Blood Is a Stranger (43 page)

Harry's eyes narrowed. ‘They'll take you back in the morning.'

‘You're a stranger to me,' Cardinal said sadly.

Just before midnight, all heads in the Superstar Disco bar at Tiger's turned to watch Rhonda come in and sit at the bar. The atmosphere made her apprehensive. It was dark but for the gaudy red and white lights flashing from the ceiling of the circular room as about twenty dancers wobbled their middle-age spread. A score of hookers sat at the circular bar or in the cubicles on one wall, and they, as much as the men, were watching the new arrival. The older pros looked sharply at her while a couple of the drinkers a few seats away nudged each other and whispered lurid remarks. Two barmen moved around to get a better look. Rhonda ordered a Scotch and ice from the winner.

‘You a tourist?' the barman, a well-muscled young Australian asked. This elicited a few guffaws from the two men ogling her.

She leaned over the bar. ‘I'm here to meet Denis Bonner.'

The barman shrugged as he cleaned a glass. ‘Never heard of him.'

Her words wiped the smile off the faces of both the nearby drinkers. One of them slipped off his stool and sidled up to Rhonda.

‘Why do you want to meet Den?' He was an unpretty American of about fifty with a crewcut and long sideboards.

‘He told me he might be in tonight.'

The man looked at his watch. ‘You're about two hours late. Would I do instead?'

‘I don't think Denis would like that,' Rhonda said, sensing that ‘Den' might be someone they might not wish to tangle with.

The man's eyes showed a momentary flash of concern. ‘No offence, ma'am.'

‘None taken,' Rhonda said. ‘Do you know which hotel he is at?'

The man smiled revealing three ugly gold fillings.

‘You'll find him at the Marriott,' he said, ‘room 303,' the man whispered. ‘Sure you wouldn't like me to show you there, ma'am?'

‘I wouldn't,' she said.

A noise woke Webb in the middle of the night. He scrambled for his revolver. It wasn't there. He jumped from the mat bed to face the shadowy figure near the open doorway, but dropped his hands when he saw Cardinal's face illuminated as he lit a cigar.

‘What the fuck are you doing?' he shrieked, forgetting his French.

‘Couldn't sleep,' Cardinal said.

‘The bastards stole my revolver,' Webb complained as he slapped at a mosquito. ‘You didn't tell your son, did you?'

Cardinal shook his head. He stepped out into the night air which was cool and looked up at a huge moon cradled between two mountains. He had struggled to wake from the dream of the body in the shallow grave, which had haunted him again. He thought of Judy's interpretation, which now seemed apt. No amount of cajoling, arguing or pleading could change his son's mind about his present disastrous course.

‘I wish he
was
dead,' he muttered to himself.

Rhonda was startled awake by the groan of the pipes in the hotel room. It flooded back memories of the night with Cardinal in Jakarta when they had been terrorised by the military chopper. She fretted for him, and ended up barricading her door with a sofa and chairs.

Rhonda got up at dawn and packed her one suitcase in anticipation of leaving. If nothing happens today, she thought, I'll get a plane home in the late afternoon or evening.

At seven, she called the Marriott, and was told ‘Denis E. Bonner' was having breakfast. Rhonda caught a taxi to the hotel and hurried to the dining room. She was just asking the manager who Bonner was when she noticed Bill Hewson. He was sitting at a corner table with the American who had spoken to her at Tiger's.

Rhonda moved to their table. She embraced Hewson.

‘This is Denis Bonner,' Hewson said, turning to the American.

‘What was that charade about last night?' Rhonda said.

‘Apologies, ma'am,' Bonner said. ‘I was meeting somebody else who knows me by another name.' Rhonda tried to gather her wits as Hewson pulled out a chair for her. ‘And what are you doing here?'

‘Thought you might need some help,' he said with a strange smile. ‘We have some good news. We've located your friend.'

‘Ken! Where? Is he all right?'

‘Everything's fine. He's at a little town on the Thai -Kampuchean border. We're going to drive there today.'

‘Can I come?'

‘Sure. There shouldn't be any trouble.'

‘Should I check out of my hotel? I have one suitcase.'

‘We'll be busy this morning,' Hewson said, glancing at Bonner. ‘Could you bring your case here and put it in our car. It's a Ford stationwagon in the basement.' He scribbled the registration number on a piece of paper and handed it to her. ‘Meet us here at noon, sharp.'

They woke to the sound of a Ghetto Blaster playing rock music. Khmer Rouge soldiers were doing exercises up on the plateau.

‘Bit dangerous, isn't it?' Cardinal said. ‘Couldn't that be heard a long way?'

‘Dunong says if you are a kilometre away it's impossible
to locate the sound,' Webb said. He began to put his pack together. Cardinal noticed him turning his back to slide on the black glove.

A soldier was at the door. He told them that they were to join Harry and Hartina for breakfast before the Huey would take them back to site 8.

‘Have you seen Dunong?' he asked the man. He shook his head.

They were ushered into a mess hut guarded by six soldiers. Cardinal noted a jumpiness in Webb that had not been apparent before as they sat in front of Harry and Hartina at a wooden table. Soldiers and several Khmers in non-military gear sauntered in and out taking breakfast from staff. Harry asked for coffee, toast and fresh fruit to be brought to their table. Cardinal found it difficult to look his son in the eye, such was his contempt, but he could not help thinking what a most attractive couple Harry and Hartina were. He was more than a hundred and ninety centimetres and strongly built. He had blond, male model looks, and pea green, intense eyes. She was dark, with high, flat cheekbones. Her body was sensual and slim. She carried herself with a haughty look at times, and he wondered if it was a cover for shyness. Intellectually, they were also impressive. But Cardinal was depressed by their lack of humanity. They were indifferent to the consequences of their activities. Cardinal was ashamed. Yet he had made this clear and the time for recrimination was over. Nothing more was needed to be said. At that moment he didn't care if this was the last time he saw his son.

‘Thank you for delivering the money,' Harry said, raising his glass of juice to both men. ‘No real harm done apart from the death of the Frenchmen. Will be a bit difficult to explain. But I suspect the French will accept our explanation that bandits struck them. After all, they will get their technology. 1 will see to that.'

Dunong walked in. He was edgy.

‘Everything all right with the chopper?' Harry asked. The Khmer nodded and went to another table. Harry beckoned him over.

‘Join us, comrade,' Harry said. ‘Coffee?'

Cardinal noticed that Dunong's hand was quivering, that he would not look up at him or Webb.

Hartina stood up and excused herself. She shook hands with Cardinal.

‘Some day,' she said, ‘I hope you will understand.'

Cardinal heard the Huey being warmed up. Dunong wanted toast. Before Harry could signal staff, he stood up.

‘I'll get it,' he said.

Cardinal watched Webb. The gloved left hand was lying on his lap out of sight of Harry. From Cardinal's angle it seemed in an unnatural position. He could see it touching his belt. Cardinal glanced at his son whose eyes were wide as he watched Webb.

Suddenly Webb began to whip a razor sharp garrotte free from his belt.

‘Dunong! Now!' he shouted as he looped the belt out with the gloved hand. He went as if to swing it over Harry. But the younger man was quicker. He kicked up the table and fired two bullets from an unseen hand-gun into Webb's chest. The garrotte looped over the gun that was wrenched from Harry's hand as he fell over Webb.

Cardinal picked up the gun, and aimed the gun at Webb's head, but a spreading pool of blood around his shirt above the heart made another shot superfluous. Cardinal stood over his son and levelled the gun at him as he lay clutching his bleeding hand. He seemed about to fire when he glanced about him. Soldiers had entered the hut. Their weapons were trained on Cardinal and Dunong, who cowered by a food counter.

Cardinal helped Harry to his feet and examined the cut that had split the webbing on his hand to the bone between thumb and forefinger.

‘Webb wanted to kill you too,' Harry said, putting an arm around his father. ‘We wrung that out of Dunong last night. Blundell wanted no witnesses to his schemes, which he now wants to abort. So be careful of him. And there's somebody else. Dunong says Blundell was using another agent to help Webb in clearing up the problem the Khmers had caused the CIA.'

‘Who is it?'

‘I don't know.' Harry handed him a small canvas bag. ‘There's some food and things in there you might need on the trip.'