‘What’s the time?’
Nancy twisted away and lifted her watch from the table between their twin bunks. She tilted it back and forth to catch the feeble light from the lamp.
‘Five thirty. Why don’t we shower and then head up onto the sundeck? This is the Mekong Dawn. We should see at least one dawn while we’re aboard.’
Scott sat up. ‘You go first.’
Nancy climbed from the bunk and headed for the tiny bathroom adjoining their cabin. He waited until he heard running water then went to the low table on which their luggage was stacked and opened one of the smaller cases, the one that had been temporarily lost. Rummaging through the contents, his fumbling fingers found the pill box, pried open the lid and popped three small, white tablets into the palm of his hand. As he closed the box the words on the label caught his eye.
Take one tablet once per day with food.
Scott tossed all three tablets into his mouth and followed them with a gulp of water.
Shit! One tablet a day? Who are they trying to kid?
***
Scott and Nancy climbed the narrow stairway onto the sundeck and found it deserted. They crossed the teak deck, passed the lines of deckchairs and cane outdoor settings and headed to the bow of the ship.
Scott peered down at the inky-black water. By the bow light he could see the anchor chain disappearing into the depths, stretched tight against the mighty current of the Mekong River pushing through into Tonle Sap.
Nancy edged to his side and guessed his thoughts. ‘One of the guides told me the current flows into the lake for six months of the year and out for the other six.’
‘A hell of a lot of water is on the move.’ Scott shook his head. ‘No wonder our captain doesn’t want to attempt a run into the river until daylight.’ He lifted his gaze and searched for some sign of the shoreline, but it remained hidden by the darkness and the mist. He gave up and turned towards the U-shaped bar that also served as a refreshment and coffee stand. ‘I wonder what time they open up. I could do with a nice cuppa.’
Nancy lifted her watch to catch the light. Her world worked on time and she was never without it. ‘I think they said at 6.00 am. Should only be a few minutes now.’
Voices came from the stairway and they turned to see several passengers emerge onto the deck, followed by a steward carrying a steaming pump-pot and a tray of coffee cups. He placed his load on the bar and smiled at the small knot of passengers.
‘Who wants coffee?’
Scott was the first in line. He collected cups for himself and Nancy and walked back to where she waited at the rail. Fred and Collette Deakin were standing with her.
‘Morning!’ Fred eyed the steaming cups in Scott’s hands then looked to the short queue at the bar. ‘I’ll get one of those myself in a few moments.’
Collette fiddled with a large digital camera that hung from her neck by a strap. ‘I want a few shots of the sunrise.’ She spoke without looking up. ‘Do you think the mist will lift? I’d like to get the dawn sky reflecting off the water.’
Scott looked at the paling eastern sky and spoke without thinking. ‘It’s about twenty six degrees. The mist will burn off pretty quickly once the sun rims the horizon.’
Fred leant on the rail beside him. ‘I guess you pilots have to know these things.’
‘I did some flying in New Guinea for a while. Tropical meteorology poses its own set of problems for helicopters.’ Scott stopped and reminded himself that part of his life was now behind him. He couldn’t ever see himself climbing in behind the controls of a helicopter again.
Collette lifted her eye away from the camera’s viewfinder. ‘It must have been exciting?’
‘Uh-huh!’ Scott turned away to the rail and wished he’d kept his mouth shut about the bloody mist. His gaze roved the opaque curtain. It looked impenetrable, a white wall that held their vessel captive. But the light was strengthening now. Above and beyond the layer of mist he could just make out the treetops of the jungle-covered shoreline, a vague silhouette in the murky distance. Then, for just a brief moment, the mist parted minutely, like a nosey neighbour parting the curtains a fraction to see what was happening in the street. For a split second Scott could see into the depths of the mist. A boat sat about a kilometre away. An open boat, crowded with men. He opened his mouth to say something, but the curtain of mist closed and he was left staring at the white wall once again.
Probably just a group of locals on their way to work. He lifted the coffee cup to his lips and forgot about it.
***
The Mekong Dawn appeared as a faint shape against the horizon, silhouetted by the lightening eastern sky. Morning mist, a metre high, blanketed the waters of Tonle Sap and the distant vessel seemed to float on a cloud as Malko examined it through a pair of powerful binoculars. The port anchor light stood out as a tiny red star, perfectly still on the placid waters. Other lights showed on external companionways and several cabins had lights on also. Malko would have liked to have taken the ship at night, but once they moved there would be no stopping, and he needed enough light for his river pilot to navigate by. Once they left Tonle Sap the waterways would be treacherous, not the kind of place one would normally take a large vessel, let alone in darkness.
Standing in the bow of the RHIB, the Rigid Hulled Inflatable Boat, Malko trained the binoculars left and right. The Mekong Dawn was the only vessel anchored at the southern end of Tonle Sap. Large tourist boats often moored here during the night. That the Mekong Dawn was alone simplified the next phase of his plan.
‘Start the engines.’ Malko gave the order to the helmsman without lowering the binoculars. ‘Idle only. Just enough revs to give us headway.’
Behind him the large twin outboards rumbled into life. The helmsman engaged forward gear with a crunch and the boat moved forward. Malko knew the boarding companionway was on the starboard side. He intended taking them around behind the Mekong Dawn and approaching from the far side. Once they reached the vessel his men knew what to do.
He guided the boat in a wide arc, keeping at least a kilometre from their target. Every few moments he lifted the binoculars to examine the ship or survey the waters around them. His greatest fear was that another vessel would show up, steaming down the lake as it hurried to be the first to make a run into the river. Swinging the binoculars back to the Mekong Dawn, he studied the exhaust ports just above the waterline at the rear of the vessel, reassured by the cloud of sooty smoke mixing with the thinning mist.
‘The noise of their diesel generator will mask our approach.’
Ky crouched beside him in the bow. Malko looked down at the younger man and saw him give a slight nod as his hand drifted to the hilt of the knife he wore in a sheath on his belt.
The light grew as they circled the larger vessel. Malko could make out shapes on the companionways that he now recognised as outdoor settings. Several shadows moved on the upper sundeck – early risers, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. There were six or seven of them lined up against the far rail.
***
An early riser, Jenkins had showered and dressed before first light. Then he opened the cabin safe to check that the small laptop was still there. As he swung the steel door open he could see the machine sitting in the bottom and he placed a hand on it, much as a doting father would to an infant child. Satisfied, he locked the safe then stepped out onto the companionway.
Darkness still clung to the lake. A few stars were visible through the overhead haze but no moon showed. He thought about going up to the sundeck but other passengers were already on the move, heading up to watch the sunrise. Jenkins hated company and he strolled aft, passing neat little cabin doors with their brass numbers and the small tables and wicker chairs for the occupants to sit and watch the scenery glide past. Near the rear of the vessel the cabins gave way to other shipboard facilities. There was a laundry recess with several racks of folded sheets and towels. Some shirts and crew uniforms hung along one wall. Beside the la
undry was a heavy door marked ENGINE ROOM. The door had a small window set in it at eye level and a large stainless steel lever. Jenkins passed the door and continued aft. At the rear of the vessel the deck opened out into a small fantail. The crew used this area to sit and relax or have a cigarette, but as Jenkins rounded the corner he was delighted to find the area deserted. He went to the stern rail, pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, drawing heavily as he leant on the rail and studied the black water.
He hated that the vessel was anchored. He hadn’t expected that. Last evening he had questioned the barman in the saloon and discovered that the ship anchored every night.
‘Too many rice barges and fishermen using the waterways to allow for safe night navigation.’
Jenkins wanted to be on his way. He had a new life waiting for him out there. All he needed to do was get out of Asia. He wasn’t doing that while the ship was at anchor. Talk about your proverbial slow boat to China. Well, he wasn’t going to China. He wasn’t going anywhere at the moment. Maybe he should have flown out. But he dismissed that thought as soon as it entered his head. Airport security was far too tight, even in south-east Asia. Officials at airports had the passport and the face on that passport standing right in front of them. Jenkins’ intense research had revealed that tourist boat passengers on the Mekong were rarely viewed by border officials. The purser gave the passports over in bulk, usually while the officials enjoyed some of the ship’s culinary specialties, and the passports were stamped and handed back without any of the passengers being present. That suited Jenkins’ needs just fine. He had no idea if the company had found their property missing, but it wouldn’t be long now and his face would be rolling off every fax machine and popping up on every police computer terminal for a thousand miles. Soon, every policeman in Asia would be looking for him.
It was with that thought that Jenkins spotted a small boat circling out behind the Mekong Dawn. A local fisherman getting an early start on his nets? The driver of the boat circled the Mekong Dawn at the very limit of visibility. A fisherman wouldn’t circle so wide, but make a beeline straight for his fishing grounds.
Squeezing the burning tip out of his cigarette, Jenkins quickly dropped the stub into a nearby ashtray and stepped back into the shadows close to the bulkhead. The smaller boat still circled wide, moving around the Mekong Dawn to the starboard side, the side with the boarding steps.
Maybe they’ll move on. Maybe they’re just going wide so as not to disturb the sleeping passengers.
The boat’s arc reached a point in line with the boarding steps and then turned directly for the Mekong Dawn.
Staying in the shadows, Jenkins watched the boat approach and saw it was crowded with men. And he saw something else, too.
These men carried guns.
With their weapons held at the ready, the men crouched behind the gunwale, set to storm aboard the Mekong Dawn the moment they reached the boarding steps.
They have to be coming for me. Somehow, they found out where I am and they’re coming for me.
Jenkins ran as fast as he could down the port side of the ship. He reached his cabin door and fumbled in his pocket for the key. His fingers trembled as he slipped the key into the lock and opened the door. He went straight to the safe and punched in the code.
CODE ERROR
The little green display screen taunted his mistake and he was forced to wait while the lock mechanism re-set itself for a second try. The error message disappeared and he took two deep breaths and tried the code again. The mechanism gave a little beep and he heard the lock whir open. He yanked the door open and snatched up the laptop, still in its vinyl case. Leaving the safe door open he looked about the cabin.
What else? What else do I need to take with me?
There were a few clothes on the unused second bunk and his toiletries in the bathroom.
Passport? The purser has it. No time. Just get out. You’ve got the laptop. Just get out of your cabin and find somewhere to hide.
Jenkins tucked the laptop bag under his arm and stepped back onto the companionway.
Which way?
Forward there was the breezeway that crossed from port to starboard near the dining saloon doors. The breezeway was also where the boarding steps were. That was where armed police would soon be swarming aboard. He turned aft, running along the companionway until he reached the laundry alcove. He glanced inside, considered it as a hiding place, and immediately dismissed it.
Too small. It would only take moments to search.
Where then? Think, Liam, think!
He continued aft and reached the heavy door marked ENGINE ROOM. Grasping the handle, Jenkins heaved upwards. The handle rotated ninety degrees and the door swung open. Immediately, the noise of a large diesel engine assaulted his ears with a painful throb. He stepped through the door and dogged it closed again. By the glow of an overhead bulb he could see a set of narrow stairs leading down. A small, open doorway at the bottom glowed with bright light. He hurried down to the next deck and stopped in the doorway. Beyond lay the engine room, illuminated by a bank of bright overhead lights. An engineer, wearing overalls and a pair of ear protectors stood at a workbench with his back to the door, oblivious to Jenkins’ arrival in his domain.
Two large diesel engines occupied most of the space in the room, reaching from floor to ceiling. They were painted dark-green, the paint still shiny and new. A smaller engine, the only one running, rumbled away near the rear of the compartment. Jenkins guessed this engine powered the Mekong Dawn’s electrical circuits. Beside this engine was another hatch leading farther into the bowels of the ship. He hurried between the large engines and past the engineer who didn’t look up from his technical manual. The hatch had a metal lever similar to the one on the main deck. Jenkins opened it easily and stepped inside, closing it behind him. Like the other door, this one was also soundproofed. The moment the door closed the noise dropped to a bearable level.
***
‘Safeties off!’ Malko heard the faint clicks as his men switched their rifles from ‘safe’ to ‘fire.’
‘Remember to deal with the radios quickly, Ky. If they get a message out then we may run out of time before we can get the vessel concealed.’
‘It shall be done, Colonel.’
***
Scott placed his coffee cup on the bar and turned back to where Nancy stood with the Deakins. As he turned he noticed the same boat he had seen before. It was closer now, coming straight at the Mekong Dawn. There were ten men or more crowded into it. Two powerful outboards purred as they pushed the boat along, leaving a creamy wake.
One of the men lifted something. Scott’s heart skipped a beat as he recognised an assault rifle, the curve of its magazine unmistakable. Then he realised all the men carried similar weapons. A knot of fear tightened in his stomach.
‘Do the police or military sometimes board tourist boats?’
The steward was busy placing empty coffee cups onto a tray. He looked up from his task. ‘That would be most unusual, sir.’
‘Then who do you suppose these chaps are?’ Scott pointed at the boat, now only a few metres short of the boarding steps.
The steward had to lean over the top of the bar to peer down at the water. For a moment his face remained expressionless. Then a look of puzzlement, followed by one of fear as he saw the rifles the men carried.
***
Malko turned to the helmsman and ensured the man was watching him and him alone. The man’s face was set in a grim mask of concentration. Satisfied, Malko turned back to the Mekong Dawn’s bulk now looming over them. At twenty metres he gave the cut-out signal by flicking his flat hand behind his back. Instantly the engines died into silence, the only sound the bubbling of water against the bow as the boat glided up to the boarding steps.
Malko grabbed the bottom stanchion of the hand rail and Ky swept past him in the same moment. Two men followed him. They rushed up the boarding steps onto the main deck where t
hey turned for the wheelhouse. Then the other men ran up the steps and broke into pairs as they moved swiftly to their assigned tasks.
***
‘Are there pirates on the lake?’ Scott asked.
‘I… I don’t know, sir. I’m from Burma. This is my first journey in Cambodia.’
Scott had to lean over the rail to see the boat full of armed men. ‘Maybe you should run and tell someone,’ he told the steward.
A large man with a shaved head stood in the bow of the boat. He grabbed a stanchion of the boarding steps and instantly the men behind him swept past, swarming aboard the Mekong Dawn two decks below Scott’s feet. The bald man looked up and saw Scott peering down at him. He had a scar on his right cheek, running from temple to jaw. Scott jerked back behind the rail, a stab of fear in his guts caused by the malevolent look in the other man’s dark eyes.
The steward still stared down at the boat.
‘Run! Run and tell the captain!’
At Scott’s urgent words the steward lifted the little trapdoor that closed off the bar area and ran for the companionway to the lower decks. He dropped from sight down the stairs and Scott heard yelling. Somewhere, a woman screamed.
***
Ky’s soft-soled jungle boots made little noise on the teak deck as he sprinted for the wheelhouse. He needed to get there before their presence was known to the crew and before an emergency call could be sent. He reached the sliding door that closed off the wheelhouse from the companionway and slid to a halt. Unable to stop in time, the man behind him almost knocked him off his feet. Ky thumped against the pane of glass set into the top half of the door.
Beyond the glass a lone figure in a white uniform with three gold bars on the epaulettes leant over a control console, adjusting one of the levers. As Ky’s face hit the glass the figure looked up. The captain’s gaze fell to the AK74 in Ky’s hands and his eyes flew wide. He reached for a microphone on a spiral cord that hung from an overhead console.