Message From -Creasy 5 (27 page)

Half a
beer and two minutes later Jens was talking to Mark Jennings. "Do you have
a computer in your office? Good...what is it? Good...do you have WordPerfect on
it? Good...Give me the number and an access code and I'll send you a file
through my modem. Please call me back to confirm safe receipt and then print
two copies and deliver them personally to Creasy as soon as possible." He
gave Jennings the phone number and the room number, then hung up and went to
work.

The Owl
looked on with admiration. He himself was useless with computers and their
paraphernalia. It took only a couple of minutes for the Dane to set up his
Notebook, connect the modem to the phone, insert the disk and tap in the number
and access code.

"It's
a crazy world," The Owl said. "I remember the days when it was almost
impossible to get a phone call through from one end of Marseille to
another."

"I'm
not surprised," the Dane answered with a grin. "The only things the
French know are how to make Bearnaise sauce and ride a bicycle."

"Mon
cul!" The Owl answered fervently, and then raised his glass to take away
any offence.

Creasy
and Guido read the two copies of the file that Mark Jennings had brought to the
hotel. After finishing each page, Creasy passed his on to Susanna and Guido
passed his on to Jennings.

"I
didn't even wait to read it," Jennings said. "I just printed it out
and rushed over."

Creasy
finished first. He stood up and walked out of the French windows into the
garden. Guido joined him ten minutes later.

"She's
certainly her father's daughter," Creasy said grimly. "Evil through
and through. The thing is that she's also highly intelligent. You certainly
don't get a first-class degree from the Sorbonne University for being
stupid."

Guido
was nodding in agreement. He said: "Evil, clever and beautiful. It makes a
formidable combination...But I'm surprised that the Thai police have such a
complete file on her."

"Don't
be surprised. Ever since the Khmer Rouge first appeared on the scene, there's
been close co-operation between them and some sectors of Thai business. The
Thai police certainly have their informers among the Khmer Rouge. A lot of
money has been made from timber and gemstones in one direction and arms in the
other direction. Some of that money will have gone to Thai generals and
politicians. That file shows that Connie Crum is in command of the Khmer Rouge
in the Cardamom mountains. It's estimated that she's got at least two thousand
troops under her command. It also indicates that for the past two years she's
been clearing mines from that area and that most of her troops form a perimeter
in the foothills leaving the mountains themselves largely unoccupied, except
for local peasants in isolated villages. I don't know why she's done
that."

Susanna
and Jennings joined them. She asked: "Are you still going ahead after reading
that?"

"Yes,"
Creasy answered. "The only question is how."

Jennings
interjected, "In view of the contents of that file, I think the Cambodian
government can be persuaded to make an airborne attack into the mountains. They
could land inside the perimeter of her forces."

"They
don't have the training for it," Creasy answered. "And they don't
have the resources. There isn't a single airborne battalion in the country. The
most they could do would be to airlift a few hundred troops by helicopter...and
they wouldn't be enough."

The
American shrugged and asked: "And you and your few friends would be
enough?"

"We
would do it differently," Creasy explained. "It would be an
in-and-out operation conducted at night. We all know each other very well and
have fought together many times. The Khmer Rouge are peasant soldiers without
much sophistication or training."

He
turned back to the bungalow and the others followed him. Inside, he opened a
map on the table and pointed to the area.

"It's
only thirty miles from the Thai border south of Bangkok."

He
turned to Jennings. "I've had a change of mind and a change of plan.
Connie Crum has read my mind and she assumes that I'll parachute onto that
temple compound during the night some time in the next few days. We know from
that report that she has a strong presence in Bangkok with her own companies
and more than a hundred employees. I have to make her believe that I'm going to
do exactly what she thinks. And I need your help on that."

The
American was eager. "What do you need?"

"First,
information. There must be at least one or two private flying clubs in the
Bangkok area. I need to know what equipment they have and whether they charter
out their aircraft. Second, I want to know if there's a shop in Bangkok that
sells parachutes of the sporting kind. You know, they're like a wing and used
by parachute clubs."

Jennings
said: "Well, if there's no shop, I can certainly arrange to have some
flown in."

Creasy
shook his head. "It's better if there's a shop. Guido and I will be
leaving for Bangkok tomorrow. The rest of my team will be there. It's almost
certain Connie Crum's organization will have Guido and myself followed. They'll
probably have our hotel phones bugged. We need to be seen to charter an
aircraft for a certain night and to buy parachutes. What they must not know is
that in the meantime, we acquire two Land Rovers or their Japanese equivalent
and various armaments. Connie Crum has to confirm we're coming in from the
air." He pointed at the map. "She and her people will be looking up
into the dark sky while we cross the Thai border."

"What about Susanna's message?" asked Guido.

Creasy shrugged. "There'll be no message. That was just Connie Crum stalling."

"We're going to make a deal," Connie said.

"What kind of deal?" de Witt answered.

He was sitting on the stone floor with his left wrist shackled to an iron ring set in
the wall. She was sitting at the table, dressed in jeans and a cream silk blouse and drinking
a glass of chilled white wine. Behind her, two sentinels cut from stone, were her black-clad,
female guards with their Tokarev pistols at their hips.

She
took a delicate sip and said: "I'm going to give you your life and you're
going to give me some advice."

His
laugh contained no humour. "That's some kind of a deal. I give you the
advice and then you kill me anyway."

She
shook her head. "No. I'm even going to release you in a few minutes. You
can take a shower and go and see your girlfriend. And then, in a few days, I'll
arrange to have you sent over to Thailand together with your sapphires."

He
thought about that for a few moments and then realized he had no choice anyway.
He asked: "What advice do you need?"

"I
need advice about the man you hate. The man called Creasy."

His
head jerked up. "Creasy?"

"Yes.
He'll be visiting me here within the next two or three days."

She
laughed at the sudden look of fear on his face and said: "Don't worry,
Dutchman. He doesn't know you're here. He'll arrive by air, probably with his
friend, Guido Arrellio."

The
Dutchman got control of his mind. "By air? But there's no airstrip
here."

"He doesn't need one. He'll come at night by parachute and he'll drop right into
the centre of your minefield, right next to the temple. He'll never leave that
place. I'll be waiting with my men."

"Why would Creasy come here?" he asked.

"Because he's looking for an American called Jake Bentsen who was his friend many years
ago. But Bentsen died three years ago. Creasy doesn't know that. He thinks he
might be in that temple." She smiled as if at a private joke. "Creasy stands by his
friends with the same fervour as he kills his enemies...You are not his friend, are you, Piet?"

The Dutchman shook his head. "No; and if he finds me, he'll kill me."

She reached out and stroked an elegant hand down his arm.

"He will not kill you, Piet. He's my enemy and I'll kill him."

In a puzzled voice, the Dutchman asked: "Why is he your enemy?"

"Because
he killed my father. I've waited seventeen years for this moment. I have
planned for it and spent a great deal of money. Every morning as soon as I wake
up and every night before I go to sleep, I've waited for the moment. I was
seventeen years old when I saw him kill my father. It's in my eyes now: the
silenced bullet into his head; and then the flames. I watched it through the
window and then I ran away. Creasy walked away as though he had just destroyed
a cat or a dog. I made a promise to myself that night: one day, I would kill
him like he killed my father. That promise is about to be fulfilled. Everything
is ready. He comes in confusion, not knowing what to expect. But I know his
mind exactly. He was a para and so was his friend Guido. They like to use parachutes.
It's his favourite way of getting into a difficult situation. And for sure
he'll get in, but he'll never get out!"

"So
what advice do you want from me?" the Dutchman asked.

"You're
a mercenary," she answered. "You've worked with him in the past. What
weapons will he bring?"

The
Dutchman thought for only a moment, then answered:

"He'll
come armed to the teeth. He'll have a Uzi machine-gun, it's his favourite.
He'll have grenades, plenty of them, certainly fragmentation and possibly phosphorous.
He'll have a pistol and a knife. But he'll have something else which is more
dangerous."

"What
is that?"

The
Dutchman's eyes almost glazed in thought and memory.

"He'll
have a ferocity like you've never seen. When he fights, he has no thoughts.
Everything is instinct. I've never seen anything like it. I once trapped a
civet cat in South Africa when I was a boy. It had been killing my father's
chickens on the farm. I set what we call a VIP trap. It's where you bend a
branch of a tree down or a sapling, peg it to the ground with a length of wire
and a noose at the end. When the cat steps on a twig, which is like a trigger,
the noose tightens around its leg and the branch is released. I caught that
civet cat and it was dancing around. I was fourteen years old at the time and I
had a shotgun. Pound for pound, the civet cat is the most vicious animal in
Africa. I tell you, I've never seen anything like it. It was tied by its leg,
but it took me six rounds before I could hit it. And then another four before I
could finish it off. I never forgot its eyes: bright yellow and so full of
hate. And even though it was tied down, I felt the fear to my balls. I never
saw anything like that hatred again or felt that fear until one night many
years later when I had a fight with Creasy. The problem was that I didn't have
a shotgun and his leg was not tied down. I don't care how many men you've got
or how much firepower. But Gott verdam, you'd better be careful!"

She was
smiling. Her whole body was smiling. Her mind was far away, but her eyes were
looking at the Dutchman. He felt an involuntary shiver. He was looking at a
civet cat. A cat that did not release its prey.

Mark
Jennings was like a stray puppy who had found a home: all energy and smiles.

The
extent of his devotion to Susanna was almost embarrassing. He hung on her every
word and jumped to her every suggestion. During one of the brief moments when
he was absent making a phone call, Creasy remarked to her: "It's like you
have him on a mental lead."

"I'm
not sure I like it," she answered ruefully.

"Don't
let it bother you," Creasy answered. "It's not every woman who has a
CIA agent in the palm of her hand. With the resources at his disposal, he could
probably arrange to rob the local National Bank and shower you with
riches."

"I
don't need riches. At any moment soon he's going to make a physical pass at
me."

Creasy
shrugged. "It's no problem, Susanna. Just threaten him with sexual
harassment. Every full-blooded American male is terrified of those two words.
They are the greatest invention that the women's liberation movement ever came
up with." His voice turned mockingly stern. "But don't do that until
this mission is over. Jennings is proving very useful and also inventive. His
idea of trying to recruit a turned Khmer Rouge soldier from that region as a
guide is a very good one. There have been quite a few hundred who have deserted
in recent weeks to the Cambodian government. Jennings will select three or four
and then you'll talk to them one by one and pick out the best."

They
were sitting on the patio of the bungalow. Guido had gone off to the business
centre to send a fax to his Pensione in Naples, just to make sure that it had
not burned down or been turned into a whorehouse by his assistant Pietro.

Jennings
came back from the phone, pulled out his chair, sat down and said to Susanna:
"It's all set up. My liaison guy at Cambodian Army HQ has selected five
ex-Khmer soldiers who defected over the last three weeks. They're all from that
region. I've arranged for you to interview them in half an hour from now at
their Intelligence Headquarters. I'll take you there myself. It's better that
you don't mention the job in front of Cambodian Army officers." He turned
to Creasy. "I can arrange transport to Bangkok on a US Army or UN
aircraft. Nobody will know you've left Phnom Penh or even arrived in
Bangkok."

Creasy
shook his head. "Thanks, Mark. But Guido and I will fly on a civilian
aircraft. I want Connie Crum to know that we've left Phnom Penh and I want her
to follow us when we get to Bangkok...at least, at the early stages. But it
would be good if you could smuggle Susanna and the ex-Khmer Rouge guy into
Bangkok unnoticed."

"And
myself!" the American said firmly.

"Yourself?"

"Of
course. From that file we know that Connie Crum has a big organization in
Bangkok. If Susanna is going to be in that city, she needs protection while you
guys cross into Cambodia."