Fred let out a long breath. ‘Uh oh! This looks like trouble.’
Ky stepped into the saloon and kicked the chair out from beneath one of the passengers, a bespectacled elderly Englishman Scott remembered had introduced himself as Terrence. The man dropped to the floor and Ky took a handful of his thinning grey hair and dragged him back to his feet.
Gunmen rushed into the saloon and dragged passengers off their chairs. Women screamed and a few protests were voiced that the gunmen ignored as they shoved everyone into two lines down the sides of the saloon.
Ky watched them work, holding Terrence by the hair. He pulled him into the centre of the room and used the leverage of his grip to tilt the terrified man’s face back. Terrence whimpered at the pain and Ky slapped him hard across the face, knocking his spectacles to the floor. He turned slowly, dragging the hapless Terrence with him as he glowered at the passengers. Terrence had a grip on Ky’s hand to try and relieve the pain of being supported by his hair as he was pulled around, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
‘Who has the phone?’ Ky yelled.
Scott felt the sudden slide of fear in his stomach.
How the hell do they know?
His hand started to slip down towards the bulge of the mobile in his pocket and he had to check himself.
‘Who has the phone?’ This time Ky didn’t wait for an answer. He slapped Terrence again. A mixture of blood and spittle splashed across the floor and onto a tablecloth.
‘For the love of God! Please!’ Terrence’s wife tried to go to her husband but was held back by other passengers. She struggled in their arms, a look of absolute terror on her face.
Ky ignored the woman. He took the curved knife from his belt. ‘I will ask one more time. If no one answers, then this man will die.’ He placed the blade against Terrence’s throat. ‘Now! Where is the phone?’
‘I have the phone.’ Scott slipped his hand into his pocket and held the phone up for Ky to see. ‘Here it is.’ He felt Nancy’s hand on his arm, but there was no way he could let this little tyrant execute an innocent man. ‘Let him go. I’m the one you want.’
Ky let Terrence go and the old man slumped to the floor. Two gunmen moved to either side of Scott and pushed him towards Ky, who stood with his legs slightly apart, that stance he liked so much. Scott’s eyes followed Ky’s thumb and forefinger as they slid down the length of the blade.
‘Who did you call?’
‘I tried to call the Australian Embassy. But the phone went flat before I could tell them anything.’
Ky used the fist created by his grip on the knife’s handle to punch Scott in the face. Scott’s head snapped back with the force of it and a warm flow of blood ran from his nose and soaked into his shirt. A few passengers voiced their protest and he heard Nancy’s voice.
‘Please don’t hurt him. It was everyone’s idea. We all had a part in this.’
‘Hey, don’t bring us into this.’ A man standing behind Ky pointed across the saloon, presumably at Nancy, though Scott couldn’t tell. ‘We had no idea this guy had a phone. Whatever he did, he did alone.’
‘That’s not true.’ Nancy’s voice countered. ‘Scott acted in the best interests of everyone.’
The saloon broke down into a shouting match between the passengers. The arguments died into silence as Ky held the knife to Scott’s throat.
‘Oh my God!’ He could hear the dread in Nancy’s voice.
The blade held a very keen edge. Scott knew it wouldn’t take much effort on Ky’s part to sever his windpipe and carotid artery. Just a flick of the wrist and he would bleed out in a few seconds, right there on the dining saloon floor. He waited for it, resigned to his fate, his only regret that Nancy would witness the horror of it. The muscles in Ky’s arm bulged as they tensed for the killing stroke. Scott held his breath.
Beyond the silence in the room a small noise became audible in the distance. Despite his fear, Scott recognised it straight away. He saw Ky’s eyes blink in incomprehension. The whirring clatter grew steadily louder and the eyes flew wide as Ky recognised the beat of an approaching helicopter. He slipped the knife back into his belt and turned to the guards, rattling off a string of Khmer. They rushed out into the breezeway and peered up through the small gaps in the camouflage netting. The noise was louder now, maybe four or five kilometres away.
Scott slumped as Ky released him, but he didn’t hit the floor. Nancy was at his side, holding him, hugging him, tears rolling down her face.
‘I thought I’d lost you.’
‘I’m still here, sweetheart.’ And he threw his arms around her.
Fred walked over and slapped him on the back.
‘Close one there, buddy.’
Collette hugged both Scott and Nancy. ‘Too damn close.’ She looked up at the wood-panelled ceiling. ‘Do you think the helicopter is here looking for us?’ Her voice held just the faintest glimmer of hope.
Scott tilted an ear towards the now diminishing noise. ‘If it is, it’s already moving away.’
Fred shook his head in dismay. ‘Never got closer than a few kilometres. Maybe it was just passing by and not associated with us at all?’
The other passengers were abuzz with excitement, but they fell into a sudden hush. Scott turned and found the reason why. Ky had returned to the saloon and was standing in the doorway, his knife in his hand.
‘Your little nuisance was all for nothing. They cannot find us here. But—’ His eyes narrowed with a cruel malevolence. ‘—I cannot let your insolence go unpunished.’ Ky stepped into the saloon and advanced on Scott. ‘Now I will cut your throat.’
Scott got to his feet. This time he wouldn’t go like a lamb to the slaughter. If Ky wanted to kill him, then he was determined to make a fight of it. He pried Nancy’s arms from around his neck. His legs were like jelly and he swayed as if drunk, but still brought his hands up in a defensive posture.
Ky took in the aggressive stance and his face broke into a wicked grin. He held the knife low with the razor edge uppermost. His eyes flicked left and right and Scott knew the hijacker was judging the space he had to move in. When that movement came, it would be swift and it would be deadly. The passengers pulled back to the walls where they watched on in shocked silence. The guards in the breezeway moved into the saloon to watch the sport.
‘Please don’t kill him.’ Nancy stood beside Scott. Her voice trembled as she pleaded with Ky.
Scott opened his mouth to tell her to get out of the way, that she would only get hurt as well. Before he could speak, Fred stepped into the space between the two men.
‘Kill him and you can say goodbye to a million dollars. Maybe even more than a million.’
‘What are you talking about? Get out of my way or I will kill you, too.’ Ky’s voice was low and menacing. He didn’t take his eyes off Scott.
Fred held his hands out in a gesture of nonaggression. ‘If our governments won’t pay the ransom money, then the Cambodian Liberation Army will have to negotiate with the hostages’ families to get their money.’
Ky glared at Fred. ‘So?’
‘So, the families are going to want proof of life before they pay a cent. Scott Morris comes from one of the wealthiest families on the west coast of Australia. Of all the people on this boat, he is probably going to earn your cause the most ransom money – but only if he’s alive.’
‘You’re lying.’ Ky’s glare shifted back to Scott. The menace was still there in the dark depths, but now there was something else as well.
Doubt.
Fred’s open-handed gesture turned into a shrug. ‘Google it if you don’t believe me. Morris Constructions is a big concern. Really big. They won’t have any problem getting the money together.’
Ky looked from Fred to Scott and back again. The knife wavered uncertainly in his hand. Scott’s heart pounded fit to burst as he watched the knife slowly lower.
‘You are lucky your value goes beyond being a mere example to the others Mr Morr
is.’ Ky slipped the knife into the sheath on his belt. He turned for the breezeway without another word.
Scott slumped against Nancy and she hugged him tight. Over her shoulder he could see Fred watching Ky’s back.
‘Thanks, buddy. That was quick thinking.’
Fred turned and placed a fatherly arm over Scott’s shoulders. ‘I’m pretty sure Malko would have spared that kid up on the sundeck if he’d thought his family could pay a big ransom. These boys are running on greed. I just gave them a little sweetener.’
Collette broke out of the knot of passengers and gave Fred a big, wet kiss. ‘You always were a quick thinker, but what happens if he Googles Morris Constructions and comes up with nothing?’
‘He won’t come up with nothing,’ Fred said through a huge grin. ‘Morris Constructions really exists, and they have a web page. Remember our new boat storage facility at the marina?’
Collette stepped back and looked up at Fred. ‘Yes. So what?’
‘It was built by Dave Morris of Morris Constructions. They’re a really big concern in Melbourne. It’s lucky Scott has the same last name.’
‘Not that I’m not grateful, buddy,’ Scott said, ‘but what happens if this whole hostage thing plays out to the end and my ransom money isn’t forthcoming?’
The grin dropped from Fred’s face. ‘I’m hoping something else turns up in the meantime. For all our sakes.’
***
From three thousand feet Ang could see for forty kilometres in three directions. Out to his left, south of the river, a carpet of green jungle and swampland dwindled to the distant horizon. Tonle Sap, the great freshwater lake fed by the mighty Mekong, lay spread out ahead of him. The sun was nearing noon and the water shimmered like a mirror. Here and there the wakes of boats steaming to one destination or another marred the surface. Out to the right, through the tropical haze, he could make out the heart-shape of Boeng Tonle Chhma, the large lake adjoining Tonle Sap.
Ang counted at least seven mountains rising out of the wetlands. Some were no more than low tree-clad domes, maybe thirty to forty metres high; others were mountains in the true sense, steep-sided with bald cliffs of rock clawing at the sky. He checked the map on his lap and orientated it with the outside world, identifying those mountains Turan had said a vessel the size of the Mekong Dawn could approach. He pointed through the Perspex at the nearest and thumbed the intercom button.
‘We shall try that one first.’
Tahki gave a nod and banked the helicopter to the south, descending slowly. A wide river or canal stretched towards the mountain from the lake. Ang could see a few small fishing boats using the river, their wakes leaving long, white V-shapes on the brown water. He counted nine before they reached the mountain and realised that this particular waterway was too well-travelled to afford Malko any chance of concealment. The base of the mountain was interspersed with bamboo huts and washing hung on lines.
‘Too well-populated.’ He recognised Chee’s voice on the intercom.
‘Circle it anyway.’
Tahki responded by dropping lower and throwing the Jetranger into a hard right bank. Ang was forced to look past the pilot to see the ground as it rushed by in a blur. Chee, on the other side in the rear, would have a better view.
They completed a circuit and Tahki climbed away on course for the next mountain. This one had no visible connection to the lake, but they circled it anyway. Ang caught a glimpse of small patches of open water, but there was nothing capable of holding the Mekong Dawn if she had reached this far from the lake.
The next mountain Turan had marked was nothing more than a low hill. A village sat near the south end, buildings of bamboo and corrugated iron constructed on piers above the water. Children ran along raised walkways and waved up at the helicopter as it circled overhead.
Chee’s voice came through the intercom again. ‘I see nothing, sir.’
‘Nothing this side either.’ Prak’s voice.
Ang felt his frustration seething just below the surface, a feeling that was aggravated by the pilot’s next words.
‘Only another forty minutes more flying time. We need to head back to Kampong Chhnang and refuel.’
He had thought it would be easy to locate a vessel the size of the Mekong Dawn. There were only a few places the boat could have gone. Malko had pulled off an excellent disappearing act. Looking out at the lake he tried to think – to guess – where Malko had hidden the vessel.
They had come into the search area on a track close to the south shore of Tonle Sap, for that was where Turan had indicated the most likely locations to be. The hostage who made the call to the Australian Embassy had said they were moored near a mountain. Near did not necessarily mean close. Perhaps he could see a mountain in the distance, the only landmark of note? On a whim, Ang pointed at the north side.
‘Take us back to Kampong Chhnang over the far shore. We can look for a channel or something. Maybe they went into that side.’
***
Todd had heard the helicopter pass over earlier. He had no idea where he was or in what direction the aircraft had travelled, but if it came back, or another one flew by, he was ready.
The girl – he had learned her name was Soo-Li – and her father, had gone off up the mountainside to collect firewood, leaving him at the camp to rest and recover after his ordeal in the swamps. After hearing the helicopter, Todd had rummaged through their meagre belongings to find something with which to signal a low-flying aircraft. The best he could come up with was a small plastic mirror not much bigger than the palm of his hand. The surface was scratched and his image distorted, but it would have to do.
Forty metres up the mountainside was a small clearing that Todd climbed to with the mirror in his pocket. Exhausted after his long swim and the effects of the leeches, he panted hard as he broke out of the jungle and into bright sunshine. Finding a seat on an exposed piece of rock that gave him a good view out across the treetops, he settled down to wait.
Maybe the helicopter wouldn’t come back. Maybe it had got to wherever it was going and the pilot was enjoying a cold beer. He licked his lips at the thought of beer and leant back against the sun-warmed rock. His eyelids soon drooped and closed.
The sound of the helicopter snapped him awake. He tried to shake the sleep from his foggy mind and focus on the brilliant sky.
What I wouldn’t give for a pair of sunglasses about now.
Squinting and shading his eyes, he picked out the helicopter against the blue sky. The aircraft was travelling from his right to left, about sixty metres above the trees.
Todd fumbled in his pocket for the mirror and tried to remember everything he had ever learned about signal mirrors as a boy scout in Cobar. He found the sun, almost directly overhead, and angled the mirror to catch the light. Holding his free hand in front of him at arm’s reach with index finger extended, he followed the helicopter with his finger, flashing sunlight from the mirror over his fingernail.
Desperately, he played the light back and forth.
The helicopter continued on its course.
***
The search of the north shore had turned up nothing. Once they refuelled, Ang would have the pilot fly them around Boeng Tonle Chhma. He hadn’t been able to pick out a large channel joining the lakes in the section they had overflown, but who knew what lay beneath the dense tree canopy? He would have them continue for as long as daylight lasted. And tomorrow. He would keep searching until his superiors told him to stop or the Japanese survey company decide they want their helicopter and pilot back.
Checking his watch, Ang was surprised to see it was a little after noon. Over four hours had passed since leaving Phnom Penh. He squirmed in the seat to ease a little of the stiffness from his body and resigned himself to the fact he would be doing this until nightfall.
‘Sir? Something is flashing over there.’ Prak leant forward and tapped him on the shoulder.
Ang turned his head to the left. ‘Where?’
&nb
sp; ‘Over there at the base of that mountain with the antennas on it.’
Ang picked out the mountain immediately, pyramid shaped with the stark outline of antennas at the peak. He remembered passing it on the way into the search area. It was only on the edge of the area, but he had planned on including it in the search, maybe tomorrow.
As he watched, a tiny pinprick of light flashed near the base of the mountain, disappeared and then flashed again.
‘Can we go and take a look?’
Tahki examined the fuel gauges, his face a frown. ‘We can spare five minutes. That’s all.’
‘Let’s do it then.’
The helicopter banked sharply left. The mountain was about six kilometres away, but large enough to fill the view through the windscreen. The flashing light increased in intensity the closer they flew.
In forty seconds they had covered the distance.
A man stood in a small clearing on the lower slopes. He wore a pair of shorts and a yellow T-shirt. It wasn’t until they were directly overhead that Ang could see the man was a Westerner, waving his arms wildly at the hovering machine.
‘Do you think he’s from the Mekong Dawn?’ Chee’s voice.
Ang keyed the intercom. ‘It’s highly possible. He appears very happy to see us and he is a long way from civilisation. Can you put us down?’
Tahki shook his head. ‘Not here, the ground is too steep.’
‘Find a place.’
‘I’m already into my reserves. We need to head back to—’
Ang didn’t bother with the intercom. He yelled as loud as he could over the engine noise. ‘Find a place to land. Now!’
Tahki pivoted the helicopter on its axis and searched for a place to put down. He finally settled on a spit of land covered in grass about a kilometre away. It wasn’t connected to the island mountain, but wasn’t far from the shore. He manoeuvred the Jetranger into position and landed, the rotor wash sending up a storm of swirling grass.
‘Shut down the engine. Save your fuel. We may be some time.’
Leaving Tahki with the helicopter, Ang led Prak and Chee towards the mountain. They waded from islet to islet, holding their pistols above their heads to keep them dry. Once on high ground they wrung the water from their clothes.