‘My word, they’ve done it,’ said Civilai.
After another twenty minutes of patient winching, half the boat was on the steep bank and a gap had opened up above the gunwales. The years had been kind to the heavy metal craft. Being submerged in mud had preserved it admirably.
‘I bet some French naval museum would pay a lot of money for that,’ said Civilai.
‘They’re going d … down,’ said Geung.
With miners’ lamps attached to their helmets, two of the engineers crawled on to the space between the bank and the deck of the upside-down craft.
‘Where would you store cargo in something like that?’ Daeng asked.
‘The hold is buried in the deck at the forward end,’ said Civilai. ‘There should be a couple of metal doors leading down to it. That isn’t where those boys are going. They’re heading into the cabin.’
‘That’s where they were,’ said Siri.
The others looked at him.
‘That’s where the Frenchmen were,’ he said. ‘They’re free now.’
They watched as the engineers passed large cotton sacks to the men inside. One by one the bags re-emerged, not full, but with sufficient bulk to suggest each contained the remains of a crew member. Obviously the Vietnamese were not as squeamish at touching the remains of the dead as the Lao. There were six bodies, all told.
All this time the bulldozer and the other equipment were being reloaded on to the cruiser until only the cables that stayed the boat remained. The bodies were carried to the Lao boat and laid side by side at the stern. The skipper cast off and the boat headed back downstream.
‘Did anybody notice anything peculiar about that?’ Civilai asked.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Siri.
‘They came to recover bodies,’ said Daeng. ‘They salvaged the boat. They went inside. They brought out the dead. They took them back. Everything was exactly according to plan. They’ve done what the minister asked them to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came looking for you, Siri, to make an identification.’
‘And once more we are dumbfounded by a mystery that is not at all mysterious,’ said Civilai.
‘Not exactly,’ said Siri. ‘All it means is that the engineers were only told to recover the boat and bring out the bodies. That they weren’t a party to the secret of what could be found in the hold. It’s a legitimate rescue mission.’
‘So why didn’t anyone notice that Madame Peung was missing?’ asked Civilai.
‘Ah, brother,’ said Daeng. ‘Nobody notices old women. And nobody misses them when they’re gone.’
Civilai looked at her querulously.
‘But it looks like somebody else is missing in action,’ said Siri.
He pointed to a lone figure on the rocks below the karst. It was Tang, the non-brother, non-assistant of Madame Peung. He was adjusting scuba equipment.
‘Who is he?’ asked Civilai. ‘They were taking orders from him. He’d have to be in some position of authority for a uniformed officer to kowtow to him. And they’ve left him equipment.’
‘What is that over there behind him?’ Daeng asked.
‘It looks like a parachute,’ said Civilai.
‘No,’ said Siri. ‘It’s a dinghy. They come with a foot pump. We used to use them on late-night river forays during the wars. That’s how he’ll be getting his booty back downriver. This really is a one-man show.’
Tang put on his breathing mask and dropped into the water. He carried a small underwater acetylene torch and a pack. He swam alongside the cruiser to a point that was still submerged and down he went. He was under water for a long time. They supposed that the fastening on the hold was rusted and difficult to open. He re-emerged without his blow torch but with a wooden casket about the size of a radio. It was floating on a life vest.
‘Every eventuality,’ said Phosy. ‘What a planner.’
The casket was heavy after all those years in the water. He lugged it out of the river and on to the sandbank. He seemed to pause then, probably deciding whether to open it, but there were obviously more down below.
‘He doesn’t seem to be afraid of being seen, does he?’ said Daeng.
‘Everyone for a hundred kilometres around is at the races,’ said Siri. ‘He picked his day, too. He really has thought of everything. He’ll unload the treasure, disconnect the cables and watch the boat slide back to the depths. I bet he has his elephant route all planned out.’
‘Do you think we should go down there and overpower him while he’s not expecting it?’ Civilai asked. ‘He is alone, after all.’
‘You’re never alone with an AK-47,’ said Daeng. ‘He’s got a couple, as far as I can see. One on the bank. Another by the dinghy. Maybe a pistol too. But I think we can probably get down there and surprise him while he’s diving. I call this Plan C.’
‘We’ll let him tire himself out with the caskets,’ said Siri. ‘Then we’ll think of something. None of us is as young as we think we are.’
There were seven caskets in all. Tang crawled up on to the sandbank and collapsed on to his side as he collected his breath. He didn’t even have the strength to remove his oxygen tanks. He had a short stout knife in his belt which he used to prise open the first casket which sat beside him. The lock and the hinges were rusty so it didn’t present any problems. From their point of view, the team could not see into the box and they were too far away to notice the expression on the face of the Vietnamese.
But Siri did see something else. A shadow was emerging from the woods on the far bank. It blended into the foliage and when it stopped moving he lost sight of it completely. He knew there was nothing human about the shadow. He was used to such sights but had never sensed such a feeling of foreboding.
Tang turned to another cask and wrenched off its lid with more urgency. Something appeared to be wrong. He turned to a third casket.
The shape in the woods shifted slightly and caught Siri’s gaze once more. Then he spotted a second to its left. Larger, this one, and without question the form of a person.
The diver was on the fifth casket. He was clearly not enjoying the task. The last two lids he ripped off with his bare hands. He threw down the knife and reached into the last box and produced a black Buddha image — the type one might find in any village temple in the land. He fumbled around for the knife and began to hack away at the statuette.
‘Wh … what’s he doing?’ Geung asked.
Ugly growled as he scanned the woods down below. He was sensing what Siri could see, hundreds upon hundreds of human shapes emerging from the forest. Once they left the camouflage of the jungle they seemed to have no colour at all. Like viewers at a tennis match, they sat on the grass bank and watched the diver overturn every last casket and empty hundreds of images on to the ground. He hacked at them with his knife. Smashed one against another.
‘They aren’t going to like that,’ said Siri.
Daeng looked up to see her husband staring in the wrong direction.
‘See something?’ she asked.
‘It’s like a Cecil B. DeMille ghost epic,’ said Siri.
Daeng had long since stopped asking, ‘Who the hell is …?’
‘Cast of thousands,’ said Siri. ‘It’s a bit frightening. I’m not sure how any of these fit into my “Waiting room to the beyond” theory. They’re connected to the Buddha images somehow.’
‘What are you seeing there?’ Civilai asked.
‘All sssitting down,’ said Mr Geung.
They looked at him. He shrugged.