Free Figurehead by Patrick Allington Page B

Sihanouk and other sources, that the government has eliminated rich and poor, oppressor and oppressed, money and markets. Everybody in the countryside is working, either growing food and raising animals or creating and maintaining a reliable electrical supply or devising and constructing irrigation systems or making and repairing bicycles or weaving clothes or refining sugar or converting tanks into tractors. All this is simply the first step. The construction of a new, equal, and corruption-free urban society will soon follow.
    Prince Sihanouk scoffs at suggestions that the Khmer Rouge have no use for him now that the war is won. ‘The National Front over which I preside is the absolute essence of monolithic unity. Nhem Kiry and all the other leaders are genuine nationalists. They are working tirelessly to preserve the sovereignty of our country.’ As far as Prince Sihanouk is concerned, Cambodia has regained the key principles that as head of state he always fought so courageously for: economic independence and political neutrality. ‘And don’t forget,’ he says, ‘that I am the only non-communist head of state ever to be chosen by communists in human history. I am an adopted Khmer Rouge.’
    —Edward Whittlemore, ‘As I See It,’ syndicated column
    Prince Norodom Sihanouk and Princess Monique stepped from their specially chartered plane into the harsh light of Pochentong airport. Rubbish whipped around in the wind and came to rest against the planes, trucks and jeeps that were scattered randomly about the tarmac. Sihanouk had always wanted to own a bomb that left property undamaged. He dreamed of clearing Manhattan and repopulating it with his family and friends; of emptying Paris and turning it into his getaway palace. But now, standing and looking about a place apparently cleansed of all life, he was profoundly unnerved.
    Or maybe he was hungry. Sihanouk had eaten nothing on the plane but a shrivelled-up baguette. He had wanted to wash it down with champagne but Monique had told him to stick to water and to keep his wits about him. ‘You are right,’ he had said, shaking his head at the tragedy and watching mournfully as Monique sipped from a glass of chardonnay. Now he was light-headed and desperately in need of a decent meal. A deep queasiness invaded his empty stomach. He glanced at Monique. He knew what she was thinking – Why aren’t we in Mougins? – and he willed her to say it aloud so that he had an excuse to rant at her about his responsibilities to his people, irrespective of his private wishes.
    There was no red carpet for Sihanouk and Monique to parade down, just Nhem Kiry standing in front of a jeep. The driver kept the engine revving as Kiry stepped forward.
    ‘Your Majesty, welcome home,’ Kiry said flatly, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. ‘And Princess Monique, what a great honour – what a treat – to see you again. Please, this way.’
    They drove to the far side of a tarmac, where a battalion of soldiers dressed in black stood waiting. Kiry ushered Sihanouk and Monique to straight-backed chairs and clapped his hands. The soldiers began to march about. Sihanouk concentrated hard but he could discern no pattern. Still, they seemed to know what they were doing.
    ‘Do you see the guns the soldiers are carrying, Your Majesty?’ Kiry said.
    ‘I see them.’
    ‘American, every last one of them. Brand new. We captured them after the imperialists fled.’
    ‘How wonderful,’ Sihanouk said.
    ‘And look. Look, Your Majesty ...’
    The soldiers parted, revealing a group of M102 howitzers arranged like the petals of a flower. A convoy of tanks rumbled out from a hangar and circled the soldiers. Two helicopters descended and hovered. High above, a fighter plane roared past, banked, and then roared back again.
    ‘The whole lot American,’ Kiry said. ‘We have many more helicopters, you know ... But unfortunately at the moment we only have two pilots.’
    As soon as the parade