Cambodian Book of the Dead (13 page)

 

DAWN

 

He woke up alone. The bed was still warm next to him. The night and the hangover from the day before stuck deep in his bones. What a woman.

She couldn't have gone far. For the second time since his return to Cambodia, Maier was suddenly scared for his old girlfriend. He got up, put on a pair of shorts and went downstairs. It was just getting light. The guard lay snoring in his hammock. The sun would remain hidden behind the Elephant Mountains for a while yet and it was refreshingly cool. The early morning looked innocent; a few birds rushed over his head along the almost deserted shore road, an old woman stood by the roadside and, still half asleep, wrapped her
krama
around her head before she set off for the crab market, laden down with plastic buckets. Even at a considerable distance, he could make out the red hair of the Englishman. Carissa sat on the beach with Pete.

Not that Kep had a real beach, but he could see the two clearly on the sandy strip below the road. Pete gesticulated wildly, but at this distance Maier could not make out what he was saying.

“Good morning, Maier. I am just trying to explain to your old lover here, that her investigations could kill her, if she insists on digging around down here.”

For once, the detective shared the same opinion as the wrecked-looking dive operator.

“You look like you had a wild night, Pete.”

“I always have wild nights, mate. At least since I've lived in Cambodia.”

He lit a red Ara and blew smoke-rings into the perfect morning air.

“I don't understand you people. The country is beautiful. The people are polite and a bit retarded. The women are hot and always within reach. Genocide has its good sides too. Come on, Maier. Germany is wealthy today because we flattened you in World War Two. And we flattened you because you killed too many people. It's the same here. In twenty years, Cambodia will be back on its legs. And if we make the right decisions now, we will be able to contribute to the rebuilding of a nation. We will be the new colonial masters, independent of state power or ideology. We take what we can, wherever we can. That's called globalisation. The published truth about a few not totally legal investments will not stop or even slow the development of this country.”

By now, Maier had made up his mind that he didn't care for the Englishman. Apart from his shady business associations, he carried too much baggage from back home, too many tabloid hang-ups vis-à-vis his European neighbours. And he carried it like a medal around his neck.

“Pete, I think you are a bit behind the times. Germany and Great Britain have been at peace for some years now.”

Pete sighed. “You're idealists. The world is bad. We have to make the best of it.”

Maier laughed. “Your world is bad, Pete. Our world is OK.”

He knew this was all just posturing, his old girlfriend would not be put off by the Englishman. She would follow her story to its bitter end. Any journalist in her situation would want to know why Sambat had been killed.

Pete got up and wiped the sand off his pants. He looked stressed.

“Maier, mate, don't come back to me later and tell me that I didn't warn you. I'm assuming that your investor story is bullshit and that you're some kind of journo as well.”

Maier looked across to Carissa, but her face was turned and hidden under her white hair. All of a sudden, he was angry. Angry at Carissa, who'd risk her life for a story about a few old murders. Angry at Pete who'd risk anyone's life for a few dollars. The probable result was the same and went with the locality: killing and burying were still acceptable solutions to all sorts of problems in this broken land. And many foreigners took to the local traditions like fish took to water. Maier no longer felt like holding back.

“I am not a journalist, Pete. But I might become your worst nightmare yet. If anything happens to Carissa, I will personally order the tiger shark back and make sure he gets fed.”

The English pirate jerked his head in surprise and met Maier's stare with expressionless eyes. Not a good sign. Most people were scared of Maier when he threatened, as he threatened rarely. There was no hope for this man.

“Yeah, Maier, mate, now I'm almost impressed by you. Wow. So I'll say it again. The future of Kep won't be defined by you two ageing angels. Even yours truly here will have just a tiny hand in what's going to happen.”

Without another word, the red-haired pirate got up and walked along the shore towards the market. Carissa hadn't moved. Now she turned to Maier. She had tears in her eyes.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Maier? No one hears a thing from you for four years and then suddenly you show up and throw everything into disorder. You fuck your old girlfriend for a few nights and pull every scrap of information she has from her, only to solve your enormously important case. You're here for a few hours and people start dying like flies. But you give nothing yourself and make grand speeches how you will take your revenge on that little wanker, if he burns a hole into your mattress. Mate, wake up.”

Maier waited until she'd calmed down.

“OK, Carissa, I will tell you everything I know, but you have to promise me not to go to see Mikhail in Bokor. I was wrong. I think it is a trap.”

“Maier, I'm not going to promise you anything. I know Mikhail, he's eccentric, but he's not a murderer. And he knows more about the people here than you do.”

The sun had risen above the Elephant Mountains. It was starting to get hot. Carissa looked beautiful. But Maier could not bring himself to apologise for his emotional agnosticism.

“OK, wait one more day and we'll go together. I have been invited for dinner by Tep.”

“On the island?”

“On his island. Pete will take me across later.”

Carissa looked at Maier for a long time. She looked like a white goddess in the bright morning sunlight, a divine entity who'd just appeared on earth to find a prince. It was probably already too late for Maier. He wasn't prince material.

“Maier, you might not come back from there. Pete is close to Tep, very close. And if he assumes that you are some kind of snoop or investigative journalist and passes that impression on to Tep, then that nasty old general will get rid of you.”

“A few days ago, I deposited a large chunk of money in a bank to which Tep has connections. Enough money for a house down here. I am sure he knows about it and will try to convince me to come in with him on his schemes. The true reason why I am here is to get Rolf out of Cambodia. But he will not leave without his girl. I am trying to find out what is forcing him to stay and what Kaley has to do with Tep. And the only way to find that out is to accept the invitation.”

Carissa thought for a while.

“What happens when the case is done? You will just disappear again?”

Maier swallowed hard. Maier had no idea what she wanted.

“I don't know what will happen. I won't stay in Phnom Penh.”

He didn't say anything for a moment.

“Perhaps you might tag along to Hamburg?”

The goddess from New Zealand said nothing and stared across the placid water. Maier rearranged his beard and tried to rearrange his thoughts.

“Perhaps,” she said, finally.

Maier felt queasy. He had reached a place he was not familiar with. He smiled. Finally, a real challenge, something totally new.

“Don't get happy yet, old man. First we have to solve the case,” she mumbled and fell into his arms. A few hundred metres away, he watched Pete turn around and stare back at them.

 

DOWN BELOW

 

Rolf Müller-Overbeck lay in the hammock he had probably slept in. He looked wasted and hadn't washed in a while. His long hair was greasy and some food had got caught in his days-old stubble. In fact, he looked almost dead.

The dive shop was deserted. Neither Pete nor Samnang, nor any of the other employees could be seen.

“Holidays?”

Rolf barely moved, and waved him away with tired arms.

“There's a story doing the rounds in Phnom Penh that someone got eaten by a shark down here. I suppose my customers from Frankfurt told everyone in their guest house horror stories. We have only cancellations for the next few weeks. I've sent our workers home.”

Maier sat on the wooden stairs to the office of Reef Pirates.

“And where is Kaley?”

“Kaley is gone.”

Maier looked past the dive-shop owner out to sea. Koh Tonsay was almost completely obscured by fog. The sky had turned dark grey again and the air was incredibly humid. A singular morning had given way to a depressing day.

“I've had enough, I can tell you that, Maier. If I could see a way out of Kep, I'd jump into a taxi right now and go directly to the airport in Phnom Penh.”

“So what's stopping you?”

“I can't sell my share in the business at the moment. And I can't leave without offering Kaley an opportunity to leave as well.”

“Has she stopped turning up for work?”

“No, she's just gone. Back to her barber shop behind the hotel. Since then it has rained twice. I can't bring myself to go up there. But I'm far enough in my thinking now that I no longer care about the money. I have to leave. I'm getting sucked into this morass here so deeply that I'm drowning.”

The young German looked at Maier with large paranoid eyes, partially visible under his matted hair.

“I still have a life ahead of me, I think. But if I stay here… I really thought that we could do something for people. But anything we try to set up here comes down to exploiting those who need protecting most. I almost agree with Mikhail now. Maybe all the foreigners should leave, so the country can make up its own mind where it wants to go.”

Maier had a question on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't formulate it. The young German was completely overwhelmed by his present circumstances. Without the help of others, he'd never make it out alive.

“I am not sure that would help. I think the Cambodians are perfectly capable of screwing themselves up, even without the help of foreigners.”

The detective was sure that the foreigners who had invested in Kep were only alive because they were of use to the general. Maier had the feeling that all the locals he'd spoken to, whether Khmer or foreign, suffered from a common psychosis that was connected to Kaley. Something was afoot that had nothing to do with real estate.

“What happened to Kaley's daughter, by the way?” Maier remembered.

A strange, strangulated noise emanated from Rolf's mouth. After a while he said with a cold, tired voice, “It's like this in Kep, Maier: if you buy land and become part of the community, you're privy to information which outsiders do not have access to. Cambodia has many secrets. The first foreigners who came here all speak Khmer and they know the area, the people and even the ghosts. You understand?”

“I will most likely buy one of the ruins in Kep, Rolf. I have just been waiting for my money.”

“You are buying from Tep?”

“I am answering a dinner invitation on his island tonight.”

Rolf turned back and forth in his hammock to make sure no one else was in hearing distance.

“I wouldn't do that, Maier. That could be a really dangerous trip. I'm not sure you understand, but it's your soul that becomes corrupted here. You're forced to make realisations that don't exist in Hamburg, at least not in the Hamburg I grew up in. Here you cross a threshold. In this sense, Kep is probably the most exclusive beach resort in the world. Where else would you be able to witness an underwater execution? I warned you.”

“Not to go to the island or not to buy land?”

“I told you a few days ago that Kep is changing from ghost town to pimp town. I was not entirely right. I think the ghosts still have the upper hand. The Khmer say that people who are killed but not cremated never come to rest. Every Khmer has seen ghosts. Some people even believe that some people are not people at all, but are really ghosts. And that they can bring great sorrow and suffering to others.”

Rolf really got going now.

“It's amazing that we abandon part of our rational western thinking, our Eurocentric view of the world, after a few months in this country, amazing how quickly that happens. It's a process that erodes the space between reality and illusion. Opinions are just like clothes.”

Maier laughed drily. But he was not sure what was going on. Too many pieces of the puzzle were missing. The scene in the ballroom flashed through his head, again.

“Ghosts, you might be right, Rolf. I saw some when I was here in '93.”

The young German turned away.

“If you buy land, let's talk about ghosts again. And if you want to buy the dive shop, let me know. Until then, take care of yourself.”

 

 

L'AMOUR

 

Maier had an hour to kill until Tep's boat would pick him up. Enough time to get a haircut. He passed the Angkor Hotel and walked up the hill to the two small huts.

Mee and Ow sat in the shade of a mango tree and were doing their make-up. Both of them wore gloves that reached all the way up to their elbows, to keep the tropical sun off their skins. They looked briefly at Maier, with the curiosity usually reserved for a passing dog. It was too early for professional enthusiasm.

The huts stood a hundred metres above the Angkor Hotel on a lightly forested hillside. They looked about ready to be torn down. The bamboo walls had fist-sized holes and the sheet metal roofs had rusted through in places. General Tep hadn't invested much in the less than salubrious village whorehouse.

Maier passed the women, nodding briefly at them and entered the second hut. Two barber chairs, torn red leather, stood in front of a dirty mirror beneath a long counter. The counter and the mirror stood in the forest floor. The walls were covered with faded posters of Cambodian boy bands and starlets. No sign of a barber.

At the far end of the hut he could see a beaded curtain. Maier heard voices. As he was about to cross the threshold into the hut, he could hear Mee and Ow curse behind him. It sounded like curses.

For a moment, the detective hesitated. He carried no weapon and he had no business here. But he separated the bead strings and carefully stuck his head into the small, dark room beyond.

As he parted the curtain, the light that fell through flickered across her skin. Kaley lay naked on a wide bunk. Maier thought he could hear her hiss like a snake. Four unadorned walls and a small, rickety side table scarred with cigarette burns, the only other piece of furniture in the room, made up the picture. A bunch of hundred dollar bills lay crumpled on the table. A spent syringe and a packet of blue tablets lay next to the money. He could smell expensive aftershave, cheap alcohol, sweat and death – a disconcerting combination of odours. Maier felt a little dizzy. There were moments in life when he wanted to throw up without being drunk or sick.

This was what they called “all the way down”.

The old Frenchman had heard the Vietnamese girls outside and was just buttoning up his trousers. His gold chain shone on his hairless chest. His white shirt was soaked with sweat, the grey hair hung off his head like a long-used dishcloth.

A phone rang.

“M Maier, in Cambodia, thank God, there are fewer rules to observe than in France, but in a brothel, everyone must queue. As a newcomer you might not be aware of this. That's why I am not put out enough, after you have brought my enjoyable Saturday afternoon to an abrupt end, to have you killed.”

The phone continued to ring. It had started to rain. Kaley moved slowly on the bed and looked up at Maier.

Maupai pulled a mobile phone, a rare luxury in Cambodia, from his pocket. The Frenchman had been shooting up. Maier noticed that blood had soaked through the right sleeve of Maupai's shirt.

“Allo?”

Kaley made no effort to cover up with the torn blanket that lay on the bunk next to her. She smiled at Maier sensuously. At least that's how it looked. But he was not quite sure what he was facing on the bunk. The tension in the small windowless room was unbearable. The rain started hammering onto the roof with greater force.

Maupai was still on the phone as he fell onto the bunk next to the girl. Despite the twilight in the room, Maier could see that the Frenchman had lost it. He no longer looked like a retired film star.

“Bad news, Maupai?”

The Frenchman dropped his phone.

“
Ma femme... elle est morte
. Joséphine is dead. She died at Calmette Hospital in Phnom Penh this afternoon.”

Maupai began to scratch himself nervously. He could not look into Maier's face.

“The doctors always talked about fresh air. They just wanted to get rid of us,” he whispered.

Maier shook his head. He found it hard to have pity for the Frenchman.

“While you are in here, having sex with your neighbour's friend, your wife dies? Maupai, you have problems.”

The former bank director hadn't heard him. He was miles away, his eyes drifting towards something beyond the beaded curtain.

Outside, the Vietnamese girls were giggling. One hot, one cold. Where could you go in such a situation? What did it mean, to have arrived in this hut, at this juncture in your life? Weighty stuff zapped through Maier's head. His eyes wandered to the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, who seemed to wrap herself around her own golden brown body. Now she lay curled like a python. He could hear her sigh. Somewhere, water dripped into the room.

After an embarrassing eternity, the Frenchman got up. He stood like an automaton and did up the buttons of his shirt, slowly, pedantically, one by one, looking straight ahead into the big nothing.

“Maier, do you have a gun?”

“No, I do not. And you do not need one, Maupai. Can you not hear it is raining? Is that not your rain, your own personal rain of death? Save yourself the gun and enjoy the few remaining days you have, before the curse catches up with you.”

“And I will die a terrible, violent death. Oh, Joséphine, I will not be able to tell you of my adventures. I only did it to save our marriage. Now there's just the wait, for the end.”

“Maupai, get lost.”

The Frenchman turned and looked at the woman on the bunk, as if he'd just stepped into the room.

Kaley answered his gaze with a dark smile. As the Frenchman began to return the smile, his face twisted into a grotesque mask – trying to process the terror that was waiting for him outside.

“I will leave you alone now. See you on the other side. You will have to make your sacrifice as well, M Maier. Just like young Rolf. Just like all of us. The Kangaok Meas demands that we destroy ourselves, before we are reborn as gods,” he whispered as his voice grew hoarser.

Maier smiled along with them. Now all three of them were smiling and the world was fine. A world populated by primates who'd lost control.

Kaley stretched slowly and looked at the two men as if she had nothing to do with the room or its male visitors, as if the two intruders were alien, incomprehensible phenomena, propelled into her life by some dark, malignant force.

Maupai left without another word.

Maier turned and sat next to Kaley on the bunk. He had nothing to say and no reason to stay. Kaley would not give him any answers to his questions.

And still he asked. “Why did you not stay with Rolf?”

“I need money.”

“Rolf has money.”

“I work for my papa. He is an important man, a powerful man.”

“I know; I will have dinner with him tonight.”

“I know.”

“I have not found your sister yet.”

Kaley leaned forward and pulled Maier's shoulder. Her smile was open, perfect, warm. Her breasts shook ever so slightly. Sweat ran off her golden brown shoulders. She looked like an angel in reverse.

“I know. And you find her. I am sure. Do you want me help you, Maier?”

“I do not think this will help finding your sister.”

Kaley sighed. “Maybe the Kangaok Meas is just story.”

“Perhaps. But I am no longer sure who you are.”

“I am Kampuchea,” she hissed and wrapped herself around him.

He wanted to tell her that he'd seen her in the casino. He wanted to tell her what he'd seen. He remembered her look to the ceiling. She had to know that he'd been there. But there was no point in saying anything. He could not tell someone who lived on the world's margins and tried to hang on, someone about whom he knew next to nothing – he could not tell someone like that about good and evil, about what it might mean to be human. He only had the right to do that if he looked into the abyss at the end of the world himself. Maier was not sure whether he was qualified enough for spiritual insights. He almost felt like he was back in school. In a school where students studied darkness and its habitués.

“Maier, drink. Les says you are friend.”

Maier grabbed the whiskey bottle which she had pulled from underneath the bunk and took a long swig. Red Label. He almost wretched it back up, the cheap booze was so bad. He quickly took another swig.

“Les my friend. He like the others, but he my friend.”

“And Rolf?”

She said nothing for a while. The rain had almost stopped. The drumming on the roof had turned to an irregular tapping. It sounded like the bag in the casino. He had to get out.

“Rolf so far away. He scared of Kaley.”

She looked at him sadly.

“He is probably not the only one,” Maier said drily, but she did not understand him.

“He not understand.”

Maier leaned back into a moist bamboo wall and buttoned up his shirt. He could feel the cheap booze stick in his beard, like glue. He took another swig. He wanted to get out. He needed to get out. He wanted to stay. Everything began to turn. He wanted this woman, but he had to solve the case.

Maier didn't fight, he merely dropped. His hands began to shake. Cold sweat ran across his face. He sank into himself. Kaley would catch him and carry him across the fire into a new life and a new Cambodia.

The woman began to sing.

 

Pete shook him awake.

“Maier, welcome to Club Kep. Wake up, mate, we're already late. You're expected for dinner.”
Maier had a furious headache. He was alone in the room with Pete. Kaley had disappeared. Maier stood up and stumbled about uncertainly. He looked down his front. Had he slept with her? What kind of drink had that been? He tried to focus in silence and pulled his clothes straight.

The English pirate laughed hoarsely. “She just lies there like she's dead, no? Just like I told you.”

Maier rolled his eyes and asked, “Can you not imagine that such an experience is different for everyone?”

“No, Maier, I can't.”

The world looked better outside. Maupai was nowhere to be seen. The two Vietnamese girls had disappeared as well. Maier stumbled after the Englishman down the hill to the beach. The sun had just set above Koh Tonsay and Samnang was waiting, motor running.