from

this side."

The Vietnamese stood as solid as if petrified. She pushed him, hissing: "We kill him or he kills

us." Slowly, Van moved to her right, clutching his SMG like a child clutching its mother's breast.

Creasy knew the density of the minefield, and knew what luck it was that his tumbling roll had

not set off a mine. He also knew that luck and his own skill would have to get him back onto the

path; there was nobody to help him. And one false move would send his torn body straight to

hell.

He lay still, listening to the bursts of fire above him. Heard the one shrill, female scream, then

silence. Then, very slowly, he pulled out the knife which was strapped to his right leg and began

to probe gently at the soft earth in front of him. As he worked, he mentally kicked himself very

hard. He should have adjusted to the slope and the surface before he fired. His mistake could

cost Guido his life.

Then he kicked away the remorse. There was not time for it. If Guido was alive, the only way he

would stay alive was for Creasy to get himself out of this fucking minefield.

He drew in a deep breath, and began probing again.

Guido calculated that, at most, Creasy could only have slid four to five metres into the

minefield. But it would still take him many minutes to get out. He glanced at the dead

Dutchman, and then at the temple entrance. He decided that Connie Crum was too smart to let

herself be trapped in the building, so he concentrated on the rear corners.

The concentration paid off. He saw the yellow figure erupt from the left, and was already

squeezing the trigger of his SMG before the target could line up his weapon. The target spun to

the ground, and Guido gave it another half burst to make sure.

Guido could change a magazine in less than three seconds. It was during those three seconds

that another figure dashed out, this time from the right. He saw the white muzzle flashes, and felt

the splinters from the wall beside him. His magazine clicked in and it was too late. The enemy

was traversing. The bullet smashed into his right shoulder, spinning him around. His SMG

clattered to the ground.

Creasy paused at the renewed burst of fire. He recognized Guido's characteristic half-second

bursts; then silence.

He looked at the tree de Witt had pointed out as delineating the path. It was still about three

metres away. One part of his brain wanted him to make a dash for it. The other, more

disciplined, part steadied him down. He probed again, felt the hard object and inched around it.

Guido lay on his side, watching the figure approach him cautiously. From the feline movements,

he knew it was Connie Crum.

He was helpless. The palm of his left hand was pressed to the hole in his suit, to staunch the

blood and in case the gas could penetrate the skin. His pistol was at his right side, under his

body.

The woman took in the situation. Distorted by both their masks, he heard the cruel laugh. She

edged away to his right, always keeping her AK47 lined up on his chest. At the compound gate

she glanced down the empty path, and laughed again; then she moved back towards Guido and

stood over him.

The AK47 was now pointed at his head. Guido knew he had to buy time. He sent a mental

message down the path: "Don't be too long, old buddy."

He heard the woman's voice through the mask and felt the hatred in it.

"Are you Creasy?"

Of course in the protective suit, he was unrecognizable. Guido looked down the barrel of the

gun and heard his own voice imitating Creasy's slight American accent, "Yes, I'm Creasy."

Sheer triumph emanated from the yellow-clad figure. She said: "I'm Connie...Bill Crum's

daughter. I've waited a long time. I saw you kill my father in the temple in Hong Kong." She

gestured. "His ashes are in a tomb in that temple. You're going to burn on top of that tomb!"

Creasy's knifepoint encountered something hard. He gently pulled it back and probed to his

right into the soft soil, then inched forward behind it. Seconds were passing like hours, but he

had also heard the faint, deep voice of Guido. He knew the woman would not kill him

immediately. That was not in her character.

The death would be slow.

He still could not see the path with the white trail of sugar, but he could faintly hear the

woman's voice from above and could hear the gloating triumph in it. That part of his brain

which controlled his emotions urged him again to leap for the path, but the part that controlled

his instincts was stronger. He would be no use to Guido if he blew himself up. He kept his

elbows and knees and feet very close together, and his body moved and rippled along the

ground like a snake.

It took him another ten minutes to reach the sugar. Then he stood up, put the knife back into its

sheath, and crept up the hill to the submachine-gun.

"Get up!" Connie Crum said. "Or I'll shoot you where you are!"

She had backed off about two metres, with the barrel of the AK47 never wavering.

Guido put his left hand on the ground and pushed himself to his feet with a grunt of pain,

immediately putting his gloved left hand over the hole in his protective clothing. She laughed.

"You're going to die anyway, Creasy! I'm going to watch you burn, just as my father burned."

Guido did not move. He had to play for time still.

"I fooled you," he said. "You thought you outguessed me, but I'm smarter than you. You've

studied my history and you thought you could read my mind. You were standing there like an

idiot looking up at the sky, waiting for a parachute that never came. You're not as clever as you