Intent to Kill Page 20

“I don’t understand.”

  “A bold diversionary tactic. That is Samnang. He is very much about making a statement, emphasizing a point.”

  And this time there was no thought at all that they should hang around for the authorities. When they reached her hotel, he stayed her with his hands on her shoulders, his heart pounding so near hers. “Now you understand why I got tickets for you to Singapore.” He looked slightly chagrined. “I heard you mention to Vanna that you wanted to go there before you returned home. And with everything happening here, it’s safer if you get out for a while. This is way beyond research for a story, Claire.”

  “You’re right,” she said softly. Thinking how wrong he really was. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen before.” But in her heart there was one thing he was right about, she should never have gone to Samnang’s room. That had been an incredibly irresponsible move.

  He looked at her—pushing her away from him, doubt registering in his eyes. “You mean that, you’ll go.”

  She bit her lip as she nodded, her heart racing. She’d never come so near to death in her life. She suspected, no, knew that it wasn’t the same for him. “I promise, Simon. I wouldn’t do anything to endanger you. I only wanted to help.”

  “I don’t need your help, Claire.” He leaned down and kissed her, a short, firm, take-all kiss. He pushed hair from her forehead as the kiss ended, as he might a child, and didn’t notice when she stiffened. “I need you safe, Claire. I need not to worry about you.”

  “Chief Chan—I don’t trust him.” She had to make that one last attempt. She’d tell him everything if she only thought he’d listen, take her word alone. If only she knew that he wouldn’t confront the very man she suspected.

  “I’ve known him a long time. He’s a cagey character but completely trustworthy.”

  She nodded. “I’ll be on that flight to Singapore,” she said and tried not to make the words sound as wooden as they felt.

  Chapter Forty-two

  “I was an idiot.” Claire tossed her bag on the bed. “And Simon wants us out of here. I don’t blame him, not really.” She zipped her bag closed. “Still, I can’t believe he actually thinks I’ll leave, walk out on the story. More importantly, walk out on him.”

  “He wants you safe,” Vanna said. “You can’t argue with that. And it’s not like you weren’t doing the same to him—protecting him, I mean. Did you tell him about Chief Chan?”

  “No, but that was different, I was terrified he’d confront him and that would make it all so much worse.”

  “Claire.” Vanna shook her head. “You know what I think, you’ve both been single for too long. You’ve got to learn to trust someone else to have your back.”

  “Maybe.” She took a breath. “But not now. He needs us.”

  “As much as you need him,” Vanna said softly.

  “Maybe.” Claire smiled faintly, still shaken by her earlier encounter. They’d slipped out just as the emergency sirens had begun to sound and she’d promised Simon that she wouldn’t do anything so impetuous again, but this wasn’t over. She had to break her promise yet again. “In light of what we’ve learned we can’t leave. I still have to get a report to the Siem Reap police, get backup for Simon. I promised Soheap.”

  “Agreed. And we’ve got twenty-four hours to get it done or Samnang’s shipment goes down as planned.”

  “So we give him the illusion that we’ve gotten on that plane.”

  Vanna threw her suitcase on the bed. “We’re not going to get much sleep tonight. I still can’t believe what you did.”

  “It was a mistake, Vanna.” She shook her head. “Maybe I went too big. I wasn’t ready for this. I could have died. Simon could have died.”

  “Quit beating yourself up. Yeah, stupid to go to Samnang’s hotel room. But jeez, Claire, what you’ve discovered so far—other than that one screw-up. You amaze me.”

  “Thanks.” She chewed her lip. “I’ll talk to the Siem Reap police after we get back from the airport. Meantime, where are we going to hang out?”

  “What about that reporter that was giving you grief?”

  “Get real,” Claire said.

  “I’m being totally real. We need him anyway. And we don’t have much time to pull it together. I think the least he can do is let us hang out at his office until morning. In return for him possibly getting a story and all.”

  “Okay,” Claire agreed as she dumped her bag by the door. “I’m not sure why Simon thinks so highly of Chan.”

  “Chan’s got that kind of personality—everyone thinks he’s the greatest guy ever. Shit, I did too,” Vanna replied.

  “You? How did you know him?” Claire demanded. “And why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  Vanna shrugged. “It wasn’t important until Soheap and then . . . well, after that so much happened.”

  “So, tell it now.”

  “He was always the life of the party. He attended a few of the university functions. And he always remembered everyone’s name and every detail about you. Yeah, putting him up against the tried and true in Siem Reap, Chan wins every time.”

  Within minutes they were loaded up in a cab and on their way.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Vanna asked as the cab careened around a corner and her shoulder collided with Claire’s.

  “No plan. We board the plane.”

  “Board?”

  “Yes, board and then we get off. Just in case Simon decides to see us off.”

  “What about our luggage?”

  “I think they’ll remove it from the plane when we get off.”

  The cab pulled up in front of the airport.

  Claire handed a bill to the driver and slung her knapsack over her shoulder as she stepped out of the cab and onto the curb. The driver got out and opened the trunk, handing a suitcase to each of them.

  “Have a safe journey,” the cabdriver told them as he closed the passenger door.

  Chapter Forty-three

  Simon couldn’t believe, after everything, that she was leaving. He supposed the grenade, the near miss with death had done it. He turned off the bike’s engine and stood at the edge of the airport terminal. Claire and Vanna entered the terminal chatting, as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  Finally she had come to her senses. People could die in the next twenty-four hours but Claire wouldn’t be one of them. He fingered the lone cigarette in his pocket that he’d carried like a talisman for too many years and for the first time in a long time he longed to light it.

  “No, damn it!” He pulled the cigarette from his pocket and hurled it. He watched it bounce softly across the pavement and land broken and gleaming white in the sun. He turned to the airport terminal and walked in unnoticed through a service door. Over the loudspeaker, the flight to Singapore was announced. He watched the lineup of passengers—saw Claire and Vanna talking while they waited in line. He watched as they both passed their tickets to the attendant and were screened through. He slipped back outside and watched them cross the tarmac and board the plane. He let out a heavy sigh. As much as she’d been an incredible help, she was also an incredible liability. He turned and went back to his bike. The little scooter started with a hiccupped protest. He gunned the engine and spun out toward town. It was time to find Arun and get the final act of this show on the road.

  • • •

  “Excuse me,” Claire said to the flight attendant. “We can’t take this flight.”

  “Madam?”

  “An emergency. Family. We’ve got to get to the hospital.”

  “Follow me,” the flight attendant replied and led them to the back, where the food trays were being loaded through another door. “Excuse me.” The flight attendant waved, all businesslike, to the two men who were raising the cart filled with food and blocking the exit. Within minutes the door was cleared and Claire and Vanna made a quick exit to the tarmac. A brief interview with airport security and confirmation of no remaining bags on board and they were clear.

/>   “Now what?” Vanna asked.

  “Like you said, there’s a reporter we’ve got to see.”

  “Right. And after that?”

  “We play it by ear.”

  “Whatever works, baby,” Vanna replied cheerfully as they jogged over to where a group of cabs waited for incoming flights.

  Chapter Forty-four

  “Are you out of your mind?” The reporter lurched from behind his desk, his plate of noodles flying in a scattered heap to the floor. “I will do no such thing.”

  “I don’t think you have a choice,” Claire said sweetly. “I can give you a story bigger than any you’ve ever had.”

  “You’ll take some of the credit,” he said, looking at her suspiciously.

  “Of course.”

  He muttered something under his breath before tossing her a key. “Keep the front lights off. I could lose my job if my manager hears about this.”

  “We will.” Claire smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Just make sure you keep me in the loop. I want to be there when it all comes down. Don’t think you’ll get around that. I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning.” He slammed the door behind him.

  “Pleasant chap,” Claire said.

  “Asshole,” Vanna replied. “So what’s the plan now?”

  “There isn’t one. We wait.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For you. For me, I’ve got a local police officer to visit.”

  “Excellent. Then we’ll have a plan.”

  “Maybe. Seriously, wait here, Vanna. I won’t be long. We don’t know who’s on the streets tonight or how desperate they are.”

  • • •

  The same police officer she had reported to well over a week ago sat behind his desk. “Hello, I don’t know if you remember me,” she began.

  “Claire.” He stood. “I don’t believe I introduced myself, Prak.”

  He pulled out a chair for her. “Have a seat, please.” He went around to the other side and sat down. “So, tell me what’s up.”

  She gave him the background, the how and why of what she knew. “There’s a smuggling deal, antiquities, the shipment is planned to move on Saturday,” Claire said. “It involves Samnang . . .”

  “I know that.”

  “This Saturday.”

  Prak leaned his elbows on the desk. “This? Tomorrow?” He stood up. “No.”

  “Yes. I don’t have proof but Chief Chan with the Phnom Penh police knows it too and will not provide the backup promised.”

  “Excuse me.” Prak cleared his throat. “Are you suggesting that there’s a conspiracy going on?”

  “Yes. Chief Chan’s been bought off.” She repeated exactly what Soheap had told her and what they’d learned from Tevvy. “There are two groups of Burmese arriving for the same antiquities. Neither buyer knows about the other but they’re both poised to arrive at Tonle Sap Lake on Saturday night. I think Samnang has planned for as few survivors as possible. And the Phnom Penh chief of police is planning not to be there at all, or arrive too late.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure about that detail.”

  “That’s fine.” A frown furrowed Prak’s brow. “Go on.”

  “He’s making money on this shipment. I’m not sure how but he’s made a deal with Samnang. Chan was once Khmer Rouge.”

  “What?”

  “I know. It’s not on record. But I’ve discovered some of them aren’t.”

  “True,” Prak agreed.

  “And he knew Samnang. Still does.”

  “Khmer Rouge. You’re sure?”

  Claire explained how they had obtained the information, leaving out only her association with the Khmer Rouge through her Uncle Jack as she explained what had brought her to Cambodia and the involvement in antiquity smuggling.

  “It’s coming down tomorrow and all that’s in place are a few Interpol investigators.” She took a deep breath.

  “Without backup, this could be a bloodbath.” He dropped the pen he’d been spinning between his fingers. “Sweet mother. If you hadn’t reported this, many would die and Samnang’s group, whoever that all involves, would leave rich men.”

  “And women.” Claire told him about Ella. “I believe she might be the one responsible for murdering tourists around Angkor Wat.”

  “Is there proof?”

  Claire handed him Arielle’s phone.

  “What’s this?”

  “Evidence for one murder.” Slipping the phone into her pocket before Simon saw it was the only coherent thing that Claire had done in those emotionally wrenching minutes that followed finding Arielle’s corpse. Arielle had managed to record Ella’s incriminating words just minutes before she died. She should have shared it with Simon, and yet something told her not to unless she found some way of convincing him of the truth of who Chief Chan really was.

  “Do you mind?” Claire stood up. “I can’t listen to it again. I’ll be outside.”

  Ten minutes later, he found her standing in the front entrance. “I can see why once was enough.” He touched her shoulder briefly. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  She turned to face him. “What about tomorrow?”

  “I have to speak to my superiors but I think there’s a way to reroute this.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me until this is over.” Prak offered his hand. “It is I who, at the moment, thank you.”

  Chapter Forty-five

  The next morning Claire and Vanna were awakened as the door swung open.

  The reporter entered the room carrying a plastic bag in one hand. “I brought you ladies breakfast. It’s a peace offering,” he said, looking at Claire. “I accept your terms.”

  “Thank you,” Claire said and took a breath. It was too late to back out now and yet it wasn’t too late for doubt.

  “You’re going to have to get out of sight. The office opens in an hour and some of the staff start arriving in just over thirty minutes.” He led them back to a large windowless supply room. “You can wait here. I’ll leave the door to the street unlocked but the door from the office locked.”

  Vanna raised her eyebrows at Claire.

  “I’m not planning to lock you in,” he replied. “Why would I? I want the story.”

  “You’d stay in the background?”

  “Agreed,” he replied. “Name’s Bourey.”

  Claire nodded and almost smiled at the irony of the late introduction, even though she’d known his name despite the fact that he’d never offered it.

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “We wait here until just before nightfall. We’re going to try to intercept Simon before he gets to the lake,” Claire said firmly. “Hopefully the police will be in place and there’s nothing we have to do except get out.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” he said.

  “If all goes as planned,” Claire replied. “And thanks.”

  “The least I can do considering what happened a year ago. Back then, I should have gotten my facts together better than I did. Look, what I’m saying is, story or not, this is a chance to put some of what I did then to rights.” He took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m not the easiest guy and . . .” He glanced at Claire. “I still don’t think dames should be working these sorts of stories but I’ll help you all I can.” He put his glasses back on. “I’d shake hands but that’s a guy thing.”

  Claire held out her hand. “Actually, dames do shake hands. Thanks.”

  He shook hands briefly. “So, what can I do today?”

  “Find Simon Trent, follow him.” She paused. “Discreetly. I suspect you’ll find him at the guesthouse.”

  She gave him brief directions before the door closed softly behind him.

  • • •

  Rather than the promised two, he was back in three hours. “That was easier than I thought.” He glanced at Claire. “They were exactly where you said. By the way, the police took the body out of the s
chool today. What was that about? Who was she?”

  “Later,” Claire replied. “What else did you learn?”

  He pulled out a key and locked the outside door. “Your Simon . . .” He said the name slowly, as if he still had some doubts. “Put in a call to someone called Chan. Police, I believe, Phnom Penh. From what I gather Chan wasn’t too happy.”

  “Can’t imagine why.” Vanna shrugged but the look she gave Claire was troubled.

  “Anyway,” Bourey continued, “I heard Trent order him to arrest him if he felt it necessary when it was all over. He ended the call and then I heard him mention to his partner that he suspected Samnang of having a contact in the police force.”

  Claire gasped. “Simon doesn’t know it’s Chan.”

  He looked at her sharply. “The chief of police?”

  “Don’t you dare go off half-cocked,” Claire warned.

  “I second that,” Vanna said.

  “No worries. Anyway, ten o’clock they plan to be somewhere by the north boat launch.”

  Claire sank down on the cement floor, cross-legged, with her back against a metal shelf unit. “We have to head Simon and Arun off and then let the Siem Reap police do their job.”

  “I know,” Vanna replied. “I just hate flying blind.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  “C’mon, we’re almost there. I can smell the water,” Claire whispered to Vanna. Behind them they could hear Bourey’s footsteps crunching softly in the darkness.

  The pier was just ahead. The dark hulls of boats bobbed on the water. Their silhouettes reflected from the occasional fishing light, and in the distance a dog barked.

  “Claire,” a familiar voice hissed.

  “They’re here,” Claire whispered. “Simon?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” another familiar voice added.

  “Arun,” Vanna confirmed. “Over here.”