Elliot threw the bag up on to the sand. ‘Open it yourself.’
Cropped Head moved cautiously past him, keeping a safe distance, then ran up the beach to the bag. ‘I don’t know what you hope to find,’ Elliot said. ‘I told Bao we had nothing.’
Long Hair grinned. ‘Maybe Fat Bao believe you. Maybe not. We not. You Westerner. Got money there, maybe gold.’
Elliot shook his head. ‘And what about the boat waiting out there — if there is a boat?’
‘Boat waiting, okay. You disappear. Drowned maybe. Too bad.’
Elliot’s hand slipped inside his shirt, and pulled the Colt.45 into a two-handed grip. He knew he had only one shot. The bullet punched a hole through Long Hair’s forehead, propelling him backwards on crumpled legs to splash into six inches of foaming brine and turn it briefly pink. Elliot swivelled to face the kneeling Cropped Head, who looked up in stunned surprise from the upended bag and had hardly an instant’s blink of disbelief before Elliot shot him full in the face.
Serey and Ny splashed forward to pick Hau out of the water where he had fallen. He clutched his neck, blood oozing through his fingers. Elliot reached them in three strides and pulled his hand away to look at the wound. ‘Just a cut. He’ll live. We’ve got to get out of here!’
The singing coming from the direction of the Vien Du had stopped. A flashlight raked across Religion Hill, and there came the sound of raised voices. There was no going back now. And if they missed their rendezvous at sea, they were certain to drown.
Elliot threw Serey’s bag into the nearest canoe and they pushed the two boats off into the shallow swell. ‘I can’t swim,’ Serey whispered to him, as they plunged waist-deep through the water.
‘Jesus!’ Elliot said. ‘Now you tell me! Just hang on and kick with your feet. If you keep holding on you won’t sink.’
Ny and Hau had surged ahead, hands grasping the rear lip of their canoe, feet kicking up luminescent foam in the dark. When he was certain Serey had a firm grip, Elliot pushed hard away from shore and their canoe slid through the water in pursuit.
They kicked hard at first, seeming to make little progress, until Elliot glanced back and saw that they were already five or six hundred metres from shore. They had cleared the rocky outcrop, and away to their left they could see the lights of the French hospital ship anchored in the bay. Flashlights twinkled on the shore behind them, wielded by shadowy figures running along the water’s edge. Aimless shots rang out in the dark.
Soon the sound of water breaking on land faded, and the rocky silhouette of Bidong took shape against a night sky brightly lit by the moon rising from behind the island. Ny and Hau were about ten metres ahead, and drifting further away to the left. From time to time they disappeared completely beyond the rise of the swell. Elliot called to them to stay close. They must not lose each other. He glanced at Serey and saw that she was tiring rapidly, the strain in her arms showing on her face. He was, himself, close to exhaustion.
‘Stop!’ he shouted. ‘Stop!’ And he hooked an elbow over the rim of the canoe and hung loose, trying to catch his breath. Ny and Hau worked their canoe back to draw alongside, worried faces peering anxiously in the moonlight.
‘What wrong?’
‘Nothing. We need a rest, that’s all.’
His shoulder had almost seized completely. He looked back, but the swell was so deep now that the island only appeared in glimpses.
‘How far now?’ Ny asked.
‘Don’t know. We must be about halfway.’ But he felt despair rising in his breast. The second fifteen hundred metres would be much tougher going against the rising swell, and how could they hope to make a rendezvous with one small boat in this vast expanse of sea? They could be swept miles off course by the current. And, yet, if this was, indeed, how goods were brought ashore to feed the black market, then it had been done many times before. Perhaps allowances had been made for wind and current, based on months of experience. ‘We’d better go on. Stay close.’
After what Elliot estimated was about fifteen minutes, he ordered another rest. They were all on the point of exhaustion now. It was as much as any of them could do to keep numb fingers hanging on. It would be so much easier, he thought, just to let go, to slip away into the eternity that awaited below. Supporting himself again on the crook of his elbow, he looked around. There was not a glimpse of the island in any direction. Only the sea and, above it, the vast cosmos. Without the moon as a guide, they would not have known which way they were heading. But whatever their bearing, he knew they could not hang on for much longer.
It was Hau who spotted the light. He called out in sudden excitement and pointed away to their left. Elliot strained his eyes and saw nothing. But then, as their boat was lifted again on the swell, he saw it. A bright white light, shining across the water. He lost sight of it almost at once as their tiny craft slid down into another trough, only to spot it again on the next rise. Hope dug reserves of strength from the depths of despair, and they kicked off again in the direction of the light, shouting and calling to the boat.
As they got nearer, their calls were rewarded by the sound of an engine spluttering, then revving hard as the boat turned to head in their direction. Elliot reached across and held the two canoes together, as the wash from the power launch lifted them up, then sucked them in to its side. Light played in fractured patterns across the broken surface of the water, and he saw Yuon’s face looking down from the deck. Helping hands lifted Ny and Hau to safety. Elliot turned to offer Serey his hand, but she was gone.
‘Serey!’ He called again, ‘Serey!’, in sudden panic, and spun the canoe around, hoping to find her clinging to the far side. She wasn’t there.
‘What wrong? Where Mamma?’ Ny’s voice reached him from afar, as if in a dream. He turned this way and that in the water, looking for a glimpse of grey hair breaking the surface.
‘Light!’ he screamed. ‘Give me some fucking light!’ A searchlight swung across the water and he swam frantically back in the direction they had come. Nothing. He stopped and tried to tread water, but felt himself going under, and splashed back towards the boat again, gasping for breath. He reached the canoe and clung to it for several moments, head pressed against the bark in despair. Her words rang in his head: I could never live with betrayal. And he knew what she had done. He struck out at the water in frustration and anguish. They had come so far.
Two crewmen leaned over to pull him aboard, and he slumped back against the rail. He glanced up and saw the pain in Yuon’s eyes. He would never be free of his conscience now. Ny and her brother stood to one side, looking at Elliot with fear and confusion in their faces. They did not yet understand.
‘Where Mamma?’ Ny asked again in a quiet voice.
‘Gone,’ Elliot said. ‘Gone.’
In little under half an hour they saw the dark shadow of the mainland lying along the horizon, occasional lights winking along the shoreline. They sat in the back of the boat, silent except for Hau, who wept unashamedly in his sister’s arms. It had been easy to forget that he was still a child. Only war, and the Khmer Rouge, had made him old before his time. Ny stroked his hair absently, staring off into the middle distance. Yuon sat alone, detached and distraught. A sad and lonely figure.
When they drew, eventually, into the small private jetty, he ushered his family off before him, and Elliot followed wearily at a distance. The launch wheeled off into the night. Yuon turned to Elliot. ‘I have a car waiting, Mistah Elliot. We will drive straight to Kuala Lumpur. Will you come with us?’
Elliot shook his head. ‘The Thai border can’t be more than twenty kilometres away. I’ll cross on foot.’ He paused. ‘I’m sorry.’