Cambodian Book of the Dead (25 page)

 

ENDGAME

 

“What happened, Maier?”

The detective shook his head in exhaustion and pointed at the car. Carissa had pounced on him as soon as he'd reached the guest house in Kampot.

She looked indescribable, all in red. Before he could say anything, she handed him a vodka orange and a half-smoked joint. Maier could not have imagined a better breakfast.

In a few rushed sentences he told his old flame what had happened during the night. Carissa looked on with concern.

“Raksmei wants to stay here, wants to take over the orphanage again. Do you think Tep will come back to take his revenge? After all she played a double game to avenge her brother.”

Maier shrugged his shoulders.

“I don't think that she is in danger. Tep escaped, but he is badly injured. I doubt he will seek revenge. He has known Raksmei too long. She is his best friend's daughter and he may not know that she crossed her father.”

Carissa looked at Maier in disbelief.

“The White Spider was in Cambodia in the Seventies. He worked as a Yugoslavian diplomat while the revolution was in full swing here. He fled with Tep when the Vietnamese invaded. On the way to Thailand, they killed a family near Kep and abducted and raped the youngest daughter, Kaley. After the war, Kaley had two children with the old German. Tep took the children and hid them in Kampot. More recently, the White Spider returned to Cambodia to be closer to these children. But when he got here, he had this idea of starting an assassination service. He made Kaley a kind of chairperson of the whole project.”

“And what happened after the casino blew up?”

Maier shrugged. “Even before the casino went up, things were very strange. I think I had a flashback from the drugs that Raksmei had given me in the temple. After Mikhail had disappeared, I spent the early evening with Kaley on the rooftop. She was like a ghost.”

Carissa shot Maier a look full of pity before turning her head.

“I am serious. A few minutes after the casino went up, Kaley emerged from the burning building, not a scratch on her, got into a car with Tep and bags full of money and drove off. Everyone else in there, except for Rolf, died. I cannot explain it.”

Maier noticed that Carissa looked embarrassed by his lack of rational argument and dropped the subject.

“I am sure that Tep has returned to his temple hideaway. Maybe he still has a few slaves there who will look after him. I still don't know who Mikhail really is, what he was doing up on the plateau and what his connection to us and to Tep is. But I think this strange Russian means to confuse. He has not played his last card yet. I think it is best we cross into Thailand as quickly as possible, to be safe. Then we will see what we can do.”

Carissa embraced him. “Yes, Maier, let's check into a hotel in Bangkok and not leave the room for a week.”

“Do you have a passport?”

She shook her head.

“Rolf does not have one either. But I think we can cross at Koh Kong.”

 

The muddy road to the border led through the Cardamom Mountains. The small group was forced to cross four rivers, swollen by the rains, on improvised bamboo platforms operated by skinny men dressed in rags. At nightfall, they reached the border town of Koh Kong.

Maier drove the car directly to the pier. The small town was – but for a handful of casinos where rich, gambling-addicted Thais lost their fortunes, and sometimes existences – a collection of wooden huts built on high stilts. The settlement appeared to slide slowly into the tepid dirty coastal waters of the Gulf of Thailand. Children and pigs played amongst the crumbling houses. Policemen sat on shaded balconies, drank beer and played with their guns. As soon as Maier had got out of the car, tough teenagers tried to sell him marihuana, opium, heroin and other teenagers. Maier grabbed the boy who spoke the best English, pulled him back to the car and pressed twenty dollars into his hand.

“What's your name?”

“Somchai,” the boy lied.

“I need a speedboat to Thailand. My two passengers don't have passports. We have to avoid the Thai border post.”
Somchai, hardly older than fourteen and already thoroughly disillusioned with life, grinned brazenly at Maier.

“Tausend dollar, mister...
Kein problem
.”

Maier laughed. “If you can get me a boat in ten minutes, I will give you forty thousand dollars. What do you think?”

Somchai laughed back. “I think you cheat me,
barang
. If you have forty thousand dollar in your car, you not need me.”

Maier opened the door, pulled the keys from the ignition and dangled them in front of the boy's nose.

“Get me a boat to Thailand and the car is yours. It is not registered. It does not have plates and it is brand new. There is even some petrol in the tank.”

The boy did not hesitate but skipped around the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

“No problem, mister, you drive.”

Minutes later, they stopped in front of a small guest house. An old, toothless Khmer lay in a hammock next to the door.

Somchai beamed. “This my grandfather. He has boat. Small boat but very fast.”

The boy woke the old man and implored him in Khmer. The alleged grandfather stared at Maier and the car and finally asked in French. “You are being followed? By the police? By bad elements?”

Maier shook his head.

“We were attacked and robbed in Sihanoukville. My friend is injured and needs a doctor.”

The old Khmer took a long hard look at Rolf, almost as long as at the car. Maier knew that the man did not believe a word of his story. But that hardly mattered. This was business.

“OK, tonight I will take you to Trat in Thailand. Take a room in my guest house and buy new clothes in the market. If you arrive in Thailand the way you look now, you will be arrested.”

Maier looked down his shirt front. The man was right. And sensible. He looked used up. His vest was torn and frayed, his trousers black with dirt and dried blood. He would not make it to Bangkok like this. The Thais would immediately stop three dishevelled blood-soaked foreign travellers and demand to see papers. Appearance was everything in Thailand.

He dragged Rolf to a small room. Carissa left to buy clothes, while Maier took a shower. Then he showered his client and gulped down a plate of
loc lac
, fried beef topped by a fried egg. After the long journey Maier felt like he was eating an exotic delicacy. Even Rolf swallowed a few bites in silence. The young coffee heir was still in shock.

Late at night, Somchai and his grandfather came to pick up the small group. Rolf and Maier had changed into loud beachwear. Maier had sacrificed his moustache. Carissa had dyed her hair black and Rolf had hidden his blank eyes behind mirrored sunglasses.

This time, Somchai insisted on driving. The boy could hardly see above the steering wheel, but he handled the heavy SUV like a champion driver. A few minutes' drive took them to a dilapidated wooden pier, which jutted out between two abandoned stilt houses into the Stung Koh Poi River. Maier grabbed the keys from the ignition, his only bargaining chip, and walked out onto the pier.

“Your boat.”

Maier looked down at a plastic bowl, a tiny fibre-glass dingy with an ancient outboard engine. The contraption bopped precariously around in the filthy water. Maier turned to the old man with a doubtful expression.

The Khmer smiled widely at his client.

“No problem, Monsieur. I have done this trip many times. I drop you at a pier from where you can get a taxi to Bangkok. Avoid the buses, they are often stopped by the military close to the border. A taxi with three
barang
inside is no problem.”

Somchai helped Rolf into the small vessel, which was tied off between the two houses. When the boy had jumped back up to the pier, he held his hand out to Maier. The detective gave him the keys for the car.

 

Maier did not turn around as they slowly oozed through the black water out into the Gulf of Thailand. The boat was a bit too small, but the old man was a good captain. As soon as they had left Koh Kong behind, he opened up the engine and they sped across the open sea towards freedom. An hour later, the small vessel was far from the Cambodian coast in international waters. As Koh Kong faded into the darkness behind them, Maier relaxed. Cambodia was done. The case had bled itself to death. It was almost time to lick the wounds and celebrate being alive.

Around midnight, the boat changed direction and raced towards the bright lights of the Thai coastline. Rolf had passed out next to him, but Carissa sat in front of the boat, wide awake, her eyes scanning the empty night.

 

THE CITY OF ANGELS

 

Carissa had fallen asleep, fully clothed, on the bed next to him. The TV spat silent images of crises in other places. The air-con was going full blast and sounded like a coven of witches, out of sight, flying circles, riding their brooms, exhaling arctic breath, somewhere above his head. It was breakfast time. Or 2am in Hamburg. Sundermann answered on the second ring.

“Maier, you hit the big city?”

“Yes, I just dropped Rolf Müller-Overbeck in hospital. He is almost safe and sound and will come out of this with a couple of scratches, both mental and physical.”

Maier squinted into the morning. He was exhausted and not in the mood for a debriefing. He looked across at Carissa who managed to look beautiful even as she slept with her mouth open and her face drawn.

Three thousand miles to the west, his boss started congratulating him.

“Maier, we spoke to the family while you were en route. Frau Müller-Overbeck is as close to happy as she will ever get.”

He knew that Sundermann's compliments sometimes came with a catch.

“You've done great work, but we aren't done.”

Maier felt irritation rising in his throat. He was so completely done.

“The case is not closed? We've done everything the ice queen hired us for, haven't we?”

Sundermann took his time and chose his words carefully, “As I said, Frau Müller-Overbeck is virtually ecstatic that her son is back in what she calls the ‘real world' and that he's well-cared for. But you know these wealthy clients. Enough is never enough, Maier. Easy is never easy. I know you are fed up and exhausted, but this morning she paid a fat bonus, and asked that you visit Rolf in hospital when he is himself again. And the young heir will ask you to return to Cambodia, to find the woman and to get her out. The family pays, because Rolf has promised that he will return to Hamburg if Kaley is safe. I gather that she's back at that temple where they kept you prisoner. What do you think?”

Maier was sick to his stomach. He felt like a babysitter for Hamburg's rich again. Unnecessary. And not in the mood to return to the hell he'd just escaped from. Maier had seen enough of the jungle temple.

“I don't want to appear negative, but I think it's almost impossible to free Kaley from the twists and turns of her past. Her fate is so closely linked to Cambodia, that she's almost a mirror of the country's history. The distance between the two, it is enormous – cultures, mentalities, education, expectations. Rolf just does not want to see that Kaley comes from a different part of the world with different ways of thinking. He ignores the fact that she is so deeply traumatised by the war that she has an obligation to her past.”

The sour hiss of the static between Hamburg and the Thai capital bled into Maier's dull, tired head. Some case. But Sundermann wasn't going to let his detective's sober assessment sway him. Maier could already hear the wheels crunching.

“Maier, none of this matters. We took the case and you've resolved everything this far. But now the family Müller-Overbeck is throwing more money at us in order to help their son close this chapter of his life. That's why you will visit him in hospital tomorrow.”

“Were you threatened with the city council?”

“I was,” the agency director admitted. “I have to be politician as much as I have to be businessman. Let's give the gods of Blankenese the feeling that they can rely on us. It's good for me and good for you. And for the German coffee industry.”

Without a great deal of conviction, Maier consented.

“You know that I won't achieve what Rolf expects. He wants me to ease his guilt, because he killed the woman's daughter.”

“Maier, do your thing. I know you can. Work your magic one last time. Go and see Rolf, check the water temperature and do as our client suggests while threatening to break my left arm and sticking money in the right one.”

Maier hung up and looked across at Carissa. So much for her suggestion to spend a week in bed together. He guessed she would go back to Phnom Penh. He almost envied her for feeling at home there, for having somewhere to go.

 

Rolf Müller-Overbeck lay in a private suite in Crescent Hospital, a few minutes off Sukhumvit Road in downtown Bangkok. The hospital was one of the most expensive in Southeast Asia and served as a collection point for countless tourists and wealthy Thais, as well as a handful of dictators from neighbouring countries.

As Maier entered the room, four giggling nurses were making the bed. Rolf sat in a wheelchair and conducted the girls' efforts. Maier felt a quick flashback go through him – to the young girls, dressed all in black, who'd lined up by his bunk, needles in hand.

“Hello, Maier, good to see you. Sorry I lost it with you in Phnom Penh. You saved my life.”

The young German had regained some of the colour in his face and almost looked like a hero. His hair had been cut short, his earring had disappeared and Maier noticed that the coffee heir was starting to cultivate a moustache, a little like his own.

“Rolf, you are looking good. I am glad we got you out. It would have been a shame to throw your life away in Cambodia.”

Maier thought he could detect a more thoughtful expression on his client's face.

“Maier, I simply didn't know what to do after I'd killed that little girl. Pete took charge of the situation so quickly, there was no choice. I was… not assertive enough. I made mistakes. Now it's so long ago that it has become unreal in my memory.”

The nurses lifted Rolf off the wheelchair onto his bed and waved goodbye, giggling on the way out.

“Do they help you go to the toilet as well?”

Rolf laughed. “Probably, if I asked them to.”

Then he became serious again.

Maier sat down on the sofa that stood next to the patient's bed.

“Did Kaley ever tell you anything about her sister?”

The young man from Hamburg shook his head in surprise. “She told me almost nothing of her past. I only know that she was married to Tep's son.”

“And you want me to go back there and find Kaley for you?”

“Maier, I want to know who she really is and why she took part in this terrible ceremony in the casino. I want to know whether anything can be done to change her situation. I didn't manage that, but I owe her. I killed her child.”

Rolf had tears in his eyes. Maier decided to tell Rolf no more about Kaley and the men and children in her life. Or about Daniela, her dead German sister. These stories were best kept in the files. Maier left. Outside in the leaden Bangkok heat, he stopped to catch his breath. As futile as so many things he had done since working on this case. He wasn't going to get around his last pilgrimage to Cambodia. Maier flagged a taxi and headed straight for the airport.