Message From -Creasy 5 (29 page)

"It's part of being a team," Creasy said. "We are all very much
individuals, and it's only when we're on a mission like this that the affection
becomes apparent. It's a matter of sharing the danger which is always present,
even now. You are part of that team, and Jennings has become part of it."
He tapped her on the chin and spoke as though he were a lecturer. "It's
called camaraderie. Each member of the team becomes part of you. I first felt
it in the Legion, and I guess in a way it's why I'm here. You see, Jake Bentsen
was once a comrade."

Susanna was intrigued. Step by step, she was learning about Creasy's thoughts and
motivations. It was like peeling off the layers of an onion.

"What about the others?" she asked. "Guido and Maxie and Rene, for
example...What are their motivations?"

Creasy had gone to the wardrobe. As he laid his slacks and underwear and shirt onto
the bed he said thoughtfully: "They are all mental orphans, and above all
they seek the camaraderie I mentioned. Maxie is happily married and has his own
bistro, which is successful. But after a few months of serving his customers he
pines for the camaraderie of action. When he got married he promised his wife
that he was retired from the mercenary world. But she is a very wise woman and
she knows what he needs. She released him from that promise, which is why he's
here now. Rene has no wife, just a series of short-term girlfriends. He's a
lonely man except at times like this. Guido is simply Guido; my best friend. My
life is his life and vice versa. If I have a problem or get into a dangerous
situation, he has the same problem and the same situation and that's the way it is."

He started to get dressed and she looked at the scars that she had so recently
stroked. "What will you go home to?" she asked.

He notched the buckle of his belt and answered quietly: "A beautiful old
farmhouse on a hill on the beautiful island of Gozo. It looks out over the
Mediterranean to the islands of Comino and Malta. It's an idyllic life. I buy
my food from a small shop in the nearby village. I drink at an old bar called
Gleneagles, which looks out over the small harbour. The locals are my friends.
I go to the village fiesta and drink too much beer and wine. I sit in the sun
and play cards. I go fishing with the fishermen, and afterwards we barbecue the
fish on the beach and dance to a mobile disco under the moon. I have an adopted
daughter called Juliet who's studying medicine in America. She visits me on her
holidays; and I'm proud of her. Like I said, it's an idyllic life."

"And sometimes you get bored in Paradise?"

"Yes."

"Just like the others?"

"Yes. Sometimes I need the camaraderie which only comes from risk and danger. It's
our drug. Others drink liquor or shoot up with heroin or sniff coke. We go for the danger."

He had finished dressing. He turned and gave her one of his rare smiles. "And one
day, like all drugs, it will kill us. But not tomorrow."

"How do you know?"

"It's like a motto. You never die tomorrow." He walked over, kissed her softly on
the lips and said, "Enough of that. What about this schizophrenia you speak of?"

She held him close for a moment and then answered, "In spite of all the
affection I feel, I'm also a little frightened. It's not the danger I may or
may not be in. It's the fact that a baby is growing inside me. I don't feel it
yet, but it's very much in my mind. Of course it's impossible for a man to
understand, and it's impossible for a woman to explain. But in spite of your
so-called camaraderie I feel a little lonely."

She gently pushed him away and said, "And that's enough of that. I came from
our Embassy here. Jennings has arranged everything you need. He's acquired two
Mitsubishi Shoguns here locally for transport. I talked to my boss in
Washington. Our agency will cover all the costs, including your hotel bills and
other local expenses. The arms and other equipment will mostly be flown in
tonight from a US base in Japan."

Abruptly, Creasy was all business. "Did he manage to get the Uzis?"

"No." She took a slip of paper from her pocket. "They are supplying five Colt
XM177EZ submachine-guns. Apparently they can also launch grenades."

Creasy nodded in satisfaction. "It's a good weapon. Did Jennings get the
light-enhancing glasses?"

"Yes, he got everything on your list apart from substituting the Colts for the Uzis...What
about the other arrangements?"

"They're in hand," Creasy answered. "Guido has chartered a Cessna for tomorrow
night from the Pattonong Flying Club. Together with a pilot. Right now he's
buying two parachutes from a sports shop. He will also have a tailor run up a
Khmer Rouge type uniform for our guide. If we get stopped early on inside
Cambodia, he'll explain that we're mercenaries hired by Connie Crum on a
short-term contract to clear mines, just like Piet de Witt. At midnight
tomorrow we'll be leaving the village of Trat which is just a few miles from
the Cambodian border. For the next hour or two Connie Crum will be getting a
stiff neck looking up into the night sky. I'll arrange for the plane to fly
within a mile of that temple to synchronize with our arrival."

The
satellite phone buzzed just after six p.m. Connie Crum picked up the receiver
and had a two-minute conversation, then she turned triumphantly to Van Wan Luk
and said: "It's like a perfect game of chess. All the pieces have been
moved, my opponent is now going to make his last move into checkmate."

"He's
in Bangkok?"

"Yes,
he's at the Dusit Thani Hotel. He has been there all day, but his friend
Arrelio has been moving around. He has chartered a light aircraft from tomorrow
at midnight and also purchased two parachutes of a modern design." She
looked up at the sky.

"The
weather forecast is good. It will be a clear night with half a moon. We'll be
waiting for them."

They
were standing beside the temple, which was circled by an eight-foot stone wall.
The temple itself was richly decorated with ancient stone carvings. They were
not all original to the temple. Some of them had been brought from the famous
temple of Angkor Wat. She walked into the temple itself and Van followed.

Inside
it was starkly bare except for a blank, marble sarcophagus rising five feet
from the stone floor and measuring eight feet square. On top of it was a pyre
of wood. It was the first time that Van Luk Wan had ever been to the temple. He
stood at the entrance looking at the black square of marble. Behind it,
standing like sentinels, were Connie Crum's two black-clad, female bodyguards,
cradling AK47 rifles in their arms.

Connie
Crum stood beside it and said reverently: "My father's ashes are contained
here. I had them brought from Hong Kong last year. It's his last resting
place."

The
Vietnamese did not know what to say or do. He owed his life to Bill Crum. After
standing immobile for several seconds, he slowly bowed low towards the marble
sarcophagus. Then he lifted his head and looked at the woman. Her face was
serene. She gestured at the pyre of wood, which covered the entire surface to a
depth of two feet.

"Creasy
will die there," she said. "Like my father, he'll burn to death and
become ashes. He'll burn while he is alive. It will be slow; and he'll know why
he is burning. Afterwards I'll have the Dutchman lay mines on the only track
into the temple. Then I'll kill the Dutchman. My father's soul will rest in
peace and tranquillity."

Van was
looking at the wood on top of the marble. He could picture Creasy lying there
tied down. In his mind he could see Connie bringing a torch to the wood and
Creasy's body jerking on top of the flames. He felt the adrenalin pumping
through his veins.

He
asked: "How many soldiers will you have here?"

Connie
gestured at her two bodyguards. "Just these two, as always, and then you
and me."

His
head jerked around to look at her and his voice crackled with astonishment.
"Just four of us? You know what those two men are like...You need a small
army in here."

She
laughed at him and at the fear that had crept into his eyes.

"We'll
have one other 'soldier'," she said. "A very effective soldier. One
that even Creasy and his friend Arrellio will not know about and cannot fight.
Come with me."

She led
him back out into the compound. First she went to the massive iron gate and
pointed. "Notice that the gate is built in such a way that when closed,
it's completely sealed." She pointed to the walls on each side of the
gate. "Notice that the walls have been very carefully made and
plastered."

She
walked back to the temple, with Van following like a little dog. She pointed to
several metal holes that were recessed into the stone carvings. He had not
noticed them before. She walked back to the entrance to the temple. Beside it
was a metal box. She took a key from her pocket and opened it. Inside were two
handles, one red and the other green. She tapped the red handle.

"When
I turn that, it will release through a series of pipes a nerve gas called
Amiton from cylinders beneath the temple. That gas was first developed in
America in 1952, and is lethal unless an antidote is given within minutes. It's
also heavier than air so it will silt from the ground up to the level of the
walls. When Creasy and his friend drop in, they'll lose consciousness within
seconds."

She
walked into the temple and pointed at a table to one side. On it there were
several small cylinders attached by rubber pipes to rubber masks shaped to fit
over a nose and mouth. "That's the antidote. When Creasy and his friend
drop into this compound, they'll be unconscious within seconds. We disarm them
and tie them up and then give them the antidote. They'll come round in about
half an hour. Then I'll tell Creasy his life history and why he's going to
burn." She was smiling as she spoke.

"What
about us?" Van asked in trepidation.

She
tapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry. The four of us will be
wearing protective clothing and gas masks." She pointed to a pile of
thick, bright yellow plastic overalls. "We'll not be at risk." She
drew a deep breath of satisfaction. "The Dutchman described Creasy and his
friend Arrellio as maybe the two most dangerous men on earth...but they never
had a fight with a 'soldier' called Amiton!"

Mark
Jennings watched the two men at work. They were experts in an expert field, and
they used the most sophisticated electronic equipment. They took fifteen
minutes moving around the small conference room, checking the walls and the
ceiling and then the floor and the furniture, always closely monitoring the
flashing lights on their gauges. Finally one of them dismantled the phone and,
after checking every component, reassembled it and turned to Jennings saying:
"The place is clean, sir. Not a bug in sight or sound."

Jennings
nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Would you please call the others and
arrange to get some coffee in here. After that I want you to stay outside by
the door and make sure that nobody comes in. Tomorrow night I have another job
for you which will end about two a.m. Nothing dangerous, just flying around for
a couple of hours in a light aircraft. After that you can head Stateside."

The two
men packed away their equipment and left silently on their rubber-soled shoes.
Jennings took his oversize briefcase from the table, opened it and took out
various papers, photographs and maps. He was enjoying himself. It was his first
important mission since arriving in South East Asia. He had half expected this
small conference room at the Dusit Thani Hotel to have been bugged. Not because
of the impending meeting, but because of some past business meeting. In the
modern age, most of the spying was done for businessmen. Even the CIA was not
aloof from that. They had even bugged the office of the chairman of Airbus in
Toulouse on behalf of the Boeing Corporation.

Creasy
and Guido were the first to arrive. They greeted Jennings warmly, but the American
knew that the moment Creasy walked into the room he was in control. Not by
anything he said or by his actions, just by his presence.

Susanna
came next, together with the ex-Khmer soldier Nol Pol, who was dressed in a new
suit with a white shirt and a brown tie. She introduced him to Creasy and Guido
and then listened while Creasy spoke a few words to him in French. Five minutes
before, she had given the Cambodian his $500 fee.

She was
surprised when he now reached into the pocket of his suit and handed it back to
her. In Cambodian, she asked him why.

He
replied: "This man tells me that tomorrow night I might be killed. If I
am, he promises that you'll make sure that this money will get to my family in
Battambang. I believe him, and I believe you."

As she
took the money, Creasy said: "His French is better than I hoped."

Jens
and The Owl came next, together with one of the security men carrying a tray
with coffee and cups. He was followed by Maxie and Rene. Before exchanging any
kind of greeting, Creasy asked them: "Are you sure you weren't
followed?"

"Negative,"
Maxie answered. "We have not been watched since we arrived at the
airport."

Creasy
was reassured. Maxie was the best tracker he had ever known and had the
instincts to know when he himself was tracked.

Jennings
looked on curiously as the mercenaries greeted each other with the customary
kiss next to the mouth. He was startled to realize that these men were all
middle-aged. They had come from an almost forgotten period, but they had not
forgotten their craft. One glance into their eyes was enough to tell him that.

They
arranged themselves around the oblong table. The Dane put his computer in front
of him and opened it. Jennings slid a piece of paper in front of Creasy, who
studied it and then nodded in satisfaction.