The plan was to acquire a boat and travel round the short stretch of Cambodian coastline from Trat in Thailand to reach Hon Chang in Vietnam.
"How well do you know them?"
"I've worked with a couple before, they were Marines. The others are all new."
"No one knows the true nature of the mission?"
"No sir, they all believe we're smuggling DVDs and other luxuries in, and arms out."
This was Maryanne's idea. The team were mainly ex-US forces in somewhat tight circumstances, given an opportunity to alleviate their financial problems, they were all willing to undertake this obvious illegal venture as long as it didn't involve drugs or human trafficking. Those who weren't ex-servicemen had either law enforcement backgrounds or similar.
I had no party in the selection of the team, which, I understand, was selected the day after poor Simon had died, a good month and a half before Sarah had rung my doorbell. It said a lot for Maryanne's organisation and her assessment of my character.
I sat back and watched the countryside flash by. Harvey was wearing plain black, as most Special Forces and SWAT teams liked to be kitted out. His recently closely shaven head and confident manner displayed his preference to be involved in something like this as opposed to driving a limo around New York.
"I've got you some gear in the back if you want to change," he said.
My rather crumpled suit was looking exceedingly tatty, so at our first rest break I changed into similar clothing to what Harvey wore. It was quite cathartic tugging on a pair of combat boots again. I suddenly recalled much of my past, but I shut it out before I brought back some of the emotions. I needed a haircut; otherwise I looked more mean and moody than I had been for a while.
I dozed as he drove, for although the journey was less than two hundred miles, once away from the city, the road surfaces deteriorated considerably.
"Did you really slug that African general?" Harvey asked, breaking the silence.
"Yup."
"An' he went down?"
"Yup, in front of all his men."
"They said you slugged the British consular official too?"
"That was an exaggeration. I simply pushed him into a latrine."
He chuckled and narrowly missed an over-laden bicycle with several caged chickens on the back.
"I also heard that your guys backed you up, even when they knew they could face a court martial as well?"
I smiled recalling some of the faces. "Mad bastards. They'd been through what I'd been through, so none of us was willing to let that son of a bitch win. He might have seized power, but we took away his final glory."
"You told the court martial that your men were not aware of the order to abandon the area?"
"I did."
"Was that true?"
I looked at him. This was the longest conversation we'd had, so it was important that we learned to trust one another.
"My sergeant was a bloke called Mad-dog Bill Ferguson. We'd been through the Balkans, the Gulf and various other fields of conflict or trouble together. Would you follow an officer who didn't tell you everything?"
"In my experience, some officers wouldn't know the truth if it leaped up and bit them on the ass."
I smiled, for I'd met some like that too, so I said so.
"So it ain't just our officers?" he asked.
"I suppose every nation has them. Most officers and senior NCOs I've worked with were damn good, but the few idiots spoil it for the rest."
He nodded, as he drove around the potholes, skinny brown children and livestock.
"Bill knew everything as soon as I did. However, I wasn't prepared for him to lose his pension over my own daft idea of getting a job done. The guys had a good idea what was happening, but when you're on the ground and living with people, you're not going to betray them just because some half-cut politician sees a profit in changing sides."
Harvey said nothing, but smiled he agreement.
"Why did you leave the Marines?" I asked.
"I'd been in sixteen years, I'd seen one marriage die and they made me an offer I couldn't refuse."
"They?"
"We call it the Corp."
I smiled, as US Marines referred to the Marine Corps as 'The Corps', so to add the hard P wasn't too hard for them.
"Why?"
"As opposed to the company or agency. We don't want to get mixed up with the CIA."
"Oh, you mean Universal News Corporation?"
"Yeah."
"I'm still a bit in the dark about all this, I mean, how come there's a need for such private enterprise in this area, what with all the military and CIA operations?"
Harvey shrugged, as we lurched across a junction in front of a large and rather elderly bus.
"They way I figure it, there’s stuff that governments can do and there's stuff they can't, because of international laws, treaties and the like. Now, take the Corp, it's a multinational company, registered in fifty-six countries and with no set affiliation to any one nation-state. If there's a job that needs doing and the government can't be seen to get involved, then contracts are agreed with private individuals."
I stared at the big man. He might look like a grunt, but there was a brain in there.
"So they're above the rule of law?" I asked, gently testing him.
"Not at all. They're above the bureaucracy of government. There are rules in the Corp's charter, and woe-betide you if you breach one of them rules."
It was getting dark, so he turned on the headlights with full floods.
"Do you want me to drive for a spell?" I asked.
"Nope, got it covered, thanks Cap."
I resumed my semi doze, as there wasn't much scenery to see anymore. The road, however, wasn't conducive to any form of slumber, so I sat up and tried to focus on my task at hand.
"Do you mind if I put the light on?" I asked.
"Nope."
I put on the reading light and looked through the papers. I could immediately see that whoever had put this operation together had crossed all the 't's and dotted the 'i's.
I smiled ruefully. The problem with perfect plans was inevitably in the execution. The human factor was something not even the most perfect planner could take into account. There was always someone or something that would get in the way. I wondered which it would be this time.
There were Vietnamese tide charts, lighting up times, shift patterns of the local police and militia, routes and schedules of the harbour patrols, and there was even a complete list of frequencies used by the different services and enforcement agencies. I now knew the strengths of the local police force and military garrison. I believed that within this file the favourite breakfast of the local mayor and the sexual preferences of all the dentists in the area would be listed.
"Who put this together?" I asked.
"Don't know, Cap, it was given to me before I left."
"Whoever did, knows their stuff. They've been very thorough."
"That's the Corp."
I smiled. "Such faith. You should start a religion."
He grinned, the lights of the dash illuminating his pearly teeth.
"So, how you going to play this?" he asked.
"As simply as possible. We go in, as arranged, the team goes though with the supposed main deal, while I get to the legation, get in, secure the goodies and get away."
"And me, what do I do?"
"Brief the team for their part."
"Already done, they know the score."
"They don't know the whole score?"
"Shit, not even I know that," he said, chuckling in a deep bass.
"Okay, then just watch my back. Keep an eye out for wild cards."
"Wild cards?"
"Yup. In every game of cards, you can bet your arse that the wrong card at the wrong time can mean the difference between winning a lot and losing everything."
He glanced at me and grinned, he was obviously aware of Murphy's Law, if there was something to go wrong, it would.
We arrived at our destination in the early hours, parking the Land Cruiser outside a small shack next to a rickety pier. Bobbing at its moorings was a sleek looking craft, all in black and looking just the business.