The Brittle Limit, a Novel (21 page)

Andrew asked, “Can I help? I could call
someone when I get back to town. They’d have a helo out here in an
instant to take you all home. Back to the States.”

Frank shook his head. “Nah, don’t do that
son. We’ve been outside the wire so long, we wouldn’t know how to
fit in.”

“Where will you go?”

“I dunno. Thailand, Burma, Laos? Somewhere
off the grid. Maybe with better light.” Andrew smiled at this.

Frank continued. “It’ll be tough, leaving. I
feel bad about the statues. I feel like we were supposed to find
them, that we’ll have failed them, leaving them behind. But
whaddaya gonna do?”

Frank walked up a small hill. Andrew
followed, uncertain where they were going. The ground was rougher
here, covered with stones and small boulders. They continued uphill
for some time, scrambling over the rock. Andrew thought it looked
as if there had been a landslide here a long time ago. They stopped
at the top of the hill.

Andrew glanced around them. Beyond the pebbly
debris, Andrew saw what he thought was sunlight casting rays on the
dirt floor. “Is that daylight?” he asked, incredulous.

“Yes, it is. It’s how we initially found this
place. It’s an old well that leads to ground level.”

“How far below ground is your camp?

“About a quarter mile.”

“And how far below are we now?”

“About thirty feet. There’s a metal ladder
that will take you to the surface. But you need to be careful.
We’ve cleared all the traps those jerks set, but some of the men
might still be out and about. Watch your back.”

“Roger that.” Andrew stuck out his hand.
“Thanks for the welcome. And thank Stu for saving me.”

Frank took it, holding Andrew’s gaze. “You
got it. Good luck, young man. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

The men shook, then embraced, each giving and
receiving a slap on the back.

Andrew turned and approached the opening in
the stone wall, a chipped archway eons old. He looked up the wide
stone shaft. Sunlight filtered down through the wet mossy darkness.
A brown bat shifted sideways on the jutting stones above. Andrew
placed a foot onto the first metal rung, testing it. It held. He
placed a foot on the next rung and reached upwards, climbing toward
the light.

*******

In the morning light, Andrew emerged from the
jungle onto the dirt road. He’d had an uneventful trip through the
jungle back to the road. None of Hakk’s men seemed to be about, for
which he was thankful.

He’d tried to reach his helicopter pilot but
had not had any luck getting through. Just static. He sat down on
the roadside to dial again, hoping he would have better reception
this time.

A distant engine roar caused him to look up
the road. On the crest of the hill, he saw two large motorcycles,
tearing down the dirt road, heading straight for him. The riders
were decked out in leather pants, jackets and imposing helmets.

Watching the bikes descend the hill, Andrew
decided nothing surprised him in this country anymore. It was its
own dimension.

As the bikers approached, they slowed, then
stopped, pulling up near Andrew, one of the bikes sliding in the
dirt, spraying chunks of mud. Andrew shielded his face from the
blast.

The larger rider pulled off his helmet. He
was about sixty, Western, with a week’s worth of stubble and a
tattoo that said ‘Bike Me’ in large letters on his neck. “Are you
lost or something son?” he asked Andrew.

Andrew shook his head. “No, but my sat phone
isn’t working. I can’t call my ride.”

The other rider piped in, removing a helmet
that had gotten stuck on a leather catch. “Those gadgets aren’t
worth the plastic they’re made of out here in this jungle. Too much
tree cover.” The woman had short blond hair and bright blue
eyes.

The first rider nodded in agreement. “Betty’s
right. Not the best move to depend on a phone out here. You could
be stuck for days. No one would know you were missing.” He said
this with concern. He steadied his bike, hopping off to approach
Andrew, who stood.

“Yes, well, I’ll know for next time.” Andrew
wiped his hands on his trousers and extended his right one. “I’m
Andrew.”

“Bill. This here’s my wife Betty Ann.
Semi-retired, living the dream.” They shook.

“Anyway, we’re heading to town, we just came
out to test out our new toys. Happy to give to you a lift. To Sen
Monorom, that is.”

“That’d be great. Uh…did someone tell you I
was in the area?” Andrew said, glancing back at the forest behind
him. The trail was barely discernable. The trees waved at him in
the breeze.

The couple looked at each other. Bill watched
as Andrew looked around. He said, “Ain't nobody here but us girls,”
with a grin at Betty Ann, then looked at the sky and snorted,
sniffing the air.

“We best get a move on. There’s still some
rain in those clouds. Hop on.”

With one last glance backward, Andrew did as
he was told, throwing a leg over the wide bike, an easy 800 pounds
of metal. He admired the shiny chrome, flecked with mud. Bill
revved the engine.

“Just so you know, there’s a price to be paid
for a lift to town.”

Andrew smiled. “What’s that?”

“Cold beers at Snowy’s.”

“You got it.”

“Hop in and hang on. It’s a bumpy ride!”

Chapter 25

“Hello, Severine. I didn’t expect to see you
again so soon.”

Severine blinked rapidly, glancing to her
left and right, confused. “What are YOU doing here?”

Jeremy continued. “It’s a shame you had to
get mixed up in this. Things are not going your way of late. It
would have been better, easier, if you could have gone about your
merry way. But always the do-gooder, just like your nosy boyfriend.
Oh, excuse me. Your husband. No, you had to do the right thing. Too
many do-gooders in this town.”

“What do you know about Ben?”

“Only that he started asking too many
questions, sticking his nose into things that didn’t concern
him.”

“But you’re an American, you work at the
Embassy. How are you involved with these men, it makes no
sense?”

“In fact, it makes perfect sense. I have
access to government officials at all levels. I remain open to
communication, all offers of assistance, partnership, and requests
for information. From all parties. I recently learned from a
certain Ministry contact about a potential archeological find in
Mondulkiri. Apparently, Ben explained things nicely in his little
report. So I did a little investigating on my own. There are
objects worth millions on the black market out there. Millions. But
Ben wanted to preserve them and insisted on blowing the whistle
until someone paid attention.”

Jeremy paused, frowning. He leaned forward,
his face next to Severine’s. He inhaled. “I never liked him,” he
added in a whisper. Severine felt his hot breath on her cheek. She
yanked away.

“What did you do to my husband?”

“I have a new partner, you see. A man with a
fondness for the past, shall we say. We have an arrangement. I make
sure that you no longer interfere in his plans and he helps me get
the gold. Win win.” He smiled, opening his palms.

He leaned back. “You need to understand how
the world works. There is always demand. For something. The key is
knowing what people want.”

Severine’s face was a stone. She stared ahead
as Jeremy continued.

“I deserve more than a pittance in this life.
So I’ve made that happen. Lately, I have a golden touch.” Jeremy
smiled and wiggled his long white fingers. He leaned back in his
seat and brushed an invisible speck of lint from his pressed
trousers.

In the front passenger seat, Heang turned
around for instructions.

“To the boat,” Jeremy barked then turned to
smile at Severine, his upper lip too high on his pink gums. “You
and I - we’d always talked of taking a river
cruise.”

*******

The temperature dropped with the setting sun,
the season changing in the few minutes separating day and night.
Autumn had arrived, only a couple degrees difference, but
noticeable.

The fog had rolled into town off the cooling
river in undulating waves. The boat Captain watched the fog fold
its way forward, marking time by the disappearance of the street
lights along the shoreline ahead, shrouding everything in gray.

Fog was not common here, but it had its place
on this odd evening. The wooden boat made its lazy way to the pier,
its old engine chugging away.

The Captain could see the pier was still
empty. No one had arrived; he was early. He had made good time from
Ho Chi Minh City.

Most of the Captain’s business was bringing
items upriver from Vietnam to Phnom Penh and occasionally to Siem
Reap, farther north. Some legitimate items, deliveries from local
merchants. Some less so. The latter paid better, though the risks
were higher, especially at the border between Vietnam and Cambodia.
The border guards were too aware of their power, their ability to
ruin a Captain’s day, depending on their mood and desire.

But the Captain, who was half-Vietnamese and
half-Cambodian, understood the needs of the border guards. He had
met many people in his years on the river. He fancied himself a
citizen of the water, rather than of a country.

A few squawks from a lone leafy tree along
the bank by the pier let the Captain know that his boat was
disturbing a well-concealed bird’s nest. No matter. His only
concern was delivering his cargo and receiving payment.

He looked at this week’s cargo, propped near
a few old wooden oars by the fishing nets. He’d been told to take
especially good care of this item. Was told it could break if
treated roughly.

To discourage attention, the cargo was well
covered by a faded pea-green tarp, itself at least twenty years
old, frayed along its edges, with holes that had been patched and
re-patched by the Captain’s wife. The Captain could well afford a
new tarp, as made good money. But newness was a sign of prosperity
to the border guards, suggesting there was something of value
onboard to inspect. He kept his old tarp, and his engine with the
death rattle.

The captain lifted the tarp to make sure all
was well. The blue plastic barrel was tucked in nicely between the
nets.

He scanned the street. There only a few
working street lights near this pier, enough to provide visibility
but not enough to draw attention to whatever might happen on this
remote pier on Phnom Penh’s edge.

The birds squawked again and rustled in their
nest, readying for the night.

There, he saw movement. He looked up the
street and saw a black car moving down the quiet lane to the
waterlogged pier. One headlight was out.

The Captain readied himself. He was anxious.
The owner of this cargo was unpredictable. But he paid well and the
work was steady.

*******

Severine’s mind raced. A cruise, Jeremy had
said. If she could only make a break for it to a hotel or
guesthouse, she’d be safe. But Samnang was in the seat beside her,
so she needed to stay put.

They drove for some time, through town, then
on to its fringes.

Heang opened Severine’s car door and yanked
her out of the car, man-handling her. She struggled with him,
pushing back at his groping hands. “Hold still,” he barked. She
assumed he was going to tie her hands tighter and she lifted her
arms to protest. Jeremy watched this exchange with a mild look of
disdain.

When Severine saw the syringe, she shrank
away. The Ketamine they’d used on her earlier had made her feel
insane. It was a madness she didn’t know if she could tolerate
again.

Before she could block him, Heang had
injected her in the neck. She felt herself fade gently this time.
Her mind filled with images of Ben leading her down a green path,
of the pool where she’d swum. This would be a deep sleep.

Jeremy nodded his approval as Severine
collapsed into Heang’s arms.

“Now the girl,” Jeremy said.

Heang opened the other back door and lifted
out Samnang. She lay heavy in his arms, whimpering when she saw
Severine collapsed on the ground. Heang watched her small scared
face as he injected her as well. He handed her limp body to Jeremy,
who took the child in his arms, while Heang picked up Severine and
led the way down the rickety pier to the boat rocking on the gentle
river current.

The Captain emerged from inside the boat, and
bowed, hands held high, as Jeremy and Heang stepped onboard. Heang
dumped the unconscious woman and Jeremy deposited the girl onto
netting piled in the corner next to a faded worn tarp.

The Captain, named Sovan, started the old
engine, which coughed in protest of this late night voyage. Sovan
glanced at the two supine passengers. He was paid to navigate the
river and not ask questions. He coaxed his temperamental engine
down to a gentle purr and the boat pulled away from the dock.

*******

After so much rain, the stormy river rocked
the boat to and fro as she made her way north. The Mekong wound its
way up to Laos and beyond, but this boat was not traveling that
far. After a couple hours on the river, the Captain could sense the
turn ahead to his right. He could see little ahead in the dark but
even in dim light, he knew the turns and twists of this river, its
depths and shallows. And he could feel the river, urgent, like a
child tugging its mother.

Ah, there. He saw the opening he sought,
hidden by overhanging trees. He steered the boat forward. Glancing
back, he saw his passengers asleep, the little girl restless,
troubled by nightmares. Jeremy alone was awake.

Sovan turned his attention back to the
water.

*******

Severine wanted to keep sleeping. Everything
was heavy and quiet in her head. She forced herself closer to
consciousness. There was that noise again. She felt a gentle
rocking. With a start, she remembered where she was.