Quiller Salamander

'Who are you?' In French, with an atrocious accent. But it was the bark that got my attention.

'I gave them my papers,' I said. Tone weary, resigned.

A rush of Khmer and someone came and whipped the blindfold off, not Choen, one of his men — but on Choen's orders: he wanted to see my eyes, to tell when I lied.

'I not ask about your papers. I ask who you are.'

He wasn't a short man, for an Oriental, but stood with his chest out and his shoulders back as if he sensed he ought to put on a bit of height; or it was simply a caricature of the pigeon-chested parade-ground posture. His face was flat and his mouth pulled down in an expression of arrogance, inflexibility; his eyes were narrowed and unblinking, one of them not perfectly aligned with the other. His red check krama had some sort of emblem pinned at the side; perhaps it signified his rank.

I struggled onto my feet. 'Can I have a drink of water?'

'Who are you?'

'David Jones,' I said. 'And you?'

I didn't expect him to answer that one but he pulled his shoulders back another half inch and said, 'I am Colonel Choen of Khmer Rouge Army.'

'How do you do, Colonel?'

He ignored this, as expected. 'What are you doing on private road out there?' he asked me.

'I told your people — I lost my way.'

'What was destination when you "lose way"?'

'I was trying to find the lake.'

'In this direction?'

'Look, Colonel, I arrived in Cambodia only a — '

'In Kampuchea!'

'Oh, right, yes, Kampuchea. I've only been here a few days, so I haven't really got my bearings yet. I thought — '

'Why you want to find Tonle Sap?' The lake.

'I'm with Trans-Kampuchean Air Services. We're thinking of running a Beriev Tchaika amphibian service to the coast, bringing fish in to Phnom Penh, pretty well straight out of the nets. The hotels — '

'You alone in jeep?'

'Yes. Look, I'm sorry if I was trespassing, but — '

'Yes. Will be sorry. Yes.'

'For God's sake, can't anyone lose their way in this country?'

Choen looked quickly at the private, and as his hand came up and across I turned my head away just late enough to let him feel he'd made an impact; then I went through the business of crashing against the wall and hitting the floor and grunting in pain and so on, which was easy enough to do with my arms still pinned behind me.

'Why you come to Kampuchea?'

I got onto my feet again. 'Well, quite a few reasons. For — '

'Why you come?'

The private's hand moved and I waited but he didn't do anything this time. 'I was with the UN, originally, and then when I — '

'UN stupid idiots!' He spat, accurately, at my face, and I would have done a great deal to be able to wipe it off. 'This not their country! This Kampuchea! What this country?' It sounded like a question, and he came forward a step, chest out, one eye staring, brighter than the other. 'What this country?'

The private lifted his hand in readiness.

'What? Oh. Right. Kampuchea. Kampuchea.' It was the name they preferred, these people: when the Khmer Rouge had been in control of the country they'd insisted on it, then it was changed back to Cambodia after their defeat. They hadn't liked that. This man didn't like it. His spittle was drying on my face: think of something else.

'UN stupid!' he barked again. 'You English?'

'Yes.' I'd told him that already.

'English stupid idiots! Queen of England stupid cow!'

'I rather think otherwise,' I said.

'You meet Queen of England?'

'Actually, no.'

I could really use a glass of water.

'You fuck Princess Diana?'

'I've yet to enjoy that privilege.'

Knew his London tabloids, kept up with high society.

Suddenly he turned at right angles and strutted to the wall and back to the one opposite, boots grating on the concrete, back to the door, turned, looked at me. 'Who know you in jeep?'

'I'm sorry, I don't quite follow.'

'Who know you in jeep? Answer!'

'Who knew I was driving the jeep?' Oh, right, this was rather important. 'Who knew I was going to the Tonle Sap?'

'Yes.'

'My manager,' I said, 'and the head of the airline, some of the staff, two of my friends, a few other people. I was given the assignment, you understand.'

'When they last see you?'

Things didn't sound terribly good. 'When I left our office. That was — oh, about one o'clock.'

British agent for Trans-Kampuchean Air Services reported missing. Just joking; the only person who'd miss me was Pringle, biding his time in the Hotel Lafayette, ready to pick up on the first ring: I hadn't signalled at noon, so I was technically overdue.

Choen was eyeing me steadily, his mouth pulled down. 'Jeep rented, or belong to airline?'

'It belongs to the airline. Look, I happen to be a man who can keep his mouth shut, Colonel. I strayed onto your territory by accident, but there's no need for me to tell anybody I saw anything; it's none of my business — or theirs. All I'm interested in is working out how we can fly fish to the capital from the lake.'

He didn't say anything, seemed to be waiting to hear more, stood watching my face, one eye filmy, the other bright, deep now, concentrating. So I took it from there, because maybe there was a chance he'd just leave me here in the cell without water or food for a couple of days, have me roughed up a little to warn me off and then kick me out, have me dropped back on the main road.

'I agree the UN was wrong,' I told him reasonably, 'to come busting in to your country, and quite frankly I wasn't sorry when they pulled out. But I'd got to know the place by then, and' — with a shrug — 'I'd met a Kampuchean woman here, you know? I'm seeing her again… she's very pretty.'

The private was staring at me too with his lidless eyes, probably didn't understand what I was saying, was just watching for a wrong move. I didn't have one in mind.

'I was a bit embarrassed, I suppose,' I told the colonel, 'to give you my real reason at first for coming back to Kampuchea. Cherchez la femme, right?'

A diesel rumbled past, one of its tyres sending a stone banging against the metal door. The noise was unexpected and hellishly loud in these close confines but the colonel didn't flinch.

I left it at that, didn't want to overdo things. I was interested now in how Choen was going to answer me. A lot depended on it.

But he didn't say anything at all. He turned to the private and barked some Khmer at him and the private swung round and pulled the door open and yelled something and another man came trotting up with his assault rifle and gave the colonel the revolutionary salute with his fist, but Choen didn't respond. He just looked at me and then at the two men and raised his elbow to the side and held one finger straight against his temple for an instant and took it away with a little jerk and walked out of the cell.

Let there be a rose, then, for Moira.

12: EXECUTION

Three half-tracks, two personnel carriers, a dozen Chinese-built jeeps and an armoured car. Five or six rows of bamboo huts, a concrete building next to the cell, a big wood-fired stove with a corrugated iron roof over it to protect the camouflage net.