The Brittle Limit, a Novel (3 page)

Off the bus, Andrew maneuvered to escape the
milling crowd, some people waiting for their luggage to emerge from
the bowels of the bus and others waiting for passengers from buses
yet to arrive. His departure was hindered by several fellow
passengers offering to buy him drinks or dinner, to thank him for
fixing the flat and foiling the robbery.

A seedy male passenger, a gray-haired,
paunchy man with broken eyeglasses and stale breath, approached
him. “Fancy going to the bars? I hear it’s cheap and easy here,
cleaner than Thailand.” Andrew declined this and all invitations,
including one to meet the German couple’s single niece, ‘a very
nice girl’ who would be arriving in a week’s time.

Andrew grabbed his duffel bag and walked to a
shady corner to get his bearings. An endless row of red, yellow and
blue tuk-tuks stretched well past the bus depot, the smiling
drivers waiting patiently for the buses.

Out of the line up, Andrew picked a red
tuk-tuk whose Cambodian driver had a broad easy smile and who wiped
the seat down with a rag when he saw Andrew approaching. On the
tuk-tuk’s rear was a wide printed panel of Simpson’s cartoons, rows
of funnies to entice the tourists.

“The US embassy please.” He’d check in to his
hotel later. He wanted to get to work. Andrew recited the address
he’d memorized: #1, Street 96, Sangkat Wat Phnom, Khan Daun Penh.
The driver smiled at him, waiting for more information. Andrew
said, “Near Wat Phnom.” He’d seen this landmark on the map. It was
a hill, home to a famous Pagoda near the river and across the
street from the US Embassy.

“Oh, yes. Yes.” The driver nodded several
times, pleased to understand his passenger. “No problem. Wat Phnom.
US Embassy. Yes, yes. Not too far. This street 128. Street 96 not
far.”

The driver showed Andrew into the tuk-tuk,
loaded Andrew’s luggage and walked up to his small motorcycle
attached to the open-air cab. With a roar, the engine started and
the tuk-tuk pulled away from the curb into the flow of afternoon
traffic. As he leaned back into the red vinyl of the tuk-tuk seat,
Andrew watched the stream of motos, bicycles and SUVs.

Several stop signs later, which the driver
had ignored, the tuk-tuk slowed as it drove down a long lane,
approaching a fortress-like cream-colored structure surrounded by a
vast, well manicured lawn, all tucked behind a high black
wrought-iron fence. Must be the Embassy, Andrew thought. It was a
massive structure for a US embassy in a small developing country
barely on the grid. But it offered excellent proximity to all the
surrounding countries. Hide in plain sight, Andrew thought.

Andrew overpaid his grinning driver, who
gripped the ten-dollar bill for the three-dollar ride. He gave
Andrew a worn business card; on it his name Kiem, and said call
anytime, mister. Anytime, no problem.

Throwing his duffel across his back, Andrew
approached the well-guarded front gate, where four large scowling
American guards stood waiting for it to go down. Each one had a
machine gun strapped to his broad chest and the attitude to go with
it.

Andrew’s name was on the day’s list of
expected visitors. The guards snapped to attention when they saw
whom Andrew was visiting. Andrew assumed there must be a gold star
by his name. Or someone had been given strict orders to make this
operation run as smoothly as possible for a speedy resolution.

As he walked into the building, Andrew
cringed slightly. Since he worked mostly undercover, he did not
usually waltz into US Embassies. Granted, he didn’t have a big
flashing “I’m CIA” sign on his forehead, but still. He felt
exposed. After so long, the muscle memory of deception was a
reflex. He glanced over his shoulder as the door closed behind
him.

Through the metal detector and inside the
vast lobby, Andrew waited, looking around. The marble floors and
vaulted ceiling, coupled with air conditioning, made for a pleasant
welcome. He didn’t know whom to expect.

A tall pale man with a few wisps of black
hair remaining and sloped shoulders rushed to Andrew from the
central corridor, extending his hand in greeting well before he
reached Andrew. The man’s glasses had slid halfway down his large
nose and he pushed them up the bridge of his nose once, then again.
His bald head shone in the ceiling lights.

“Andrew Shaw? Welcome. I’m Jeremy Baker.”

Andrew turned at his name, glancing around
the lobby at who might have heard. There were a handful of people
in the lobby, some filling in forms at the front desk, others
reading a plaque on the far wall. In a far corner, a maintenance
worker in black coveralls watered towering green plants with large
yellow blossoms. No one paid any attention.

Jeremy continued talking while they shook
hands, holding Andrew’s hand in his own for longer than Andrew
deemed necessary or normal.

“I’ll be your attaché during your stay with
us. I’m one of the Consular Officers here. I hope the bus ride
wasn’t too awful. The route from Siem Reap is under construction,
so it takes even longer than usual. Not the nicest ride. Still, the
scenery is alright, if you like trees.” Jeremy’s confident and
bellowing voice carried across the open space. It belied his bland
physical appearance. Andrew imagined that contradiction came in
handy in diplomacy.

“Good to meet you. Thanks for the welcome.”
Andrew extricated his hand from Jeremy’s tight grip.

“Well, let’s get you settled in. Please
follow me, it’s a bit of a madhouse today.” Jeremy glanced left and
right, sweating profusely despite the air conditioning. As they
walked down the long hallway, people rushed in and out of office
doors. A girl in her twenties hurried by carrying an armful of
purple and yellow streamers. “Scoose me,” She said as she pushed
past them both. She smiled at Andrew, her white teeth gleaming.

Andrew watched the woman walk away. “What’s
going on here? Seems like a lot of activity?”

“Ahhh. Chaos. Absolute chaos. The ambassador
is hosting a reception here later this week – a party really –
loads of people, local dignitaries, members of the business
community, and of course the embassy staff. There are fireworks,
music and drinking.” He glanced at Andrew and added, “It’s a
security nightmare.”

Andrew looked up at the orange crepe paper
strung from pillar to pillar along the hallway. “What’s the
occasion?” He asked.

Jeremy gave Andrew a sideways look as they
walked. “Ahh, that’s right, you’re a tourist. I get to play tour
guide today.” Jeremy smirked then continued. “It’s for Pchum Ben, a
Cambodian festival of the Dead.”

“Pchum Ben?” Andrew repeated the phrase, not
sure he had the right pronunciation.

“Yes. It’s a festival to honor one’s
ancestors.”

As they walked, they passed several more
closed doors, where Andrew could hear happy talking and laughter.
It was a festive atmosphere. Everyone was excited for the holiday
party that signaled the end of the annual torrential downpours.
Rainy season was long and people had cabin fever.

Another well-dressed young woman ran by them
down the hall, carrying two boxes filled with blown-up balloons.
She nodded at Jeremy as she opened one of the doors off the hallway
and ducked in. More laughter.

Turning a sharp corner down another hallway,
he continued. “The dead may seem an odd reason for a party, but
Cambodia is eighty-percent Buddhist, so ancestors are a big deal
here. And we like to acknowledge that.”

Andrew had listened intently. Other cultures
and customs fascinated him. “Sounds kinda like our Halloween. Or
more like All Souls Day.”

Jeremy had quickened his pace and walked with
swift, short, efficient steps, like a small dog. Despite his
height, Andrew had to work to keep up with him.

“Yes indeed. All souls.”

A few more steps down the hallway and Jeremy
stopped. “Here we are.” Jeremy opened the heavy wood-paneled door
and they stepped into a large bright anteroom. An attractive
secretary, typing furiously, focused on her computer screen,
glanced at them and then returned to hammering on her keyboard, her
ear buds drowning out distraction with a steady bass beat that
Andrew could hear four feet away.

“Janey.” Jeremy took a step closer to her
desk. Janey looked up at Jeremy now standing just inches away. She
took out her ear buds and removed her reading glasses. “So sorry, I
was on a roll, I want to get this out today, since tomorrow will be
a bust and I still have to buy a dress and I’ve promised the girls
I would help decorate.” She stopped, running out of breath and
smiled a brilliant white smile at Jeremy and turning her head
slightly, raised her eyebrows at Andrew.

Jeremy smiled back, the indulgent look of a
boss who tolerated quirkiness only in the face of extreme
competence.

“Janey, this is Andrew Shaw. Andrew, this is
your go-to person while you are here. Janey will get you whatever
you need.”

“Hello,” Andrew nodded and Janey half-smiled,
her eyes flicking back to her screen in anticipation of
accomplishing important things. Andrew followed Jeremy, who had
wandered into his spacious office.

Jeremy’s desk stood next to massive windows
with views of Wat Phnom. Jeremy took a seat and motioned to Andrew
to sit in one of the leather chairs in front of the imposing
desk.

“I understand you were on holiday in Siem
Reap. Unfortunate time for a vacation, really, it’s still
officially the rainy season after all, but I’m sure you knew that
when you booked your trip. Do you enjoy the rain?”

Jeremy’s chatter was a tool, Andrew knew, to
disarm people. Andrew found it irritating.

“No. Just was when I was free.” Andrew
shrugged and added, “My time is not my own.”

Jeremy stared at Andrew for a long moment
“No. Of course not.” He looked back at the folder on his desk and
continued. “Like Flint, who I understand you spoke with yesterday,
we too received a phone call seeking, nay, demanding cooperation.”
He opened the file on his desk. “I know you’ve been briefed but
here is the information we’ve got. It’s not much I’m afraid.”
Jeremy rustled through the papers, looking for something, but not
finding it, closed the folder. He handed it over to Andrew, who
flipped through the pages. The name of the victim was on the front:
Ben Goodnight.

“The young man was here with his girlfriend.
He’d been in country about 18 months, she has lived here a good bit
longer.”

“So there’s been one death, by land mine. And
one very upset parent,” Andrew said.

“And one moderately peeved Embassy attaché,”
Jeremy added, straightening his pale yellow tie with a sniff. “I
didn’t move halfway across the world to get a dressing down from
some Millennial Whitehouse page boy, simply because someone’s
careless son got himself blown up.” He cleared his throat and
scratched the carefully shaved skin between his upper lip and his
wide nostrils. He’d wanted to say that out loud since he got the
call yesterday from the US.

Andrew said nothing. Jeremy seemed nervous,
on edge. Andrew turned his gaze to the window. He disliked
complainers. It wasn’t his fault this guy was being inconvenienced.
Out the window, the park across the street looked luscious,
peaceful.

“So I’ve been instructed to support your
investigation. I am to provide you with whatever you need,” Jeremy
said, annoyed at the lack of sympathy from Andrew.

“We’re setting you up downstairs. I’m afraid
it won’t be much, just a desk, a computer and…”

“That’s all I need.” Andrew stood abruptly,
folder in hand. He hated briefings and this one had gone on too
long for his liking. “Is that it?”

Jeremy gazed at Andrew over his round
eyeglasses, displeased. “Nearly. It is very important you grasp
this next point.” He waved a hand indicating that Andrew should
sit.

“Our country is pleased to enjoy good
relations with the Cambodian government, but we are still guests in
this country. We have been asked politely to stay in the shadows on
this matter with Ben. They fear this particular incident might
frighten tourists away, if too much is made of it. So…if you can
please conduct any inquiries with discretion?”

Andrew nodded. “Got it. If I kill anyone,
I’ll do it on the down low.”

Jeremy’s mouth opened and a slight choking
sound came out.

Andrew chuckled. “Sorry, bad joke. My humor,
it’s not for everyone. No worries, discretion is my
stock-in-trade.”

Jeremy tapped the desk with his pointer
finger twice and then held it in the air, pointing to the ceiling,
as if testing the wind. “Yes. Yes, indeed.”

Jeremy leaned back in his squeaky leather
chair. One hand on his chin, the other hand on the arm of his
chair, he tapped his fingers a few times against the armrest as he
looked at Andrew. “Flint had said you would be without a weapon.
Seems curious for someone of your...ahhh...profession to travel so
unprepared.”

Andrew shrugged. He’d chucked the gun he’d
lifted from the attempted bus robber. “Do YOU bring a gun on
vacation?” Jeremy shook his head ‘No’.

“Me neither. It makes getting through airport
security easier,” Andrew said.

Jeremy nodded. “Of course. Of course.”

Andrew had deliberately not brought his gun
on this trip, had been happy to leave it home. Some people wanted
to turn off their blackberries during vacation; Andrew had wanted
to be gun-free for a moment. It had been nice while it lasted.

Jeremy walked to the wall safe and with a few
swift turns, opened it. He pulled out a small black plastic case
and carried it to the desk, where he set it down gently. A few
clicks of a numbered combination, and the case opened to reveal a
small black handgun, a Glock 19.

He watched Andrew. ”It’s what we have
available.”

Andrew shrugged. “It’ll do.”

Jeremy shut the case and slid it across the
desk toward Andrew, who picked it up with his right hand.