Mekong Dawn

  Todd decided his chances were better on his own. He just couldn’t risk being recaptured.

  He drew a deep breath and held it as the boat passed by. The man and girl never so much as glanced in his direction. Todd watched them round a nearby island and disappear from view. He waited until the noise of the motor faded then crawled out from under the bush. He stared off after the boat for a while and wondered if he had just let his only chance at salvation pass him by.

  ***

  The Mekong Dawn eased her way along the channel.

  Malko stood beside Van in the battered wheelhouse watching the river pilot manoeuvre the large vessel around a bend using deft movements of helm and small adjustments to the throttles. The diesel engines barely throbbed at reduced power.

  ‘Not too much farther, Colonel.’ Van spun the helm to full port rudder and held it there for only a second before beginning a turn in the opposite direction.

  Malko watched with some concern. It appeared the bow was about to strike one of the numerous little islands lining the channel. He grasped at the splintered console in preparation for the collision, but Van had become used to the Mekong Dawn’s handling. With consummate grace, the bow came around to face down the length of open channel.

  Van grinned at Malko as he centred the helm. ‘That is the last sharp bend. Our mooring is at the end of this stretch, close to the base of the mountain.’

  Malko made no effort to smile back. Van had almost ruined the operation by not conducting a thorough examination of the channel entrance. If they had been unable to penetrate into the backwaters, it would have only been a matter of time before the vessel was discovered and reported to the authorities. He glanced at his watch. The Mekong Dawn was due to anchor in the river off Kampong Chhnang at 11.30 am. It was now 12.15. The locals expecting to make a little money off the tourists when they went ashore would now be wondering where the ship was, and maybe making enquiries of the local authorities. The local police chief could only stall for so long before someone would decide to go around him and report the matter to Phnom Penh. Then the river and Tonle Sap would be subjected to an aerial search. To deter that search, Malko had to have the next phase of his plan well and truly underway by then.

  ‘Pick a place with as much tree canopy over us as possible. As soon as you have us in position tell the crewmen to make us fast to the trees.’ He turned at a slight noise from behind him. Ky stood in the wheelhouse doorway. ‘We will be stopping soon,’ Malko told him. ‘Once we do, I will have the engines shut down, including the generator. I don’t want any locals coming to investigate engine noises. Is everything else ready?’

  Ky nodded. ‘I have the nets on the lower deck. As soon as we stop I will get them into position over the boat.’

  ‘Once we are stopped, have the RHIB brought alongside. I’ll need to make all haste to Kampong Chhnang before it gets too dark for Van to see the way.’

  Ky left to do his superior’s bidding.

  Malko turned back to the view beyond the shattered windows. As far as he could see, from left to right, was one massive sheet of water. It was hard to tell where the channel ended and the swamp began. Years ago, during the construction of the microwave repeater tower on the mountain, the government had dredged the channel through the swamps so that materials could be barged to the site. The dirt they removed had been dumped out in the wider swamplands, forming numerous little islands, most of which nature had already reclaimed and covered in vegetation. He knew Van had worked the waterway back then, piloting barges to the construction area. Once the work had finished, the channel had been abandoned and forgotten. Only local hunters and fishermen and the likes of Van knew of its existence, but the waterway only led to a little mountain sticking out of the swamp and was rarely used. Smaller, shallower draft boats could take a direct line through the swamps without bothering about the channel.

  To his left the mountain climbed above the water, its jungle-clad sides like the buttresses of a castle. At the base the trees had been cleared from the swamp, giving a wide expanse of open water about fifty metres across. Malko guessed that this area had been used as a turn-around-point for the construction barges. Once they had off-loaded their cargo, they would have needed a fair amount of room to turn and face back down the channel.

  Van did not take the vessel out into the open. He remained close to the trees and carefully brought them alongside the mountain where the rotting remnants of a wharf remained. Here, the jungle overhung the water by thirty metres or more, all but concealing the Mekong Dawn from above. With a little reverse power the pilot brought the vessel to a stop then shouted through the broken window at the crewmen.

  ‘Make fast lines fore and aft.’ He looked at Malko. ‘We are here, Colonel.’

  ‘Shut all the engines down and the generator. Shut everything down that makes a noise. As soon as my boat is brought alongside I’ll fetch the passports and manifest. No rest for you, Van. I need you to take me back to Kampong Chhnang.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  With the engines and generator shut down the dining saloon soon became stifling. Scott felt perspiration break out on his face as the temperature climbed. A few passengers uttered moans and complaints, but for the most part, everyone remained quiet, sensing their captors were up to something else now the ship had stopped. Through the side windows Scott could see crewmen, under armed guard, securing lines to nearby trees.

  Fred inched his way over to Scott. ‘Looks as if we’re staying here for a while.’

  Nancy lifted her head at Fred’s words. ‘Do you think we could set up the tables and chairs again? It’s not too comfortable on the floor. Especially for the elderly.’

  Scott gave her a smile. Mother duck had found some ducklings to care for. ‘I don’t see why not. But I’d better ask before too many of us move.’ Since the young lads’ dash for freedom, the guards had positioned in each corner of the saloon where it would be impossible to rush them all at once. Two more men with assault rifles stood in the breezeway. They weren’t taking any chances on another escape attempt.

  Climbing slowly to his feet, Scott made eye contact with the nearest guard. ‘We want to set up the tables and chairs again.’

  The guard gave a nod. ‘Two men only. Everyone else stay down.’ He babbled off a string of Khmer to the other armed men and an immediate chorus of safety catches being flipped echoed about the saloon.

  Scott looked to where Tamko squatted on the floor.

  ‘He just told them to be ready to shoot if you try anything.’ The purser climbed to his feet. ‘I will help you with the tables.’

  With Tamko’s help, Scott positioned the tables end to end down the middle of the dining saloon. He figured if the tables were all together there wouldn’t be a chance of another spur-of-the-moment escape attempt. All the passengers were in this together, no one person should jeopardise the rest by their own actions.

  They finished positioning the tables and chairs and Scott made a general announcement. ‘Okay. In little groups so we don’t spook the gunmen, you can sit back at the table.’ He pointed to his left at an elderly man who rose stiffly to his feet then helped his wife up. Together they went and sat at a table. When they were seated the next pair did the same. Five minutes later everyone was back at the tables. Fred, Collette and Nancy had saved a space for Scott and he slid onto the chair.

  Fred arched his back and performed a couple of stretching exercises. ‘This is far better than the floor.’

  Scott wasn’t listening. He watched as one of the hijackers used a line to tow the RHIB towards the boarding steps. The fast little boat must have been towed along behind the Mekong Dawn.

  Malko came into view through the windows, striding down the deck from the wheelhouse. He stopped and said something to the man handling the boat then moved out of sight beyond the corner of the dining saloon. Moments later Scott saw him in the breezeway doors.

  ‘I see you are making yourselves comfortable. That is good.’ Malko carr
ied the stack of passports and the passenger manifest. ‘I will be leaving you to go and make preparations for your release. Please do not try anything foolish. My men have been instructed to shoot any troublemakers.’ He gave a sly grin and turned for the breezeway doors.

  Beside Scott, Nancy stirred. ‘What about the medications? You said I could fetch everyone’s tablets from their cabins.’

  Malko paused and looked back. ‘And so you shall Mrs Morris. Just as soon as the ship is made fast Ky will have one of the men take you to the cabins. You have made the list?’

  ‘Right here.’ Nancy waved a sheet from the notepad on which Sanika had jotted down cabin numbers, the names of medications and where the passengers kept them.

  Malko nodded and turned to go, but Nancy stopped him again.

  ‘What about the airconditioning and access to a toilet. It’s stifling in here, and the—’

  ‘You Westerners are far too soft. Be thankful I don’t lock you all below decks. You will be given buckets as soon as my men have finished preparing the ship and not a moment before.’ He turned away before she could argue further.

  Nancy settled back into the chair.

  Joyce reached over and patted Nancy’s arm. ‘Thanks for trying dear. But don’t piss him off any more.’

  Malko descended the boarding steps to the RHIB. Moments later outboard motors rumbled into life. The RHIB pulled away from the Mekong Dawn and swung wide in the open water. Malko sat in the stern of the smaller boat as it headed back down the channel at full throttle.

  As soon as the boat was gone from sight Ky stepped into the dining saloon and singled out four male crew-members and those male passengers closest to the door, including Fred and Scott.

  ‘You men will follow me.’

  Scott and seven other men followed Ky out into the breezeway. One of the hijackers kept his weapon on them the whole time.

  ‘Pick these up.’ Ky pointed at several shaggy bundles lying on the deck. ‘Take them up top.’ He pointed up the companionway leading to the sundeck.

  Scott and Fred positioned themselves at either end of one of the bundles. It was heavy but not beyond the strength of two men. Scott manoeuvred so he would be the one walking backwards and edged towards the companionway. At the other end Fred studied their burden with a quizzical expression.

  ‘What are these?

  ‘Camouflage netting.’ Scott turned his head to negotiate the first step. ‘And by the looks of it they’ve got enough to hide the whole damn boat. With this stuff spread out it’ll be next to impossible to spot us from the air.’

  Fred lifted his end of the net to shoulder height as he followed Scott onto the steps. ‘Seems they’re going to a lot of trouble to keep us out of sight. We’re miles into the swamps, and now this.’ He gestured at the net with his chin. ‘I think we’re going to be their captives for some time.’

  ‘Yeah. Me too.’ Scott lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘We need to get that phone and get a message out.’

  Fred inclined his head to show he understood.

  They reached the sundeck, both breathing hard from the climb. Two guards were already there and Scott was dismayed to see one leaning lazily against the pot in which the phone was hidden.

  Ky came up the companionway ahead of two more hostages hauling another net. Scott recognised one of the men as the South African, Simon Western. Ky pointed to the net in Scott and Fred’s hands. ‘Get that net spread out over the forward sun shade. Make sure it is well forward so that it will hang to the waterline at the bows.’

  Scott nodded and he and Fred made their way to the foremost sun awning, lugging the net with them. The awning was torn in places, pieces of it strewn over the deck after their penetration into the swamps. The support framework was twisted towards the stern, but otherwise still upright. They positioned one of the tables to stand on and hauled the net up onto the white vinyl awning. With a little bit of jiggling they managed to get it open and pull it forward. Two of Ky’s men were waiting in the bows a deck below. They took the edge of the net and dragged it out and over the gunwales.

  The next pair of men positioned their net behind the first. Ky made sure they overlapped enough so that no white showed between the joins. This net reached to the mid point between the fore and aft awnings, hanging low where there was no support. Scott noticed that part of the net had caught on a navigation light fixed to the railing, very close to the pot where he had hidden the phone. The guard who had been leaning on it had now moved farther down the deck to make room. Sensing his chance, he hurried towards the pot.

  Ky grabbed his shirt. ‘Where are you going?’

  Scott pointed at the navigation light. ‘The net is caught. I’ll lift it clear.’

  Ky looked to where Scott pointed and nodded. He released his grip.

  Scott had to bend almost double to fit under the low net. The navigation light was right beside the pot and he was momentarily out of sight of the guards. This would be his only chance. But when he glanced behind, Ky had squatted on the deck and was watching him intently.

  Scott moved to the navigation light and made a play of trying to free the hooked net. ‘It’s too tight.’ He turned to where Ky watched him. ‘I can’t get it free. Tell them to give me some slack.’

  Ky nodded and ordered the others to feed the net towards Scott. As the slack increased, the net between Scott and Ky drooped lower to the deck until Scott was hidden from view. Only the railing around the sundeck held the net clear of the deck. The palm tree in the pot had bent in half under the weight.

  Scott thrust his hand into the pot and felt through the mulch.

  ‘Come on! What are you doing?’ Ky’s agitated voice from behind him.

  ‘It’s tangled.’ His hand searched desperately through the mulch.

  Where the hell is it?

  He had visions of Ky crawling under the net to help him, spoiling his chance of finding the phone. ‘I’ve almost got it. Just a few more seconds’

  His fingers brushed against something smooth.

  At last!

  He lifted the phone out of the pot and slipped it into his shorts pocket. Then he turned his attention to the net. It took only a moment to free it from the light.

  ‘There. You’re clear now.’ He felt the net slide across his shoulders as the men dragged it into position. As the slack was taken up he found Ky beckoning him.

  ‘Get out from under there.’

  Scott crawled out from under the net and stood in the sunlight. For one panicked moment he thought Ky was about to search him. The Asian pointed aft.

  ‘Go and help them with the other nets.’

  Scott nodded and moved down the deck.

  For two hours they toiled to position the camouflage nets. Even after the bulky nets were in place, draped over the Mekong Dawn like a giant blanket, Ky wasn’t happy. He sent two of his men ashore with a machete and they returned fifteen minutes later with lengths of bamboo cut from the jungle. Ky had them place the bamboo poles under the nets in random positions to create odd-shaped bulges here and there and take away the vessel’s neat lines. By the end of it, all eight hostages were sweating and exhausted. They huddled in a small group in the mottled shade beneath the camouflage nets.

  Fred looked to Ky. ‘How about some water?’

  Ky gestured to one of his men who slipped into the alcove behind the bar. He returned moments later with a carton of water bottles. The guard dumped the carton unceremoniously into Fred’s arms.

  Ky sneered at him. ‘Take it below with you. Share it with the others. They must be thirsty by now.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Fred hoisted the carton onto his shoulder.

  Ky pointed at the companionway. ‘Move!’

  The men filed down the steps. Scott could feel the phone bouncing in the pocket of his baggy shorts and fretted that it might give him away. But the guards payed them little attention as they were herded back into the dining saloon.

  Fred placed the carton of water bottles on a tabl
e and tore it open. He dispensed the bottles among the other passengers.

  ‘There’s enough for one bottle between two. We’ll try and get more later.’

  Scott looked around the saloon, now in half-light with the camouflage nets covering the windows.

  ‘Where’s Nance?’

  Colleen patted his arm. ‘One of the guards took her to gather up everyone’s medications. Some of the elderly passengers are beginning to suffer, so she insisted.’

  Nancy would do her best to make sure everyone was well looked after. His wife had a stubborn streak that served her well in her job. He only hoped she wouldn’t piss anyone off and place herself in harms way. He glanced at Ky, leaning casually against the far bulkhead, watching them through half-closed eyes.

  That bugger would slit her throat in an instant and think nothing of it.

  He realised his hands were shaking. Thrusting them into his pockets, he watched the door for Nancy and his tablets.

  ***

  From the breezeway, Ky watched the passengers with a distracted detachment. Something nagged in the back of his mind – something he was missing. The feeling had started as he watched the male passengers unrolling the camouflage netting and, even now, still sat heavy in his stomach.

  The men who had been on the sundeck working on the camouflage nets each had a bottle of water and were drinking thirstily. His eyes settled on the man he’d found hiding in the bilges and the nagging feeling returned, stronger than before. Ky studied the man from the top of his balding head to the sneakers on his feet.

  Western seemed like an average sort of man. He carried a little weight around his middle. Too much weight to be any sort of physical threat. He watched Western lift the water bottle to his lips and the skin of his upper arm hung loose, the muscle around his biceps ill-defined, hardly filling the sleeve of the white cotton shirt he wore. The sleeve itself had been stained by something. A perfect dark ring ran all the way around his upper arm.