Free Impact by Douglas Preston Page B

bribes to come.
    Khon made an elaborate greeting in Khmer. Ford remained silent, thinking it best, as he usually did, to disguise his knowledge of the language.
    “We speak English!” the man cried. “Sit down, please, my special friends!”
    Ford and Khon seated themselves in the hard metal chairs.
    “ Hre min gnam sa! ” The man screeched at one of his secretaries, who leapt up and rushed out, bowing twice as she passed.
    “It is nice day, yes?” said the man, with another smile, folding his hands in front of him. Ford noticed he was missing both his thumbs.
    “Very,” said Khon.
    “Very health here, in Kampong Krabey.”
    “It’s quite healthy here,” said Khon. “I noticed right away that you have fucking good air.”
    “Good air! Kampong Krabey District, good!”
    Ford and Khon smiled, nodded agreeably.
    The secretary came back, carrying three coconuts, their tops lopped off by a machete, straws stuck in them.
    “Please!” said the official. They drank the coconut milk, which was still warm from hanging on the tree. Ford thought he had never tasted anything quite so good.
    “Excellent,” said Khon. “What fine hospitality you offer us in the Kampong Krabey District.”
    “Best coconut!” the man cried, sucking his so vigorously the straw made a gurgling sound. He thumped the empty husk down on the desk and belched. “What you need, friend?” the man asked, spreading his hands. “I give you anything.”
    “This is Mr. Kirk Mandrake,” Khon said, “and he is an adventure tourist. I am Khon, his interpreter.”
    “Aveentah touist!” the official repeated, with a vigorous nod, clearly having no idea what it meant. “Good!”
    “He wants to visit a ruined temple known as Nokor Pheas.”
    “I not know this temple.”
    “It’s very deep in the jungle.”
    “Where is temple? In Kampong Krabey District?”
    “No. It’s beyond the district. We have to travel northeast through your district to get there.”
    The smile on his face cooled. “Beyond my district, nothing! Nobody! No temple!”
    Khon rose and unrolled a map on the official’s desk. “The temple is here, in the Phnom Ngue hills.”
    Now the smile vanished completely. “That is bad area. Very bad.”
    “My client, Mr. Mandrake, wishes to see the temple.”
    “You cannot go there. Too dangerous.”
    Khon went on as if he hadn’t heard the official. “Mr. Mandrake will pay well for the permit. He also needs your help in marking the trails on our map. And of course we would wish to avoid land mines. You know the district and you have the land mine clearance maps.”
    “Too dangerous. I speak Khmer, so you understand. That okay, Mr. Mandrake, if I speak Khmer now?” Another brilliant smile.
    “Of course.”
    He began speaking in Khmer and Ford listened closely. “Are you crazy?” the official said. “That area is infested with Khmer Rouge. They’re just bandits now, gem smuggling and kidnapping for ransom. If they got their hands on your client, it would be a huge problem for me. You understand?”
    “I understand,” said Khon, responding in Khmer. “But my client is very anxious to see this ruin. He came all the way to Cambodia just for this. We’ll be in and out—no lingering. Believe me, I know what I’m doing. I’ve guided people like him before. Just last month, I took some Americans to Banteay Chhmar.”
    “I cannot allow it.”
    “He will pay you well.”
    The official spread his hands. “What good is his money if I have to deal with a kidnapping? Of an American, no less? What would happen to my position here? The district is peaceful now, no problems, everyone’s happy. It wasn’t always like this, you know.”
    “Perhaps a large amount of money will compensate for the inconvenience.”
    There was a pause. “How much?”
    “A hundred dollars.”
    The official threw up his hands. “Are you joking? Make it a thousand.”
    “A thousand? I will consult with my client.”
    Khon turned to Ford and said in