Mekong Dawn

  Nothing.

  ‘I know it’s a long shot, but have the technicians in the lab go over this page. If anyone has touched it I want to know exactly where.’ A small chance, he knew. The map, or whatever it was, had been drawn on the preceding page. This particular page may not have been touched at all. He handed the notebook back to Klim and glanced at his watch. ‘I have to speak to the major general and brief him on our so-called progress.’

  Ang left his office and walked down the hall to a corner suite. A secretary sat at a desk in an outer office, delicately tapping away at a computer keyboard. She looked up as Ang appeared in the doorway and smiled as she recognised him then pointed at the inner door with a manicured finger.

  ‘Go right in, Major. He’s expecting you.’

  Major General Truan Sulem sat behind an expansive desk littered with papers and a few ornaments that doubled as paperweights. He was talking on the telephone as Ang entered the office, but waved at a vacant chair on the other side of the desk. Ang sat and studied the desk ornaments as he waited. His boss was in earnest discussion with someone over the force’s funding, a topic he knew always puts the major general’s blood pressure up a few points.

  ‘Well, they have to practice shooting on a regular basis.’ The major general rolled his eyes at Ang. ‘No, once a year is not enough. If my officers are expected to hit anything when the need arises they should practice at least every three months.’ The major general made a pistol of his free hand and shot it at the telephone hand piece. ‘I don’t care where the money comes from. It’s your job to find it. You had better damn well find it.’ He slammed the receiver down and looked at Ang.

  ‘Bloody bean-counters! They’ll be the death of me. I can’t be expected to run a police force on the budget they give me. I hope your news is good Ang?’

  ‘I don’t really have anything new to report, sir. Klim is working on the notebook page we found at Malko’s last known hideout. Best guess is that it’s a hand-drawn map of Tonle Sap and some adjoining waterways.’ Ang felt a little uncomfortable under his superior’s gaze, but he wasn’t about to pad out his report.

  ‘It’s all bloody swamps and trees. What would Malko want with that area?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. Maybe another hideout. But it’s not his style to hide miles from anywhere. Malko prefers the cities, where he can blend in with the crowds. If he is up to something in there, it won’t be anything good. I can’t think what though. All the people in that area are pretty poor and there’s no localised infrastructure. I don’t believe a robbery would be worth the effort for him.’

  The major general leant back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. ‘And then there’s the guns you found at the last hideout.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. They are of Chinese manufacture. I’ve made a few enquiries through their embassy, but nothing yet. The Chinese probably don’t want to admit that they were careless enough to lose the weapons – or that those weapons have made their way into the wrong hands.’

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘If you could find someone high enough up the chain to lean on them a bit harder, the Chinese may give us a lead as to who supplied the weapons to Malko.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ He leant forward, made a note on a piece of paper and added it to a pile. ‘Anything else?’

  Ang looked briefly at the ceiling, unable to meet his superior’s gaze. ‘If this hand-drawn map turns up something, a definite location near Tonle Sap, I may need access to a helicopter.’

  Ang lowered his eyes to find his boss staring at him as if he were some strange apparition.

  ‘I can’t find enough money for bullets to train the men to shoot straight and you want a helicopter?’

  ‘It would be the fastest way to search the area, sir.’ Ang met the gaze and held it.

  ‘That will make the bloody bean counters have conniption fits.’ A broad smile stretched the major general’s face. He was obviously enjoying the thought the effect of a request for the use of a helicopter would have on the people who managed the purse strings.

  Ang decided to push the matter. ‘It could be our best chance of finding Malko.’

  ‘Fine!’ Truang nodded. ‘You give me something solid to go on, Major, and I’ll get you your damned helicopter.’

  ***

  Van had never commanded a vessel as large as the Mekong Dawn. His time on the rivers and lakes of Cambodia had been spent piloting rice barges and small tugs. He had worked the waters around the Mountain of the Sun for over a year and knew as well as any man which passages were capable of taking a vessel like the Mekong Dawn and which would ultimately shallow out and trap an unwary skipper.

  ‘How far to this accursed channel of yours?’ Malko stood beside the helm and alternated between glancing at his watch and scanning the open water with his binoculars. ‘If we don’t get into cover soon, someone else will discover us.’

  Van squinted through the windshield as he studied the shoreline. He had never approached the channel from this angle or this close to the trees, but Malko wouldn’t let him take the vessel farther into open water so he could get his bearings. Everything seemed the same at this limited range.

  ‘I believe it is just past that tall grove of trees, Colonel.’ Van pointed through the shattered glass at a distinctive bulge in the leafy canopy. ‘We’ll be turning into the channel in the next few minutes.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. We’re running out of time.’ Malko looked at his watch once more.

  Making three knots, they rounded a small headland. Van allowed himself a quick grin as he realised his reckoning had been correct. The opening to the channel lay almost abeam of them and he spun the helm hard. The Mekong Dawn responded slowly. She wasn’t built for rapid manoeuvring and the bow drifted lazily to starboard. Van would have liked a more direct approach from open water but had to make the turn in the time he had or they risked running aground. The helm came up hard on its stops and he held it there as the bow continued to swing. For one panicked moment it looked as if they would overshoot the opening and his hand hovered over the engine controls, ready to apply full reverse power before they ploughed into the trees. Then he realised they were going to make it and he pulled his hand away from the controls and spun the helm to centre the rudder.

  A few branches scraped along the sides, grating and snapping off as the Mekong Dawn penetrated the verdant curtain. Leaves and twigs rained down outside the wheelhouse windows. A loud ripping noise came from somewhere above and Van realised the branches had caught the awning on the sundeck and were tearing it to shreds.

  ‘We won’t get too far like this, Van. You promised me the channel would accommodate this vessel.’

  ‘It’s only the opening that’s overgrown, Colonel. The rest of the channel is clear. I travelled down it only a month ago. Once we push through the overhanging trees the passage will be clear.’

  ‘I hope you are right.’

  Making fine adjustments to the helm, Van eased the Mekong Dawn through the tangle of branches. The snapping and ripping continued, punctuated by the splash of falling debris. Then Van’s heart gave a leap of despair. A low bough, as thick as a man’s waist, stretched across their path from one side of the channel to the other.

  ‘That will be a problem.’ Malko pointed at the seemingly impassable barrier.

  ‘It must have been dislodged by last week’s monsoon wind.’ Van reached for the throttles and applied full power. The low throbbing of the twin diesels increased to a roar. Only fifty metres separated the Mekong Dawn from the fallen tree and he prayed they would build up enough speed in time. The riverboat surged forward like a horse given the spurs. From his position in the wheelhouse, he couldn’t see the bow at the waterline, but he imagined the placid waters beginning to foam under the vessel’s savage thrust. He eyed the fallen tree and could see a fan of unearthed roots on the left bank. The branches on the right still held green leaves. The jungle had not had time to begin rotti
ng and reclaiming what was hers. The tree trunk would be as solid as steel.

  ‘Hold on, Colonel.’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malko grasp the edge of the control console.

  The point of the bow made contact. The tree let out a soft groan and flexed under the weight of the vessel. They were losing headway rapidly and Van felt himself thrown against the helm. Loose objects crashed down to the deck, a smattering of noise, just audible over the almost human groan of the tree.

  ***

  Nancy toppled out of her chair and onto Scott. About her, people were thrown to the floor and tables crashed onto their sides. From the galley up forward came the noise of shattering crockery. A dessert trolley hurtled between upended tables and sprawling passengers, narrowly missing an elderly man, but running over his wife’s wrist. One of the hijackers by the serving counter saw the trolley coming at him and only just managed to sidestep out of its way before it crashed into the counter with a jarring thud. The noise of screaming passengers tore at Nancy’s senses.

  ***

  For one gut-wrenching moment it looked to Van as if the tree would win the battle of strength. They had lost half their forward momentum and were still slowing. But, with a report like a rifle shot, the trunk snapped in two and the halves pushed aside like the gates on a weir lock, the jagged ends clawing at the hull as if in a last desperate attempt to hold back the vessel.

  Van reached for the throttles and reduced power before their speed could build again. His hand trembled as he clamped it back onto the helm. Dark patches of perspiration had spread on his fatigues but his face wore a broad grin of triumph. Ahead, the passage was clear.

  ‘We are into the swamps of Boeng Tonle Chhma, Colonel.’

  Malko leant forward and looked up at the overhanging canopy of trees that closed over the top of the channel. ‘Good work!’ He slapped Van on the shoulder. ‘They’ll never find us in here.’

  ***

  Nancy rolled off Scott and climbed unsteadily to her feet. She reached down and helped him off the floor.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Scott nodded. On the other side of their up-ended table, Fred and Collette looked dazed. Fred had a graze over his right eye and Collette rubbed at her elbow.

  ‘Is everyone all right?’ Nancy called loudly, her nurse’s instincts kicking into gear as she looked about the room, automatically triaging the passengers, ignoring those that were standing or yelling, seeking out the prone and the quiet.

  Protect the unconscious!

  Even as the emergency room mantra flashed through her mind, Nancy stooped to a man sprawled unmoving on the polished hardwood deck, a gash above his right temple. She scooped up a handful of paper napkins and pressed them to the wound.

  ‘Will he be okay?’ The woman beside him was still on the floor, but she managed to pull herself to a sitting position.

  Nancy ran a quick, critical eye over her and decided the woman was unhurt.

  ‘Here! Hold this against his head. I have to check on the others.’ The woman hesitated briefly then took the wad of napkins and pressed them to the man’s temple.

  Nancy stood and surveyed the room. All the passengers appeared to be conscious and alert. Most rubbed at bumps and sprains or were being attended to by companions. The screaming and yelling had subsided into a confused murmur.

  Across the saloon a woman held her wrist to her chest. Tears of pain rolled down her cheeks as her husband tried to comfort her without much luck.

  Nancy stepped over to the pair. ‘Can I help?’

  The man looked up at Nancy, his eyes wet with tears. ‘That trolley ran right over her arm. I think it’s broken.’ His voice carried the lilt of north England.

  ‘My name is Nancy. I’m a nurse.’ She squatted beside the woman. ‘Would you let me take a look at your arm, sweetheart?’

  The woman sniffled and said nothing, but she let Nancy look at her injured arm. The wrist was swollen and beginning to bruise.

  ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’

  ‘Joyce.’

  Joyce let Nancy take her arm. She hissed with pain as tender fingers touched the swelling.

  ‘I think your husband is right, Joyce. It looks as if your arm is broken.’

  The terrified face dropped in dismay.

  ‘But the break is clean and as best as I can tell the bones are together where they’re supposed to be. I’ll find something to splint it with and then we’ll see about getting you something for the pain.’

  ‘Is she okay?’

  Nancy looked up to find Scott standing over her.

  ‘Her arm is broken. I need to splint it and find some painkillers. Stay with her, Scotty.’

  Scott nodded and stooped to Joyce, placing an arm on her shoulder.

  Nancy glanced about the dining room. Some of the passengers had already righted their tables and were beginning to reposition the chairs around them, resuming their original positions. She noticed the proximity of the overhanging jungle on either side of the boat and wondered if this was a good idea. There may be more obstacles ahead.

  Fred Deakin’s voice called out: ‘People! I don’t think sitting at the tables is a good plan. We’re in a tight channel here and making a good four or five knots. That might not be the only collision we have. These tables are solid mahogany and could be deadly missiles if we hit the bank.’

  ‘What do you suggest?’ A voice from the back of the room.

  ‘Get all the tables up forward. The chairs too. We can sit on the floor until the boat stops or reaches open water again. It may be uncomfortable, but it will be safer.’

  ‘Let’s do what he says.’ Another voice. ‘He sounds like he knows what he’s talking about.’

  With the passengers beginning to organise themselves, Nancy continued her search for something to use as a splint. There was a magazine stand near the main doors and she moved towards it. A thick magazine rolled around the wrist would make an excellent splint. She could tear up a tablecloth for bandages.

  A guard saw her moving towards the doors and stepped in front of her.

  Nancy scowled at the man and pointed to the magazine stand. ‘I need one of those.’ She tried not to look at the machinegun in the man’s hands. ‘One of the passengers has a broken arm. I need to splint it.’

  The guard’s face creased in incomprehension. He lifted the barrel of his assault rifle and pointed back into the dining room.

  ‘You don’t understand.’ Nancy struggled to keep her voice even. ‘People are hurt. I need to help them.’

  He doesn’t speak English. He’ll never understand.

  The guard grabbed Nancy’s shoulder and pushed her back into the dining room.

  ‘What is the problem?’ a voice said.

  Nancy shrugged the guard’s hand away and turned to find Malko standing in the doorway, one hand on his holster as he surveyed the scene of chaos in the dining room.

  ‘The collision. Some of the passengers are hurt.

  The guard raised his arm to get a better grip on her, but Malko shook his head. The guard dropped his arm.

  ‘What are you trying to do?’ Malko’s eyes were dark, like a reptile’s.

  Nancy suppressed a shudder. ‘I’m a nurse. We have a woman with a broken arm. I was getting a magazine to use as a splint.’

  A look of confusion crossed Malko’s face.

  ‘You know – a splint!’ She grasped her own wrist and held it across her chest.

  ‘Ah! You wish to fashion a splint out of a rolled up magazine? I have seen this done.’

  Nancy nodded. ‘And I’ll need bandages. Some of the passengers have cuts and grazes. There must be some first-aid kits on this boat. If I am going to help the passengers, I’ll need them.’

  Malko pointed a finger at Tamko and fired off a rapid series of questions in Khmer. Then he spoke to the guard, who shouldered his rifle and followed Tamko out into the breezeway.

  ‘You shall get your first-aid kits. Is there anything else?’
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  ‘As a matter of fact there is,’ Nancy said, emboldened by her success so far. ‘A lot of these passengers are elderly. They have medications in their cabins they need to take regularly. Your men herded them in here without any thought for their needs. If they don’t get them they can become very sick. Maybe even die.’

  Malko lifted his reptilian gaze from Nancy and looked about the dining room from one passenger to another. He looked back at Nancy and nodded.

  ‘You will make a list of their medications. When you have it, I will allow you, and only you, to go to the necessary cabins and retrieve the medicine.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Malko turned on his heels.

  ‘There’s one other thing.’

  Malko turned back and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘People need to go to the bathroom from time to time.’

  ‘You are a pushy woman, miss—?’

  ‘Morris. And it’s Missus.’

  ‘Treat your injured people, Mrs Morris.’ Malko smiled, but Nancy saw no benevolence in his face. ‘As for the bathroom, I will have buckets brought to the dining saloon. The recent escape attempt makes it necessary to keep you all together. You will just have to – what is it you Westerners call it – make do?’ He turned and strode out into the breezeway.

  Nancy returned to Scott and Joyce. She pulled a tablecloth from one of the tables and handed it to her husband. ‘Make some bandages out of this.’

  Scott took the tablecloth and used his teeth to start a tear while Nancy wrapped the injured arm in the magazine. Then she took a strip of cloth from Scott and bound the arm firmly, but not too tight. Finally, she fashioned a sling and tied the bandaged arm across Joyce’s chest.

  ‘How’s that?’

  Joyce offered a weak smile. ‘You know, dear, it feels a little better already.’

  ‘I’ll get you something for the pain just as soon as I can.’

  Tamko and the hijacker appeared in the doorway with several first-aid kits in their arms. The hijacker dumped his burden beside the magazine rack and left, but the purser brought his kits to Nancy.

  ‘Here you go, ma’am.’