After eleven minutes, Scotty rang to check in. ‘Honeymoon couple from Belgium, mining guy from Darwin and the manager’s father, who loves cats.’
‘Any ideas?’
‘There’s a couple of cottages opposite mine — twelve and thirteen — with closed curtains. So we might shift to the lost kitten.’
‘Be careful,’ said Mac, scanning the scene with his field-glasses.
‘I’ll start with twelve,’ said Scotty.
Thirty seconds later, the kitten stowed in his room, Scotty moved across the garden and sauntered around the porch of number 12. Mac could make out Scotty’s feet and could guess what he was saying: My kitten was around here somewhere — you seen her?
Someone moved into the garden behind Scotty — swarthy, muscular. Shifting to take it in, Mac recognised Dozsa’s driver.
Mac hurried his view back to Scotty and couldn’t find him. ‘Come on, come on,’ said Mac, heart rate building.
The driver disappeared into the other side of the garden and Mac jumped from the bed, gasping with pain as he landed on his wounded leg.
He ran down the external staircase, then waited for traffic and crossed the road in a blast of heat, insects and birds going crazy.
Circling around the rear driveway of the complex, Mac touched the SIG in his waistband as he got to Scotty’s cottage. Pushing through into the cool of the room, Mac smelled the cat immediately — Scotty hadn’t bought a litter box.
Parting the curtains on the front windows, he scoped cottages 12 and 13. They were painted blue, about forty metres away. An old Khmer man sat on the park bench in front of the window.
Checking his SIG for load and safety, Mac put the weapon in his waistband under the polo shirt and, grabbing the kitten, left the cottage.
Throwing the animal on the grass, Mac tried to herd it across the garden, keeping one eye on cottage number 12, holding his breath as he waited for someone to open that door and start blasting at him.
The cat veered to the left, between cottages 10 and 11, and Mac followed as the black and white beast bounced like a rabbit.
Once behind cottage 11, Mac forgot the cat and drew the handgun. There was no movement, but he heard the low rumble of male voices. Between the cottages was parked a green LandCruiser. Moving behind the cottage, he scoped the gap to cottage 12, and walked swiftly across it, making the back door without being seen.
As he leaned against the doorjamb, Mac’s heart banged and his breath rasped. Slowly turning his head against the frosted glass, he squinted and tried to make out what was happening. Where was Scotty?
Standing back, he took a deep breath and ran at the door, raising his right leg and kicking it from its locks, following through into the cottage, sweeping his SIG at the scene in front of him.
A man standing in the porch turned and Mac whacked him in the mouth with the butt of the SIG. He kept moving through, arcing the gun back and forth in a cup-and-saucer sweep, as Scotty became visible at the far end of the room.
‘It’s okay,’ said Scotty. ‘I’m fine, Macca.’
Turning back to the man on the ground, Mac held the SIG at his ear.
‘Hands where I can see them,’ he said.
Turning from his prone position, the man looked up, blood running from his mouth.
‘Shit, McQueen,’ said the American, looking dazed.
‘Sammy,’ said Mac, recovering. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘You sure it’s them?’ said Scotty, looking through a chink in the bed- room curtains that gave a view across to cottage 13, ten metres away.
‘Three Israelis, one of them’s Dozsa,’ said Sammy, dabbing a wet flannel on his swollen lower lip.
‘I saw Dozsa’s driver from that night on the docks,’ said Mac. ‘How long you been here?’
‘Since last night. When Grimshaw took off I thought I’d give this place a try.’
‘Why?’ said Mac.
‘Does it matter?’ said Sammy.
‘I don’t know, you haven’t answered,’ said Mac. ‘Look — you shot me first, okay?’
Sammy shook his head. ‘Grimshaw took a call back in Kratie — I could hear him through the walls.’
‘And?’ said Scotty.
‘All I heard was Grimshaw saying, “Water Dragon Guest House in Stung Treng — are you sure that’s where he is?” I decided to check it out.’
‘Three of them?’ said Mac.
Sammy nodded. ‘I took the gear from Grimshaw’s room, but what was I going to do with one on three?’
Mac wondered how to raise the subject of the Grimshaw — Sammy split — he wanted the subject in the open.
‘Scotty and I dropped in this morning, make sure you had food and water,’ said Mac.
‘You’re a nosey son of a bitch, know that, McQueen?’
‘Lucky I get paid for it. What’s the story with you and Grimshaw?’
Sammy kicked at the carpet. ‘It’s old Washington shit — it’s not your battle.’
‘Grimshaw’s NSA?’ said Mac.
‘Yeah, and you’ve guessed where I’m from,’ said Sammy.
‘The Pentagon and NSA clash sometimes, but duct-taped to a chair?’
Sammy gave Mac a stare. ‘Maybe Grimshaw wanted to be taken to the HARPAC codes, but he didn’t want a Defense guy touching them.’
‘He beat you?’ said Mac.
‘He thought I’d allowed Bongo to take McHugh, and he thought I’d found the SD card. He decided I was working against him — he’s paranoid.’
‘The SD chip was in Tranh’s phone,’ said Mac. ‘He was carrying it in the memory slot beside the battery.’
‘Tranh?’
‘The Vietnamese driver I had in Phnom Penh,’ said Mac. ‘I think he was killed in the apartment building.’
Sammy nodded. ‘We got his phone, but he didn’t die.’
‘No?’
‘No, I winged him after he pulled on me,’ said Sammy. ‘And he was taken by another crew.’
‘Dozsa?’
‘No,’ said Sammy, ‘locals, gangsters — they appeared at the entry doors, grabbed your driver and took off.’
Mac was stunned by the revelation. ‘There was an ambulance — didn’t someone die?’
‘Yeah, it was a woman, an expat. She was waiting for the elevator and got between me and Tranh. It was an accident.’
‘Shit,’ said Mac, remembering the night and the woman taking her garbage out to the bins. She’d let Mac and Tranh into the building.
‘Two o’clock,’ said Scotty, pulling Mac to the right angle to see through the curtains.
‘Oh no,’ said Mac, seeing the figure walking to the door of cottage 13.
‘It’s that cop from Saigon,’ said Scotty. ‘Loh Han, isn’t it?’
‘Loan,’ said Mac. ‘And yes, it is.’
Chapter 61
Running to the front door, Mac opened it slowly and stuck his head outside.
‘Psst,’ he said, trying to keep his voice down. ‘Captain Loan. Chanthe.’
The captain had already turned away from him and was talking to the two local cops who walked across the garden with the manager.
‘Here we go,’ said Sammy.
An engine roared to life, car doors slammed.
‘They’re leaving,’ said Scotty, and turning back into the cottage Mac saw his mentor grabbing an assault rifle from Sammy’s bag. ‘Just got into the car.’
Following Scotty to the back door, Mac saw Sammy Chan, in standing marksman pose, about to unleash with his assault rifle.
Mac yelled at him. ‘No! Leave it, Sammy!’
Distracted, Sammy turned to Mac, who burst past Scotty and put a hand on the American’s weapon, pushing it down. ‘Not with the cops at the door, mate.’