The Khufu Equation (30 page)

Angkor was for centuries hidden by the encroachment of jungle, but in the years of independence the people and technology arrived to reveal it. Hundreds of kilometers of asphalt roads were built, economic and cultural ties were established, hotels were erected, and the international airport was built.

Independence was declared by treaty in 1949, when the Khmer people freed themselves from their obligation to French colonial law. However, as indicated by the inscriptions on stones found in Angkor, the empire was once a highly developed civilization. History states that the first stone of the Angkor Empire was set by the Indian warlord Ishanavarman I. The existence of Cambodia began with his reign. Up to the present, the architecture and sculpture inherited from the time of Ishanavarman I have retained Indian elements, but such an influence hasn't predominated over the peculiarities of Khmer art.

According to historians, the country had a network of roads six meters wide, elevated above flood level. All the roads were on dams, indicating a well-planned system of irrigation. Peasants gathered three rich crops a year, and a good part of it was given to the king's palace and temples.

According to the chronicles of the temple known as Prah Khan, over 120 inns--like motels of the present time--were scattered around the empire. The fact that 938 villages were later freed from taxes in favor of state treasury and churches implies that the country was not ruled by tyrants.

The medicine of the Angkor Empire far exceeded that of Europe. There were 102 provincial nursing homes and capital hospitals, and the staff of every institution consisted of fourteen medical nurses, two qualified doctors, six assistants, cooks and hospital attendants.

All this began in the sixth century, but in the fourteenth the Great Angkor Empire started to fall. In 1353, under the pressure of aliens, it fell. In 1432, the first Cambodian king Ponya Yat, having failed to endure a seven-month siege, yielded Angkor and abandoned the glorious place forever. Angkor was ransacked, villages came under occupation and irrigation systems were sublimated.

Kreis' thoughts, occupied with the strategy of coming events, were gradually replaced with thoughts of his beloved. Certainly he was a villain. A beautiful dress and accessories could not compensate for the years of parting, but just this evening she would have to look a hundred percent.

Tana's voice sounded unexpectedly and interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm ready for the restaurant," she said, and he turned to see her. The petite but utterly graceful woman standing before him seemed to embody every positive attribute. In all his associations with women, he had never met one who could compare.

The emerald velvet evening dress highlighted the slender contour of her waist, and he felt she must be illuminated from within by waves of feminine energy. Her slender fingers, threaded with gold rings, affected that certain gesture of a professional dancer. Kreis had remembered this gesture for twenty-five years. It was one that signified the most important feeling in the world.

Pailin, despite its pretty name, always made Hunter feel uncomfortable. It had a lot to do with the drive, which consisted of seventy-two kilometers with deep ravines and crude wooden bridges. The village was located on the gentle sloped of the Craven mountains and presented a picturesque view dotted with wooden houses. One could encounter mountain streams as well as groves of tangerine and grapefruit trees. Every house, surrounded with a garden of aromatic flowers, was embellished with climbing plants.

Hunter was not a sentimental person. The settlement interested him only as a mine, where ruby, sapphire, onyx and zircon had been mined for centuries. The whole territory of the mine was cut into holes and trenches, and the population except children and the old was occupied with the search for precious stones. The people had to sift and wash all the soil that was dug up, so that no single stone would be lost. Even so, a prospector could not become wealthy upon finding such a stone. Twenty-five percent of the whole cost had to be given to the owner of the mine and fifty percent was lost to the middleman, who owned a polishing shop.

A hen pecks seeds one by one: The Hunter reminded himself of this again and again as he stared upward at the gray sky. The more notches on his dashboard there were, the more stones he would have. The more stones he had, the nearer he was to the goal. Knowing the schedule of the admission regime, Hunter was able to take stones only up till tomorrow evening; otherwise he would have to wait ten more days. Being afraid of checks, the military men let contraband pass through at definite times. A little post envelope with a sum of money inside served to facilitate the passage. Usually, precious stones were bought wholesale and resold to dealers from Thailand.

Luck was with him this day, he thought. Three thousand dollars would be enough to buy several sapphires. Additionally, he could sell the cross and book to a dealer from Bangkok. Each time he killed a passenger, Hunter saw the example of Pol Pot's evil deeds. Half of the country was sent to heaven, and for the other half there was nothing. One had to have a big idea: That was the great denominator. He had to have a goal but no remorse.

The taxi driver stopped his car three kilometers from the scene of the crime. The approach of a monsoon made it necessary to choose whether to go for stones the next morning or plummet from the bridge and become food for the animals. He wouldn't get far if it started to rain. The torrent would last at least for two hours, and water would be everywhere. Till sunset he wouldn't be able to cover even half the required distance, and he didn't dare attempt to pass through the jungle at night. Hunter decided to turn back. He would spend the night at Battambang.

The bloodied body of the monk, seen from the road, made him stop again. He got out.

"I need to get rid of this, immediately . . . . Yes, further . . . . It's badly cut."

He feared the Chinese might still be alive, so he took out his pocketknife (a necessity in his work). On his way forward, he touched the ground to ensure his safety. At a point ten steps from the body, he understood. That sense of foreboding didn't deceive him. He continued his approach. Then, in an instant, two plastic cards pierced his eyes. The third card, piercing the bridge of the nose as far as the brain, brought the last sensation of his life. Hunter dropped to the sand, dead as a rock.

Brett got up, covering his punctured gut with one hand. Luckily, the taxi driver's knife didn't touch any vital organs. The commissioner found the cross and book in the car, and pressed his right hand to the ancient tome. A powerful stream of energy shot into his body. It found the wounded areas and regenerated them. The wound to his abdomen healed instantly and was covered with fresh, new skin. In two minutes, Brett felt healthy and strong.

He carried the body of the little monk to the car. The abbot didn't deserve to be eaten by animals.

He placed the body near the entrance to the highway so that it would be seen. Then, with a last look at the ominous jungle, the commissioner climbed into the car and went to Sisophon along State Highway Five.

Ven and Chen's room at the Hotel Angkor.

Water will not wash away sins, even if one soaks in the tub for half a day. However, to alleviate temporarily physical pain, to take away the allergetic perception of past recollections from the stump, it could help. Ven had endured the discomfort all day. He closed his eyes and sank deep into the warmth. Again the distance past stood before him. It was the time that the authorities captured Maksim Lezhnev and placed him under examination. It was necessary to remove the secret cache of gold in a short time, so he managed to hide some in a box. Going back for another, he stepped on a landmine. Because of those filthy things, hundreds of people have been killed or crippled. The rest of the gold was found by the authorities.

"It's Maksim. He's the guilty one," said Ven to himself. Now he has a new name, a new face and a new life. I have this wooden leg, like an anchor that pulls me to the bottom. He remembered the line from Kreis' letter: "We all come back somewhere and sometime." You're right, Maksim. The time of reckoning has come.

Chen finished everything in time. Today, as Kreis said, he would know how strongly his father loves him. Ven left the bathroom, hopping on his good leg. The electric kettle and tea strainer with water drops on the table told him nothing. Chen was watching TV.

"Tea, Father?"

"No," said the captain firmly.

"Are you sure they're in the hotel?"

"Look out the window. The rain is coming. I'll be informed of any replacements."

"What are you waiting for?"

Jhun looked at his son sternly.

"I won't rush the room, like you did. There's a time and place for everything."

A thudding knock at the door made him turn around. He knew who was behind it. A boy-clerk, unexpectedly having become richer by fifty dollars, was very attentive and didn't miss the man and woman on their way down to the restaurant. Ven Jhun quickly hid the Terrible revolver under his shirt and, before opening the door, said to his son:

"At the necessary time, in the necessary place."

The restaurant at Hotel Angkor.

Air conditioners, despite full-power operation, couldn't save the waiters from the heat, and they were weakened by the sticky stuffiness of the dining room. However, while maneuvering among the tables like drowsy flies they would do their best to satisfy any quest. If it meant a tip, they would bring a roasted elephant on a tray.

"What else do you wish?" said a young waiter to the captain. Ven lifted his eyes and wrinkled his broad forehead. He felt the urge to box the lad's ears, but instead he clenched his hands into silent fists and said:

"Free." He pointed at the table full of various dishes. He continued to watch Kreis and Tana just two tables away, but the captain likely hadn't tasted yet the chef cooked in his own juice.

"Give me the check, and I'm off."

The waiter summed it all up. He expected not to get a tip, so he placed the bill on the table and left the room.

Ven had left Chen near the exit. He would give help, if it was needed. Jhun rolled through the operation in his mind.

"Let them enjoy their little time," he thought. "Everyone has the right to a last meal."

Ven saw Tana's eyes, and they were sad. They were like the last sparks from the stirring of a dead fire, and her heart was full of fear.

Ven knew she felt the approach of death, and he drank to it with a mouthful of tea. "She still loves that bastard," he told himself. He felt the handle of the revolver under his shirt. The time had come.

Kreis poked his salad with a fork as he gazed at Tana. It wasn't difficult to understand the reason for her sadness, but it was entirely conditional. He was the old fox, and he'd play his role to the end. He would pretend to be weak and stupid so that his methods and intentions would remain concealed. He was quite sure the danger was close; he even felt its fixed attention. Being an adventurer by nature, he knew the sensation. When the air in the lungs becomes heavy and pain twists the bottom of the stomach, one knows danger is present. During his life he had rushed through a lot of shady transactions and stayed alive only because of luck. That strange feeling had always indicated the moment of departure. However, he would no longer run. He would look straight into the eyes of fear.

Kreis came to the decision to stay in Phnom Penh, when it was clear that the clouds overhead were rapidly darkening. At first it was Andrew's death, followed by the murders of Giordano Crufo and Salvaro de Balboa. Then there were intimidations over the telephone, in which a certain someone knew about Tana. Only one person knew of her: Ven Jhun. After nearly thirty years, she still loved Kreis. She certainly had no connection to that one-legged monkey, other than having stolen some of his gold. Kreis felt acute pain at the bottom of his stomach, and there was compression in his chest. A little more, and he would faint. Kreis doubled over, but he refused to turn and run.

"We all come back somewhere and sometime," said a man nearby. Kreis lifted his head. Ven Jhun was seated before him, and in his hand was a revolver. The napkin could hardly disguise it.

"Why so late?" Kreis asked quietly, fighting to overcome the pain. Holding Tana's hand, he looked into her eyes, so terror-stricken, and signaled that everything would be okay. "I see you're short of the gold I left."

"Your jokes aren't very clever," Ven replied. "I paid for it with my leg. Quick. Put the computer and disc on the table. Show me what you have."

Kreis pulled a hand from under the table, and next to his plate he set a small case. He opened it, switched on the notebook computer, inserted a disc and turned the screen to face the captain.

"This is a plan; a kind of schematic for Angkor Wat," said Kreis. "The shining red dot marks the location of the stone. So, now you have what you've wanted. It's time to part."

"Not just yet," bristled Ven. "Now you will stand up and go to the exit."