Mekong Dawn
‘Captain?’
Klim opened his eyes to see the man standing on the lakeshore above the boat. He was pointing to the north and Klim turned his head.
A faint red star sat a few degrees above the horizon, sinking slowly. A signal flare. It was a long way off, maybe twenty kilometres or more and would be gone below the horizon in a few seconds.
‘Get a map and a compass.’ Klim leapt from the boat and picked up a stick that he used to scratch a line in the dirt that pointed directly at the flare. When he looked back up the flare had gone.
A few moments later the man returned holding a large-scale map of Tonle Sap and a prism compass. Klim snatched the compass and stood at the end of the line he had drawn in the dirt, farthest end from the flare. He unfolded the lid and prism and sighted along the line to where he’d seen the flare, reading the bearing aloud.
‘Three-five-three degrees.’
He took the map, unfolded it on the ground and orientated it to the real world by the light of a torch. Then he took a pen from his pocket and traced a line from their position on the map, following a bearing of three-five-three degrees. His method was crude, he knew. He should have had the map on a flat surface and been using a protractor and ruler to plot the bearing more accurately, but he only needed a rough gauge of direction. North and west were ninety degrees apart, and all he needed to know was should they explore north or west?
‘That flare could have come from anyone, Captain,’ the other officer said. ‘It could have been a barge pilot who has had a little too much rice wine or somebody’s birthday celebration. Who knows?’
Klim ignored the man. He projected the line up from the south shore of Tonle Sap. It crossed the lake near the southern tip, about eight kilometres of open water. Then it reached the swamps on the far side and climbed to the east of Boeng Tonle Chhma.
‘Well, I’ll be damned.’
The line passed close to a spot height marked on the map. There was a symbol on the spot height, a Y with a line across the top. Klim flicked the torch beam down to the legend and found the symbol and its meaning.
Antenna.
He shifted the beam back up to the spot height. It was marked as reaching three hundred and twenty metres above the surrounding terrain. It even had a name.
Mountain of the Sun.
Klim stared at the symbol on the map, his mind racing. Then he reached a decision.
‘Get the men up. We’re crossing the lake tonight.’
‘But it’s too dark to see.’
‘Not on the open water. We need to be at the north shore by first light.’
Chapter Twenty-six
Sipping a cup of coffee, Scott watched the growing daylight through the camouflage netting and waited for the tablet Collette had given him to wash the tension from his body. He lowered his eyes to the murky brown liquid in the cup. It only sloshed about a little bit. The tremors were easing already.
Beside him, screened from the guards in the breezeway by a tight group of passengers, Nancy used a spoon and bowl to crush the sedatives into a fine powder. She worked carefully, adding two or three tablets at a time until the entire pack of thirty had been reduced to dust.
Miles, the owner of the tablets, eyed the powder with a raised eyebrow. ‘I only take one whenever I get a migraine and it knocks me out for eight hours. That amount should put an elephant on its ear.’
Nancy stirred the powder around the bowl. ‘It will have to be mixed through their food thoroughly. We need it to affect them all if possible.’
Tamko offered one of his brilliant smiles. ‘You leave that to me. The chefs will do a good job of stirring it through the food.’ He paused. ‘No, I will mix it in myself. It is the only way to be sure.’
Nancy folded a paper napkin into an envelope and then poured the powder into it, using the spoon to scrape out every last remnant, then she cleaned the crumbs from the spoon, dropping that, too, into the napkin. She gave the napkin to Tamko. ‘It’s all yours.’
Tamko took the napkin and smiled at the passengers as he went into the galley.
With his medication taking effect, Scott could think with some of his normal clarity. ‘I hope this works. They are going to be really pissed off if we only succeed in making a couple of them a little dopey.’
Fred placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘We have to try something. We can’t just sit around and do nothing – waiting for our end like lambs in a slaughterhouse.’
The other passengers murmured their agreement and Scott realised that everyone, including the remaining crew, were gambling on them pulling this off.
Five minutes later Tamko emerged from the galley pushing a serving trolley ahead of him on which stood two large pots of steaming noodles. He reached the tables, took one pot from the trolley and set it on a stand in the middle of the room. ‘Breakfast is served,’ he announced.
As they had done the last two mornings, the passengers formed a queue and the serving staff ladled out the noodles into bowls.
Scott looked into his bowl as he and Nancy sat at a table. ‘I’m sick of bloody noodles. If we get out of this I don’t think I could ever eat them again.’
‘If we get out of this, they may just become my favourite food. Besides, with the fridges off, they’re the only thing the chefs have left.’
Tamko pushed the trolley with the other pot to the breezeway doors and spoke in Khmer to the two guards there. As on previous mornings, he refused to ladle out the food for them or allow any of his staff to do so. The guards slung their weapons and picked up bowls from the trolley, taking turns with the ladle. They took their bowls to the far wall of the breezeway and leant against it while they ate.
Scott and the other passengers ate their breakfast and watched the guards eating hungrily. More gunmen came and filled bowls then disappeared with them to other parts of the ship. He knew the major problem in the plan would be to overpower all the guards at once without any of them getting off a shot. The two in the breezeway were close enough to be reached in seconds, but the pair at the bottom of the gangway had a clear line of sight up into the breezeway. Even drugged and groggy they might still shoot at the passengers as they came out of the dining saloon. He watched this pair of guards fill their bowls then move back down the gangway. They ate standing with their backs to the ship.
Ang looked over at Nancy. ‘How long?’ It was the fifth time he’d asked the question.
‘Twenty minutes, no more. It probably won’t knock them out totally, but they will be very sleepy and react slowly.’
Scott locked eyes with Ang ‘How do you want to play this?’
Ang looked first at the two guards in the breezeway and then through the starboard windows and camouflage netting at the outline of the two men at the bottom of the gangway. He used his chin to point into the breezeway. ‘Those two will be easy. We give them to the slower men.’ He looked at Fred. ‘My apologies, sir.’
Fred grinned mischievously. ‘Hey, I’m a little over the hill, but I’ll do my bit. I’ll need some help, though.’
Ang scanned the other passengers.
Scott was dismayed to see Ang’s gaze settle on the South African, Simon Western. Western had kept pretty much to himself since Ky had deposited him in the saloon, mostly sitting alone in the corner and talking to no one. Scott was about to suggest that Ang pick someone from the crew, but Western looked up and nodded.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Okay. That takes care of the two in the breezeway.’ Ang turned to Scott. ‘Do you think you could help me with the pair at the bottom of the gangway?’
Nancy snapped up straight. ‘I don’t think Scott is fit enough to—’
‘Count me in.’ Scott squeezed her arm.
‘Scotty? Are you sure?’
‘I’m a bit screwed up in the head, honey, but the rest of me works just fine.’ He turned to Ang. ‘I’ll help you.’
‘Great!’ Ang grinned. ‘We have our little strike team. We need to position ourselves as
close to the doors as possible, with a clear run. Once we start, there will be no stopping.’
They finished breakfast and Tamko and his staff cleared the tables. The passengers repositioned themselves around the saloon as they had done on the preceding days. Some sat on chairs and others on the floor. Ang had Scott, Fred and Western place chairs as close as possible to the doors. Scott realised the chairs would be easier to get a running start from, with Fred and Western closest, then Ang and Scott. To the guards it would look as if the four men were waiting for a table to be cleared so that they could start a game of cards.
Out in the breezeway the guards finished eating. They placed their bowls on the trolley then leant back against the wall. Scott watched their eyes. The blinks were becoming slower and longer. From where he sat he couldn’t see out onto the gangway, but he hoped those two men were beginning to feel drowsy as well.
For five minutes they sat and watched. The guards spoke softly to each other and the one on the left placed the butt of his rifle on the deck, holding it by the barrel as he leant on the wall. The other man had his weapon resting across the crook of his arm, but Scott could see his eyes were closed. The guard on the left resisted for a minute or two more, shaking his head and rubbing a hand over his face. As soon as his head drooped, Ang stood up.
‘It’s now or never.’
Scott climbed to his feet and readied himself behind Fred and Western, crouched like runners about to start a race.
Ang chopped a hand towards the doors. ‘Go!’
All four men moved off at a jog.
Fred angled for the guard on the right, snatched the AK74 out of his hands and brought the butt up in one smooth motion, collecting his man under the temple. The guard’s knees buckled and he went down without a sound.
Western was not so lucky. He tried to snatch the rifle but the guard’s eyes snapped open. Western dropped his shoulder and rammed it hard into the man’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The rifle clattered to the deck as Western took hold of the guard’s head and slammed it back into the bulkhead with a sickening crack.
Then Scott was through the breezeway. He followed Ang onto the gangway, their feet stamping loudly. The two guards at the bottom were leaning on the handrails, one on each side. The one on the right saw the attack coming and managed to get his weapon up. A burst of automatic fire ripped the air between Scott and Ang, the bullets tearing into woodwork above the breezeway. Then Ang hit the shooter hard with a chopping punch to the side of the neck and he dropped like a sack of wheat.
The other guard was slower. His weapon came up and pointed at Scott’s belly, but his trigger hand was still holding the noodle bowl. Scott launched himself over the handrail and took the guard around the throat in a flying tackle that carried them both to the ground. Finding himself on top of his adversary, Scott brought his knee up hard into the man’s groin. The guard screamed in agony and Scott punched and kicked for all he was worth. The guard kicked and struggled beneath him until Ang hit him between the eyes with the butt of an AK74.
‘Cover the walkways!’
Scott rolled off the unconscious guard and snatched up his weapon. He dropped to one knee and flicked the safety catch to automatic. ‘Fred! Get them moving! Now!’
At Scott’s shout Fred waved the passengers and crew out through the doors. Soo-Li was the first to appear, then the woman with her arm in a sling followed by her husband. He knew Nancy would be the last down the gangway, following along behind like a mother hen after making sure everyone else has left. Scott cursed his wife’s sense of duty.
Then, through chinks in the camouflage net, he saw a cabin door open on the right. A gunman appeared and raised his weapon. Scott fired a three round burst and the man ducked back through the doorway. Off to his left Ang opened fire. The policeman had his weapon aimed high and Scott looked up to see shadowy movement on the sundeck. He fired another burst in that direction, but couldn’t tell if he’d hit anyone.
***
Todd snapped awake at the burst of automatic gunfire and nearly fell from the branch on which he had spent the night. He rubbed a hand over his face and tried to take stock of his position. Have the hijackers found him? Are they shooting at him?
More shots rang out and he realised the shooting was some distance away. He couldn’t see the Mekong Dawn from his position, but he knew that a gun battle was going on somewhere near the ship.
The first thought that crept into his mind was that the hijackers were killing the hostages, but the firing didn’t sound right for that, too sporadic and intermittent.
What then?
That policeman, the captain on the radio. He’d seen the flare and found the ship. They could be releasing the hostages right now.
Suddenly, Todd felt very lonely in his hiding place in the swamp. What if the passengers were freed and he was left here to die?
Another shot sounded out and he decided to give it half an hour then swim back to where he could see the ship. He needed to find out what was going on.
***
The passengers and crew ran down the gangway in single file and past where Scott and Ang covered the escape. Tamko and Nancy were the last to emerge from the saloon, having made sure their charges were safe before getting out themselves. Fred followed them down the gangway but Scott couldn’t see Western anywhere.
Ang slapped Scott’s shoulder as Nancy and Tamko passed. ‘Fall back! Get to the tree line then cover me.’
Scott leapt to his feet and ran behind Fred. They reached the trees. ‘You cover left,’ he told the older man. ‘I’ll take the right.’
Fred gave a thumbs up and positioned himself on one knee beside a large tree. Scott moved right and found cover beside a boulder. Squinting down his sights, he scanned the Mekong Dawn from the bow to the breezeway.
Nothing moved. The hijackers were all taking cover.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ang get to his feet and turn for the jungle. Two hijackers ran into the breezeway from the far companionway and Scott fired two shots. One figure fell to the deck but the other managed to escape back around the corner.
Ang reached the jungle and paused behind Scott. ‘I’ll position on higher ground to cover you and Fred. Don’t waste your shots. Just keep them from getting off the boat. Give me fifteen seconds then fall back past me.’
‘Okay.’
Scott started to count in his head. He reached ten and told Fred to fall back then kept on counting. Fred got to his feet and followed Ang up the hillside. Something moved in the breezeway and he loosed a single shot. The movement stopped. Then, near the bow of the boat, he saw the camouflage net lift as someone tried to climb over the gunwale. Scott fired twice and a body fell into the water.
Flicking the fire selector to safe, he retreated. Ang was fifty metres back, laying prone behind a log, his weapon aimed down the slope. Fred had taken a covering position thirty metres behind him.
‘Keep them moving.’ Ang waved at the backs of the retreating passengers.
The panicked run had now broken down into a mulling crowd. Scott found Soo-Li helping Nancy with Joyce. He grabbed the girl’s arm.
‘Which way to the temple?’
The girl looked dazed and stared at the gun in Scott’s hands. He shook her arm. ‘Which way, Soo-Li?’
The girl looked up at Scott then turned to point obliquely up the mountain. ‘That way.’
‘Keep moving as fast as you can. But keep the old people in sight. Don’t lose them in the jungle.’ The girl nodded and moved off. Scott turned to Nancy.
‘Keep them moving, sweetheart. Follow Soo-Li as fast as you can.’
‘Are they chasing us?’
‘Not yet. But we can’t hang around here too much longer. Once we lose sight of the boat we won’t be able to hold them there. The buggers will get off and hunt us down.’
Nancy took hold of Joyce’s good arm and led her after Soo-Li.
For a few moments Scott watched the passengers climb h
igher onto the mountain then looked for a position from which to cover Fred and Ang as they leapfrogged up the slope. He could barely make out the shape of the Mekong Dawn through the undergrowth.
‘This just might work out yet,’ he muttered to himself as he went to ground and flicked the safety catch to fire.
***
Through one of the curtained windows of a cabin door, Jenkins watched the gunmen running by as they tried to get a handle on the situation. There was shooting and screaming and he felt terribly exposed and alone, but there was no way he’d leave the Mekong Dawn without his diamonds.
This cabin gave him a view of part of the breezeway and down the walkway towards the stern on the port side. Ky and three other gunmen crowded against the wall by the corner. Every few seconds a shot crashed out from somewhere on the mountain and they were forced deeper into cover. That Cambodian fellow and the two Australians were doing a good job of making the hijackers keep their heads down, but with the gunmen on this side of the ship there was no way Jenkins could get out of the cabin and reach the engine room and his diamonds.
He stepped back from the door and looked about the cabin. Two suitcases, their lids wide open, lay on the floor. Someone had spread the contents over the bunks. Jenkins picked up a few scattered items of clothing and tossed them from one bunk to another. Something silver caught his eye and he picked it up, a little battery-operated reading light with a single LED at one end and a clip at the other to hold the lamp to a book. He flicked the switch and the LED glowed into life. Switching it off, he placed the lamp in his pocket then went back to the door to wait and watch.
Footsteps sounded up the companionway and onto the sundeck. No shots had been fired for a few minutes now and the gunmen were getting braver. Only Ky remained near the breezeway. Malko’s lieutenant pulled a mobile phone from his fatigues pocket and punched in some numbers. It took thirty seconds for a connection to be made and he gabbled away in Khmer. He walked down the companionway away from Jenkins, his voice loud and excited, then stepped into one of the forward cabins. His voice faded as he shut the door.
Jenkins cracked the cabin door and put his eye to the opening. He could still hear movement up on the sundeck but the walkway down the port side remained clear so he stepped out and pulled the door closed. Moving quickly, he crossed to the breezeway and stole a glance around the corner.